Chapter 3

come friday

It’s past midnight.

The wind and the rain is gone now.

And I’m all alone.

So I close my eyes and I see the tundra, red, almost like wildfire, in front of me.

And suddenly I don’t feel so alone anymore.

The patrol officers take another miner away from the line and shoot her right through her forehead. They make us watch while they drag her away, her blood leaving behind a dark trail. This is just a reminder that it could be any one of us next time. And I am sure there’ll be a next time.

We’re already behind schedule, so the patrol officers don’t let us grab our tools, we barely manage to get our safety helmets on before we’re forced into the mines with their rifles prodding at our backs the entire way.

I hear an explosion and duck down, feeling pebbles and bits of debris falling onto my helmet. The stone columns holding up the mines rumble and shake, and I’m scared for a second that they might collapse.

A patrol officer pokes me with the tip of his rifle. I hear a dog snarling from the top of the stairway, its bark bouncing off the walls of the mine, and I hurry, trying to keep up with the rest of the miners. It smells like smoke and gunpowder down here, and I smell like dirt and soil from the dried mud on my jacket. 

We’ve been ordered to clear an area of the mine, so they’ve got us moving rocks and boulders, got us working till our hands bleed, our knees go weak, till we stumble and fall, break and shatter.

My palms are red and overworked, while the back of my hands are frighteningly pale. I notice that Tzuyu beside me has stopped working and is trying to warm herself by breathing air into her hands. She shivers a little and wraps her arms around herself.

«I asked around about those tickets. And about your brother.» Chaeyoung whispers as she picks up a rock and throws it away. «Rumours say that he was a member of the Resistance Party.»

Chaeyoung places a hand on my shoulder, and I drop the rock that I’m holding.

«Rumour has it that he was killed because— »

«He’s not dead, Chae.»

«How can you be so sure?» She snaps, her eyes darting around the area to make sure no-one is watching us. «He’s been missing for years, and you know it, I know it, Tzuyu knows — even Sana and Mina knows that nobody survives in the underground chambers for more than two years. Your brother has been missing for three!»

Chaeyoung tightens her grip on my shoulder.

«Dahyun, I’m not saying this to be mean or to offend you, I’m saying this because I care, but I think it’s time you open your eyes to the truth.»

«What?» I say and turn to face her. «He’s not dead.» I say through gritted teeth.

«Stop it,» Tzuyu scolds, «both of you.»

She puts down a rock, her eyes flicker around the area, and then she whispers:

«We’ll get in trouble again.»

Chaeyoung opens to say something. But then she sighs and releases me. Then she turns away and begins tossing rocks again.

At lunch, the patrol officers give us a sandwich each and a thermos with water. Chaeyoung puts the wrapping paper in her pocket, probably to draw on later, then she rips off a piece of her sandwich and hands it to Tzuyu.

For the first time since we’ve been working in the mine, Tzuyu shakes her head and pushes Chaeyoung’s hand away.

«No,» she says softly. «I’ll be okay.»

Chaeyoung glances at me.

I say nothing.

«You’ll be meeting Sana later, right?» Says Chaeyoung. «Please, Dahyun, ask her about the tickets, the Resistance Party, your brother and why they’re dragging miners away from the lines to execute them.»

She places a hand on my knee, giving me a look of desperation and hopefulness. Her eyes are big and round, and she tries to pout. «It’s not right what’s happening. Someone’s got to stop it.»

«And you think that has to be you?» I whisper.

Chaeyoung reels and removes her hand from my knee.

«If I find the right moment, I’ll ask her. I won’t ask her about the executions. She doesn’t like that kind of stuff.»

«Thank you.»

I pick up another rock, and then another, tossing them over my shoulder. There’s a strange feeling nagging at the back of my neck. I can’t shake it off. And then I realise that I didn’t tell Chaeyoung or Tzuyu about the tickets I found in my brother’s bottle of medicine.

I had the perfect chance to tell them. But it never occurred to me. Should I let them know that I found the missing tickets? Last night I was so determined to get rid of those tickets, burn them, bury them somewhere, and then suddenly the two missing tickets end up in the palm of my hands. And now I don’t know what to do.

When we’re done for the day, the patrol officers drag us out of the mines by the collar of our jackets. Chaeyoung, Tzuyu and I are the last to leave. They push us down onto the ground. I hear them laugh above us. I feel a heavy boot on my back, pressing me impossibly deeper into the earth. I resist pushing back, I give in, and hope that it will soon be over.

But Chaeyoung struggles, fights back — she has always been a fighter, but that’ll get her killed. She’s a hero, but heroes die because they sacrifice themselves for others. That’s how it has always been, and I’ve told Chaeyoung to stop playing hero because I don’t want her to die like the rest of them.

Tzuyu pleads with the patrol officers, she has always been the one (out of the three of us) to handle conflict by talking things through. She asks them why they’re doing this. The boot disappears from my back, they lift me up along with Chaeyoung. I watch as they grab Tzuyu’s shoulders, making her sit on her knees, and they hit her across the face, sending her flying to the ground again.

Chaeyoung snaps, I watch her eyes darken, she snarls menacingly and lunges at the patrol officers. They easily deflect her attack. An officer jabs her chin with the of his rifle. Chaeyoung winces and cradles her face. The officer pushes Chaeyoung, making her stumble backwards.

Tzuyu tries to stand, but her shaking arms give out and she falls again.

I grab Tzuyu, helping her up. Her lip is bleeding, she sways while I try to get her to walk along the path. Looking over my shoulder, I see Chaeyoung still on the ground, her hair fallen like a curtain around her face.

Tzuyu holds onto the chain fence in order to remain upright. I let go of her and rush to Chaeyoung’s side, but she gets up on her own, groaning as the pebbles prick her palms. Chaeyoung wobbles while she makes her way to Tzuyu. In the back, I hear the patrol officers sneering at us, like predators playing with their prey. But none of this is a game, this is our reality.

We slowly make our way back to the communities, with heaviness in our hearts and the faint light from the stars watching over us.

«Sana!» I yell, opening the door to the washroom that Sana works in.

The air is thick and filled with steam. It smells like flowers and chemicals, and it’s incredibly warm. I quickly shed my jacket, placing it on the counter beside me. Through the steam, I see Sana walking towards me. Sana holds out her hands, red from washing and scrubbing, and cups my face. I grab her hands which are calloused and warm against my skin, keeping them there a little longer.

I sigh into her touch and hear the other washers giggling. Sana turns to scowl at them. They begin whispering, placing their hands over their mouths and leaning over each other, snickering, and only now do I realise that Momo, the delegate’s daughter, must’ve told the other washers about Sana and me. But there is no ‘Sana and me’. Not like that. But they haven’t gotten that through their thick skulls yet.

«I need your help.» I say, and Sana’s expression falters.

«What’s happened?» She asks.

«Chae and Tzuyu got hurt.»

«Quickly, bring them in.»

I go out into the hallway and guide them into the washroom while Sana clears the long wooden table of the many clothes and soaps lying on top of it. She ushers the other washers out of the room, except for Mina, who rushes to Chaeyoung’s side and helps her sit on top of the table. There are no chairs in the washroom because the Guild do not want the washers to slack off when they should be working. 

Sana opens a window to let the steam out, waving a towel to quicken the process. I manage to get Tzuyu onto the table, which is difficult because she keeps swaying and mumbling things. She grabs my arm and holds onto me, scrunching the material of my shirt.

«What about you?» She manages to say.

«I’ll be alright.» I tell her while backing away.

Sana approaches Tzuyu with a cloth, and begins to wipe the dirt off her face. I hear her yelp and she pulls away from Sana. There’s a struggle between them before Tzuyu finally relents and lets Sana wash her wounds. She looks at the cut on Tzuyu’s lip and in a deep breath before she lets out a s