Chapter 3

March 4, 2029

35,000 feet above the Sea of Japan

The roar of the engines made it impossible to think.

We had barely taken off when the cabin fell into a thick, tense silence; broken only by the grinding metal of the plane and the occasional cough or quiet sob. There were no windows in the cabin, no way to see where we were or how far we'd come. Just cold, grey walls and the occasional flicker of overhead lights that buzzed faintly against the hum of the light. I sat in the upper middle of the plane, next to the wall. My shoulders touched the girl next to me, but neither of us said a word. No one did. The air was stale and heavy with fuel, sweat, and fear. When the plane dipped or shook, someone gasped. One man whispered prayers under his breath the entire time. A mother beside him rocked her baby, who had long since stopped crying. I hugged my bag to my chest like it was the last solid thing in the world. My fingers were numb, but I didn't loosen my grip. I kept thinking I could still smell the chalk dust from the classroom. That if I blinked hard enough, I'd open my eyes to find myself at my desk, the bell about to ring. Yet, every time I blinked, I was still here. Still floating somewhere above the sea, with nothing below but a country at war and nothing ahead but whatever waited in Korea. I had no idea if my mother and brother made it out. I didn't know if they were on another plane or still in Nagasaki. The thought pressed so hard against my chest that I couldn't breathe if I let it in for a second. So I didn't. I stared at the bolts in the floor. I counted them. One, two, three and another three on the other end. I counted six in total in my row. Someone shifted behind me, muttering something in a language I didn't understand. The plane rattled again. No one cried anymore. We'd all used up our tears in the terminal. Now we just waited. I didn't know how long the flight would be. Or what would happen if we landed. But as the plane carried us away from the life we'd lost, I held on to the only thing I had left: the hope that someone I loved might still be waiting for me on the other side. And that maybe, just maybe, I could still find them somewhere.