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Mitchell put on his best English accent, impersonating Sir David Attenborough as he said, “The mating call of the wild physics student can be heard for miles, echoing through the concrete jungle.”

Jason punched him playfully on the shoulder, saying, “Let’s get out of here.”

But Mitchell wasn’t finished. He kept his voice in a style that could only be described as BBC English, giving his words a crisp, clipped tone as he added, “The call of the Asian American is distinctly different from that of the African or European American, earning these fascinating creatures the title of the Great Warbling Bed Thrasher.”

Jason laughed.

Chapter 05: Sunny

Night had fallen in North Korea.

Lee staggered in the rain.

Blisters had formed on the sides of his feet where his boots had rubbed the skin raw. The pain caused him to hobble, but he had to push on.

Rocks and pebbles crunched under his stiff rubber soles.

Torrential rain blurred his vision, running down over his forehead, across his eyes and down his cheeks. Blinking and squinting, he raised his hand to shelter his eyes from the rain. The rain sounded like a jet engine warming up, thrashing the leaves, splashing in puddles, and slapping at his shoulders.

The young North Korean woman slipped on the muddy track so Lee braced her against himself, catching her before she fell. Although her arm was draped over his shoulder, her body felt limp.

“I can’t do this,” Sun-Hee said as Lee struggled to keep her from slipping to her knees. “I can’t go on.”

She was shivering. Her clothes were soaked. Rain ran down her face like tears. Her straggly black hair was as wild as the darkened tangle of trees and vines around them.

A stream ran down one side of the track, cutting its way into the trail, curling around rocks and over boulders, washing away sections of the track. The rain pounded the leaves of the trees hanging over the path.

In the darkness, Lee couldn’t see more than a couple of meters. The trail seemed as though it would never end.

“Please,” she whimpered. “It is too much. I must rest. Let me rest.”

If they stopped, she would die from hypothermia, Lee was sure of it. He had to get her to the village, but the look in her eyes pleaded for mercy.

A thicket of bushes provided some relief from the rain.

Lee helped Sun-Hee sit on a gnarled root beneath an old tree holding the embankment together. He tried to get her out of the worst of the weather, but the rain dripped relentlessly upon them, washing over his eyes and cheeks, running down his neck.

He stepped back, arching his head toward the sky and allowing the rain to wash over his closed eyes and fall into his mouth. After a few seconds, he cupped his hands, catching what rain he could and drinking, trying to quench his thirst.

“You should leave me,” she said.

Lee put his hands gently on either side of her head as he crouched before her, looking deep with her dark eyes as he spoke.

“Hey, it’s going to be OK. You’ll get through this. In the weeks and months ahead, all this will seem like a bad dream. A year from now, you’ll laugh as you tell this story to your friends and family, relaxing around the warmth of a fire.”

Sun-Hee smiled, but her smile was forced. Lee couldn’t be sure, but he thought she was crying. Her tears mingled with the rain. Her blank stare told him she had given up. She couldn’t go on.

It wasn’t until he pulled his hands away from the side of her hair that he realized she was bleeding from a head wound. She must have taken a knock to the back of the head when she’d fallen from the track. In the darkness, he hadn’t noticed before now. Gently, Lee reached around, his fingers touching gingerly at her matted hair. Sun-Hee winced in pain.

“I feel … I feel sick.”

The muscles in her neck felt weak. Her shoulders sagged.

“Hey,” Lee said. “Stay with me. Think of your grandfather. Think about seeing him again. Think about the sunshine. Think about a warm summer’s day. We’re going to make it.”

Lee pulled her to her feet, determined to continue on, but it was as though he was dragging a sack of coal. She had no strength with which to stand. Even with a broken leg, she seemed barely aware of the world around her.

Sun-Hee collapsed in his arms, her legs dragging on the ground behind her.

Lee crouched, placing both arms under her frail body. He lifted her up, holding her in a cradle before him.

“This night will end,” he said softly. “There is always a dawn. There is always a new day ahead.”

Somehow, their fates seemed entwined, and he felt as though he were destined to save her. Lee had never been fatalistic, had never been into horoscopes or fortune tellers, and would have ordinarily dismissed such a notion as bogus, but on that dark, cold night he felt vulnerable. Perhaps it was his own impending demise he felt so acutely. Having watched one of the SEALs being murdered on the beach, he knew his own prospects of survival were next to nil.