by Type A
“We have documents that could affect millions of people.”
“And you can’t save them to the cloud or a hard drive?”
“We need hard copies of certain documents.”
“Like what?”
“Again, that’s classified.”
“Marty, there’s gotta be a way to cut the red tape here.”
“I’m afraid there’s not.”
“To cut the bureaucratic bullshit.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re talking about a human life here.”
“Tyson, I fully understand the scope of the situation, and your hostility won’t help you or your friends. We have two seats available, and I’m not obliged to take any of you. Now, tell me, who’s staying and who’s going?”
Tyson leaned his head on the wall, to the left of a framed photo of smiling suits, American and Korean. The sans-serif caption read: “60 Years of Partnership and Shared Prosperity.”
Beyond the wall, in the conference room, Lana and Mimi sat in a state of uncertainty, stuck in a man-made hell.
Tyson’s throat tightened. “Lana and Mimi will take the flight.”
“That’s noble of you, Tyson.” Marty softened his tone. “Chivalry is alive and well.”
Tyson turned to face him. “It’s not a matter of nobility and chivalry. Without the girls, I’d be dead.”
Marty scratched his head. “I can give you my word that Lana and Mikyung will be transported to safety. My team is well-trained to handle this type of situation.”
“Yeah, I’m counting on it.”
“Very well. Now, I’ll leave you to say your goodbyes.”
“Wait...”
Marty stopped mid-stride.
“Do you have a pen and paper?”
Marty eyeballed Tyson with a mix of scorn and sympathy.
______
Marty stood like a statue in the center of the room, and the trio walked over to him, taking their not-so-sweet time.
“When their uniforms are on, some men lose their souls,” Mimi said just loud enough for the consular officer to hear. Lana nudged her side.
Mimi handed Tyson a hand-drawn, color-coded map back to Hongdae, and he hugged her. A hard hug.
He handed Lana two handwritten letters and kissed her on the lips. A hard kiss.
He took the weapons from Marty’s hands and stared him down. A hard stare.
Tyson placed the knife and scissors in the drawstring bag, drew a deep breath, and walked through death’s door.
IV
THE BLACK AND WHITE HELICOPTER lifted off from the U.S. Embassy and turned south, away from Gwanghwamun, the main gate to the main palace of the Joseon dynasty, and Bukhansan, the highest mountain in Seoul.
Lana and Mimi sat squeezed between State Department employees and stacks of corrugated storage boxes. They didn’t dare look out the windows for fear of seeing Tyson among the army of gangshi.
______
Police and military manpower proved to be powerless against the necromancer’s army of the undead. Hell had been raised, and the heavens had to intervene.
The summer sky became clear, cloudless. The sun overpowered the moon. And Mother Nature and Father Time came to collect their lost children.
The gangshi tried to shun the sun, taking refuge in the darkness, clinging to the shadows. But they couldn’t hide from the torrid heat. Their stiff arms softened, their hands fell to their sides, and their fingers slid downward.
Their bodies bloated and exploded—food for stray dogs and cats.
______
The stench of decay hung over the city. The past had come back to haunt Seoul, and memories of madness were scorched into the people’s hearts and minds and souls.
______
The double doors swung open, and Mimi and Lana stepped out into the sun.
“It was a breath of fresh air meeting you two.”
“Yes, thank you for traveling all this way to see us.”
“Please come visit us again. You’re welcome here anytime.”
“Say thank you to your families for the gifts.”
They embraced one another.
Lana and Mimi exchanged a knowing look and dug into their purses.
“Wha-what are these?”
“Letters from your sons.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
TYPE A WAS BORN IN South America, reared in the Southern United States, and resided in South Korea for five years. He holds a B.A. in English and Criminology and is passionate about youth empowerment and storytelling. Find out more about the author at www.TheTypeA.com
