Scene 1. Eyes
The doctor's eyes opened.
No ceiling. Only darkness. Pitch black. His eyes moved left and right. Nothing came into focus. The back of his head throbbed. He tried to raise a hand to feel it. The hand would not move. Not bound. The muscles throughout his body had simply gone slack.
The smell of dirt stung his nose.
Dirt and mold. Beneath them, something else. Pharmaceuticals. The smell of the medicines leaking from his own bag. Liquid spilling from broken glass had soaked into the dirt floor, making a strange compound reek.
The doctor's mouth opened. A scream rose.
"Don't scream."
A voice came from the dark.
Korean. Behind the doctor's neck. Very close. What the doctor saw was not the voice. Two points of light glowing from one side of the darkness. Amber. The eyes of a beast.
The scream froze in the doctor's throat.
The two points of light moved. Drew closer. As they did, an outline took shape. The shape of a person. The shape of not a person. The upper body wore no clothing. From the shoulders and the back, something was running. Color was not visible in the dark, but there was a sound as it struck the dirt floor. Drip. Drip. A steady rhythm.
The doctor's body spasmed.
"There is a woman."
Lee Kang said. He was sitting. In front of the doctor. An arm's length away. The amber eyes were looking down at him.
"Fix her."
A single word.
The doctor's teeth began to strike each other. Click. Click. The same sound Lee Kang had heard last night. His ears caught it. Compared it to Yeonhwa's. Identical. Only this one came not from cold but from another cause.
To Lee Kang, the difference was beneath his concern.
"Stand."
Lee Kang said.
The doctor could not stand. Lee Kang's hand seized the doctor's arm. Pulled him up. The doctor's knees folded and unfolded against the dirt. He was set on his feet. Lee Kang pushed the doctor's back. Toward the deeper end of the dark. Toward where Yeonhwa lay.
Scene 2. Examination
Doctor Jang struck a match.
A small flame parted the darkness. He passed the fire to a candle. Candlelight wavered above the dirt floor. The radius of light was narrow. It barely lit the place where Yeonhwa lay and a little around her.
The doctor's eyes found Yeonhwa.
A girl lying on a coat. A single layer of undershirt. After stripping her wet clothes, Lee Kang had draped his own coat back over her. Only her face and both hands emerged from beneath.
The doctor's hands shook.
Lee Kang stood behind the doctor. Not stood—crouched. Without leaning against the wall, balanced in a squat. The candlelight lit half of Lee Kang's face. The half dried with blood.
The doctor took Yeonhwa's wrist.
To check the pulse. His fingertips touched the inside of her wrist.
Stopped.
The doctor's expression changed. Even under candlelight, it was visible. The eyes widened once. The mouth opened. Closed.
Lee Kang's eyes read the doctor's expression.
Read it, translated it.
It's serious. That's why he's concentrating like that.
The doctor released Yeonhwa's wrist. Drew a stethoscope from his bag. The bag was a wreck of broken bottles and pharmaceuticals, but the stethoscope was intact. He placed the diaphragm against her undershirt. Set the earpieces in his ears.
Listened.
The doctor's eyes closed. A furrow formed on his brow. His head tilted, barely. To one side. To the other. He moved the diaphragm's position. From left to right. Back to left.
The doctor's mouth opened.
English.
"This is not possible."
A low sound. To himself. Lee Kang's ear caught the English. Whether he had understood the words or not, his expression did not change.
Doctor Jang was kneeling beside the doctor. The candle lit Doctor Jang's face from below. Shadows had fallen across his eye sockets.
"What did he say."
Lee Kang said. To Doctor Jang.
Doctor Jang's mouth opened, then closed.
"...He said it isn't possible."
Doctor Jang said.
"What isn't."
"This state."
Lee Kang's eyes narrowed.
The doctor removed the stethoscope. Lifted Yeonhwa's undershirt. His hand pressed beneath her collarbone. Pushed with his fingers. The spot went white. He released. The white spot did not return. Blood did not fill it back in.
The doctor's hand went to Yeonhwa's forehead. Touched it. The doctor shook his head.
"Body temperature is too low. Pulse is barely..."
The doctor looked at Doctor Jang. Began pouring out English. Fast. With a trembling tongue. Doctor Jang nodded. Whether the nod meant agreement or comprehension was not clear.
Lee Kang's fist clenched on his knee.
"What is he saying."
Lee Kang said. To Doctor Jang. The voice was low. A sound crawling along the floor.
Doctor Jang's mouth moved once.
"...Her temperature is below normal. He can barely find a pulse."
"So what do we do."
Lee Kang's voice rose one tone. Rose was not the right word. Sharpened.
Doctor Jang asked the doctor in Korean.
"Is there a treatment?"
The doctor looked at Doctor Jang. Looked into Doctor Jang's eyes. Looked into Lee Kang's eyes. The candle wavered. The doctor's shadow trembled on the wall.
The doctor's mouth opened.
Scene 3. Verdict
"I can't."
The doctor said.
Doctor Jang did not translate. There was no need. Lee Kang's ear caught the two words. Caught them, chewed them, tried to swallow them. They caught in his throat.
"What."
Lee Kang said.
The doctor scooted back. His seat met the dirt. Moved one hand-span away from Yeonhwa. Two. He crawled backward, raising his hands. Both of them. The hands of a man surrendering.
"This girl is dying. There is nothing I can do. She needs blood. She needs a hospital. She needs—"
English poured out. From the doctor's mouth. Fast. Trembling. Doctor Jang closed his eyes. Closed and opened them.
"What did he say."
Lee Kang's hand pressed against the dirt. His body tilted forward. Toward the doctor.
Doctor Jang opened his mouth.
"...He said she needs blood. A hospital. There's no way here to—"
"You brought medicine."
Lee Kang cut him off.
"There's medicine in the bag. A syringe too. If we use that—"
"Lee Kang."
Doctor Jang's voice called Lee Kang's name. For the first time. The first time since entering this abandoned warehouse that Doctor Jang had spoken his name. He had rarely done it even before. When Lee Kang's name came from Doctor Jang's mouth, that name always carried something. What it carried this time—
Before Lee Kang's ear could catch what it was, his hand seized the doctor's collar.
Pulled.
The doctor's face came in front of Lee Kang's. Close enough that their noses nearly touched. Lee Kang's amber eyes swallowed the doctor's. The candle wavered between their two faces.
"Fix her."
Lee Kang said.
Water filled the doctor's eyes. Not tears. Terror in the form of water, bursting out.
"I can't save her. Nobody can. Do you understand? She is—"
Lee Kang's hand covered the doctor's mouth.
Not covered—pressed. He pressed the doctor's upper and lower lips closed with his fingers. The doctor's words crumpled inside his mouth. Lee Kang's fingers kept the mouth shut. So it could not open. So those words could not come out.
Something rang inside Lee Kang's chest.
A high whine. Inside his ears. A high, sharp sound scraping the inside of his skull. The doctor's words—it had been English, he had not caught them exactly—and yet the meaning had seeped in. What had seeped in, Lee Kang's brain received, tried to translate, and the circuit cut out mid-translation.
His stomach turned.
Something hot pushed up from beneath his sternum. Nausea. The dry retching that rises from an empty stomach. Lee Kang's body flinched once. He swallowed. Swallowed what had risen.
Lee Kang's hand fell from the doctor's mouth.
The doctor toppled backward.
Lee Kang grabbed the bag. The doctor's bag. The bag with broken bottles and medicine tangled together. He turned it upside down. The contents poured onto the dirt floor. Glass fragments. Shattered vials. Two intact bottles. One syringe. Cotton. Bandages. All of it tangled with dirt and blood and pharmaceuticals.
His hand picked up an intact bottle.
He read the label. He could not read it. English. The letters shook. Lee Kang's vision was shaking. Whether from blood loss or from the ringing in his ears, he could not tell.
"This. This will do it."
Lee Kang said. Lifting the bottle. To whom he was speaking, no one could tell. To the doctor. To Doctor Jang. To himself.
"Inject it. There's medicine. You inject the medicine and she gets better."
Doctor Jang said nothing.
The doctor lay face-down on the dirt, gasping for breath.
Lee Kang's hand took up the syringe. There was dirt on the tip. Lee Kang—his sleeve. There was no sleeve. His arm was bare. He brought the tip of the syringe to his mouth. Blew the dirt off. With his breath.
The needle of the syringe gleamed under the candlelight.
Scene 4. Salvation
Lee Kang approached Yeonhwa.
On his knees. Crawling across the dirt. A bottle in one hand, the syringe in the other.
Yeonhwa had her eyes closed. Beneath the coat. Whether breath remained or not, the wavering candlelight could not say. Lee Kang's eyes went to the corner of her mouth. Between the blue lips, a faint movement of air.
There.
His hand bit the bottle's cap. Turned. The cap loosened between his teeth. He drove the needle into the bottle. Pulled the plunger. Clear liquid rose into the syringe.
His hand was shaking.
Faintly. The fingertips holding the syringe were shaking. The hand holding the bottle was not. Only the hand with the syringe. At the tip of the needle, a clear droplet beaded, then fell onto the dirt.
His teeth clenched.
Trying to catch the tremor.
It would not be caught.
Doctor Jang did not move from his corner. The pipe still between his lips. The empty pipe. His eyes watched Lee Kang's trembling hand.
Lee Kang's left hand drew back the coat over Yeonhwa. Pushed up the sleeve of her undershirt. Her arm was exposed. So white it had passed into transparent. The veins showed through like blue thread beneath the skin.
He brought the syringe close.
The needle stopped one hand-span above her skin.
Lee Kang's hand was shaking.
It did not stop.
His mouth opened.
"You'll be better soon."
He whispered. Into Yeonhwa's ear. No—it was a sound too small to reach her ear. A sound that reached only his own.
"There's medicine. I brought it for you."
The hand gripping the syringe narrowed from a hand-span to a half.
Just before the needle tip touched her skin—
A scent reached Lee Kang's nose.
Lilac.
Whether it had risen from Yeonhwa's arm or had been made inside his own head, he could not tell. Beneath the sewer reek and the iron of blood and the smell of pharmaceuticals, lilac raised its head. Filling his nose. Filling the space behind his eyes.
The corner of Lee Kang's mouth lifted.
A smile.
Beneath the candlelight. On a face dried with blood. With blood still running from a shoulder where the sutures had burst open. With the hand gripping the syringe still shaking.
A tender smile.
A grotesquely tender smile.
Between Doctor Jang's teeth, the empty pipe snapped.
Crack.