Excerpt: Somewhere Inside
LAURA (continued)
PAGE 20
We were made to wait outside. Euna was shivering. Her pants were soaking wet. This was the first time I noticed that she didn't have her jacket. She quietly told me she had purposely tossed her coat while we were attempting to flee on the Chinese side. She had her cell phone inside the pocket and didn't want the North Koreans to get any of the numbers that were on it. I wrapped my coat around her and tried to warm her legs by rubbing them and gently massaging them. I had a small package of trail mix in my pocket and encouraged Euna to eat some to keep up her strength. I nibbled on a few cashews and tried to remain calm.
Moments later the officer returned and in Korean explained that they would take us to the bridge. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Were they really letting us go? He looked me over and ordered a soldier to bring me a rag to wash the blood off my parka. I took this as a good sign, thinking they didn't want the Chinese authorities to see that I'd been beaten on Chinese soil. He looked at my head and inspected my face. Fearing I hadn't cleaned myself up well enough, I had Euna tell him that there was a hat in my bag, which I could put on to look more presentable. He allowed me to retrieve the white wool cap, which I put on to his satisfaction. The officer seemed trustworthy; there was a kindness in his eyes. But I was still skeptical of his intentions.
A soldier on an old military motorcycle with a sidecar approached, and we were told to get in. We were given our belongings. Wanting to hold the officer to his word, I asked Euna to see if the man could accompany us. He said it wasn't possible, that he needed to stay at the post.
"Don't worry," he said reassuringly. "You'll be fine."
"Thank you, thank you," I replied in Korean.
Another soldier hopped on the back of the rickety motorcycle, and the driver tried to start the engine. I looked around the dusty base. There were no other vehicles in sight. This dilapidated motorcycle appeared to be the only transportation available. Three or four attempts later and the cycle finally began to roar. We were off. Euna was sitting in the front of the sidecar. I curled up behind her, bracing myself against the brisk morning air.
Moments later the officer returned and in Korean explained that they would take us to the bridge. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Were they really letting us go? He looked me over and ordered a soldier to bring me a rag to wash the blood off my parka. I took this as a good sign, thinking they didn't want the Chinese authorities to see that I'd been beaten on Chinese soil. He looked at my head and inspected my face. Fearing I hadn't cleaned myself up well enough, I had Euna tell him that there was a hat in my bag, which I could put on to look more presentable. He allowed me to retrieve the white wool cap, which I put on to his satisfaction. The officer seemed trustworthy; there was a kindness in his eyes. But I was still skeptical of his intentions.
A soldier on an old military motorcycle with a sidecar approached, and we were told to get in. We were given our belongings. Wanting to hold the officer to his word, I asked Euna to see if the man could accompany us. He said it wasn't possible, that he needed to stay at the post.
"Don't worry," he said reassuringly. "You'll be fine."
"Thank you, thank you," I replied in Korean.
Another soldier hopped on the back of the rickety motorcycle, and the driver tried to start the engine. I looked around the dusty base. There were no other vehicles in sight. This dilapidated motorcycle appeared to be the only transportation available. Three or four attempts later and the cycle finally began to roar. We were off. Euna was sitting in the front of the sidecar. I curled up behind her, bracing myself against the brisk morning air.
Excerpted from Somewhere Inside: One Sister's Captivity in North Korea and the Other's Fight to Bring Her Home by Laura Ling & Lisa Ling. Copyright © 2010 by HarperCollins. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced without permission in writing from the publisher.
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