Buddha's money

11

Steel needles of agony shot up from Mi-ja's severed finger. The pain from her missing ear had long since settled into a pounding ache. Still, all these sensations had gradually spun into an unbreakable cocoon of misery. A cocoon Mi-ja was coming to accept.

Mi-ja was most worried about whether or not her legs would work. A couple of times she'd raised from her squat on the cold cement floor, but she managed only a few faltering steps. Yet she must find strength in her legs and she must find it now.

Every time she moved the chain rattled. She had to be careful, because if she made too much noise one of the men would come in to check on her.

Her face was just a few feet from the commode, the chain attached to her neck wrapped around the pipe that ran into the cement floor. The toilet hadn't been flushed since she was brought here, and Mi-ja was glad of that because she was afraid that if anyone tried to flush it, rancid filth would overflow onto the floor.

The stench bothered her not at all. She had more important things to worry about.

All night, as she faded in and out of consciousness, she had heard the voice of her mother. "Hardship is the lot of women like us, Mi-ja. You must be a strong girl, even if it means you have to leave us and go far away to live with someone else."

She had promised her mother she would be strong- and now she would prove it.

Mi-ja had a plan.

Footsteps approached. She held her breath. Now was the time. She would be allowed only one chance.

The door of the byonso crashed open. Mi-ja flinched. Dim light filtered in, slicing into her eyes. She covered her face with both hands.

One of the foreign men stomped across the cement floor. Roughly, he grabbed the chain and jerked it upward, almost choking Mi-ja in the process. He reached in his pocket, pulled out a key, and unlocked the padlock that held the chain. With the side of his boot, he kicked Mi-ja back away from the commode.

Mi-ja kept her eyes tightly shut, cowering against the cement wall. Within seconds she heard the steady stream of urine splashing into the waste-filled porcelain bowl.

Slowly, she leaned backward on her haunches, flexing the stiff muscles of her thigh, testing their strength. Flesh quivered in protest. Still, her body must obey her commands. Her legs had to work. It was vital that everything proceed in one unbroken motion.

The stream of urine was steady and hard. The reek of it drifted into Mi-ja's nostrils. She forced herself to take a deep breath, opened her eyes, and launched herself for- ward, twisting behind the urinating man, slamming her thin shoulders against the far cement wall.

The chain around her neck slipped and clattered to the floor. The urinating man swiped his hand backward, but his fingers slithered off the flesh of Mi-ja's upper arm. She hit the wooden door-squirming, turning, running-pushed through, and burst out into the outside room.

Men squatted on a large vinyl-covered floor, tossing oddly-shaped wooden sticks into a pile between them. They looked up as she ran past them, scattering dried bones in her wake.

Men shouted. Men reached out. But none of them moved quickly enough. She was already at the front door. She slammed into it and pushed but it wouldn't open.

Frantically, Mi-ja twisted the handle. It slid downward and she pulled the door ajar. She stepped out into the hallway, glancing both ways. A window. People on a street far below. The voices of children. Men and women selling fresh produce. The sounds of Korea. The sounds of home.

She heard footsteps behind her and sprinted with all her strength toward the window. Too high to jump out. A stairway. She ran toward it.

Mi-ja was naked, she knew that, but her mind had no care for modesty. Only freedom. Only real air. Like an animal escaped from its cage, that was all she could think of.

As she rounded a corner she saw it. A metal grillwork door blocking the stairway. She grabbed the tightly woven bars, rattled them. They wouldn't budge.

Trapped.

The footsteps of the men were in full pursuit now. No way to slip under the grillwork, but she could climb over it. There was enough space at the top for her to slip through. But there wasn't enough time. Her pursuers would be on her in seconds.

In the hallway behind her she spotted a small wooden hatchway. It probably led to a storage shed for charcoal.

She stepped back up the stairs, pushed the door. It held at first but then, just as she was about to surrender to despair, it shifted slightly. She pushed harder. The door popped open. Flat back. She was right. The dank space was filled with charcoal dust. She crawled inside and shoved the small hatch back into place, holding it with her trembling hands.

The footsteps exploded above her. A herd of men. All shouting. All tramping down the stairs. Angry sounds. None of which she could understand. She dared not breathe; she prayed her strength would last long enough so that she wouldn't lose her hold on the wooden door.

Someone shouted again and metal clanged on metal. A key. And then the creaking of the grillwork gate as it swung open. Footsteps pelted down the stairway.

They'd been fooled! They thought she'd climbed over.

Mi-ja listened. All was quiet.

She dared not believe it at first but now she must. The men were gone. Now was her chance to escape. They would be back soon, once they discovered that she wasn't out on the street.

Scraping her shaking fingers against the splintery wood, she pulled back the small hatchway and crawled out. Silently, she crept back up the steps, back toward the room where she had been held hostage. Cautiously, she peered inside the open door. No one was left inside.

She scurried down the hallway until it turned and turned again. The doors in the long corridor were shut tight and all was silent. Then she saw it. A back stairway.

She crept down, taking one step at a time. Listening. No sound.

At another window she could see below. This stairway led to a back alley lined with large crates of refuse. She must hurry before the men searched back here. She sprinted down the stairway but before running outside she stopped, squatted low, and glanced both ways. The alleyway was perfectly still.

Freedom at last, she thought.

With a great burst of breath, Mi-ja leapt out into the alleyway and ran as fast as her shaky legs would carry her, past the line of crates. Only a few more steps and then she would be on the main street. Others would be there. Street vendors, shop owners, maybe-if she was lucky-even a policeman.

Only a few more steps.

She was about to reach the last crate when a demon emerged from the shadows.

Even as Mi-ja's mind flooded with terror, her small body kept moving.

A turbaned man-not a demon-leaned toward her and, with a great paw, swiped out at her naked body. Fingers like iron spikes bit into the soft flesh of Mi-ja's arm, pinching bone.

The fingers softened and wriggled and slithered around her like curling pythons.

Mi-ja howled.

Not in pain but in anguish. Anguish for the freedom that had been so near.

The man in the turban slapped her hard across the side of her head. He slid his enormous hand across her mouth, covering her nose. Choking, Mi-ja kicked and struggled, but it did no good.

The turbaned man's lips slid back, revealing blocks of yellowed teeth.

He hoisted Mi-ja into the air, tucked her beneath his arm, and sauntered nonchalantly down the alleyway. He kicked open the creaking back door and reentered the endless darkness of the ancient wooden building.