Escape

to

Japan!!!

Chapter 1 (…and Yei ran…)

    "Yei, what have I told you?" my mother's sharp Japanese voice called in my ear. "We can't rest until ALL of the flour is ground! You can't just slack off and do nothing."

     I started. "Mom! Why do you always have to wake me up?"

     I was fifteen. It was no surprise that I was constantly sleeping on the job.The reason that we were working in a terrible, North Korean mill is because my mom married a French man; and, even though she was rich, all families with a father from a poor generation, or from a different country had to be transported from Japan, to its almost neighboring country, North Korea. That's about one-sixth of our country, today, in our so-called magic year: 3210. Not very magical right now!

     Suddenly, and arrow whizzed past our heads, burying itself into one of the mill workers' legs. I didn't turn around. I didn't want to. I heard a crash. The worker didn't make a sound. 'Is he dead?' I thought. The worker groaned. I sighed. 'Good! It's not one of the women. But still...'
   
     I tried to force myself not to, but I instantly swiveled on my heel to face the poor man that everyone had gathered around. He was losing way too much blood! A young girl, named Emile, maybe around fourteen, rushed to his side with a wet rag, pliers, and the few bandages that were in the tiny storage closets the president gave us, to put what little belongings we had, in them. Luckily, Emile was able to get the wound patched up in time.

     "Hey, Emile! Fetch me a glass of water, sweetheart." the only overseer in the mill shouted, his voice lulled with sake. He winked at her. Emile cringed in disgust at the gnarly old man, but nodded. She pointed to her sister, Jo.

     "Jo, would you mind taking over for a bit?"

     Jo shuffled over to Emile and stared up at her with her huge brown eyes.

     "Sure, Emile. I'll take over." she said smoothly. With that, Emile walked over to the well in the center of the room, then stopped. A sly smile spread across her usually calm face; but when the overseer looked her way, her face went blank. Emile grabbed the crank on the side that lifts the bucket up and down. She seemed to be struggling with it.

     "Oh! I believe that the bucket is too heavy for my frail arms!" Emile wailed. She beckoned to the overseer. "If you care, please help." The overseer's face shone with pride.

     "No problem, miss!" He jumped up, and ran to the well. When he was near her, Emile reached out her arms as if meant for a hug, then pushed the overseer into the well. SPLASH!

     "Help! I can't swim!" He cried in despair.
 
     Emile smiled in triumph. "Ha! That'll teach HIM a lesson not to flirt with girls. So long, creepy old man!"

     Without making another sound, we all tiptoed out of the open doors into the moonlit courtyard of the mill. Two mill workers muttered a few words throughout the scattered group, then everyone ran into their cabins. The guards didn't even look our way!

*****
     "It's midnight! I's midnight!" I heard my parents calling from door-to-door. "Time to put the plan into action!"

     'What plan? Oh yeah! I forgot.' When the two mill workers were whispering among the group of the other workers, I leaned in as close as I could and then heard them say something about escaping back to Japan. Why couldn't they just hold it off till next week?! I rubbed my eyes, and forced myself to sit up. My arms felt numb. I couldn't move my feet. Maybe it was because I'd never gotten up this early before. I peeked out the window. Workers were gathering near the fountain in the mill square. Soon, the sun would be coming out, so we had to hurry. I sluggishly got dressed. Then, I walked over to my bed. I lifted the thin mattress and extracted small knife, just little enough to fit in the holster of my worker's vest. I emptied out the two small pockets of the tattered vest, then, I took out a cloth package about as big as my hand. When I unwrapped it, I jumped back. Chinese throwing stars clattered to the floor. I didn't want to get cut, so I strung them up on my pinkie finger, and quickly dropped them in the left pocket. In the right pocket went the black knife point-first, so that if I ever reached in to grab it, I wouldn't stab myself, I'd grab the round handle.