For Love or Country

by Jesse Jordan

  Gyeong, I learned his name by doing the whole 'tap your chest and say your name' schtick that's been used since Tarzan first laid some smooth game on Jane, walks next to me while I push my wheelbarrow along in front of me. Part of me feels bad about what I'm going to be doing to the man, but I can't help it. He coughs, hacking up a lungful of phlegm, which is the reason I think I'm being let out of the gates for the first time. Some sort of bug is running around the camp and probably the nearby village, and a lot of the guards and people I've seen are coughing pretty continuously. Whatever it is, I guess all those damn Army vaccination shots were good for something besides a literal pain in my ass.

  “So tell me about your wife and kids,” I say amiably to Gyeong, the normal prattle that he and I have struck up when we're out of sight of the guard towers or other people. I want him at ease, and he is, he hasn't even unslung his rifle yet today. I shift to South Korean, and pretend to struggle.

  Gyeong nods in understanding, smiling. He corrects the word for wife, along with a name that I don't quite get, then holds up two fingers.

  “Good for you,” I congratulate him, and while he doesn't understand the words, he gets the tone of voice and grins, thanking me with a nod. We keep walking a while, until we reach the outskirts of the village. My work area is up ahead, and it's the best chance I have for breaking free.

  The rice paddy is half frozen already, but there's still straw standing, and Major Song explained to me why. The family that is tasked with this paddy and the neighboring ones was struck with tragedy when their child and then later their grandfather died.

  “While the Great Leader wants people to abandon their old fashioned dark age beliefs,” Song told me this morning with the sneering tone that she uses whenever she talks about the villagers, “they continue to hold onto their old traditions. So, with all the traditional mourning, they were unable to harvest all the straw. The rice they were able to get, but the straw is still left behind. Your job is to harvest it so that there's enough for the local animals to eat this winter. And, if you get it all done today, you can save a bag of it for your own mattress.”

  Of course that had made me seem eager, but I'm more excited about the fact that rice straw has to be harvested via cutting implement. I can see it in front of me, a slightly rusty one handed scythe, the edge gleaming where Gyeong let me use a stone to sharpen it to a wicked edge. I'd prefer not to use it, but I will if I have to.

  I put my wheelbarrow down, taking out the string and the scythe, and judge my chances. There aren't any villagers around. Even the guard post to the camp is barely visible in the distance. I'm sure a really good sharpshooter could tag me, but that's a risk I'm going to have to take.

  Why? Because the tree line is only a hundred yards in the distance, going up into the mountains. I'm no mountaineer, but it's better than what I have been doing. I don't want to get my feet cold and muddy, not before I have to, so I stretch and reach for the scythe, making sure Gyeong's behind me when I do. “Ouch! Ah fuck, shit!”

  I'm holding my hand, hopping up and down and hissing in pain, the shackles on my ankles rattling. I'm going to have to get rid of those, there's no way I can run with them on.

  Thankfully, Gyeong's soft at heart, because he comes over, concern written on his face. He thinks I've slashed my hand, and it makes it just a little hard to take my balled up hands and crack him in the chin, sending him sprawling to his butt before I knee him as hard as I can in the face, knocking him out.

  I have just seconds I know before someone in the guard tower or the village sees what's going on, and I strip Gyeong quickly, pulling off his belt and harness. I pull out his keys quickly, unlocking my shackles and throwing them away before grabbing the harness and his rifle, taking off as fast as my body can. “Sorry, Gyeong. I hope they let you live after this.”

  I'm halfway to the trees when the old fashioned siren behind me starts up, and the crack of a rifle echoes through the air. I start cutting back and forth like a running back, my wind already starting to burn in my chest, hoping that whoever's in the tower can't shoot for shit.

  I reach the woods without being hit and scramble upwards, trying to gain elevation. It was one of the main lessons in survival school.

  “The key,” the instructor told my class as we sat around in the dirt trying to absorb the information quickly, “is to do the opposite of what people want to do. You go high, you go through the thickest forest, the nastiest swamp, the worst terrain that you think you can manage. When you sleep, you sleep in a spider infested shithole, the places the enemy wouldn't look because they think nobody would go there.”

  There were a lot more information, but the first thing I need to do is get high. The mountain in front of me is one of the higher ones in the valley the camp is in, and maybe if I get high enough I can figure out where I am.

  Suddenly, I hear footsteps coming towards me and I half turn, seeing Cade flying out of the woods to tackle me, both of us falling to the leaf covered dirt. “Not that fucking easy!”

  We roll, and the rifle goes tumbling somewhere, although Gyeong's web gear seems to hang onto my shoulders halfway decently, probably because Cade is holding onto one strap and trying to choke me with his other hand. “You won't get away!”

  I knock his hand away and elbow him in the cheek, giving me at least a little bit of breathing room. He's bigger, stronger, and has been eating better for the past six months, although I'm just starting to see that he's never been a prisoner at all.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I gasp, rolling away. “We can escape!”

  “Who the hell you think brought you here? Glad I was out here hiking for fun,” Cade laughs, pulling a knife from the belt on his waist. “What, you think that story I told you was real? Fuck man, we didn't need the drugs in your food if you're that fucking gullible.”

  Cade swings his knife at me and I avoid it by less than an inch it feels like, stumbling backwards and barely retaining my balance. “You defected?”

  “I went to work for the Chinese. Jenny and I... we've been together a while,” Cade says with a fierce grin. “Too bad, I was going to let you fuck her once before she chopped your balls off. You'd at least have died happy.”

  Cade lunges again but I sidestep, kicking the knife away. It goes tumbling out of sight, and I grab Cade, throwing him over my hip. We fall to the ground, punching and scratching. This is no sport contest with clean maneuvers and respecting the health of your opponent. Cade bites at my arm, and I can feel his teeth sink into my skin, making me howl, but instead of letting go, I hook my thumb into his eye socket and grind deep, his growl of anger turning into a screech of pain as his eye pops out and he lets go, rolling away and trying desperately to put it back in.

  It's a wasted effort though as I get to my feet and jump up, both boot heels crashing into his spine just above his belt, the sound of his back breaking loud even over his screaming. Cade stops, freezing, his voice cut off even though I know he can still breathe. “My back!”

  “Your back,” I agree, knowing I can't waste time. I turn him over, pulling his belt off. I don't know what's in it, but I can use anything. “Enjoy being a half blind paraplegic.”

  “You're going to die. No way you get past the DMZ,” Cade whispers, his remaining eye filled with hate and pain. “You ruined my life, but I'll still get the last laugh.”

  I shrug, and throw his belt over my shoulders, where it hangs across my chest like a bandoleer. “Maybe. But Cade, I'll die a man, with honor. You... well, you never have known what that's like.”

  I run off, leaving Cade for the North Koreans. Maybe I'm being soft, but I don't have the time to kill him, and besides, I'm not a murderer. After a hundred steps I turn back up the mountain, encouraged. If Cade thinks I'm close enough to try for the DMZ, I must be close to the border. I keep going, cutting back and forth at random times, reaching the top of the hill in another twenty minutes. I can hear the North Koreans behind me, but that's okay, t
hey're nowhere close.

  I squat down on a rock, looking towards the South, a smile spreading over my face. It's unmistakable, the thick band of terrain that's been pretty much untouched by human beings since 1953. The world's most dangerous four kilometers, the DMZ. And across that, just on the limits of my vision, South Korea. I can make it.

  “Ashley, I'm coming baby. I promise, I'll see you soon.”

  Getting into the DMZ isn't as hard as I thought it'd be. There's a chain link fence, but it's not in great condition, and the stick I find pries it up easily, the cover of night keeping the guard tower a half mile away from seeing me as I slither under on my belly. I sweep my hand in front of me as I start crawling towards the bushes, knowing that half the reason the North Koreans have mines near their side of the DMZ fence is to keep their own people inside as much as it is to repel South Korean forces. Thankfully, there's nothing there until I clear the fifty feet to the bushes, still staying low. I can't low crawl the entire two and a half miles of the DMZ though, and I get to my feet, praying that either the North Koreans haven't mined the thick bushes I'm in, or that it's been so long ago that their gear doesn't work any more. I can't make it in the night I know, but I need to be far enough away that I can sleep and try and avoid detection until daylight.

  I go another hundred yards, then a hundred more, and call it enough. Without night vision or radar, there's no way that I'm visible to anyone right now, and I'm in a clutch of short, stubby trees. I burrow down, covering myself in dry leaves for both camouflage and heat, and close my eyes, putting up a little prayer. This is no time to get impatient. Getting into the DMZ was easy. Getting across it will require every skill that I've ever learned, and a lot of luck too.

  I find it easy to fall asleep, and it's comforting as I dream of Ashley. “Thought maybe you'd forgotten about me,” she teases, her belly huge. “I didn't think I was possible.”

  Her teasing words bring me to tears, and she comes over, kissing my cheeks and smiling. “It's okay, Simon. I know what they did, and how they did it. The food, don't you see? You were starving, so you ate every single scrap they fed you, drank every drop of water. Too easy at that point, you couldn't refuse even if there was a funny taste.”

  “The voices?” I ask her, hugging her. “What about those?”

  “Oh, come on, even the CIA pulls the old hidden speaker trick. Classic psy-ops idea I bet, you probably didn't see the speakers because you were too drugged up. But enough of that, just remember that I'm here for you now.”

  We embrace, her stomach comically getting in the way, and I pull back, rubbing her belly. “Wow, you're getting big. How do you feel?”

  “Good. You won't mind the extra weight and stretch marks after the babies are born?” she asks shyly. “I don't want to be ugly to you.”

  “You will never, ever be ugly to me,” I promise her, kissing her lips tenderly. “I love you, Ashley. Forever.”

  “Good... because it's time to rejoin me,” Ashley says, her voice fading. “Time to wake up, Simon.”

  “I don't want to wake up,” I complain. “I like it here with you.”

  “I know. But if you wake up, you only have a little bit more to go, and then we'll be together for real. I'm waiting for the man I love. I promise you that.”

  I blink, the gray early morning light filtering in to help me wake up. My bed of leaves might be softer than the concrete of my former cell, but it's colder, too, and I slowly work my way up from under my cover, getting to my knees before getting to my feet. In a lot of ways, the scenery is idyllic. I've read that the DMZ is one of the most uncorrupted wildlife areas in the entire world, and I might see some animals that very few people get to see. The Siberian tiger is one, and there's some form of black bear that's around here, too. All I need is a lion and I'm heading off for Oz.

  As I wait for the sun to rise, I use little motions to try and get my muscles working, although I still feel exhausted and stiff. I'm cut and scratched all over my body, my arm throbs where Cade bit it, and as I touch my mouth, I chuckle as I feel a deep cut on my unscarred cheek, going almost all the way to my mouth. “Guess I'll have the full Glasgow smile at some point anyway. Well, why so serious?”

  When I can actually see, I start off, staying low and pausing often to check out the ground in front of me. Four kilometers. If I were on a road and jogging, I could do it in twenty minutes and not break too much of a sweat. Of course, the DMZ is no clear road, and the hills and trees make the whole thing a lot more difficult. When I've gone about a kilometer, probably a few hundred feet north of the border, the trees stop, and all I see in front of me is scrubby, grassy dirt. It's not natural either, I can see the craters and impact points of the various pieces of artillery that have torn up this land from time to time for over sixty years. “Great....” I gripe, drinking the last of the water I got from Gyeong. “Unexploded ordinance. Just what I wanted to deal with.”

  There isn't much I can do, really. I start off, staying to the least disturbed sections of dirt, hoping to cover the open space as quickly as I can. It's been creepy, honestly, walking across the DMZ. I haven't heard a single human sound, but I can't relax, I have to be aware that even now, a North Korean patrol or guard tower could see me and be calling in an artillery barrage. Hell, they probably have the spot pre-sighted.

  There's a spurt of dirt near me, and then a second later a rifle shot, but it's coming from the wrong direction, and I haul ass, running as hard as I can for some sort of cover as a South Korean sharpshooter looks to be trying to see if he can qualify for one of the longest sniper shots in history it seems.

  I scramble into the woods on the other side of the blast zone, hoping that whoever took that pot shot didn't signal to any North Korean groups coming after me where the hell I am. I slide into a bunch of bushes, trying to get under cover.

  The hissing is what alerts me first, and I know I just ended up in trouble. There aren't too many poisonous snakes in Korea, but those that are, are usually found in the mountains, in untouched natural areas... like the DMZ. The viper isn't long, but it strikes fast, sinking it's fangs into my forearm before I can do anything. I scramble back as it moves off, and I look at my arm, gasping.

  “Shit,” I mutter, trying to recall what I know of Korean poisonous snakes. Most of them are supposed to be not deadly to a full grown adult, but I'm not exactly in the best of health right now. I quickly fashion a pressure bandage, hoping I can slow the spread of the poison.

  Taking a quick sighting of the sun, I head south again, now hoping my sharpshooter called in a patrol instead of artillery. The forest in front of me is relatively clear, and when I feel the first waves of dizziness, I slow down, leaning against a tree. Great, just great. I'd hoped I'd gotten the bite isolated in time, but at least some of it must have worked its way into my bloodstream, I'm feeling the effects. Or maybe it's Cade's bite.

  I stumble along, unable to worry about mines or boobytraps now, I can't even see straight anyway. Instead, I plunge my way south, hoping that I get seen by someone who recognizes me for not being North Korean. I shrug off Geyong's web gear, there's no time to waste.

  “Help!” I try to call at the top of my voice, but it doesn't come out for much. I keep going, now trying to make noise, knowing I'm racing a clock that I have no control over. My heart is racing, and I can feel my pulse in my eyes as I keep going. Sure, a snake bite like this might not kill a normal adult, but I'm alone, weak, with no water or food, and in the middle of the goddamn DMZ.

  I hear people moving through the underbrush, and I keep going. If they're North Korean, I'm dead. If I pass out, I'm dead. But, maybe there's a chance.

 

  Thank God, it's a South Korean voice. I get off my hands, raising my hands up. “Please..... Simon Lancaster, US Army.....”

  The world's spinning, and I close my eyes, groaning. The voices come closer, and someone puts a hand on my arm. “Snake?”

  “Snake. Please.... Ashley.....”

&nbs
p; I try to say more, but the world goes black, and I collapse, hoping that it's enough.

  Ashley

  “Teacher says, every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings....”

  The old movie is hackneyed, cheesy, and an absolute Christmas classic. Dad had it on VHS tape, DVD, and now Blu-Ray, complete with the promotional ornament for the Christmas tree.

  So far, despite Mom and Dad trying their best, it's been the worst Christmas of my life. Still, I know there's nothing that I can do about it, and crying isn't going to change anything, so I lay on my back on the couch, just watching.

  Mom however understands, and reaches forward, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and hitting the stop button. “I think that's enough Jimmy Stewart for one night,” she says, ejecting the disc. “I know it's early, but how about some chocolate cheesecake?”

  That's Mom, always making things better with food. Some Moms clean to get rid of stress, some shop, some pour themselves into a career. Katherine Carlyle has always coped with stress by putting together some seriously awesome food.

  “Mom, if I eat any more, I'm going to burst,” I wave off. “The twins are pushing on my stomach so much, one bite and I'm full. So lots of little, tiny bites is probably best for me. You go ahead though.”

  Mom gives me a questioning look, then sits back down. “No, I think I don't need any myself. Don't want to get fat, you know.”

  I smile and look Mom over. She's hardly fat. Perhaps a little bigger than she was when she was in her thirties, but she's hardly fat. “Mom, you're still pretty hot. I know Dad still thinks you're a foxy lady. Go ahead, have some if you want it.”