Year of Impossible Goodbyes (16 page)

Consumed with hunger and exhaustion, I too must have dozed off and slept. Suddenly, startled by a noise, I awoke. It was the old man with the broom. He motioned for us to follow. I shook Inchun and we went with the man to the corner of the train station by his broom closet. He said, "I was waiting for you for the earlier train, but you were not here."

"I am sorry, sir. We were talking to the Russian guards hoping they would help us find our mother."

He looked startled, shook his head in disbelief, and said, "Look, many people in this town have seen you, so you'd better get going. It's not safe for you here. The Russian soldiers take children away. We don't know what they do with little children, but they do disappear. You are very daring and have been very lucky. Maybe your mother is already in the South. Do you have relatives in the South?"

"Yes."

"Good, I don't think you have much choice anyway. You've come this far. You have to go just a bit further to cross the Thirty-eighth Parallel. Then things will be better for you. You won't have to live in fear when you're old like me. No time to waste." The old man did not expect any response from us. He pulled out an old ticket stub. "Here, take this and don't lose it," he said. "When the night train arrives, there will be two conductors in the station, one young and one old. You make sure you line up on the far right where the old fellow is; he's a friend of mine. You give this stub to him and he will see to it that you get a chance to cross to the other side of the tracks." By this time, I was so confused and scared that I was ready to say, "Maybe we should go back to Pyongyang and see if my aunt can help us. Maybe I can go home." The old man looked at my helpless stare and sighed, as he said, "Come I will show you what I mean."

He went to the little window at the station. He made sure no one was coming and then whispered, "You have to get to the other side of the tracks and then go down the hill. Do you see that cornfield in the distance?" We nodded and he quickly continued, "Walk through that cornfield, but you have to look out for the search beam. When you see a bright beam, sit down and don't move. Wait until it goes away, then continue walking. After you get through the cornfield, do you see that little hill?" The old man looked at me with urgency. I was not sure, because it was rather dark already, but I thought I saw a dark mass behind the cornfield, so I nodded. "Go up and over that hill. It has many trees and it should be safe. Once you get over the hill you can see the barbed-wire fence. That fence is the Thirty-eighth Parallel. Run with all your might until you get to the barbed^wire fence and go under it. You are little and can crawl under. Don't stop for anything. Once you are on the other side of the fence, you will be in the South and you will be free. Maybe your mother is already there, waiting for her brave little ones."

He looked as if he himself wanted to risk it. I felt like saying, "Will you come with us?" But he fell silent and looked worried. He reached deep into the pocket of his old wrinkled trousers and took out a small package wrapped in an old handkerchief. "Here, take this. Munch on these while you wait for the search beam to pass over you."

I felt flushed with relief, and was very grateful to this old man, but instead of thanking him, I said, "But, the train will be here. How do we get to the other side of the tracks without being caught?"

The old man said, "The old conductor will look after you, just watch him carefully when you give him the ticket and follow his directions. Don't worry, he'll know I sent you. Just make sure you give him the ticket." He then disappeared as he saw some people approaching the station.

I was gripped with fear as I saw our only friend slip into the darkness. I wanted to follow him home and wash up, and eat, and rest for the night. I could picture him going back to a small house with a low thatched roof, and warm gray smoke swirling up from the chimney into the dark night sky. His sweet old wife was probably waiting for him with some hot soup. He was a kind man and had put himself at great risk to help us. It was then I smelled the sweetness of rice cakes from the package he had given me. I was ashamed I never thanked him for his kindness.

To my surprise, people started coming from all directions and before I knew it, the station was filled with silent shadows. No one spoke. They lined up and waited for the train. After a while, two conductors came out and started rattling their ticket punchers. We waited until we saw the elderly conductor heading toward the right side of the platform, then we followed him and got in line. We heard the train screeching and lurching to a stop. My stomach churned and my throat burned with fear. What if the old conductor gets caught trying to help us? What if he is not the right old conductor? What if he doesn't know about us?

The young conductor was asking for some people's passports. The older man was also looking at many people's passports and asking where they were going. Finally, it was our turn. I stretched out my arm to give him the ticket and looked up at him. He looked at us, punched our used ticket, and whispered, "To the end of the train." Pushing us on our way, he said loudly, "Next, next, passport, please."

I grabbed Inchun's hand and started walking to the end of the platform. People were pouring off the train, pushing and shoving through the crowds. As we got farther down the platform, the crowds started thinning out. It seemed awkward not to get on the train, and I was afraid we would be noticed. I looked back to see if anyone was staring, and saw the old conductor walking behind us. He bellowed, "All vendors must get back on the train now. You can sell your things at the next stop." Then I realized that the women with baskets in their arms were selling steamed potatoes and boiled eggs to the people getting on and off. The women grabbed their things quickly and went running onto the train.

Inchun and I had almost reached the last compartment when the old conductor drew closer behind us and started talking to a straggling vendor still trying to make a few more sales. "You must get on the train, now." Then he whispered to us, "I'll shield you from view. Quickly, crawl underneath the train, and when you're on the other side of the tracks, run down the hill just part way. Stay put until you see the train pull away. Then you can run to the bottom of the hill and cross the field."

The conductor looked around and squatted over as if to pick something up. Inchun and I bent down and crawled under the train. The vibration of the tracks was scary and the metal felt cold as I grabbed onto part of the wheel to steady myself while Inchun clung to me. We crawled out the other side of the train and ran a little way down the hill and crouched down until the train pulled away.

The dark cornfield up ahead seemed to be harboring all sorts of evil creatures and I imagined them whispering, "Go back to the old man and stay with him. You won't make it through here." I looked at the package I was clutching, opened it, and gave a rice cake to Inchun. He ate in silence and I knew he was swallowing his tears as he ate. We waited a long time, squatting against the pebbly hill. The pale moon was high above us, but dark clouds soon covered its light. It was damp, and chills ran through me like sharp little needles. I reached out and hugged Inchun, hoping to warm us both. I wanted to walk down the hill and get to the cornfield, but I was afraid of the searchlight. I wanted to see what it looked like before we started on our way.

Inchun shivered and said, "
Nuna,
how long are we going to sit here like this? These little stones are hurting me and I have to lock my knees and dig my heels in to keep from sliding. My legs are getting tired already."

I knew what he meant. I realized that I, too, was holding myself up by digging my heels into the dirt, and my calves were aching. "We will run down soon, but I just want to know what the searchlight is like. All the cornstalks are cut short. They won't hide us very well."

Inchun sat quietly and then exclaimed, "Look, look over there! It's like a rainbow. Look how it moves." He pointed to the left side of the field and then to the right. I saw a bright greenish-colored beam covering the ground.

The search beam passed over the cornfield and then passed near us as we sat crouched very still. Then, Inchun and I looked at each other, grabbed each other's hands, and started to tun and slide the rest of the way to the cornfield. The pebbles that we dislodged as we ran came tumbling down the hill, making a hissing noise as they scraped against each other. We fell and ended up rolling part of the way down. It hurt as the pebbles dug into us,
but we were glad to be at the foot of the hill. We stopped at the base and picked the bits of stone and dirt from our hair, our shoes, and even from out of our pockets. As we were busily dusting ourselves off, the search beam passed right in front of us. We sat quietly until the beam was over the hill, then we ran through the cornfield.

It started to rain, and we heard dogs barking in the distance. I was glad for the rain. It might prompt the soldiers and dogs to stay in the guardhouse a little longer. My wet shoes began to squelch in the muddy fields. I was afraid the noise would attract the dogs, so I took off my shoes and tried to walk barefoot through the corn stalks. But the sharp, freshly cut stalks pierced my already sore, tender feet. With each step, I couldn't help but let out a whimper of pain. We heard the dogs and the soldiers again, and we stood still in the middle of the field with the rain pouring down upon us. The search beam started panning the field, and we lay down in the mud. I forgot all about how much my feet hurt, and how cold and damp I was. We lay there without even breathing. I could feel Inchun's little body trembling in fear.

After a few minutes it was dark again, and there was only the sound of the pouring rain. I was thankful we had survived, and we kept walking. My feet were all bloody, and it was hard to keep silent. I moaned like a dying animal. After what seemed like several hours, we reached the foot of the hill. I looked at the ominous shadows the trees cast against the dense gray clouds. Inchun and I were drenched, and shivered in the darkness.

I was too scared and in too much pain to think or to say anything. Inchun pulled his little hand out of mine to wipe away his silent tears. I told him not to cry, and just to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. We started slipping in the mud as we tried to make our way up the hill. I clenched my teeth as I tried to get a foothold. It stopped raining, hut the ground was still slippery. The dark branches loomed above and seemed as if they would reach out and grab us. We were all alone in the cold darkness. I couldn't feel the pain anymore. I felt numb.

We saw the searchlight over us again, but we were comforted that the trees were taller than we were. We stood still next to a big tree and we pretended to be a part of it. While we were waiting for the searchlight to pass the hill, we realized we had almost made it to the top. Far off in the distance, illuminated by the searchlight, was the barbed-wired fence.

I pulled Inchun's sleeve. "Look, do you see it? I think I can even see one or two little tents behind the fence, just as the old man said."

"I see it, too,
Nuna,
" Inchun said.

We hurried up and over the hill, hoping we would be there soon. We slid down the hill most of the way, and were cut and bruised from falling on the rocks and twigs. The heavy clouds began to dissipate, and we kept running. We finally reached the bottom of the hill and looked ahead, hoping to see the barbed-wire fence in front of us as the old man had told us. But, instead, we heard the whispering of a swollen river, and up ahead I could see steel railroad tracks bridging the water.

We kept walking and finally reached the tracks, which would be our bridge to the South. The railroad ties of the tracks were made of wood and were spaced several feet apart. A grown-up would just be able to make it from one tie to the next. If we made one false move, we would fall into the rapidly flowing river, and would surely die. We looked in terror at the task ahead of us. Gripped with fear, we looked around. Now we could clearly see the barbed-wire fence and the well-lit tents ahead.

"
Nuna
, the old man said nothing about a river and railroad tracks. We must be in the wrong place."

"Look," I said, "that is the South. We have to cross this river by going over these cross-rungs. Then we can run to the fence. The sky is lighter now and we can see better. Mother might be there waiting for us. I don't know if this is the right place, but I don't see another way."

Inchun stared at the railroad ties and cried. "Mommy, Mommy," he kept sobbing.

We sat there for a long time staring at the long distance between the railroad ties and the river below. "Well, Inchun, I think we can do it. Get down on all fours and stretch out your arms one at a time and try to grab onto the next rung. I'll go first and we'll take each step slowly and carefully. Don't look down. Make sure you grab the wooden bar with your hands first, then move your legs one at a time. You can hold on to my ankles. I'll grab onto the next rung and tell you when your hand and my ankle can move to the next one. Come on, there are the dogs and soldiers again." I had to reach out to grab the splintery rung, and my head started to spin when I looked at the dark turgid waters below. I was sure I would fall into the river, dragging Inchun with me.

Little Inchun looked at me and stretched his arms to reach the first rung. I turned and looked, and the gap between the rungs looked even larger than before; his little arms could barely reach. My whole body felt as if it were on fire. I was terribly afraid for him. He was brave. He said nothing, clenched his teeth with determination, and reached out to grab the rung and my ankle and carefully pull himself over. Rung by rung, we slowly continued. The light of dawn helped us to see the rungs. But the better we could see the path, the better the Russians would be able to see us. We kept crawling slowly from rung to rung until the land rose up beneath the tracks. We had crossed over the river and had about a quarter of mile to go.

How inviting that barbed-wire fence seemed! Only that small distance separated us now. Mother might be waiting for us in one of those tents with the warm glowing lights. Inchun and I looked at each other and started running toward the fence. At any moment the Russian guards might spring upon us. It was misty and wet. We soon heard the fierce barking of dogs. They must have discovered our scent. We froze and stared at each other. The dogs were getting closer and closer and the barking grew louder and fiercer. We heard the soldiers' footsteps in the distance. We heard them shouting to one another.