by Trish Loye
“Wait! We’ve waited too long already. I know you’re not just a security guy. You’re still some kind of super soldier, right?”
He nodded, not sure how much to tell her, but not wanting to lie either.
“Mom always said you were some kind of hero. So go rescue her!”
Super soldier? Hero? What had Cassie told the girl about him? His stomach dropped. Cassie had truly believed he’d died. Had she told stories to a young Rose about her dad, the hero? He swallowed hard, picturing the image in his mind, and regret ripped through him for his impulsive action to leave without talking to Cassie on that day so long ago. Why hadn’t he confronted her instead of turning tail and leaving? Derrick had never been one to shy from responsibility for his actions. Had he been the one who’d kept himself out of his daughter’s life? When he’d turned from Cassie and the vision of her family, had he really just barred himself from that same family?
An image from that day came back to him. He’d seen a man pull up to the house with a young Rose, who couldn’t have been more than a toddler at the time. The child had called the man Daddy. He’d assumed the man was Rose’s father, that Cassie had a husband and child. That she’d had the family he’d wanted, but with someone else. He couldn’t break up a family and had been determined to do the right thing, so he’d left before they’d seen him.
He wanted to close his eyes and rip the memory of that day from himself. Tear out the decision he’d made and the pain it had caused him. More, he hated the pain he’d caused Cassandra. And Rose.
Rose, who stood in front of his desk, still speaking. “I’ve read about what they do to people over there. They might have my mother. Why won’t you do something?”
He couldn’t undo his past, but he could move forward and make sure this girl—he had no right to call her his, but he wanted to so badly—he could make sure this girl and her mother were reunited.
“As soon as we have the latest intel, we can finish our planning and move forward. I guarantee we’ll be in the air within twelve hours.”
“But can you get her back?”
He couldn’t promise. “My teams are made up of elite soldiers, the best of the best, and hostage rescue is what we do. I know you don’t know me enough to trust me, but trust in the years of training and experience I have. Trust that my people are the best. If anyone can get your mother back, it’s us.”
Rose stared at him as if searching his face for any sign of lying. “You’re going as well?”
“Of course. I’ll lead the mission.”
“Good.”
He didn’t acknowledge how her simple acceptance of his skills made him feel, as if he wore a red cape and were invincible.
Rose twined her fingers together in front of her until her knuckles whitened. He needed to calm her down.
“How about I show you where you can get some food?” He thought from the look of her eyes that she might need to sleep, but he wouldn’t suggest it, thinking that it might sound too parental to her and that’s not what she needed at the moment, otherwise she’d be with her grandmother at the hotel she’d booked. No, Rose needed someone to tell her it would be all right and experienced people were on the job.
Rose nodded and let him lead her from his office. He took it as a win and only hoped that her fragile trust in him wasn’t misplaced.
10
The next day, when Cassie awoke, her body ached even more that it had the day before. Being huddled in a cage without a blanket had cramped and stiffened her muscles. Boredom and fear alternated control of her during the long morning and through the single meal. The old man had been taken when they’d first woken up and she hadn’t seen him since. She hoped he was okay and she wished she had someone else to talk to, but no one else even lifted their head to look at her when she tried to whisper to them.
It was about mid-afternoon when the guards dragged her out of the cage and back into the main part of the building. She tried to struggle but one struck her in the gut once and she dropped to her knees, gasping and trying not to heave up the small amount of gruel she’d eaten earlier.
They used rope to tie her to a long bench that had a tilt to it so her feet ended up slightly above her head. The guards checked the ropes and then left her alone. She strained her neck and tilted her head to see as much of her surroundings as she could. The room was exactly like the first one she’d been in: bare concrete walls and no furniture except for the bench she was tied to. A high window behind her let in watery sunlight. A bucket sat under a tap on the wall near the door.
Her heart rate eventually calmed when no one entered. She tested her bonds, tugging at them, but all she managed to do was abrade the skin on her wrists and ankles. She tried not to think of how helpless she was, lying on the bench. Her breathing picked up.
No. She needed to stay calm. To stay focused. She forced herself to breathe deeply and evenly. At least she was stretched out. She concentrated on tensing and releasing the muscles in each leg, her back, and her arms. They’d probably throw her back into the cage after this, so she might as well take advantage of anything she could. The rope tightened on her wrists as she moved and her breath caught.
Don’t think about being helpless.
It almost sounded like Derrick’s voice in her head. She clenched her jaw. Well, what the hell else was she supposed to think about? She wanted to argue with him. God, she’d give anything to argue with him right now. Had Rose gotten a hold of him?
Did Rose suspect she’d been caught?
She had to escape. The rope around her wrists was tight but there was a little slack where it attached to the bench. She lifted her head, trying to see the knot.
The door opened and her gaze snapped toward it. The head guard—the old man had told her his name was Choe—entered with the same two soldiers behind him. Ears took up a position by the door, and the one with the broken nose stood near her head. Were they afraid she’d escape and make a run for it?
Choe smiled at her, his jowls plumping up. “So we are here again. Today you will tell me everything I want to know.”
“I’ve told you everything.”
He shook his head slowly. “You will regret lying.” He nodded to Ears, who began to fill the bucket with water while he smiled slightly.
His anticipation caused fear to twist around her, tying her tighter than the rope. She swallowed and looked back at Choe. “What are you going to do?”
His smile oozed onto his face and he nodded at Ears.
Broken Nose snapped out a cloth and covered her face. She gasped and he tucked part of it into her mouth. She tried to use her tongue to push it back out. A clank near her head startled her.
“Begin,” Choe said.
Water poured onto her face and into her mouth. The partial gag wouldn’t let her close her mouth. She tried to turn her face away but someone grabbed her head, holding it still. Water streamed onto her face. She choked and coughed. Water continually poured into her mouth. She couldn’t see, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The water kept coming. She twisted and thrashed. Her lungs burned with the need to get air. She was drowning while tied to a bench. Drowning.
It stopped. The cloth was ripped from her face. She turned her head and retched water, coughing and crying. She took great shuddering gasps of air.
Broken Nose put the cloth back over her face. She tried to bite the fingers that shoved some of the cloth in her mouth. “She still has fight,” someone said.
“Again.”
No!
Water rushed over her face, filling her mouth and nose. A wave of panic hit her and she strained to move, to get away. Her lungs burned for air. She fought for breath, thrashing as hard as she could, but she couldn’t move. They slowly smothered her under the streaming water. Spots appeared before her eyes. She was close to blacking out.
Again the cloth was ripped from her unexpectedly. Again she retched all the water she’d swallowed, leaving her limp and hollow.
“What do you want?” sh
e asked Choe hoarsely before Ears came back with another bucket.
“Tell me who you work for.”
“What do you mean? I’m just—”
“You’re a spy. Who do you work for?”
“I’m not a spy,” she protested. “Please. I’m not—”
“Too late.” Choe clasped his hands behind him making his belly protrude more. “You will learn.” He nodded at the guards. “Again.”
“No—” The slap of the wet cloth on her face cut her off. She did manage to bite a finger this time.
The water started. Her frenzied need to escape, to breathe, had her thumping her head against the bench. Air. Her body screamed for it. Inarticulate noises escaped her.
It was forever before they ripped the cloth off her head.
Choe still smiled.
She knew then. This was a game for him. It didn’t matter what she said. He didn’t see her as human and he didn’t care what she had to tell him. They would keep torturing her until they grew bored or she died. She couldn’t stop them.
Hope shriveled inside her. A sob welled up.
Stay strong, Little Wolf.
Easy for you to say.
Think of Rose. You can survive.
Derrick’s voice. She held on to it. And she thought of their daughter.
Rose.
The cold wet of the cloth going over her face made her flinch and moan, but it didn’t matter. She would get through this. She would survive. She would get back to Rose.
The water started again.
She lost track of how many times she nearly drowned in that cold, concrete room. The last time the cloth came off her face, she just stared up at Choe, no longer begging or crying. Hollow, raw, and aching, she said nothing, did nothing.
“Tell me about your father.”
“He…he was sent here. Years ago.” Was that thin whisper her voice? It sounded as if she’d been screaming for hours. “My mother escaped, but he got caught.”
He nodded. And she kept talking. Anything to stop the water from coming back.
“I…I wanted to see if he was still here.” Her eyes pricked and her vision blurred with tears. “So stupid. I was so stupid.”
Choe nodded. “Yes, you were stupid. Very, very stupid.”
She didn’t say anything about being a reporter. Or about taking pictures for a documentary. She buried that part of herself deep inside. Instead, she told a truth about herself. A truth about a missing father she’d dreamed of meeting. She released that truth and let it eclipse everything else inside her. Choe had to believe that was her only reason.
Ears turned on the tap, sending water streaming and sloshing back into the bucket. Her pulse started to race and she jerked against the ropes.
“Please,” she said. “I’m Canadian. Please let me go home.”
“What about your father?”
“Please let me go.” She hated that she was back to begging, but she didn’t want the water again. The bucket was almost full. “Please.”
Choe waved his hand at Ears but he never took his eyes off her. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cassandra Kwon.”
Her body sank back. Relief and fear warred and skewered her inside. It was over.
For today.
The bars of the cage beside her clanged. She skittered back into the corner of hers when the guards threw the old man back into his cage. They locked the door and left. She relaxed.
They hadn’t come for her.
But they wouldn’t yet. Choe had said that he’d see her tomorrow. She hugged her knees to her chest. They wouldn’t come until then. They wouldn’t.
“Oh, young one,” the old man said. “You survived. Focus on that. You survived another day.”
His voice held compassion and pity. It drew Cassie from her darkness. “How do you do it? How do you keep surviving?”
He looked away from her. “There is only one way to survive here.”
“Tell me.”
He sighed. “The ones who keep their compassion, their humor, their memories of life before, their…hope…those are the prisoners who struggle. Most of them don’t make it. For the rest of us…our humanity is beaten out of us over weeks, months, years. Until all that’s left is an animal. And an animal will turn on anyone or anything in order to survive—fellow prisoners, friends, even family.” Dark memories haunted his eyes. “That is the only way to survive.”
“But you…”
He lowered his gaze and hunched in on himself. “I have survived.”
What had they done to him? “How long have you been here?”
“Too long to deserve your compassion.” His lips pressed together. “It is why you must tell them whatever you know. Maybe they’ll send you home.”
Even he didn’t sound hopeful.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“My name?” he repeated. “No one has asked me that in a long time. It’s Jin-sun.”
Her heart stuttered. Jin-sun was a common enough name. “And your family name?”
He tilted his head to study her. “Kwon. Kwon Jin-sun.”
Her heart stopped. Along with her breathing.
Jin-sun leaned toward her. “Young one? Are you all right?”
A shudder went through her, restarting her system like an electric shock. She coughed. “I’m okay.” This couldn’t be happening.
She’d dreamed of meeting her father ever since she was a little girl, wondering what type of man he was, pretending he was a hero who worked to make North Korea a safe place for his family and that one day he’d escape and find them.
“You’ve been in here for decades?”
His eyes widened. “Oh no. I spent a few years in a prison when I was young. When I got out, I…” He hung his head. “I followed the government’s rules. I tried to be a good citizen. I didn’t want to go back to prison.”
“What happened?”
He closed his eyes briefly, as if praying. “I tried to escape.” He opened his eyes. “That was two years ago.”
“Two years?”
He nodded. “And my humanity is almost gone.” He smiled. “You remind me of who I used to be. It’s both a blessing and a curse.”
She blinked. “A curse?”
“I can’t survive if my humanity returns.” He gave a shrug, as if he didn’t sit hunched in a cage. “But maybe that’s for the best.”
She didn’t know whether this man was actually her father, but she did know that she didn’t want to leave him behind. No one deserved this.
“My mother escaped Chosōn when she was pregnant with me,” Cassie said, using the North Korean word for their country.
Jin-sun stilled. “Did your father escape too?”
“No,” she said quietly. “He was captured and imprisoned. My mother had no way to get in touch with him. We heard he died in prison.”
He stared at her, his hands clenching and unclenching on nothing. “Your mother’s name?”
“Pak Dae. But her married name is Kwon.”
Jin-sun’s eyes squeezed shut and he began to rock back and forth, mumbling under his breath.
“Jin-sun? Are you okay?”
His eyes snapped open. “Your name?”
“Cassandra.”
“Cassandra.” He smiled at her—a wide, beautiful, joyous smile. Then he frowned. “What are you doing here?”
She shrugged. Was she really having a conversation like this? In prison cages? “I came to find…you.” Or someone like you. Was it really him? Could she really have found her father?
His shoulders slumped. “Oh, young one. How foolish you are.”
He was right. She had been foolish to come here. But the story of this place and these people had to be told. She didn’t mention that she was a reporter or what she was really doing here. He was an old man and could spill any of her secrets under torture. Everyone broke eventually. She just hoped that Choe decided she was telling the truth and maybe he’d put her in with the general population. Then maybe she’d have
a chance to escape.
Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
She dug her nails into her palms. She wouldn’t give up hope.
“At least tell me that someone is coming for you,” he said.
Her insides swirled and sank at that question. Was anyone coming for her? Did anyone even know? The truth hit her hard. “No one’s coming.”
He frowned at her. “What about your husband? Rose’s father?”
“No,” she whispered. “There is no one.” Her thoughts spiraled down, dragging her spirit with them. She needed something to take her mind off the constant pain of her body and the ache of her soul.
“Tell me about your life,” she said.
Jin-sun shook his head. “It pains me to remember the man I once was. Tell me instead about your life and your mother.”
Cassandra took a deep breath, knowing she’d avoid all mention of her career. Instead, she focused on her childhood, telling this man, who might be her father, about how she’d grown up in Canada. She told story after story of her childhood. Some made him smile or laugh; some made his eyes grow wide. He wanted to know about clothing, food, TV, books, and movies. He asked her to hum songs to him.
After a particularly awful rendition of “Eye of the Tiger”, she noticed all the other prisoners were awake and listening. It was sad how little entertainment the people in this country had. None of them had heard anything beyond sanctioned stories of the ruling Kim family.
Her voice had already been hoarse, but she kept speaking until it was barely a whisper. Something in her made her keep going, to give these prisoners something from the outside, even if it was just words, or a badly hummed tune. Most would die here, she realized. A woman in a cage against the opposite wall sat with tears streaming down her face.
So Cassie kept talking.
Derrick strode out of the combat supply room with his ruck packed and on his back. Rose stood in the hallway. He stopped. She didn’t have access to this floor. “How’d you get up here?”
She shrugged. “Ms. Waters let me come up. I told her it was urgent.”
“And is it?”
