Captivated

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 5

“It’s a quiet night, isn’t it?” Ian asked.

She nodded, wondering if he meant to take the roundabout way back to her parents’ neighborhood or if he simply wasn’t as familiar with Yanji as she was. She’d spent half her childhood and most of her teen years here. At certain points in her life, it had felt more like home than anywhere in the States.

In other ways, she still felt like a stranger here.

Their conversation had been strained during their entire walk. Maybe it was just because she was so tired. What had they spent all summer yakking about?

“How’s the documentary coming?” she finally asked.

Ian could always talk about his work.

He sighed. “I wish I could head back into North Korea to shoot a little more footage.” Several years earlier, he’d been invited to Pyongyang on a tourist visa but had gotten in trouble with government officials when they caught him trying to sneak unauthorized photographs out of the country.

“That boy you met made a big impact on you, didn’t he?” Kennedy asked. Over the summer in Seoul, Ian had told her about one of the homeless children he’d photographed foraging for roots north of Pyongyang. Something in the boy’s expression had branded itself onto Ian’s soul. Every time he talked about the little flower swallow, Kennedy got the sense that she was getting to know a real child, not some nameless statistic.

“Have you tried getting another visa?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. They know I’m a journalist now. They’ve probably seen some of my interviews with defectors in China. I’d be in huge trouble if I tried getting back in.”

“Just promise me you won’t try to sneak over the border then.” She was trying to make a joke, but his silence was far from reassuring. She paused by an alleyway. “Wait a minute. You aren’t seriously thinking about that, are you?”

He shook his head. “No. No, I wouldn’t do anything that stupid.”

“Good.” She’d been preparing to tell him about all the Americans who’d been imprisoned in North Korea over the past five years — two journalists who tried to sneak across the border from China, a pastor who was on his way to make a prayer vigil to Pyongyang, even that poor college student who’d only wanted to see part of the world hardly anyone else in America had.

They resumed their walk. In ten minutes, they’d be back in front of her parents’ home, and it would be time for one last goodbye. It was too bad they’d broken up. Even though it was August, the night air was chilly, and she could have used his warm arm tight around her.

Ian didn’t talk. Was he thinking about that street kid? Tomorrow, she’d probably feel embarrassed at how she’d made him promise not to try to return to North Korea, but tonight, she was just glad he’d given her his word.

They weren’t dating anymore, but that wouldn’t stop her from worrying about him.

Maybe she’d always worry about him.

Her steps fell heavy on the sidewalk. Would the night ever end?

Her parents’ house loomed into view. As a teenager, she hadn’t thought twice about the mansion her parents owned in this upscale neighborhood for foreigners, but now that she’d seen how many people lived in poverty or suffered under the weight of injustice, she was ashamed at the grotesque opulence. At least her mom and dad put their home to good use. They almost always had a small live-in staff to help manage the gardening, the cooking, the cleaning, everything. Most of these were North Korean refugees, which is how Kennedy learned Korean growing up.

The Chinese police had gotten stricter about anyone, foreigner or not, aiding defectors, so her parents had to be extra careful with whom they hired, but thankfully God protected them for over ten years and allowed them to continue serving here in Yanji.

“Wait a minute.” Ian grabbed her by the arm, but there was nothing inviting or romantic about his touch.

“What is that?” Kennedy had been so absorbed in her thoughts she didn’t notice the police cars.

A flashlight shined toward them, and she was momentarily blinded.

“Get behind me,” Ian ordered.

A policeman shouted something at them.

“Kennedy, run.” Ian shoved her away, and she nearly tripped. A whistle blew in her ears, loud and shrill.

She only made it a few feet before someone tackled her from behind.

A blow to her head.

She couldn’t see or hear anything.