‘No, no. I cannot. I just… I just want to find my wife and go home.’
Eddie and Nina traded downbeat looks: the chances of Ock’s wife still being alive were vanishingly small. But they said nothing, instead watching the upper gate draw closer. ‘Everyone get ready,’ said the Yorkshireman, readying his gun. The action told the others what to do without the need for a translation. He took hold of the control lever. ‘And… now!’
He slammed it to the stop position, one of the unarmed workers throwing open the gate. Everyone rushed out.
Half a dozen soldiers stood by a truck at the end of the runway. Only a couple had time to react to the unexpected new arrivals before the prisoners opened fire, bullets tearing them apart. More rounds ripped into the truck’s cab, blood from the driver’s head splashing the splintering windscreen.
Another couple of soldiers were standing near the blockhouse. Both fell to sharp bursts from Eddie’s rifle. He checked the area. Nobody else in sight.
Nobody alive. There were large piles of rubble that had been brought up from below but not loaded for disposal. As before, the reason was appallingly clear. More workers lay still and bloodied amongst the debris, twisted in the frozen agonies of death.
Ock let out a keening cry, staring in horror at one of the bodies. He ran to the motionless woman and fell to his knees. Nina felt a deep dread. ‘Is she… your wife?’
The quivering man’s eyes filled with tears. He had to choke back sobs before being able to speak. ‘Yes…’
She regarded the dead woman with an almost overpowering sadness, knowing she would feel just as lost in the same situation. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’
He tried to reply, but couldn’t form the words. All he managed was a moan as he bent lower until his face almost touched the floor, gripping his wife’s still hand. The other prisoners looked on with sympathy, some offering whispered condolences. Finally a word in Korean escaped his lips — spoken not with grief, but with anger. He jerked back upright and repeated it in an enraged scream as tears rolled down his face.
Eddie looked on sorrowfully, then noticed something in the huge hangar beyond. Or rather, the absence of something. ‘Shit!’ The three missile transporters were gone — along with their cargo. But he could still hear the echoing roar of powerful diesel engines. With some of the prisoners following, he ran to the runway. The sound grew louder. He peered cautiously around the corner to look down the main tunnel.
The TELs were approaching its mouth, travelling in a convoy with several jeeps, another two-ton truck like the bullet-ravaged one nearby, and the 4x4 in which he and Nina had been brought to Facility 17. As he watched, one of the jeeps veered off sharply and skidded to a halt, its occupants jumping out. Even at this distance, Eddie could tell from his clothing that one was an officer rather than a regular soldier.
Bok.
The echoes of massed gunfire from the runway’s far end had alerted Bok that something was wrong. He ordered his driver to swing out of the convoy and stop.
The other vehicles all slowed in response. ‘Bok!’ barked Kang over the walkie-talkie. ‘What’s happening?’
The security chief got out and stared back down the tunnel. In the distance, he saw figures spilling from one side of the blockhouse — and dead soldiers on the ground. ‘Some of the prisoners have escaped! They’ve—’ One person stood out clearly, even from this distance. Red hair. ‘The American woman, she’s still alive!’ he cried in disbelief.
Kang’s voice turned even colder than usual. ‘None of them get out. Do you understand?’
Bok stiffened at the understated but clear threat. That Wilde and her husband had survived in the first place was already a black mark for him; his rank and privileged background would not help him if he failed to prevent them from escaping the facility. ‘They’ll be dead when you reach the airbase, sir,’ he replied.
‘It had better not take that long, Bok.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The major shouted hurried orders into the radio. Three more jeeps pulled over to form a barricade across the runway, the soldiers jumping out and aiming their rifles down the tunnel. The rest of the convoy accelerated again, clearing the mountainside and rumbling away into the night.
Bok clipped the radio back to his belt, trying to conceal his worry, then looked around. At this range, without telescopic sights, his men’s Type 58 rifles would be all but useless, but there were other weapons nearby that could do the job. Flanking the runway just outside the tunnel entrance were the two minigun turrets, intended to repel invaders trying to enter Facility 17… but also able to turn through a hundred and eighty degrees to prevent anyone from leaving it.
‘The guns!’ he shouted. ‘Man the guns — point them into the facility.’ Two men ran for one, while he and a soldier from his jeep started for the other. ‘No one gets out of there alive!’
Eddie saw the North Korean troops head for the turrets. ‘Shit! Everyone get back, get into cover!’ He pushed Nina around the corner as he withdrew, but several prisoners had already raced past him on to the runway. Without Ock to translate, they didn’t understand his warning — and by the time they realised for themselves, it was too late.
The miniguns opened fire with chainsaw snarls, sending twin streams of bullets down the runway, tracers giving them the appearance of laser beams. The gunners swept them across the end of the hangar, fifty rounds impacting every second. Concrete splintered under the onslaught, lines of death homing in on the running figures—
The miniguns only used standard 7.62-millimetre ammunition, allowing them to draw upon North Korea’s vast reserves of Kalashnikov-compatible rounds, but fired at such a fearsome rate that the result was like being struck by cannon shells. The first man to be hit literally disintegrated, his body blasted into a bloody spray. The woman beside him screamed as her arm was ripped off at the elbow, but her agony lasted only a moment before the gunfire cut her in half.
The other escapees tried to retreat, but there was nowhere to hide. More fell, exploding into bloodied shreds. A few managed to get behind the truck, but it did not save them. The minigun streams tore its bodywork into shrapnel, tearing apart the men and women cowering behind it before its fuel tank exploded, scattering blazing wreckage all around.
The gunners focused their attention on the spot where the fugitives had emerged. Eddie and Nina fled as the corner of the cavern wall shattered behind them, blasted apart by the six-barrelled weapons—
Sudden silence as the miniguns ceased firing. ‘What happened?’ Nina gasped. ‘Why’ve they stopped?’
Eddie signalled for everyone to stay put, then moved back through the haze of dust to risk a brief peek around the bullet-gnawed corner. Both turrets still pointed down the runway. ‘Run out of targets. Probably worried about wasting ammo, too — if those miniguns are like American ones, they can fire over three thousand rounds per minute.’
‘So what can we do?’
‘There’s no way we’ll get past ’em,’ he replied, grim-faced. ‘We—’
Ock pushed past him, now holding a rifle. ‘We kill them,’ he growled. ‘We kill them!’
Eddie dragged him back. ‘No, don’t!’ cried Nina. ‘They’ll kill you!’
‘I do not care! She is dead, she is dead!’ A despairing wave at his wife’s body. ‘I have nothing left!’
‘You’d be dead before you got twenty feet,’ Eddie told him. ‘You’ll die for nothing! Would your wife want that?’
The question shook Ock. ‘No, she…’ He slumped. ‘No. But what can we do? We are trapped!’