There were eight other men working the vein alongside Lim and Ji, and so far they’d filled four carts with the rock they’d hacked loose from the cave walls. They were beyond the reach of daylight and had to work by the wavering glow of a kerosene lamp. Three armed guards watched over the group, filling the cave with the smoke of their cigarettes. Lim’s palms were bleeding where there had once been blisters, and the only thing that ached more than his arms was his lower back; it throbbed constantly and whenever he pitched another load of rock into the cart he felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his right hip. He didn’t dare stop what he was doing, however. When one of the other workers had slacked off a few minutes ago, complaining of leg cramps, the guards had laid into him with the stocks of their carbines, first targeting his arms and shoulders, then taking turns at his skull until they’d killed him. They pitched the man’s body into one of the carts and left it there as a warning for the others to keep working.
As he was shoveling yet another load into the cart next to the one containing the body, Lim Seung-Whan mustered the nerve to lean close to his friend and look him in the eye.
“I’m sorry, Pho-Hwa” he whispered. “Please forgive me.”
Ji stared at Lim but said nothing. There was no need to. Lim could see there was no forgiveness in his friend’s eyes. He was about to plead further when he felt something slam into his back, directly between the shoulder blades. Crying out in pain, Lim pitched forward, colliding with Ji, then falling past him to the ground. The guard who’d struck him strode over and loomed above him, glaring, rifle stock poised for another blow.
“No talking!” he warned. “You’re here to work!”
Lim rose slowly to his knees. He was queasy and his back felt as though it was on fire where he’d been struck. But when the guard kicked his shovel across the ground toward him and shouted for him to get back to work, he did his best to shut out the pain and comply. He grabbed the shovel and used it as a crutch as he forced himself to his feet. Ji, meanwhile, was dragged to the other side of the cart and told to work another area of the cave.
For another two hours Lim, Ji and the other prisoners continued to mine the cave. Then, once they’d filled all six carts lined up on the tracks, one of the guards climbed into a small electric locomotive hooked up to the carts and started the engine. The prisoners were ordered to climb aboard, and Lim’s grim fate was to ride out of the tunnel lying next to the body of the man killed earlier. Lim was too exhausted to care, however. Within moments after the carts began to roll, he passed out.
The ore train had emerged from the mountain and come to a stop in the work yard. Lim had been doused with a bucket of water, and as he came to, he was half blinded by the bright halogen lamps that illuminated the grounds. He straggled down from his cart, joining Ji Pho-Hwa and the other prisoners, who were assembling into a line. One of the guards told them that they would be given rations, then sent to a reeducation meeting for two hours before being allowed to sleep.
“You’ll start work again at dawn,” the guard concluded.
Lim shuffled slowly along with the others as they made their way toward the ration tent. He could only hope that he would be allowed to see his family now that he’d endured the day’s ordeal. Ten yards shy of the tent, however, Lim was suddenly singled out and led away from the others. He was about to ask the guards where he was being taken but checked himself, not wishing to provoke another beating.
From the prison yard, Lim was led uphill to the bungalow headquarters of Lieutenant Corporal Yulim Zhi-Weon. When they reached the foot of the steps leading up to the front door, one of Lim’s guards motioned for him to stop, then produced two sets of cuffs, a shorter pair for his hands and a wider set for his ankles. Lim didn’t feel the restraints were necessary. As it was, he barely had the strength to walk. Again, though, he refrained from speaking his mind. He allowed himself to be shackled, then, with considerable difficulty, made his way up the steps and into the bungalow.
Lim was taken aback by the unexpected splendor Yulim had surrounded himself with. He had little time to dwell on the lavish appointments, however, because the commandant had just emerged from his bedroom, buttoning a familiar-looking silk shirt.
“It turns out we’re the same size,” the lieutenant corporal said to Lim, glancing down to admire his new wardrobe. In addition to the shirt, he was wearing a pair of Lim’s tailored cotton slacks as well as the South Korean’s favorite leather sandals. Lim felt a stirring of outrage but refused to act on it. Better he lose his possessions than his life.