Altan pulls her away from Morimoto, pushing her back towards the pony. She resists him, her feet rooted to the earth. His tears mingle with the blood dripping from his mouth. He tries with all his might to get her back onto the pony, shouting at her all the while, but she is immovable. He slips and falls on the dry grass. He grabs hold of one of her legs and pulls her towards the pony. Their struggle is a pantomime on an empty stage, and their one audience member is grinning with wicked pleasure. It’s a tragedy acted in real time, and Hana must endure it for Altan’s sake. He is kneeling now, his forehead resting against her thigh. He’s mumbling through sobs, words only Morimoto can decipher. She stares at her captor, bold and unmoving, and when he looks away, she finally allows herself to attend to Altan.
She bends towards him and gently lifts his face up to meet hers. She caresses his cheek and leans down, tenderly kissing his forehead. She takes his hands in hers and helps him to his feet. Altan pleads with her, but she shakes her head. It takes every ounce of her strength to force herself to smile at him.
‘I’ll be all right,’ she says softly. ‘Go home, Altan.’
He says something to her, clutching her hands in both of his. He peers over her shoulder and shouts at Morimoto. She turns his face back to her and looks into his eyes.
‘Go home, Altan,’ she repeats, more forcefully this time.
She urges him to mount the pony. He resists at first, but she insists, pushing him towards the animal until he has no choice but to take hold of the saddle and pull himself up. He looks down at her.
‘Goodbye, Altan,’ she says, and bows.
‘Hana,’ he says, his voice cracking.
She shakes her head. She points towards the way they came from, back over the mountain and back to the safety of his family. He stares at Morimoto, and for a moment, she fears he is going to charge at him. She steps slightly in front of the pony so that he would have to go around her in order to do so. He seems to think better of it and looks at her one last time. Then he turns the pony round and kicks it hard. The pony jerks into a gallop and speeds across the prairie, leaving her behind.
Hana watches him as though his life depends on it. Her eyes strain as he disappears into the shadow of the mountain. Even after he is gone, she searches for a speck of him in the distance against the vast rock. When she can no longer decipher the difference between him and the mountain she tightens her grip on the knife in her sash.
Morimoto’s footsteps crunch on the brittle grass as he nears her, but she doesn’t turn to face him. The after-image of Altan galloping away on the pony burns into her mind. Her shoulders sag, and her previous defiant stance melts. She stares at the ground, waiting for Morimoto to approach. He stops behind her. She grips the knife and turns to face him.
‘You’ve disgraced me. Running away with that boy. And now you’ve ruined everything! I can never trust you again. Can’t you see that?’
His face seethes with fury. He reaches for her wrist, but she is too quick. She unsheathes the knife and raises it in the air before driving it directly at his heart. Morimoto catches her by the arm. Hana struggles with all her might, pushing the blade towards his chest. As he presses against her, his face is incredulous, but he quickly regains his composure and twists her wrist. She drops the knife in the grass before he can snap her arm in two. He starts to say something, but Hana doesn’t pause; she knees him in the groin before wriggling out of his grasp.
He doubles over and she backs away from him. Hana knows she cannot outrun his horse, that it is futile to try, but her legs don’t seem to care about reality. She turns and starts running. She retraces Altan’s steps, back towards the mountain, even though her rational mind knows she won’t make it.
Morimoto doesn’t chase her on the horse. He runs after her, and she is no match for his speed and physical strength. His fingers thread through her hair and yank her backwards off her feet. The ground meets her like a sack of rocks, knocking the air from her lungs. Dazed, she cries out when he drags her back to the horse by her hair. Her hands cling to his wrist, but it doesn’t relieve the pain in her scalp. Her feet kick at the ground, scrabbling to keep up with his pace. He stops suddenly and releases her. She falls to the ground, cradling her face. He kicks her in the stomach.
‘I should kill you.’
She’s a tight ball on the ground, and he kicks her again, this time in her shins. He grabs her forearms and wrenches them away from her face. She kicks at him, but he overpowers her. He sits on her pelvis and presses her arms against the ground on either side of her face. She struggles like a rabid animal caught in a trap.
‘Stop it,’ he shouts, and quickly lifts her arms before slamming them back to the earth, banging her head against the ground. Stars explode in her open eyes. The sky above her swirls as though she is falling. The pressure of his weight on top of her feels like she is drowning in heavy air. It takes too much effort to breathe.
‘Why do you keep running away from me? After everything I’ve told you, after everything I’ve planned for us?’
His head droops, resting beside hers. The stubble on his cheek scratches her temple. Lying together, they could be lovers picnicking in a grassland park. The horse and the spare pony nibbling grass together nearby are picturesque. It could be home. The comfort of the ger pulls at her senses. The wind rushes through her hair. The air smells of warm earth. There was kindness in this place that reminded her of home. She closes her eyes and recalls her sister’s smiling face.
‘I had a peaceful life. You took me from it. I will never forget that,’ she says.
His body stiffens. She feels the tension along the length of him pressed against her. She looks up at him, preparing herself for another attack. She cannot read his face. His expression is empty.
‘I no longer care,’ he says.
Morimoto pushes off the ground and kneels next to her. Hana crouches, too, afraid of what he will do next. He gazes past her across the steppe, shielding his eyes as though focusing on something in the distance, and then suddenly he is on his feet. When Morimoto looks back at her, he appears panicked. He glances between Hana and the horizon as though deciding something, and then whistles to his horse. It trots towards him. As Morimoto mounts it, Hana wonders if he has decided to trample her to death.
It would be a fitting end, to die in this place after a brief encounter with kindness. She remains motionless; the wind rushes across her body. Her tangled hair flies into her face. The horse screeches above her, and then it gallops away. She stares in disbelief as Morimoto rides back towards the mountain. The sound of the horse’s hooves grows faint and disappears into the wind.
He has left her behind. The ground seems to sway beneath her as she realises she is free. Her heartbeat pounds in the back of her head where he smacked it against the ground. She takes a few deep breaths and kneels on the soft grassy earth. He is gone. She can’t believe that he truly is gone. That he has given up his delusion and has finally let her go. She is free. The thought makes her smile, even after everything she has just endured, and it feels good on her face.
The second pony is still nearby, eating its fill of grass. They know their way home, these Mongolian ponies. This one will take her back to the ger, back to the family and Altan. His face fills her mind. She cannot hear the trucks rumbling across the steppe towards her.
She stands and quickly mounts the pony, nudging it gently with her foot, but it does not move. Instead it turns its head to look behind them, and she follows its gaze. A convoy of troops is heading in their direction, and suddenly she understands. Morimoto did not leave her behind. He did not decide to free her. Less than a kilometre away are three heavy trucks, a tank and a squadron of mounted soldiers. Waving from the back of the tank is a flag, blood red, with a yellow star and sickle in one corner. A Soviet patrol convoy. Like a coward, Morimoto fled, leaving her to an unknown fate.
Hana shouts into the pony’s ear, frantically kicks it in the sides, until it moves, slowly at first, and then final
ly galloping. She looks over her shoulder. Four horsemen leave the neat convoy and start after her. Their horses are large and swift. They will catch her. Ahead of her, far off towards the horizon, she sees a tiny speck, dark against the light-coloured sky. Morimoto is racing the heart out of his horse.
Her pony slows, but she doesn’t let it stop. She kicks its sides, screams into its ear, and cries against its neck, pleading for it to keep running, to not give up. Horses’ hooves beating the earth like deepest thunder rush towards her and overcome her small pony. But they fly past her without slowing. They continue at top speed, darting across the grassland as though she is invisible, but there are only three soldiers racing away from her.
The fourth horseman appears beside her, and a sheen of sweat covers his tawny horse. White foam lines its lips. The Soviet soldier takes the reins from her hands, easing her pony into a trot. The two creatures heave for breath, while Hana looks up into the strange soldier’s face. He has large brown eyes, fair hair and a hooked nose. He doesn’t speak to her. Instead, he points to his pistol, still sheathed in his belt. He wags his finger at her and smiles. Then he leads her pony in a tight U-turn, towards the convoy.
Hana glances over her shoulder at the horizon. The three dark spots close in on the fourth. He won’t get away. Their horses are too swift. Morimoto will be taken prisoner, too. There is nothing new they can do to her, besides kill her, and that thought matters little in this moment. Instead, she thinks of Morimoto. Everything they do to him upon his capture will be new to him. The pain, the torture, the humiliation – Morimoto will endure it all for the first time. The thought tastes sweet in her mouth, like a ripe plucked apricot, warm with sunshine.
The Soviet soldier leads Hana to the last truck in the convoy. Piled practically on top of one another are prisoners. Most of them are Chinese, with their padded coats and high-necked collars, but Hana notices a pair of Korean girls sitting next to each other, clasping hands. They don’t look at her as she approaches the tailgate, but she knows they have seen her. Two armed Soviets sit in the back with the prisoners. Careful not to step on anyone, she makes her way through the other prisoners to sit as far away from the two soldiers as she can.
One of the Korean girls moves over, leaving a space next to her, and Hana squeezes between them. Neither of the girls speaks. With heads bowed, their eyes never leave their knees. Hana gazes off into the distance. The three horsemen are returning. As they come nearer, she searches for Morimoto’s face until she sees him mounted behind one of the Soviets. He didn’t get away.
Her heart thrums inside her chest. His hands are tied behind his back. His lip is swollen. Blood soaks through the trousers of his left leg. He doesn’t look at her as they pass. He sits straight, staring into the shoulder of the large Soviet, as though nothing has happened, as though he is not in danger and he is not afraid. His erect posture and bleeding leg betray him. She knows he is terrified of what will certainly come. They will interrogate him, torture him, and after he has told them all he knows or can think to make up, they may possibly kill him. Satisfaction swells within her.
The horsemen continue up the convoy line, and she loses sight of Morimoto. Looking back at the horizon, she suddenly wonders what happened to his magnificent horse. Surely they wouldn’t leave behind such a strong, powerful animal. She wants to see its muscles rippling as it gallops freely across the grassland back to Altan and a content life far from these men. She clings to this image, but the warmth of the satisfaction she felt at Morimoto’s capture slowly dissipates, until she is left shivering in a truck full of silent prisoners.
A wolf howls in the distance. Its lone cry echoes in the hills beyond the steppe. The convoy has been heading towards those hills all day. Blue-capped mountains rise up behind them, reminding Hana of her home and Mount Halla. Orange clouds reflect the setting sun as the sky fades into night. She watches the last of the light, as though burning the beauty of the bright swirls into memory. Horrors dwell in darkness. Her mother warned her never to dive after the sun set. That was when the creatures of the black depths awakened and hunted.
‘With night come terrors of the deep searching for the light,’ she said to Hana one evening as they swam back to the shore.
It was the longest day she had spent in the water so far, and the sun was beginning to set. But Hana wasn’t ready to stop diving. She had only found two conches.
‘JinSook found four yesterday. I can’t return with just two in my net. She’s a year younger than me.’
‘Nonsense, you should be proud of the two you managed to find. The sun is dipping down. The day is done.’
Her mother continued swimming home. Hana dutifully followed but pestered her the whole way in.
‘Just a little while longer, please? I’m certain I can find two more very quickly. There must be some hiding near the old ship’s anchor where the seaweed has collected.’
Once on the shore, her mother lifted her mask and bent down a little so they were eye to eye. Hana abruptly stopped her begging.
‘You don’t want to be caught out there when the creatures rise from the deep.’
Hana was certain her mother was teasing her about the night creatures just to get her out of the water.
‘You don’t have to worry about me. They won’t even notice me because I don’t have any light to attract them,’ Hana replied.
‘Oh, but you do,’ her mother said, raising her eyebrows.
‘I do? Where?’
‘Your skin.’
Hana was sceptical, but her mother continued.
‘White like milk, fair as the purest down on a goose’s breast. The brightest beacon in the darkest of seas,’ she said, touching Hana’s cheek.
Hana looked down at her arms and legs. They didn’t look very white to her. In fact they were completely tanned from swimming so much.
‘I’m brown, not white like Emiko anymore.’
Hana pointed to her sister, who waited for them, still guarding the buckets. Her pink cheeks glowed with exertion. Her hair stuck to her brow in sweaty clumps.
‘I kept the seabirds away. They are really hungry today! Look at that one, it pecked my hand.’ Emiko showed Hana a small cut on the back of her hand.
‘Which one did it?’ Hana asked, forgetting about the number of conches she still needed to catch. A rogue seagull had assaulted her sister, and it needed to be taught a lesson or the rest of them would follow suit.
‘That one, with the grey circles around its eyes.’
The bird waddled towards something buried in the sand, unaware of the attention focused on its every move. Hana bent and picked up a small rock. She closed one eye and took aim. The rock pinged the bird in the back. It squawked and flew away in a flash.
‘Let’s get it!’ Hana yelled, and she ran after it, following its path on the long stretch of beach beyond their little cove. ‘Come on, Little Sister, run!’
‘Wait for me,’ her sister shouted behind her, running as fast as her shorter legs could go. ‘I’m coming for you, bird,’ she shouted at the sky, and they ran all the way down the coast until they couldn’t run any further.
They collapsed onto the sand and gulped in great breaths of salty sea air. Hana stared up at the sky and watched the seagulls draw invisible circles below the clouds. Her sister’s small hand slipped into Hana’s, and they lay side by side watching the clouds glide by. When they had caught their breath, her sister jumped up. ‘I’ll race you back home,’ she said and took off back towards the cove.
‘Hey, no fair, you got a head start,’ Hana called after her, but Emiko merely laughed and ran faster. She laughed all the way back home, and even louder when Hana sped past her.
Emiko’s laughter fills Hana’s mind, the sound of pure joy. A hand touches her arm, and she jerks away.
‘What are you thinking about?’ the girl sitting next to her whispers.
‘What?’ Hana replies, her eyes darting back and forth between the girl and the Soviets. One of the soldiers has
fallen asleep, but the other is wiping down his weapon with an oiled rag.
The girl briefly touches Hana’s mouth, her fingertips barely caressing her lips. ‘You were smiling,’ she whispers, and looks down at her hands, tucking them between her knees to stop their trembling.
‘Was I?’ Hana asks.
‘Yes, you were. Smiling in a situation like this, you must have been remembering something wonderful,’ the girl says.
Hana looks down at her feet. Emiko’s laughter has disappeared. Even as she tries to conjure the sound back again, she cannot.
‘It was wonderful,’ Hana admits.
She feels the girl’s eyes on her now. Her yearning is palpable. How long has the girl been travelling with these Soviets that the mere prospect of a happy memory fills her with such longing? She meets the girl’s earnest gaze. The whites of her eyes are bloodshot. Yellowed bruises dot her arms. A purple welt blooms on her cheek.
‘I was remembering my sister’s laughter. She’s only nine.’
‘I have a little brother – he’s five. I miss him.’
‘I miss my sister, too.’
‘What did her laugh sound like?’
Hana pauses, thinking about the sound that she can no longer hear. The grumble of the truck’s engine drowns out any hope of bringing the laughter back to her. She looks in the girl’s desolate eyes. She deserves even a scrap of happiness, if Hana can manage it. Looking up into the night sky, she focuses on the first star to appear in the dark blue.
‘It was like a bird floating gracefully on a summer breeze, rising and falling like the waves, teasing the tips of the trees as it glides by. It sounded … free.’
The girl is silent for a long time. She doesn’t look at Hana. As the truck groans to a halt, the girl hastily wipes her cheeks before the soldier orders them all to stand. He yanks a few of them to their feet just as the tailgate swings down, and two Soviets order the prisoners out of the truck. Hana rises with the girl and strains to see her face.
White Chrysanthemum Page 25
