Chapter 9

May 3, 2029

Federal Republic of Korea

The night after they took Haoyan felt longer than any I had ever known. I didn't sleep. I didn't eat. I just lay there in Tent C-17, staring up at the canvas ceiling, listening to the wind press against the fabric like it wanted in.

I thought about the fence. The guards. The space between us, and how this camp feels more like a prison camp than a place where refugees feel safe. But more than that, I thought about him. About the way he had looked at me when he said he'd find his way back. I believed him. But I also knew that I couldn't just wait. So before dawn, I packed what little they gave me—a few cookies, two water bottles, and a thin blanket and I put it in my school bag, still filled with my school supplies—all my notebooks, my sketchpad, my phone and my earbuds. Then I made my way toward the north wall of the camp, where the guards rarely patrolled and the concrete was way lower, almost like they didn't finish building it. The sun was still hiding when I pulled myself over the top. I landed hard in the dirt outside the fence, my heart pounding so loud I was sure it would give me away. But no one saw. No one stopped me.

I ran. Across quiet roads and through the edges of the farmland, guided only by the direction they took him, and the distant, distant skyline of Seoul. It took half the day. By then, the sun was high and the air thick with dust and car exhaust. I reached a small transport hub on the outskirts of a town. Trucks and buses idled there, unloading supplies and shifting groups of refugees. And there, leaning against the side of a transport van, head bowed and shoulders slumped, was Haoyan. I ran to him, calling his name. He looked up, startled. When he saw me, something in him broke open. His arms were around me before I could finish speaking. "You came," he whispered. "I couldn't stay," I said. "Not without you." We didn't wait. We slipped away before the van moved, before anyone noticed. We found a back road, then another bus, then another checkpoint where no one asked too many questions. Until we saw the distant skyline become brighter and closer.