Major Chaek unsheathed his knife and raised it in the air, “ready!”
“…He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored…”
“Aim!”
“…He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword…”
“Fire!”
“His truth is—”
As six hungry bullets sped for their intended targets, Scotty Willis attempted to flee over the razor-wire fence. Instead of instant death by the shot of an expert marksman, the bullet hit him in the shoulder and he reeled head first into the fence. The razors shredded his naked body, and Major Chaek would not allow him to be put out of his misery. It took ten minutes of agonizing bleeding out for Scotty to die, hung up on the fence. George Calef, the Morse brothers, and Margaret O’Leary’s son died instantly. Ben, now on his knees, was stunned that he was still alive. He checked his body for bullets, but did not find any. Laughing, he stood back up, his ancient frame hunched and lurching, and he resumed singing, “His truth is marching on…!”
Major Chaek stormed to where Ben stood in defiance, pushed a finger through a large hole in the barn’s wall, and barked, “Lance Corporal Yong, come here! What do you mean by this?”
Woo-jin scampered the short distance to Major Chaek, “Sir, I must have missed my target, Sir!”
The entirety of the group of soldiers erupted in laughter. Major Chaek didn’t halt or admonish them.
“You missed? Well, that’s comforting! Because you have killed this innocent barn!”
Major Chaek yanked the AK-47 out of Woo-jin’s hands and tossed it to its rightful owner standing ten feet away.
“You are not worthy to hold such a glorious weapon!”
“Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!”
Major Chaek grabbed Woo-jin’s sidearm and stuffed it into the trembling boy’s hand.
“Shoot him with this if you just missed.”
“Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His truth is marching on…”
Woo-jin trembled with fear as he placed the gun to Ben’s forehead. Scotty Willis moaned loudly, just feet away, and Winston could barely keep his cool, stuck under the barn and watching the horrific events unfold.
“Lance Corporal Yong, do you mean to disobey a direct order to kill that man?”
Ben said in a tiny voice, “go ahead son. It’s okay. I forgive you,” his face that of a man who was anxious to reunite with his June.
Woo-jin edged the gun closer to Ben’s forehead and held it there a long moment only to drop it to his side, a coward amid his peers. Major Chaek unsheathed his steel-gray Kizlyar combat knife and without emotion thrust it deep into Ben’s gut. Ben stumbled a few feet and fell to the ground, his head bouncing on the dirt, and turned toward the barn’s current sanctuary. His eyes instantly locked with Winston’s. Ben recognized his old friend, smiled, and reached his right arm under the barn where he and Winston briefly locked hands. The moment was too ephemeral for Winston, who ached to help Ben reach his destination.
“Peace be with you,” Winston whispered loud enough for only Ben to hear.
Major Chaek seized the pistol from Woo-jin’s shaky hand, and hovered over Ben’s flaccid body. He turned to Woo-jin, who stood at attention, facing Major Chaek.
“You are a disgrace to the PLA. You make this man suffer greatly.”
But Ben wasn’t ready to die just yet. He released his grip on Winston’s hand, found a substantial rock that Winston had tossed under the barn during construction, pulled it out, and with his last morsel of energy, crashed it against Major Chaek’s knee, catching him off guard and shattering his kneecap, which sent him stumbling to the ground. Ben attempted a second strike, but the Major composed himself and shot Ben in the head.
Major Chaek belted out, “take him away!” and Woo-jin was seized and ushered inside the house to be dealt with later.
Winston froze with fear that he would be discovered. If Chaek turned his head to the left, he might catch Winston’s silhouette under the barn. But as luck would have it, several soldiers helped the Major to his feet and brought him inside, leaving only six dead and one dying American.
Helplessness
Winston remained motionless for what felt like hours after watching his friends’ bodies being carted off to the trash pile. Major Chaek was whisked away, presumably to Morrow, where the PLA hospital was located. The earlier buzz around camp had simmered to a negligible din since the morning’s excitement, and soldiers on watch spoke about Woo-jin and Major Chaek openly in their native tongues. Winston worried about May and hoped that she hadn’t watched their neighbors and friends die, and he scooted methodically and quietly to where he imagined her to be inside the apartment. He hadn’t heard any movement from above since he thought he heard her move quickly just before the firing squad opened fire.
He knocked softly twice on the floorboards under the bed.
Silence.
He shifted two feet closer to the septic area and knocked again.
Still silence.
He shifted yet another two feet closer to the septic and knocked.
Nothing.
His feet were perilously close to the edge of the barn, so he carefully rotated his body one hundred eighty degrees. Now his head was nearly on top of the septic system. Witnessing the actual horrors of war did permanent damage to one’s psyche, Winston and May included, and he wondered if she was huddled in a corner, paralyzed with the fear of being caught and killed like the others.
Though the earth was damp with rain and sewage, Winston was surprised to see that sewage continued to seep out from the apartment through the floorboards onto the light-colored crushed stones, despite his fussing with the pipe earlier. But even in the low light of the barn’s underbelly, Winston noticed a difference in color — this sewage was somehow brighter. He reached up and swiped the floorboard — it was blood — May’s blood, and a lot of it.
Panic and terror overcame him. He rapped a little louder on the floorboards than he should have, and whispered, “May… May… Mother, are you still with me?”
He listened intensely, blocking the outside world, and pushed his frame onto his elbows, his head between two of Medusa’s sturdy joists, his ear held firmly to the floorboards. He tapped with a knuckle and thought he may have felt some sort of shuffling above.
“May, I’m gonna come an’ help you. Stay with me, now… stay with me.”
Winston lowered his head and rested his chin in his hands, his cheek painted with May’s bright blood. His mind ran through all of the possible scenarios — she could already be dead — she could die before he got back inside — he could surrender and hope for compassion from the PLA — or a speedy death. Or he could somehow try to help her.
Of course he would help her, but for now, he was unable to climb out safely from under the barn in broad daylight. And he regretted not telling Woo-jin where they had been hiding. Maybe he would not have trained his weapon at the barn. Winston scooted to the side of the barn that faced the woods and poked his head out. Soldiers went about their day as if nothing had happened. He wondered if he could successfully make it into the barn unseen. It was risky. Still, he was ignorant to May’s actual condition and was compelled to do something.
Suddenly, a commotion broke out in the back yard, the soldiers again whipped into a frenzy. Winston shifted to the opposite corner of the barn to check it out, some thirty diagonal feet, to find Woo-jin being led toward the lake by two soldiers. The other soldiers fell in behind them and followed the procession to the lake. This was Winston’s chance to slip back inside the barn — while the soldiers were preoccupied. He scooted back to where he had discovered the blood and rapped loudly on the floorboards, “I’m coming in, May. May?”