Jin was on his feet before I could even blink. “DON’T MOVE,” a loud, but unsteady voice cried out in English from one of the newcomers. Even if he wasn’t fluent in English, Jin still got the message loud and clear, coming to a halt just a few feet away from the body on the ground. I could see him shaking from head to toe, and the light of the flashlights caught the shine of tears streaming from his wide eyes. For a long moment, nobody moved a muscle, the only sound that could be heard was the faint mechanical rattle of the long, industrial-looking rifles on which the four intruder’s lights were mounted, one of which was shakily trained on Jin.

“Calm down, Dokk,” a different voice came at last from the figure standing over the body on the ground. It was authoritative and confident, but decidedly female. Curious, I thought, that a woman might be on the ground in a conflict like this. “These are civilians,” she continued quickly, and then to my surprise, she switched to smooth, hardly accented Korean, “It’s okay.”

As if released from a tight chain leash, Jin lurched forward, falling forward next to the body on the ground, the spotlight following his movements. The woman who had spoken took a step to the side to give him some space as he rolled the body over. It was like a sack of bricks had been thrown right at my chest as I caught a glimpse of the face. It was Namjoon, laying limp on the ground, his once white linen shirt smeared with red and brown as blood continued to slowly pool on the floor. I scrambled out of Yoongi’s grasp to get a better look. The silence was broken as Jin began to quietly choke on his sobs. He pulled Namjoon’s head onto his lap, undeterred by the bleeding and muddy mess. As I observed, however, I caught sight of a slight movement, and I crawled over the sticky red floor to get closer. I had to very consciously control my breathing to avoid retching at the sight and smell of the blood. “Jin, he’s still alive,” I breathed the words as if they would cease to be true once they left my lips.

I moved to get closer to Jin and Namjoon, but a dirty boot cut me off. “Come on, kid, you’re with me,” it was the woman’s voice barking at me in flat English. I looked up, but the lack of diffuse light made it impossible to see anything resembling a face. “We don’t have much time.”

“All of,” I started to respond, but was struck with how foreign English felt on my tongue. For being my native language for fifteen years of my life, it sure did get rusty after not hearing or speaking it for several months. For a brief moment I wished that I had taken Namjoon up on his offer to practice it together. I coughed to gather myself together, “All of us?” I finally asked hopefully.

I heard a sad sigh as a gloved hand grabbed my upper arm, “Sorry, kid, just you.” As she forced me to stand, my mind went blank. I took a minute just to take in the scene. There Namjoon was, crumpled on the floor, barely breathing and bleeding out, lacerated head nestled in a hysterical Jin’s lap. I was being held firmly by a soldier of some sort, a large rifle in her other hand. There were three other gun-wielding strangers with their weapons trained on the rest of my friends huddled in the corner, paralyzed with fear. Only Yoongi had moved, looming at my side.

“What did she say?” Yoongi murmured, and despite his voice being incredibly quiet, I could hear the panic.

“Right, of course,” the woman spoke in quick Korean in response to Yoongi's question. “Look, the sun is rising and we have about an hour before the Koreans get their electronics back online. If we’re not out of the airspace by then, we’re goners.” Her explanation was quick and curt, and I felt her putting pressure on my arm to prompt me to follow. “We’re here for you, kid, and only you.”

I ripped my limb out of her hand, taking a step back closer to Yoongi, “I’m not leaving them!” To my surprise, however, I felt Yoongi’s hand give me a gentle push. The dim residual light made it difficult to judge his expression. Was he seriously encouraging me to leave?

“Zoey,” he whispered, “this is your chance. Go.”

“What?” hissed back, astounded at the thought.

In my moment of distraction, the tall woman managed to get a grip on me again. “Come on Miss Yoo, we don’t have time for this.” She gave me a harsh tug, and I realized I was incredibly outmatched.

She knew my name? The thought crossed my mind briefly before I came back to my senses. Whirling around, I attempted to look up at her, “At least take Namjoon with us. He’ll die out here!” I pleaded, unsure if my attempts at negotiation had any ground. As I said, I was outmatched in every way, but I would make it as difficult as I could. However, the fact that this woman knew my name did disarm me a bit. Clearly there was more going on here.

“The Vipers are not medevac choppers, kid,” she countered, giving me another pull, “He’ll never make it over the border.”

“We have to try!” I practically screamed, looking down at Jin, whose face was red and swollen from the constant crying. His almond eyes pleaded with me as he gave me a little nod. He and I both knew Namjoon was as good as dead here. Even without seeing what damage had been done out there, there was no way he would get the medical attention he needed in time.

She growled, a low and guttural noise that was almost inhuman. “Fine,” she spat, turning to her colleagues and switching back to English, “Alright. Dokk, Jed, get the casualty up and out of here. We’re taking him with us.”

“Ma’am, there’s no way he’ll fit on the copter,” an unfamiliar voice came from the corner, but the figure stepped forward anyway.

“Do we really have to?” the first voice spoke again, his annoyance painfully obvious.

“You’re the one who shot an unarmed civilian, Dokk,” the woman sighed, “We’ll make it work, let’s just get out of here before the sun comes up,” she began to turn, taking me with her. I strained to look back at my friends and everything I had ever known for the past several months. Jungkook and I made eye contact for a brief moment, his face full of a mix of fear and anger. He, too, gave me a little nod of approval. Going with these Americans was the right thing to do. Everyone knew it. I just couldn’t comprehend leaving them, but it was clear I had no choice in the matter. Namjoon was hauled away and out the door, leaving Jin there kneeling in the bloody aftermath. I was ushered towards the exit as well, only to be cut off by Yoongi.

Before anybody could object or say anything, Yoongi grabbed my shoulders, looked me in the eyes and spoke, dead serious. “Don’t you dare feel guilty,” he was practically whispering, but his voice wavered as his eyes flicked back and forth between mine. Swiftly, he leaned forward, planting a quick kiss on my lips before stepping aside and pushing me out the door. “I love you, America,” was the last thing I heard before the steel slab echoed closed in my face.

Stunned, I hardly even realized that I was running, dragged along behind the four military people and the unconscious and broken Namjoon slung over one of the men’s backs. We reached a familiar clearing to find two relatively small, narrow helicopters.