Ji-min Read online

  “Sit,” Minister Pak said with a wave toward an empty chair.

  The servant brought the Colonel a cappuccino in a gold-trimmed china cup.

  “You always have the good stuff,” the Colonel said.

  “Good? This is barely passable.”

  “Yet better than what we have in the army.”

  “I suppose it is,” Minister Pak said. “There’s no way around the UN embargo this time.” He sipped his drink. “Well, I suppose I could craft a way, but it would be prohibitively expensive.”

  “I wouldn’t risk it for coffee,” the Colonel said with a chortle. “You don’t want to stand out these days.”

  “No. You don’t.” Minister Pak picked a fish ball from the platter and flung it toward the geese. They honked and fluttered their wings in a race to the morsel.

  “Do you miss him?”

  “He was stupid. He thought he wouldn’t be caught lining his pockets. Mocking Dear Leader. Nothing is private, not anymore.”

  “True. Do you miss him?”

  “He was my friend.”

  “His execution was… creative. Not nearly as fast as previous ones. He must have been terrified.” The Colonel shook his head.

  Minister Pak nodded.

  The Colonel pulled a polished brass flask from his coat pocket and poured a healthy measure of amber liquid into personalized crystal whiskey tumblers. “To friends we’ve lost.”

  Minister Pak raised a glass. “To friends we’ve lost. May they be remembered.” He downed the alcohol. A sprinkling of white snowflakes floated past. “Dear Leader thinks he’s a deity to all of us, that his power knows no limits.” He gestured to his glass, and the Colonel refilled it. “It has limits.”

  “If it does,” the Colonel said, “I don’t know where they lie. No one he deems a threat is safe. Not even you. Certainly not me.”

  “He doesn’t see an enemy in us,” Minister Pak said.

  The Colonel chuckled. “We’re too smart for that. So far.”

  “Still, we best not forget our duties.” Minister Pak sipped from his tumbler. “How are your efforts to provision the army proceeding?”

  “Well enough. I hope they don’t have to fight with only rice and potatoes in their bellies, but they’ll survive the winter.” He plopped a fish ball in his mouth.

  “Any trouble?”

  “No. Just one farmer who wanted to put his own interests above those of the nation.”

  “I trust you dealt with the situation?”

  The Colonel smirked.

  “Be mindful we don’t lose too many farmers or there won’t be enough labor in spring.”

  “We have political re-education camps filled with people who would rather be farmers,” the Colonel said.

  “I suppose you’re right. Still, be careful. If we press too hard, we risk the fate that befell Ceausescu, Hussein, and Qaddafi. We don’t want to provoke a revolt.”

  “Those leaders were ousted due to American meddling,” the Colonel said. “They didn’t have nukes capable of striking any point on Earth, so the superpowers had their way with them.”

  “The world doesn’t believe we’ll use our nuclear arsenal because their retaliation would annihilate us.”

  “Does Dear Leader believe that’s true?”

  Minister Pak shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  The Woods

  Ji-min walked past a long, squat building. Its baby blue paint was peeling, and the walls were tarnished by patches of moss. The structure was open on one side. Logs were stacked in massive piles, and a mechanical buzzing pierced her ears. This must be the mill.

  “Hey. You! This place is not for kids.” A scraggly man shouted at her from the edge of the building. A long-handled, well-worn ax dangled at his side. “Don’t get any ideas about stealing wood from the forest.”

  She hurried along, toward a stand of young pines. Glancing back at him from the woodline, she recalled her mother’s words. Bad things happen in the woods. Stay out of the woods. Ji-min took a deep breath, puffed it out, and stepped into the gray-green forest. The city’s oily smell gave way to a clean scent. It was warmer, the trees blocking the wind and catching some snowfall. Tangled branches laden with evergreen needles filtered the sunlight. Her eyes struggled to adjust to the gloom. There was a scratching noise. Movement in the corner of her eye. Someone’s watching me. Or something. She pushed forward. “Hello? Is someone here?”

  Leaves rustled.

  “Please?”

  Silence. She walked further into the woods.

  “Hello? Please, someone?”

  A twig snapped.

  Ji-min froze.

  A sallow head peered over a hollow, fallen log. A haggard boy, perhaps a year older than her, hesitantly stood. Red blotches covered his sunken cheeks and a front tooth was missing.

  “Hello,” Ji-min said.

  The boy didn’t answer.

  “My name is Ji-min.” He almost looks like a gangshi from Eomma’s harvest stories. How is he still alive? “I have food.”

  His eyes widened. He took half a step back.

  “I won’t hurt you.” She opened the sack and held forth a ball of sticky rice.

  He edged closer, nose twitching, focused on the food.

  She extended a pinch of the rice.

  He inched forward, snatched the food, and devoured it. He took a step back, his brows narrowing, and scrutinized her. “My name’s Bae,” he said.

  “Bae,” Ji-min said. “Are you an orphan?”

  He stared at her.

  “I’m an orphan,” Ji-min said. No father. No mother. Alone. Her world wavered as tears pooled in her eyes. “I have no home.”

  “How are you so well fed?” he asked.

  Well fed? I haven’t been well fed since summer. She studied him. In comparison, I suppose he’s right. “My mother died a week ago. I wanted to stay in our family home, but the horrid neighbors had the government take me to an orphanage. Only…” Grief overcame her.

  “The orphanage had no room,” Bae said. He stepped closer. “I have a home. There’s room for you.”

  Ji-min wiped her eyes, forced a smile, and nodded. There’s still good in the world.

  “We have a camp deeper in the woods. You can stay with us,” Bae said.

  “We?” she asked. Deeper in the woods? What if he’s not good, after all?

  “We. The orphans the town rejected.” His shoulders slumped as he spoke the words. “We’d best get out of sight.” He started down a path.

  She didn’t move. Bad things happen in the woods.

  Bae returned to her and gingerly extended a hand. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  He looks so weary, downtrodden. She turned back toward the city. Bleak storm clouds loomed in the distance. Without shelter, without community, I won’t survive. She took his hand and followed him into the forest. The trees grew close together, their branches obscuring the gloomy sky. The path soon led to a boulder as tall as Bae. A long, bare tree branch leaned against the rock, forming the center of his roof. Sticks still covered in green needles lay packed along the branch, ends overlapping, creating a simple refuge. It was one of half a dozen makeshift hovels ringing a simple fire pit. He crawled in through a tiny opening at the foot of the hut.

  Ji-min followed.

  “Welcome, honored guest,” Bae said. He managed a slight bow and a meager smile.

  Ji-min smiled back. “Where are the others?”

  “Sleeping. We scavenge what food we can by night. Some beg at first light. This winter started off hard. Townsfolk are afraid to give us food they may need to survive until spring.”

  If the townspeople are afraid for their survival, what of us? Of me? A new worry struck her. “The mill’s close by. Why don’t they cut these trees for timber instead of bringing them from far off? Why don’t the townspeople cut them down for firewood?”

  “The trees are too young for the mill,” Bae said. “I overheard a worker say something about instruction
s from the capital not to touch the woods. The government isn’t kind to people caught defying the rules.”

  Ji-min contemplated his answer. “Things grow,” she said. She nibbled a grain of rice, savoring its flavor. “How many children live here?”

  “Eleven of us. You make twelve.”

  Ji-min noticed the wall opposite the one they crawled through was lashed with a single piece of twine. “My family home was much larger than this, but we only had one door. Your home has two.”

  “When the police come to beat us, it’s best to have options.”

  “Police? Beating?”

  Bae shrugged. “We need to eat. Sometimes people in the city take pity and offer us scraps. Sometimes we steal to survive. The police beat us when anything goes missing. Even if it wasn’t us.”

  “That’s not fair!” Nothing’s fair anymore.

  “No,” Bae said. “It’s not.”

  Ji-min lowered her chin.

  “Let me show you,” Bae said. His eyes brightened. A tug on the string released the knot, and the pine branch wall swung flat, revealing a dark, narrow tunnel. “I piled up branches and covered them with snow,” Bae said. “It goes back five meters, behind some thick trees.”

  “You’re a clever one,” Ji-min said, idly picking at her bag. “My food won’t last us but a day. Will I have to steal?” How can I take from others? That’s wrong. Everything’s so wrong.

  “If you want to survive winter. Yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re one of us now. We’ll do it together.”

  Ji-min pulled at a pine twig. One of us. Can this place become a home? Is there any place for me in the world?

  #

  The following weeks were punishing. Snow dumped on the city for days, then thawed enough to soak the makeshift camp. Before it could dry, a cold snap froze everything to ice. The city dwellers stayed inside and kept doors and windows locked tight. The orphans begged for food in town during the day, then gathered at the center of camp around the stone fire ring. Wood scraps were the one thing they had in abundance. They stayed warm together, shared stories of better times, and thought of ways to survive the next day. As the fire dwindled to embers, they withdrew to their huts, spirits warmed but stomachs empty.

  “I can’t go on,” Ji-min said. Bae was half-asleep in their makeshift home. She pulled herself to him to ward off the midnight chill.

  “Shh. Sleep,” he said. “You need to sleep. Save your energy.”

  “For what? More hunger? More starvation?”

  “Spring will come.” Bae rolled over to face her. “There will be more food. You must endure.”

  “After spring comes another winter.” She clenched the talisman hanging around her neck. “What kind of life is this?”

  Bae rested a hand on her shoulder. “Dear Leader says the conflict with the imperialist Americans is going well for us. After we win, there'll be plenty for everyone. I can show you a billboard in town that says so.”

  “You believe that?” Even deep in the woods, she dared not speak the words above a whisper.

  Bae nodded. “We face hardship because the imperialist Americans undermine our peaceful society, but Dear Leader will guide us to success as he always has.”

  Ji-min touched his cheek. “This is not success.”

  Bae frowned. “Our life is harder than most.”

  Footsteps sounded outside. Something was knocked over. “What’s that?” someone asked.

  “Come, everyone. I brought food!” a voice shouted.

  Bae and Ji-min rushed out. One of the older boys held a canvas sack over his shoulder. The moon struck an object tucked under his belt, something metallic. An ax. The other orphans gathered around him.

  “Where did you get that?” a young girl asked.

  “The ax? From the mill. I used it to break into the market.” He spread open the bag and handed out food. “This is all I could carry. I busted open the door. We can go back and get more.”

  “You broke in?” Bae asked. “They won’t let it pass. They’ll come looking for us.”

  The boy’s gaunt face took on a wounded expression. “What else can we do? We have no other food.”

  Bae’s shoulders slumped.

  “It has been done,” Ji-min said. “We can’t change what happened, but we can go back for more food. Their punishment will be the same whether we take one sack or three. Hide what we don’t need today. The town will get more food. The way things are going, we might not get anything else this winter.”

  Others murmured agreement. The children moved through the trees like emaciated wraiths, blending into the forest shadows. At the clearing by the mill, they stopped and huddled. The full moon bathed the snow-covered field in bright, silvery light. Beyond the mill was an ice-covered street leading into town. The market was a hundred meters down the street, the second building on the right.

  “Let’s go,” Bae said.

  The boy with the ax raised a hand. “We must be careful. A group might make noise, or be seen by someone using an outhouse. We go one at a time, and we share everything we get.”

  Heads nodded.

  “I’ll go first,” the boy said.

  “No.” Bae stood. “You risked it once. I’ll go.”

  “Bae!” Ji-min said. She sighed. “Be careful.”

  His lips stretched over his misshapen teeth into a doubtful smile. He set out for the mill, crouching down as he made his way past stacks of tree trunks laid flat, where shadows hid his movement. With a sprint down the road, he was soon a gray bundle hunched next to piles of asphalt-colored snow before disappearing into the darkness. Nothing stirred in town.

  Ji-min bit her lip. Staring into the darkness, she paced between two pines. “He’s been gone too long.” She paced again. “I’m going after him.”

  “No,” the boy said. “It’s too dangerous.”

  Ji-min crossed her arms. “I’m going.”

  The boy studied her face, her hard-set brow casting skull-like shadows across her face in the stark moonlight. He nodded consent.

  She started along the same path Bae had followed. His footsteps in the snow. They can follow the tracks back to us. To all of us. She stepped where he had stepped, making their paths appear as one. Ji-min moved as quickly as her hungered state would allow. Cautious and stealthy, she passed the mill and moved to the street. A smattering of trees sprinkled the roadside. Bae had kept to their shadows, and so did she. As she approached the first building in town, a dim figure emerged from the market. Bae! There you are. He was hunched over, carrying a heavy load on his back.

  Two shadows rushed forward from the gloom between the two buildings. One raised an arm, holding a stick. The stick fell. Bae fell, like a lifeless lump, onto the street.

  “Bae!” Ji-min swallowed her scream. She threw a hand over her mouth and shook in terror. No! Bae! No.

  The murky figures picked him up and hauled him into the darkness.

  No. I must rescue him. Frantic, her eyes darted about, desperate for a way to help. I can’t. I’m weak. A shiver wracked her body. Bae’s the only person who cares I exist, and I’m powerless to save him.

  After she was sure the men were gone, Ji-min retraced her steps, hot tears streaking down her cheeks. Her world was a watery blur, her head felt as if on fire. When she reached the edge of the woods, she collapsed.

  “Ji-min?” someone asked. “What happened? Where’s Bae?”

  Through wretched sobs, Ji-min could manage only one word. “Gone.”

  Hardship

  Minister Pak sat at his desk on the ground floor of the Ministry of Finance building. The wall behind him was of glass, with a door to one side leading to an immaculate private garden and the city beyond. Construction workers were erecting a security fence around the grounds. Movers clad in white coveralls delivered furniture, boxes, and original works of art under the watchful eye of the Minister’s security detail. One man set up a teak side table and his assistant followed him with a hand-painted tray holding an
antique teapot.

  “Why tea, Ae-jung?” Minister Pak asked.

  “The coffee delivery still didn’t arrive,” Ae-jung said.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Minister Pak said.

  Ae-jung lowered her head.

  “What's your opinion of my new office?” Minister Pak asked.

  She scanned the room. “The space is spacious, well-lit.”

  “Without a view.”

  “Without an elevator,” Ae-jung said. She served the Minister’s tea. “Once Dear Leader deals with the imperialist Americans, we’ll have reliable electricity again.”

  “Is that so?” Minister Pak said, his tone gruff.

  Ae-jung shrank back. “I heard it on the news.”

  “Hmm.” He sipped the strong tea. “I deserve a view of the capital, not of the bushes.”

  “Of course, Minister,” Ae-jung said.

  Minister Pak turned his attention to his laptop computer. He poured over reports from subordinates. This winter will be painful. We don’t have enough fuel to run the power plants and heat homes. Let’s see. We can divide the power grid to minimize service interruptions to ministers and general officers. Field officers will face outages. There’s no way to avoid it unless we can resolve this trade embargo. Important people will be cold and hungry.

  He sipped his tea, which had become lukewarm, and grimaced.

  Ae-jung rushed to top off the cup.

  We’d get pennies on the dollar for our gold reserves, what’s left of them, on the black market. Assuming we could get them out of the country. China won’t buy our iron ore at any price. How did the Americans convince them to agree to sanctions? He stared out the window at half-melted snow sullying the concrete-and-asphalt city. A mere handful of cars moved on the recently repaved avenue leading through downtown because only the elite could obtain gasoline in recent months. He shook his head and dialed his mobile phone.

  “Yes?” the Colonel’s voice answered.

  “I have a task for you. Visit the domestic resource producers. Unearth what they’re holding back and how we can press them to make more.”