Chapter 12
To Alfred, the sound was unmistakable. The sound of distant shells wasn't exactly something that left you once the war was over. The Revolution, the Civil War, the World Wars, Korea, Vietnam, the Middle East. From distant cannon fire to far off shells exploding, it was a sound that stuck in a person's mind, especially a nation's mind—for it was a sound that meant somewhere, too far off for a nation to make a difference, people were dying.
And if something went wrong in the next few minutes, that was exactly what the sound of distant shells was going to mean.
North was fumbling in his pocket for his phone, urgently ringing with a call that couldn't be good. Before he knew what he was doing, Alfred reached out and grabbed the Korean's wrist, just as he'd managed to pull the phone from his pocket. North turned and glared at him dangerously, but Alfred held fast.
"Just…just remember what I said, okay?" he said, trying his hardest to give a well-meaning, encouraging smile.
North held his gaze for only a moment before wrenching his hand away and answering his phone. "Yeoboseyo."
All eyes were on North, who exchanged only a few words with whoever was on the other line before hanging up. Everyone stared at him expectantly, but North didn't say anything. Instead, he simply made a gesture at their handlers, who must have known what it meant, because they began to herd the group back into the vans.
"Wait—North!" Alfred called, trying to go after him, only to find himself cut off by the larger of the two handlers, whose entire purpose on the trip seemed to have become clear. "What's going on?"
"Follow your guides," North said simply, waving a hand dismissively.
"North!" Alfred repeated, this time visibly angry. God damn it! Why did North have to be so ambiguous and stoic all the time? Here was Alfred legitimately fearing for the safety of literally millions of people and, once again, North was blowing him off as if none of it mattered. To make things worse, Kang Dae, who had clearly only been assigned to them because he was probably the only guy in the whole country short of North himself who may have come remotely close to being able to take Alfred, was doing a very nice job of standing right in his way and making it very difficult to get at North.
"Follow. Your. Guides," North said again, firmly, before turning to leave. "They'll explain."
Alfred, still furious that North just couldn't give him a straight answer—ever—had no choice but to let Kang Dae herd him back towards the vans with the others. He got in, fuming, next to Mr. Richardson.
"It's okay," Mr. Richardson said in an effort to calm him. "Calm down."
"It's not okay!" Alfred exclaimed after taking a quick glance around to make sure Mr. Blitzer hadn't climbed into the same van before speaking as a nation. "I'm supposed to protect people and I feel as helpless as ever."
"We've done everything we can," Mr. Richardson assured him. "It's up to the North Koreans now. We'll just have to wait and see what happens."
Once everyone had been loaded up, they were driven back to the hotel. Clearly they weren't leaving yet.
After everyone was inside, the two guides sat them down in the lobby and attempted to explain what was going on. If the drills started before the group left the country, they were supposed to head back to the hotel, which is what their guides had done. From there they were simply supposed to wait and see what happens. If things went sour, they'd try to get the group to China somehow.
Where was North? Alfred had asked one of them privately after the meeting had dispersed. Busy, he'd been told. Unhelpful as ever.
He had to wonder if North had actually tried to arrange transportation for them at all. Every time he tried to talk to the guy, it seemed, he was blown off. But he was trying to give the Korean the benefit of the doubt, as hard as it was. North had to be just as stressed as he was. No nation wanted to go to war. If the North Koreans hadn't been so paranoid that war was always just around the corner, maybe Alfred could have believed that North truly didn't care about his people. But he had to be paranoid for a reason. It had to be because he was afraid of going to war. And that fear, Alfred hoped, would keep them from having one today.
Most of the group lingered in the lobby, hoping that the drills would end, and soon enough, they'd be on their way.
About an hour and a half later, the distant booms emanating from the south ceased. Still, the group was left with no clues as to what might be happening. Alfred positioned himself in front of the TV, hoping it could reveal something about the situation, but so far, it was the same, nationalistic programming as always. Neither guide seemed to have received any information about what was happening either.
They were treated to lunch by the hotel's restaurant, and then began an afternoon of waiting. About an hour in, Ki Young made a call. He never revealed who he'd spoken to, or what they had told him, but the call lasted less than a minute. Alfred suspected the guides weren't getting much of an update on the situation either.
Alfred spent the afternoon with a sick feeling in his stomach. Again, he had barely eaten at lunch. He couldn't eat when he was so nervous. The feeling stuck with him for the remainder of the afternoon. His head swam with questions and "what ifs." What would he do if they were at war in the morning? How was Yong Soo going to feel about all this? Would he feel sorry for North if something happened to him?
Finally, as the afternoon slipped into evening, the North Korean television station began to report on the day's drills. Alfred couldn't understand everything they were saying, but Mr. Nankung was there to translate.
"So far, they are basically just informing the public of what happened today," Mr. Nankung said. "The booms they heard were the drills. They call the drills an abomination and an overstepping."
After some stock footage of the North Korean military, the station cut away to the next thing scheduled, which, as it turned out, was some old Chinese drama.
"That's it?" Someone asked.
"It appears so."
Alfred sighed. So, they still didn't know what was going on. If they were going to war, would the North Korean TV station report on it? Would they spin fighting in a war as noble and patriotic in order to gain the public favor, or try to cover it up completely? Thankfully at least, no one had heard any additional booms since that morning, so there was less reason to think the North Koreans had responded violently, if at all.
Ki Young made another call—just as short as the last. But this time, at least, he offered an explanation. "He said to call back."
Alfred hoped that was a good sign, but he wasn't exactly sure how it could be.
An hour later, the Chinese drama ended, and the North Korean news returned. Everyone turned their attention back to the TV, practically on the edge of their seats.
The anchor lady spoke for a moment as military stock footage played behind her, then the scene cut to a military official speaking. When he was done, everyone looked to Mr. Nankung, who happily translated: "We felt it was not worth reacting one by one to military provocations. The South Korean drills are simply childish play by fire."
There was an instant, groupwide sigh of relief. Alfred wanted to laugh—just out of sheer happiness. They weren't going to war. Not today. Things might be okay, at least until next time.
"My god, this is great," Mr. Richardson said. "This is good news. Maybe we had an impact."
Alfred wondered the same. He had been worrying so much about how much of an impact he hadn't had on North. They'd been in meetings all week, saying the same things and getting the same, vague answers. North Koreans were so hard to read. Maybe they'd never planned to take anything the Americans said into account at all. But maybe something Alfred said managed to get through to North. If the North Koreans had been on the fence about what to do, maybe North had thought back to something Alfred had said and swayed his leaders the other way. Maybe none of it mattered at all. But, Alfred decided, he was going to hope something he'd said had mattered. He had to keep thinking that way, he realized, because one day, it really might matter. If he lost hope that others listened to what he had to say, he might stop speaking, and one day, something he didn't say could have made the difference.
Ki Young, was on the phone again, this time with someone who must have had the time to speak to him. He spoke for a while, and a moment later, he hung up.
"You can fly out now," he announced. "They are allowing activity at the airport once again."
The lobby was soon bustling with people trying to find their things so they could once again pack up and leave. In just a few minutes, they were off.
Alfred was disappointed to find that North hadn't come to meet them at the airport, but he couldn't blame him. The guy had probably been too busy to even think about coming to say goodbye. After all, why would that be at the top of his list of priorities? Earlier that afternoon, he was sitting on the brink of war. Alfred was sure, at this moment, North was sitting somewhere surrounded by a bunch of military officials, discussing what the effects of their decision not to retaliate might be.
A worker approached them with a box containing all the items they'd been required to leave at the airport—passports, laptops, and most importantly cell phones. Alfred had never been so happy to have an electronic device back in his hands in his entire life.
Night had fallen by the time the plane lifted off, but that was just fine by Alfred. He'd managed to fall asleep on the short flight from Pyongyang back to Beijing and had to be awoken so everyone could transfer to another flight back to the states. Once on the second plane, he was sure he'd slept nearly the entire trip. He'd simply been worrying too much during the past week to get decent sleep.
When the plane landed, the first thing Alfred did was check his phone. No surprise—it had been absolutely blown up with text messages.
Matthew: hey, you okay?
Matthew: have you left yet?
Matthew: are you back?
Matthew: just text me when you can.
Kiku: I am watching the news. I hope you are okay.
Yong Soo: hey text me when you land
YongSoo: oh my god weren't you supposed to be back by now
Yong Soo: did that shitface let you leave yet
Yong Soo: I'm gonna kick his ass next time I see him
Alfred couldn't help but suppress a chuckle. It was nice to know people cared about him, even though as nations, they didn't really have to. He ended up sending the three of them the same message.
Alfred: I'm fine we just got delayed a bit
Additionally, he thought Yong Soo's words probably warranted something extra.
Alfred: and it's okay you don't need to do that.
After all, it was such hostile feelings between the two Korean brothers that had led to this situation in the first place. If they'd been on slightly better terms, maybe—just maybe—North wouldn't have been convinced South was going to try and wipe him off the map, and this whole crisis wouldn't have even been a problem.
But, Alfred was content to leave the "what ifs" for another day. He was still exhausted, and he wanted nothing more than to go home, stretch out on his couch, and watch a movie or something. Sometimes he wished he could live a life without the stresses of being a nation—just have a job and raise a family and not worry about what war he might be fighting next.
But if he did that, who would be watching out to make sure crises like these didn't happen?
He was jolted out of his thoughts by Mr. Richardson patting him on the back and telling him to take care. "Yeah, you too!" he replied.
Soon, everyone went their separate ways. With his latest journey at a close, all that was left for Alfred to do was find a taxi to take him home.
AN: I know you guys had to wait wayyyy too long for this. College was rougher on me than I thought it would be. This fic hasn't been discontinued though and probably won't be, even if it takes me years to get it done (speaking of, I think this is year two). This particular arc is over, but the story isn't, so stay tuned.