Amok: An Anthology of Asia-Pacific Speculative Fiction (27 page)

“Let me go first,” Deangelo said, but Ae-jung shook her head.

“No. This is my country, my history…” Ae-jung trailed off, not wanting to say too much that may offend the American, because it had been his home, too, for most of his life. Skin-tone didn’t change that, and Deangelo had felt like part of her family for the last couple of years. “Follow close behind me,” she added. “Catch me if I fall.”

Ki-ryong looked at her with sad, questioning eyes. She shook her head at him, too.

“Please stay here,” she said to her husband. “You’re too sickly, and I don’t know if we’ll find something that can kill you.”

Ki-ryong nodded and slowly climbed back down to the bottom of the steps, and sat on the second from last of them, with his feet flat on the ground. Ae-jung turned to Deangelo and grabbed his hand so he could hold hers in it, making her feel more protected. Together they climbed the remaining steps, and when they reached the top, they couldn’t believe their eyes.

Through the wide open doors immediately before them was an enormous pile of human remains. The bodies were at various stages of decomposition, which made Deangelo wonder if the war was still going on, or if the North had just used some kind of chemical to partially embalm the bodies and intentionally sicken anyone who should happen across them. Of those that had faces, they all looked feminine.

When Ae-jung caught sight of a child’s wide-eyed, horrified face on the body of a skeleton, she closed her eyes, took a large intake of air through her mouth, and turned around to rest her head on Deangelo’s chest.

“Let’s go,” he said. “We can’t stay here.”

Back to the river.

The soothing woman’s voice from the cherry tree had returned to Deangelo’s mind, but he shook it out of his head, not wanting to start calling himself crazy. The river would be a terrible idea.

“But where can we go?” Ae-jung asked, looking up at Deangelo’s dark eyes. “There were so few habitable buildings on our way here, and it could be light soon. Ki isn’t even fit to keep going.”

“Then we’ll keep going, check the Queen’s Quarters, the King’s Quarters, all of the other buildings here if we have to, to see if any are empty.” Deangelo said. “At least so we’ll have somewhere to stay during the light. We can move on again after the next sundown.”

“I don’t think I can handle any more bodies,” Ae-jung said, taking Deangelo’s hand and leading him back down the stairs. “I’ll stay here with Ki while you go find us somewhere to stay, okay?”

Deangelo briefly kissed her lips and agreed. “I’ll be back soon.”

§

The three of them ended up staying in a room at the old Folk Museum after Deangelo informed them that the rest of the palace buildings were much like the throne hall. When the sun finally rose, they were curled up together on a carpeted floor, next to an old cart encased in glass. Ki-ryong was in the middle, with Ae-jung resting her head on his chest, and Deangelo’s right arm wrapped around his waist. The windowless room hid the sunlight, allowing them to sleep.

Ae-jung was the first to wake, but she did not wish to rouse the others. She walked through the hallway to the entrance of the building, passing the broken glass doors which were once automatic, and sat down on the stone steps to watch the sunset. Splashes of pink and purple painted the sky to her right.

Her body jumped a little, startled, when Deangelo came and sat down beside her.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to make Ki walk again tonight,” he told her. “I want you to stay here with him while I try and hunt down some food, or medicine. Both, if I can manage it. I think it’ll be easiest to do on my own.”

Ae-jung simply nodded, and watched as Deangelo stood and took out his map, compass, and flashlight before heading east. She stayed there until the sun was lost to the night, and returned to her husband in the museum.

Ki-ryong was awake, then, staring at the cart in the dark. He didn’t even flinch when Ae-jung entered the room, just asked in a husky voice, “Do you remember…” but he trailed off, unable to use his larynx further.

“Do I remember what?” Ae-jung asked, and came down to his level, looked in his eyes and tried to determine his meaning. “Anything from before the lockdown?”

He nodded, and Ae-jung took his head in her hands, and brushed his fringe out of his eyes. “I remember my mother’s calming touch,” she said, and kissed him on his forehead. “I remember how much she loved me, and wanted for me.” She took Ki-ryong’s hands in hers now. “How she wished I’d been born in another time, or another country.”

Ae-jung noticed a tear in the corner of her husband’s left eye, so she wiped it away with her thumb.

“But I think about what that would’ve meant for me, and not in a good way. I wouldn’t have met you.” She kissed him on the lips. “Or Deangelo. Maybe you two wouldn’t have even met without me.” She brushed her fingers through Ki-ryong’s hair. “Do you remember when I introduced you?”

A smirk of a smile crossed his face, and Ae-jung knew he was picturing it. It wasn’t the most sane introduction, but somehow the line, “Ki, I found you some manmeat, Deangelo,” always brought a smirk to both men’s faces. She had actually meant to say, “Ki, I found you a man, meet Deangelo,” but had stumbled over her words.

Prior to that meeting had been a discussion between Ae-jung and Ki-ryong. Ae-jung recounted her memory of it for Ki-ryong, trying to keep his brain occupied while they waited for Deangelo to return.

“At first I didn’t know what to think,” she said, “when you first told me you liked men. I felt betrayed, like you married the wrong person. I thought it meant you wanted to leave me, like it would be easy for me to move on and find someone else in what was already a small underground community by then. But then you told me it didn’t mean you loved me any less. It took me weeks to figure out you meant it, because I didn’t want to share the bed with you at first.”

Ki-ryong moved around behind her, and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“And just like that,” she said, “you did this, and I knew. You still wanted me. You just also needed to experience the touch of a man.”

Ae-jung began to remove her coat, and hoped their body heat could keep them warm. If they only had one more night together, she wanted Ki-ryong to be able to remember it into the afterlife.

§

It was near dawn when Deangelo finally returned. He’d had to scour much of what was left of the north of Old Seoul, but had managed to bring back some bags of dried noodles.

“All the drug stores have been picked clean,” he told them, looking sorrowfully at Ki-ryong.

Ki-ryong embraced the dark-skinned man and kissed him so Deangelo would know he appreciated the effort. When Ae-jung joined them, hands and fingers tore at clothes, then lips and mouths were added to the mix to explore their bodies. The temperature in the room rose, and sweat pooled on Deangelo’s back more than it did for the Koreans. Their exertion wore them out and brought them to sleep, so they wouldn’t have to worry about facing the day once the sun rose.

When it was about midday, Ae-jung began to feel restless. She grabbed her clothes and rugged up, leaving her men with Ki-ryong laying his head on Deangelo’s naked chest.

Walking out the broken glass doors, Ae-jung felt an overwhelming sense of solitude. She didn’t know why Deangelo was so worried about them wandering around in the day. There was no one left in Seoul. He might have thought he was making a stupid pun joke the night they left the military base, but he was right. There were no souls left in Seoul. Deangelo surely couldn’t have found food if there had been.

With the light of the sun on her side, she decided to let her men rest and see what she could find in the next few hours. She didn’t bother to take Deangelo’s map or compass with her, since she planned to walk in one direction only, and then straight back again.

What Ae-jung didn’t expect was getting smacked in the back of her head with a blunt object only an hour into her journey, and falling to the pavement beneath her feet.

When she came to, her nose felt of dried blood, and someone was pulling her hair. It looked like she was inside some kind of warehouse. Her hands were bound behind her back.

“
Nǐ hǎo
,” a voice said, and then added a bunch of other words she didn’t understand as the voice’s owner dragged her to her feet.

“I don’t speak Chinese, asshole,” Ae-jung spat, spraying saliva on his face.

“Ah, then you must be South Korean,” the stranger said with a thick Chinese accent, “choosing English as your second tongue.”

Ae-jung didn’t reply, trying to figure out what he meant by that. The North had learned Chinese? The North had China on their side?

He observed her with his hands firmly on her upper arms. “How did you get here?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

The man shook his head. “I’m the one asking the questions.”

“I’ve lived here my whole life,” she spat. “This is my home. It’s not for you, or the northern scum. What are you anyway, just some scavenger?”

He didn’t answer her. For a moment his whole face went blank, and Ae-jung thought it could be her chance to escape. His arms fell limp at his sides, and she cautiously stepped backwards, hoping any movement wouldn’t re-capture his attention.

Ae-jung heard him whisper, “What do you want me to do?”

She watched his face contort, back to the man who asked the questions, then to something more menacing. Ae-jung turned and ran for her life, but before she could reach the door, he’d grabbed her head. Before she could gasp, he swiftly twisted her neck until she fell to the ground, lifeless.

§

Deangelo woke up with a start, in turn frighting Ki-ryong awake, who was still lying on his chest. They both looked around the room, and then back at each other with horrified expressions.

“Where’s Ae?” Deangelo asked.

The river.

That voice from the cherry tree was back, whispering in his mind.

“Why would she be at the river?”

Ki-ryong just looked at him with the most confused look. Then he heard it too.

The river.

Choking and then coughing, Ki-ryong found as much strength as he could manage and started dressing himself. Deangelo followed suit. They both ran out the broken glass doors, leaving most of their belongings behind. Deangelo had his bearings now, and took hold of Ki-ryong’s hand, pulling him south as they ran in the light of the moon.

After about an hour, they stopped at an intersection and jumped inside a car to sit down and catch their breaths.

“What are we doing, Ki?” Deangelo asked, knowing well that Ki-ryong wouldn’t be able to give him much of an answer. “We’re listening to a voice in our heads, that’s what. We’re going crazy.” He placed his hand on Ki-ryong’s beside him. “Was it Ae who kept us sane?”

Ki-ryong shook his head and pointed in the direction they were headed.

“The river?” Deangelo asked.

Ki-ryong shook his head again.

“The military base?”

A nod this time.

“You think we’re losing our marbles because we left it?” Deangelo offered, and got another nod in reply. “So, what, the atmosphere here is polluted with something that makes us lose it?”

A shrug.

“I find it hard to believe the North had that kind of tech,” Deangelo said.

And then he heard Ae-jung’s voice in his mind, calling.
Deangelo. Deangelo, where am I?

He looked at Ki-ryong and asked, “Did you hear that?”

Again, some confusion from Ki-ryong, but then his eyes open wide. “Ae,” he mouths.

“We don’t know where you are,” Deangelo said aloud. “Where did you go? Why can we hear you in our heads?”

I… I remember… a Chinese man.

Ki-ryong and Deangelo looked at each other, trying to figure out what she meant.

A warehouse.

“Are you there now?” Deangelo asked. “I saw some when I was out last night.”

No. Water.

And then as if saying that word in their heads made her acknowledge her predicament, Ae-jung gasped, and said no more.

“The river,” Deangelo said, and Ki-ryong mouthed at the same time.

They pushed the car doors open and continued their journey south, at a quicker pace than they had before. Somehow hearing Ae-jung had helped give them strength as they worried for her safety.

When they reached the river, the crossed a bridge halfway and looked in both directions. It felt hopeless. Ae-jung could be anywhere.

Suddenly they heard a splash in the opposite direction, and another gasp. Deangelo ran to the east side of the bridge first and saw her.

“Ae,” he yelled, and then Ki-ryong was at his side.

Deangelo dived into the water, his ski coat keeping the cold from penetrating his chest, but his legs were freezing. When he got about a metre away from her, arms outstretched, ready to pull her close and save her, something pulled him under, and soon he was fighting for his life, thrashing about. As he was dragged under, he noticed a pink fish tail with yellow fins at the end had replaced Ae-jung’s legs. As shock overcame him, he looked down and saw the face of a pale-skinned woman. The cause of his demise. She, too, had a fish tail, but hers was blue. His last, wide-eyed thought was,
Mermaids?

When Deangelo didn’t come back up, Ki-ryong dived in after him. Given the choice of his sole survival between the three of them, which likely wouldn’t last anyway, given his illness, and possible death now, it didn’t even need to be asked.

When he locked eyes with Ae-jung, he felt her sorrow throughout his body. She met him halfway, kissed his mouth, and pulled him under.

§

It’s done, Li Qiang. Now come, be rewarded.

The words permeated the Chinese man’s mind, and an image of its owner followed. A naked white woman he’d met by the river when he was fishing one night.

As he followed her instruction, heading south, his mind fell to the memory of that meeting.

She was sitting on some rocks, or rubble, he couldn’t specifically remember.

“Help me,” she called to him.