Feedback

“Stay,” the brother repeated, thrusting out his hand.

“But—“ Lee began as the brother ignored him, jogging away on the noisy gravel.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Lee swore under his breath.

Memories of being caught and savagely beaten in the village haunted him. The concrete support pillars and wooden floor above felt claustrophobic around him, as though they were closing in on him, forcing him out into the night. He wanted to crawl out and run, even though he knew he wouldn’t get far on foot.

There had to be a perimeter fence out there somewhere hidden in the darkness.

Lee wouldn’t put it past the North Koreans to have lined the perimeter with mines, they had certainly built plenty and were paranoid about being attacked.

The front gate was the only way in or out, but getting out in a car or a truck was suicide. They’d be cut down by machine gun fire. Hollywood might make cars out to be bulletproof, but Lee knew better. Rounds from an AK-47 would punch through sheet metal without losing any of their lethal momentum. They’d pass through a car door like a scrap of paper.

“Shit!” he swore, louder this time, no longer talking in a whisper.

“It’s OK,” the boy said, resting his hand on Lee’s shoulder. “You make it! You escape from here, I know you do.”

Lee took a deep breath, drawing in the cold, damp air. The child’s use of the past tense to describe the future was creepy. How could a boy of three or four know that? He couldn’t.

“Who are you? Where are you from?”

“It’s me, professor,” the boy said. “It’s me, Jason!”

“Professor?”

Lee was perturbed. He was sure Jason had confused him with someone else. Lying there with the cold, wet mud soaking through his clothes, Lee couldn’t help but wish he was caught in a dream. For him, it was a nightmare, but for this young boy, the night seemed to hold a mythical, magical quality. The boy should have been afraid, terrified, but his eyes were peaceful, his voice was calm.

“My name is John Lee, Captain John Lee of the South Korean Coast Guard. I’m going to get you out of here, but I need you to work with me, OK? I need you to do exactly what I say, OK?”

The boy nodded. And what exactly is it you are going to do? Lee wondered, keeping that thought to himself.

“I trust you, professor.”

“I’m not,” Lee began, but the innocence of childhood in Jason’s eyes made him pause. If a case of mistaken identity could help the young boy through this without freaking out, then so be it. What the hell did the Americans and the North Koreans want with such a young child anyway? Lee noticed the child still had his crayon and paper, clutching it to his chest like a talisman.

The boy spoke matter of factly, as though he were talking to another child, saying, “You are Professor Lachlan. I remember you.”

Lachlan. That was his mother’s maiden name. His mother was a Korean-American. She had been a lieutenant in the US Army, working as a triage nurse in Seoul. She’d met his father while on joint exercises and they’d settled in South Korea after they married. Like most married women, his mother had taken his father’s surname, Lee. Why was this child calling him by his mother’s maiden name?

Curious, Lee asked, “How old are you, Jason?”

“I don’t know.”

“We’re in danger. You need to understand that.”

The boy nodded, saying, “But you will find a way out. You always do.”

Lee was tired. He was cold and he was hungry. He was exasperated. Nothing was as simple as this boy assumed. He knew the boy meant well, but Lee was frustrated. Life had stopped being kind to him. Life was cruel. His injured hand throbbed. Deep down, he wanted nothing more than to scream in anguish.

If only life could be relived with different choices.

If only life came with several options available in advance, or allowed for mistakes to be undone.

What would he have done differently?

Should he have pulled out of the mission earlier?

Would the North Korean aircraft have stood down if they’d responded immediately instead of trying to sneak closer?

Should he have broken left instead of right in the Sea King?

And what about Sun-Hee? Should he have left her there?

Someone would have found her in the morning. She might have survived until then. Perhaps someone else would have rescued her and he could have slipped away in the dark of night.

And what if they were caught now?

Would he regret freeing the child? Freeing? Hah, he thought, some freedom. Free to wallow in the mud like an animal. Pig! Swine! That’s what the North Korean soldiers had called him as they kicked him in the back of the truck. Irony, he chuckled mirthlessly.

Lying there shivering, he looked at the boy. The trust in Jason’s eyes radiated absolute confidence. He shouldn’t trust me, Lee thought. I’m going to get us both killed.

“You will think of something,” the boy said softly, perhaps reading the heartache and anguish written on Lee’s face.