I wondered what had become of Ernie and Captain Prevault and if they’d started a search for me, but before these thoughts could formulate coherently, I passed out.
I felt the footsteps before I heard them. They were soft paddings in the night. And then there was something warm above me, hovering. I lay completely still, afraid to move or even to breathe. Something snuffled and then I felt the warmth lowering, the warmth of a very large body. Something touched the lobe of my ear, something like an exquisitely thin wire. And then another. The breath was hot now. Meaty, with a vague wheezing underlying it. A cat. I was sure of it. An enormous cat. So close its whiskers were poking into the side of my head. I refused to move. I would not move. The feline breathed into my ear, deciding, I believed, whether I should live or die. It took a long time in its deliberations, an eternity. And then, like a living dream, it stepped away, ever so quietly, like a fleeting thought. For another long time, I continued to lie perfectly still and then, for some unfathomable reason, I was asleep again.
When I awoke, my candle was out. I peered through hanging branches. A few feet away from my little shelter, a man squatted on his haunches, studying me. He wore a tunic and loose pantaloons tied at the ankles; both appeared to be made of buckskin. His headgear was a woven straw conical hat with a low brim that shadowed his eyes. Large calloused hands hung loosely over his knees.
“Don’t move,” he said.
I studied him. He wasn’t armed as far as I could see and his facial expression was benign, not threatening.
“Why not?” I asked.
“You’ll crush them.”
“Crush what?”
“The family.” He pointed with a thick-knuckled finger. “The grandfather is right next to you, the younger generation between your feet.”
Carefully, I lifted my head. Then I realized what he meant. Directly in front of me, poking up from between loose branches, was a sprightly looking plant, about six inches high, with sturdy green stems and bright green leaves. At its base was a thick gnarled root of a reddish hue. Between my feet were more green shoots, smaller, younger than the venerable fellow right in front of my eyes.
“Insam,” I said. Ginseng. Literally, the people plant.
The man nodded.
Carefully, being sure not to damage any of the plants, I sat up and shoved the hanging branch out of the way. I studied the man’s rough visage. He was slightly amused with me, obviously at home squatting in the middle of this vast forest.
“You’re Huk Sanyang-gun,” I said, playing a hunch. The black hunter.
He didn’t nod but stared right at me. “That’s what they call me.”
“Is that your real name?”
“Now it is.” With his open palm, he motioned at the plants surrounding me. There were more of them, of all sizes and apparent ages, like a clan of little green people. “They like you,” he said.
“Like me?”
“Yes. That’s why they’ve allowed you to find them.”
“But I didn’t find them. I was exhausted last night and there was this broken branch here so I used it for shelter.”
“Yes,” he said. “You must be worthy.”
“Worthy of what?”
“Of finding the royal ginseng.”
“I’m worthy?” I said, pointing to the center of my chest.
Amused, Hunter Huk nodded.
“How about you? You found them, too.”
“I found you,” he corrected me. “You’ve been tromping through these woods for almost two days. I figured you weren’t going to get out alive if I didn’t help you.”
“Couldn’t you have come earlier?”
He shrugged. “I was busy.”
“With what?”
His eyes widened. “You’re not the only one who has things to do.” I leaned forward and rubbed my swollen ankles.
“You need to get to a hospital,” he said.
“Won’t this insam cure all my ailments?”
“Don’t make fun,” he said, frowning.
I figured he was right about that. I was depending on him to save my life.
“There was a tiger here last night.”
He smiled. “There are no tigers in these mountains. Once they roamed freely and protected the ginseng but now they are gone.”
“I saw one,” I said.
“You saw it?”
“Well, I didn’t open my eyes.”
He smiled again, more broadly this time.
“Can you get me out of here?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, “but you’ll have to walk.”
“I can do that,” I said, grabbing my walking stick.
When I stood up, he said to me, “Which one do you want?”
“What do you mean?”
“The insam. They presented themselves to you. It would be an insult now not to harvest one of them.”
“Only one?”
“Only one. Greed would also be an insult.”
I studied the green plants poking up between the sparse grass and the damp leaves. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”
“You don’t have to use it yourself. Give it to someone you respect.”
I thought of someone. “Which plant would be best?” I asked.
“The oldest is the most valuable,” Hunter Huk said, pointing to the grandfather plant, “but the entire clan will grieve if you take him. Better if you take a young man, one who is strong and covets adventure.”
I studied a few of the medium sized plants. One of them stood off by itself, slightly elevated on a clump of turf. “That one,” I said, pointing.
“Good choice,” Hunter Huk said. He pulled a short curved dagger from beneath a leather belt that cinched his buckskin tunic to his narrow waist. He turned it and offered the wooden handle to me.
“Will you show me how?”
He knelt near the plant. Leaning gingerly on my staff, I joined him. “Carve through the earth around the edge and dig deep so as not to damage the roots. If you pull him up whole he will survive longer and once the outer husk dries, the flesh of the root will still be full of vital juices.”
I did as I was told, widening the churning of earth at his direction. Finally, I pulled the plant up whole, root and all. It appeared to have legs and arms and even a stumpy kind of face. Hunter Huk handed me a small leather pouch, and I placed the plant inside and knotted it with a drawstring. I tried to hand it to him but he waved it away.
“Keep it,” he said. “It is yours now.”
I stuffed the plant in the large upper pocket of my fatigue blouse.
“Come on,” Hunter Huk said, motioning for me to follow.
At the edge of the clearing, he turned and bowed three times to the small family of plants. I did the same.
Hunter Huk motioned toward the valley below. About a mile away sat the intersection I recognized as I-kori.
“How can I thank you?” I said.
“By giving the insam to someone who is worthy.”
“I will.”
I looked back at the road. There was a military vehicle there, a jeep. Maybe it was Ernie. When I turned back to say goodbye, there was no one there. I glanced at the opening in the woods. Were the branches quivering? They seemed to be, but I couldn’t be sure.
I hurried downhill.
As I approached the jeep I realized it was painted a darker green than the olive drab color favored by the US Army. This was the deep pine-colored hue of the ROK Army. I hobbled forward as fast as I could. The hourglass figure that emerged from the passenger seat was unmistakable. Major Rhee Mi-sook waved at me and smiled. For a moment, I wanted to turn and run, but I realized I wouldn’t get far. Instead, I tossed the walking stick aside and strode as confidently as I was able straight toward her.
My beard was a growth of a few days now, and my fatigues were muddy and damp. I must’ve stunk to high heaven. I saw all this on Major Rhee’s face. Her cute nose twisted and she pointed me toward a three-quarter ton truck that was racing toward us from up the road.