Scene 1. Ash
Something black fell.
Onto Lee Kang's cheek. Not hot. Light. Ash. A black flake half the size of a fingernail settled on his cheek and crumbled.
His eyes opened.
The lilac tore.
The fragrance that had filled his nose and spread inside his head was shredded in a single instant. In its place, another smell crashed in. Acrid. The smell of burning wood. The smell of burning oil. Beneath them, something else. The smell of burning flesh.
His body rose.
Yeonhwa still cradled. Reflex. Before his eyes had fully opened, his body had already moved. His back went to the wall. He pulled Yeonhwa to his chest.
Through the gaps in the warehouse planks, light was visible.
Orange light. Not candlelight. Far too large, far too bright. The orange seeping through the cracks drew stripes across the dirt floor. The stripes wavered. Because the fire outside was wavering.
Sound arrived.
Ratatatata.
A machine gun. A short burst. Stopped. Then again. Ratatatata. Screams wedged between the bursts. Not screams—closer to the cries of a flock of birds wailing together. They did not sound like sounds coming from human mouths.
Inside his head, the silver bell severed. The way scissors cut thread. The clear sound vanished, and only the machine gun's dry rupture remained.
Doctor Jang was rising from his corner. Still against the wall. The empty bag clutched to his chest. His eyes were watching the orange light through the cracks in the planks.
"It's fire."
Lee Kang said.
"Not fire."
Doctor Jang said. A voice held to its lowest. Not looking at Lee Kang—looking at the cracks.
"It's sanitation. They're staging a cholera outbreak. The entire slum."
His words cut off. Outside, an explosion. Close. The warehouse wall shook once. Dirt fell from the ceiling.
"They're burning it."
Doctor Jang finished.
Lee Kang's eyes dropped to Yeonhwa. She was eyes closed. Closed. Through the machine gun, through the explosion, her eyes did not open.
Lee Kang shifted her onto his back.
While standing. In one motion. Yeonhwa's arms hung over his shoulders to the front of his neck. Both his hands caught her thighs and fixed her against his back. Her chin caught on his shoulder. On the burn. The bone of her jaw pressed into the cooked flesh. Something hot ran down his back.
His teeth clenched.
Released.
"We're going."
Lee Kang said to Doctor Jang.
He kicked the warehouse door open.
Scene 2. The Hunt
When the door opened, the first thing to enter was heat.
A wall of heat. As though a sheet of glowing iron had been thrust before his face. He could not open his eyes. He opened his eyes.
The alley was burning.
From the eaves of buildings on both sides, flames stretched out and covered the alley overhead. A ceiling of fire. Beneath it, black smoke flowed. Through the smoke, what was visible. Uniforms. Boots. Rifles.
Three of them.
Standing before the warehouse. Not directly facing it but at an angle. They had been facing the next building over, turning at the sound of the door opening. Mid-turn, they saw Lee Kang. His bare torso, a person on his back, a body dried with blood stained red in the firelight.
The first raised his rifle.
Lee Kang arrived.
Two strides. From the door to the first uniform. In those two strides, he saw the muzzle rising. Before the muzzle could level at his chest, his hand caught the barrel. Twisted it down. The rifle fired. Bang. The bullet punched into the dirt. His other hand caught the uniform's jaw. Pushed it up. The jaw rose and the angle of the neck broke. He pushed once more. Snapped.
Pop.
Before the first could fall, Lee Kang's body was already on the second. The second swung the butt of his rifle. Toward Lee Kang's head. Lee Kang's torso dropped. The butt grazed across the crown of his head. Wind scattered his hair.
His knee drove into the second's belly.
The uniform folded. In half. His elbow came down on the back of the second's head. Ground. Dirt sprayed.
The third stepped back, raising his rifle.
Lee Kang's foot kicked off the ground. A leap. Yeonhwa's weight loaded on his back. Still he rose. He saw the third's muzzle rising toward his chest while he was airborne. He saw the darkness inside the muzzle. His foot came down on the third's rifle. Stomped. The barrel bent downward and the third's finger slipped from the trigger.
His hand caught the third's head.
Not both hands. One. The right. His fingers punched through the cap and seized the hair. He drove the third's head toward the building wall. It struck. A blunt sound. The plaster of the wall cracked.
The third's legs gave way.
Hair slipped from Lee Kang's grip. The third slid down the wall. Before the body could meet the floor, Lee Kang had already turned.
He checked that Yeonhwa had not slipped from his back. Her chin was caught on his shoulder. Her arms hung in front of his throat. Her fingers swayed before his collarbone. Limp fingers.
Steam rose from Lee Kang's nose.
His breathing was rough. With each exhale, white steam stained red in the firelight. Blood clung to his body. Whether his own or someone else's, indistinguishable.
From the end of the alley, shouting. Japanese.
His feet moved the other way.
Scene 3. Hell
When he emerged from the alley, his feet stopped.
Not stopped. Were stopped. His eyes had made them stop.
The road was open. The main road of the slum. The road with shanties lined on both sides. There were no shanties. Eaten by fire, only skeletons remained. Charred posts standing black. Between the posts, fire still lived.
In the middle of the road, a pit.
It had been dug. The mounded earth from the digging was piled beside it. Inside the pit, fire. Inside the pit, people. Fire and people in the same place.
The smell arrived.
His nose received it. Tried to classify it. It would not classify. Not the smell of burning wood. Not the smell of burning oil. The smell of oil and flesh burning together. Sweet and revolting at once. Like burning sugar and burning hair striking the nose simultaneously.
His mouth closed. He breathed only through his nose, then closed his nose too. He breathed through his mouth.
Beside the pit, uniforms stood. A sanitation unit. They wore armbands. Wore masks. The eyes above the masks looked down into the pit. One held a fuel can. Was pouring fuel.
From the opposite side of the road, people were being led in. In a line. Hands bound. Koreans. Men. Women. Children. Two uniforms held the line on either side and drove them toward the pit.
Lee Kang's eyes saw it.
Saw it, processed it.
Left side of the road. Four sanitation. Two rifles, one fuel can, one shovel. Right side. Two uniforms. Prisoner line. Fifteen steps to the pit. Main road continues past the pit. Barricade at the end of the main road.
Doctor Jang was gasping behind him. Bag clutched to his chest. He had run to catch up.
"If we go around the left—"
"Can't go around."
Lee Kang cut him off.
"The alleys all burned. The only way is forward."
His feet moved.
Not toward the pit. Beside the pit. Along the shadows of walls. Behind the half-burned posts. The smoke served as cover. Black smoke wrapped his body.
"If you hear sound, run."
He told Doctor Jang.
Not Doctor Jang—forward.
His feet quickened. Slid through the smoke. Behind the backs of the sanitation unit. Behind the uniform with the fuel can. The uniform was pouring fuel. The sound of fuel flowing. Glug glug glug. That sound swallowed his footsteps.
His hand caught the back of the fuel-bearer's head.
Shoved him toward the pit.
The uniform screamed and tumbled forward with the can. The scream became a signal. The other three turned.
Lee Kang was already on the next.
He caught the wrist of one holding a rifle. Snapped it. The rifle fell. He kicked it up off the ground. The flying rifle's butt struck the third uniform's jaw.
His elbow drove into the fourth's temple.
The time it took for four to fall. Four of his own exhalations.
Across the road, the two uniforms shouted. Released the prisoner line and raised their rifles.
His foot stepped on the mound beside the pit and leapt. Crossed over the pit. Heat surged up from below. The ends of Yeonhwa's hair curled in the heat. Sweat poured from his back all at once. He cleared the pit and landed.
Before the two uniforms.
Scene 4. Tiger
The first squeezed the trigger.
Too late.
Lee Kang's hand slapped the barrel sideways. The rifle fired, and the bullet passed by his left ear. The shock pierced his eardrum. His left ear went dead. Ringing filled it.
His forehead caught the uniform's nose.
The sound of bone shattering rang inside his skull, traveling up through his forehead. The uniform fell backward. Blood erupted from the nose.
The second drew a bayonet.
Stabbed.
Toward Lee Kang's side. His body twisted half a beat. The tip of the bayonet grazed his side. The same place the bullet had grazed in Chapter 32. The same place again. Laceration laid over laceration. A hot line drawn.
His left hand caught the bayonet's blade.
Bare-handed.
The blade split his palm. Blood ran between his fingers. His hand gripped the bayonet and pulled. The uniform's body was dragged forward. His knee drove into the uniform's solar plexus.
The uniform folded.
The bayonet slipped from Lee Kang's hand. The bloodied blade fell to the dirt.
He exhaled.
His breath bloomed white. Stained red in the firelight. His entire body was stained in firelight. A body mixed with blood and sweat and ash gleamed in the light of the flames.
On his back, Yeonhwa hung limp. Her arms swayed in front of his chest. Her fingers grazed his collarbone.
Cold.
The only cold thing on his back. The only cold thing in a world full of fire and blood and heat.
His feet moved again.
Along the main road. Toward the barricade. There were more uniforms behind the barricade. No need to count. The reason there was no need to count was that, count or no count, he had to break through.
A sound came from his mouth.
Grrr.
From deep in the throat. From inside the chest. A low resonance like lungs being crushed. Not a human sound.
The sound of bolts being drawn at the barricade. Click. Click. Multiple, simultaneous.
His legs kicked off the dirt.
Leapt.
On his back, Yeonhwa's weight pressed his shoulders. A cold weight. That weight was not pulling his body down—it was driving it forward. Yeonhwa's temperature ran down his spine, whispering.
Go.
Lee Kang dropped onto the barricade.
Into the center of the enemy.
The amber eyes burned, stained by the flames. On a face drenched in blood.
The uniforms' screams broke.
His hands moved.