Sun-Hi and Jonah began to gather driftwood, piling it in a small depression in the black sand. They stacked up the sticks, filling in the lower gaps with dry coconut strands. He lit the kindling at the base as the last of the sunset faded, and soon the starlit beach was illuminated by a warm, crackling fire.
“This place — it is so beautiful,” breathed Sun-Hi. “I wish my family could see also.”
“There’s a lot to see in the world,” said Jonah, dreading any conversation that led toward the subject of Sun-Hi’s family and the other refugees.
“All trees here have bark!”
Jonah pondered the statement for a moment before saying, “I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at.”
“In my home, the trees do not have bark. You know, for tea.”
“People take all the tree bark? And they make tea?”
“Yes.”
He remembered how the refugees had been dressed, how desperate they were to reach the submarine, how skinny and malnourished they were, and how they stripped the Scorpion of anything edible within minutes. He’d always heard of the terrible conditions in North Korea, but using tree bark for tea? He pursed his lips in silence, thankful for the warmth of the fire. “Life in North Korea… it was difficult for you?”
“Yes. But my family lucky. My parents work at factory.”
“What did they make?”
“Nothing. They just go to factory and wait. It was very cold.”
“They worked at a factory… but they didn’t make anything?” he said, confused again.
Sun-Hi cocked her head at him as though she were explaining a basic concept to a particularly daft student. “No electricity. They sit for ten hour and then go home. Sometimes sing patriotic songs, but only for inspector.”
“How long was the factory out of power?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “Maybe seven years? It was very cold, because no heat.”
Jonah shook his head, baffled. “And they were the lucky ones? Who were the unlucky ones?”
“The ones without family go to city park outside station and wait for train. Boy, girl without parent, old man, old woman. They all go.”
“They got on the train? Went to another city?”
“No!” laughed Sun-Hi, poking him in amusement. He’d clearly said something incredibly stupid, unheard of even. “They do not get on train! Need special pass for train, nobody has special pass except for very important.”
“Then why did they go to the station?”
“Because that is where unlucky go,” she said with a tiny shrug. “Maybe because if good news come, it come by train. If family come, they come by train. Maybe they just go to see other people. Every morning the police come to get body, pick up dead from cold, dead from hunger. Sometime they try to chase everybody away, but unlucky always come back to train station.”
“But not you. Why?”
“Yes! Because we have family in Japan. They send money sometimes. And when money no longer help, they help pay for us to leave. My family is in Japan now I think. I miss them, but I think maybe they have big TV now, so it is okay.”
A hard knot grew in the back of Jonah’s throat. He swallowed, but it didn’t go away. “When you were on the ice… you had your family with you?”
“My mother, my father, and younger sister,” she said. “My brothers are in army. They did not know we leave. Do you think they angry I hide, go with you?”
“No,” said Jonah. He put an arm around Sun-Hi, holding her close. “I don’t think they’re angry with you. I think they are very proud of you.”
She smiled at him, a smile of pure happiness. Angry tears welled in Jonah’s eyes, knowing that if he didn’t tell her now, he never would. He didn’t think he’d be able to bring himself to broach the subject on his own.
“Sun-Hi, the refugees… everyone you came on board with—” his voice broke, but he forced himself to continue—“they were still on the Japanese carrier when she went down. They were stuck below decks. They never had a chance.”
She pulled back and stared up at him, disbelieving, waiting for him to flinch, break out into a grin, anything to make it not true. Jonah held her gaze, heartbroken and motionless. She slapped him, almost experimentally at first, her small hand barely glancing off the side of his chin. And then she slapped him again, harder, her reddening palm connecting squarely with his cheek. Her fists closed, she began to pound against his chest with increasing fury as she screamed out in Korean. Marissa, Dalmar, and Vitaly halted at the waterline, visible only by their dark, moonlit silhouettes, their eyes glinting in the firelight.
Sun-Hi fell into his arms, straining as she kicked against the black sand, still ineffectually swinging her arms at him. Her choking, stilted cries lapsed into deep, soaking sobs as she finally collapsed against his chest. He held her, rocking back and forth, the pain of her blows absorbed into the same deep well where he kept so many of his own memories. He couldn’t say how long she cried, but the ghostlike silhouettes of his crew had long since disappeared into the darkness. She slept in his arms as the last red embers of the fire faded to charcoal, her warm body pressed into his own as she roiled in a deep, haunted sleep under the starlight.
She looked the same as the moment he’d met her. A soft, round face topped by a ragged haircut, too-thin limbs clad in oversize work coveralls. But some deep, secret part of himself knew that the Sun-Hi who’d slipped her hand into his and ran her fingers through his beard with irrepressible curiosity was gone forever.
He wanted to cry as well, rage against the unfairness, the terrible absurdity, the tragedy of it all. His life was pain — joints aching as he woke, muscles stiff with tension as he slept, heart clenched in his chest, emotions made hard, the last of his happiness buried alongside the faces of the men he’d killed, of friends he’d lost. And if he let himself cry, even for a moment, he didn’t know if he could ever stop again.
CHAPTER 17
Jonah woke to first light, the fire long since smoldered to ash. He sat up abruptly, aware that Sun-Hi’s impression in the black sand beside him was cold and empty. Pushing himself to his feet, he stretched, joints popping and cracking as if he were an old man. The beach had made for an adequate bed, but he still felt sharp, radiating pain from so many hours on its firm surface. He’d had too many years of decompression chambers and prison fights, the accumulated damage to his body only compounded by the stresses of command.
He walked the length of the partially collapsed concrete dock to find the Scorpion all but empty. Vitaly had strung up a hammock across the length of the command compartment, sleeping soundly. Jonah rapped on the periscope stalk with his knuckles, waking him.
“Cap’n!” stuttered the Russian, awkwardly trying to throw a leg over the side of the hammock and balance himself before getting out.
“No need to get up,” said Jonah. “Thanks for sticking around to keep an eye on our ride. Where is everybody?”
“Island,” Vitaly croaked, jabbing a thumb in the general direction of the abandoned airstrip.
“Anybody check in with you lately?”
“No. But Alexis come in last night and take two tank.”
“Two tanks?” Jonah scratched his beard, confused. “Tanks of what?”
“I think one nitrogen and one petrol?” said Vitaly. “She say she make birthday present.”
Jonah emerged from the jungle, walking alone towards the scattering of abandoned buildings on the far side the airstrip. Dalmar emerged from the largest structure and waved him over.