*
The next part was like a long dream. Whenever we spotted a passer-by, Chilsung and I would quickly hide in the bushes by the side of the road, or behind a rock, and wait for the person to pass. Once, we saw a mother and daughter coming toward us, but we didn’t bother to hide. They were so starved and exhausted that they didn’t even turn to look at us, let alone say anything. At the top of a hill overlooking a village, we saw the body of a man lying face-up toward the sun. His mouth was agape and his eyes were open; a little foam had seeped out of the corner of his mouth, and his lips and cheeks were dried stiff. A short distance away from the body, I saw his spirit sitting on the branch of a pine tree. He looked like a puff of smoke emerging from a chimney on a cloudy day.
Where ya going? he asked.
To find my parents.
No point in that, he muttered. They’re all dead.
I didn’t respond. His smoke-like ghost hovered over us, muttering: I’m hungry. Gimme food. Gimme something to eat. When Chilsung growled and bared his teeth, the man vanished, as if swept away on a breeze.
I decided there wasn’t much benefit to travelling during the day, as we had to take long detours each time we came across a village or factory, so I led Chilsung up into the surrounding mountains. It wasn’t until we made it to one of the peaks that we spotted railroad tracks winding off in the distance. Okay, I thought to myself, if we follow those tracks, we’ll find our way to Puryong. As I’d made up my mind to sleep during the day and walk only at night, I immediately spread my jacket out on the underbrush and lay down. Chilsung lay pressed up against my side, his chin propped on his paws as he kept watch over me. When I awoke, shivering from the cold, the sky was filled with stars. It looked like all of the lights were on in the houses of some distant world. I nearly reached my hand out to try to pluck the biggest star that seemed to dangle right before my eyes.
I headed down the mountain in the dark toward the railroad tracks that I’d spotted during the day. I felt the crunch of gravel underfoot before I saw the tracks. Chilsung and I stepped over the metal rails and up onto the wooden ties, and followed the tracks all night. I can’t remember if we stopped somewhere to sleep or if we walked straight on into the next night, but we eventually arrived near Gomusan Station. The whole area had been abandoned. We were walking down an alley past a long row of empty houses when I had the distinct sensation that there were people inside.
Who’s she?
Whispers were carried to me on the wind. Dark shapes as distinct as black clothes hanging on a clothesline in the middle of a moonless night began to appear one after another. One of them brushed past me and suddenly spoke in a clear voice:
Where are you going?
I wasn’t afraid. Even when it was just Grandmother and me in the dugout hut, with tigers and lynxes prowling right outside, I hadn’t been afraid; nor was I afraid later, when I was on my own in the woods.
What’s it to you where I’m going? Do you think I’m afraid of you?
The black shapes whispered to each other:
She says she’s not afraid!
Chilsung and I walked straight ahead without paying the shapes any attention, and came to a stop in front of a house. It had a wide courtyard and a wooden veranda, just like our house back in Musan, and the gate was open. I was about to go through it when Chilsung dug in his hind legs and let out a low growl.
It’s okay, boy. We’ll rest here until the sun comes up and then head to the station. When I walked into the courtyard, a breeze blew past me and whirled around the yard. I was about to step up onto the veranda when I heard a hoarse female voice right behind me.
You bad girl. How dare you walk right into someone else’s house?
When I turned to look, a woman with dishevelled hair was standing in front of the kitchen door. I could tell that it was the owner of the house — and that it was not a living person. Chilsung growled again.
I’m sorry, Auntie. I was looking for my mother, but I got so tired that I thought I could just rest here a little before I kept going.
Get rid of the dog. It’s scaring the kids.
He’s my little brother. He won’t hurt anyone. Auntie, how did you die?
Quiet giggles erupted in the corner.
She says that dog is her little brother!
Two children were standing side by side in the house. The taller one was a girl, the shorter one a boy. They looked to be about seven and four. I sat on the veranda while the woman and her two kids stood as far away from me as they could.
We can’t leave, the woman said. We’re waiting for their father to come back. He and I went all the way to Hoeryong and Chongjin to look for food, but there were no trains and we had to walk. It took us three days to get home. We found our children frozen and starved to death. I died right then of shock. My husband left and hasn’t returned. Look at the yard. Those are our neighbours. They all went first. We were the last to go.
I looked at the spirits, clumped together and wavering like dark smoke in the courtyard and on the threshold of the gate. I thought of what my grandmother would do and took the gaetteok I’d made before leaving from my knapsack, pulled off little pieces, and began tossing them into the courtyard. I tossed some to the woman and her two kids inside the house as well.
Eat up, everyone. Eat, eat, before you go. You have some too, and you, and you.
The shapes vanished at once. I gave a piece to Chilsung and had a small bite for myself before slipping into a deep sleep.
In the morning, we walked to the station. There were no employees, and no sign that anyone had been there in a while. I was squatting outside the station building when an elderly woman came tottering toward me.
“I’ve never seen you before. What neighbourhood are you from?” she asked.
“I’m from Musan.”
“Why’d you come here then? You should’ve crossed the river instead. My son and daughter-in-law left the country that way a long time ago. Said they were looking for work.”
“Grandmother, if I need to get to Puryong, should I take a train from here?”
“Train? Do people still take those? The train stopped coming here ages ago. Everyone who was still alive ran off as well. Let’s see. I suppose it would only take a day for an adult to reach Puryong on foot.”
The old woman let her basket drop. It held some pine bark and a few scraps of bellflower root.
“This stuff has been keeping me alive. You hurry on home now. Or go to the station at Chongjin like the other urchins. That’s the only way to survive, by begging and stealing.”
I reached behind to pull another gaetteok from the plastic bag in my knapsack, but the old woman snatched the whole packet from me. I would never have guessed from her slow shuffle and the way she’d spoken that her hands could’ve moved that fast. She stuffed two of the gaetteok in her mouth at once and started to chew. Her molars must have fallen out, because she nibbled futilely with her front teeth before trying to swallow them whole. I could tell from looking at her that the dry cakes were stuck in her throat. I offered her the bottle of water, and she hid the plastic bag behind her back before taking a long swig. Then she seemed to come to her senses. She let out a long breath and sat down for a moment before handing the bag and bottle back to me. “You should eat too,” she said.