Mi-ja fell into this category. “Go,” I whispered.
“I won’t leave you,” she whispered back. “If I stay here, maybe I can help you. When Sang-mun comes, I’ll make him gather all of us. He’ll save us. I know just how to ask him.”
I bit my lip, torn. I doubted he would put himself forward to help me and my family. More important, I doubted Mi-ja had influence over him. But I tried to believe her.
The commander repeated his announcement, adding, “I promise you’ll be safely delivered to your families.” At that, a few people stood. Policemen and soldiers gathered their relatives and guided them away from whatever was going to happen to the rest of us. Once they were out of sight, the commander addressed us again. “We’re looking for the insurgents who killed two of my men in the early morning hours of this day.”
My family was asleep when that happened, as were probably all the other families.
“We’re also looking for those who’ve aided the enemy, and informants who’ve whispered of our movements.”
I’d done neither. But . . . More than a year ago, I’d left food in my fields to help that mother and her children who’d been pushed from their mountain home. I’d whispered gossip with members of the collective when we were still allowed to work and with my neighbors in recent months. And I’d heard my husband bitterly condemn what was happening around us.
“If you step forward now and confess, we will be more forgiving,” the commander shouted. “If you don’t step forward, then your family and friends will suffer.”
No one accepted the offer.
“Already we’ve gone to the villages surrounding Bukchon,” he went on. “We have rid Jeju of three hundred people, who claimed to be farmers.”
Rid had to mean killed. But again, no one volunteered.
“All right, then.” The commander motioned to the soldiers nearest to him. “Take any ten men you choose.”
The soldiers waded through the sea of fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons, who sat in the dirt across from us. As the soldiers made their choices, I followed them with my eyes, searching for Jun-bu. The first ten men—mostly in their teens and twenties—were escorted from the playground into the elementary school. On our side of the yard, the mothers, wives, sisters, and daughters of those men began to sob. All I could feel was relief that the soldiers hadn’t taken Jun-bu.
Soon enough, Jeju’s relentless wind carried screams to our ears as the men were tortured. I was frozen with fear. I prayed to Halmang Jacheongbi, the goddess of love, who is independent, determined, and unafraid of death, but the men were not returned to the yard. Another ten men were gathered and taken inside. Again, their womenfolk keened with grief, followed by wails of agony, then eerie silence.
I met Mi-ja’s eyes. I could not fathom what she was thinking.
“If I’m going to die here,” I announced, “then it’s going to be with my children.”
After the next group of men was taken inside, I began to scoot on my bottom through the crowd. Mi-ja came with me.
“Have you seen my children?” I asked those around me every few meters. “Have you seen Granny Cho?”
I was not the only one making inquiries.
During one of our hazardous ventures to the perimeter, we came close—too close—to an ambulance. The back doors were open, and we could hear men inside arguing.
“I fear we’re going to need to kill everyone here,” rasped a man.
“That’s impossible.” I recognized the commander’s voice and felt a shard of hope. Then he went on. “But if we let them live, how will we provide their necessities—clothes, food, and housing—after burning everything?”
“And we can’t have witnesses.”
“But it’s—what?—a thousand people,” the commander asked.
“Not that many, sir. Only a few hundred . . .”
Just then, the ambulance driver opened his door, lurched to the edge of the yard, and vomited. A moment later, the commander and his officers poured out the back of the ambulance. As they strode away in V formation, Mi-ja and I scooted back into the crowd. We didn’t tell people what was coming. Panic wouldn’t help.
I’d been reduced to an animal wanting to protect its young, acting from instinct as old as the earth. Mi-ja and I approached the front of the gathering, going to the one area we’d most feared. We were getting close to the soldiers with their weapons when Mi-ja choked out in a half whisper, half cry, “Look!”
A few meters ahead of us, through the heads of about a dozen people, I saw Granny Cho and Yu-ri. My daughter, Min-lee, sat safely tucked between them. Yu-ri held Sung-soo, my eldest son, in her lap, while their little brother, Kyung-soo, was asleep on Granny Cho’s shoulder. Relief swept through me. My three children were safe. Now all I had to do was make my way to them without attracting attention. And then find my husband.
Mi-ja and I had almost reached them when the commander marched once again to the open space between the two groups.
“We take your men, but you don’t care. Let us see what happens when we ask questions of one of your daughters.”
He reached out and grabbed the closest person who met his requirements. It was Yu-ri. Sung-soo fell from her lap, stood, and was about to run when Granny Cho grabbed the tail of his tunic and held him back.
Someone shouted, “That girl is dumb! She won’t be able to help you!”
I buried my face in my hands, realizing the voice belonged to my husband. He was alive, and he was here.
“Who said that?” the commander demanded. “Who knows this girl? Step forward now! Give your life for hers.”
“No,” I wailed.
Yu-ri groveled on the ground, terrified. When the commander flicked his wrist and several men strode to her, my husband did the only thing he could. He rose to his feet.
“That girl is my sister. She does not speak. She will not be able to help you.”
The commander turned to my husband, his eyes gleaming. “And who are you?”
“I am Yang Jun-bu. I am a teacher in this school.”
“Ah! A teacher. The worst of the instigators.”
“I am not an instigator.”
“Let’s see what your sister has to say about that.”
The soldiers moved on Yu-ri and began ripping at her clothes. They did not have torture in mind. My husband tried to run forward, but the strong arms of our neighbors held him back, pulling on his legs from where they sat. He screamed in anger. I used the distraction to rise to a crouch and go the final distance to Granny Cho and my children. I swooped my daughter into my lap. I felt Mi-ja drop down next to me. My eyes shot between Yu-ri, my husband, and the commander.
Goddess, any goddess, help us. My sister-in-law was in the hands of the soldiers. I couldn’t allow my brain to consider what they might do to my husband, when, seemingly out of nowhere, Mi-ja’s husband came running across the yard.
“Commander! Commander!”
Sang-mun carried Yo-chan, dressed to visit his grandparents in a sailor suit.
Sang-mun frantically gestured to the commander. He knew Jun-bu, but he seemed unaware that my husband was right there.
“My wife is here. Let me find her!” he implored. “She’s in the protected category!”
He said not a word about Jun-bu. Inside I was sending a message: Look!
In my lap, my daughter struggled, wanting to run to Yo-chan.
“Mi-ja!” Sang-mun shouted. “Come!”
I grabbed Mi-ja’s arm. “Take my children.”
“I can’t,” she said without a moment’s hesitation.
Those two words felt like a knife turning in my belly.
“You must.”
“They know I have only one child. And Yo-chan is already with his father.”
“These are my babies—”
“I can’t.”
“They’re going to kill us. Please,” I begged. “Take them.”
“Maybe I can take one . . .”
But what was she thinking? Earlier she’d said she could help us. Taking one child was not helping us!
“Mi-ja!” Sang-mun yelled again.
She hunched her shoulders like a beaten dog.