Blackout Read Online Free PDF

sigh of relief when he heard his friend’s voice. “Pach, dude, you gonna be home later tonight? I think I need a little couch time, even if it’s only by phone.”
    A minute later Scott slid the phone back into his pocket. The wry smile gently began tugging again at the corners of his mouth. Riley Covington’s last words to him— Anything, anytime, anywhere —echoed in his mind, and the elusive peace that Scott so desperately needed slowly began to make its migration back home.

Sunday, July 12, 11:30 p.m. KST
    North Korea–China Border
    The sounds of dice and laughter announced the patrol boat minutes before it slowly drifted into view on the Amnok River. There was just enough light on the deck for Pak Kun to make out two men on watch—one manning the spotlight and one the mounted gun.
    Pak Kun huddled down in the fetid mud on the North Korean side of the river. His makeshift raft had been almost completely uncovered when he first heard the sounds of the approaching boat. Panicking, he had hastily thrown the branches back on. Now he prayed that the covering would be enough.
    It was one week ago that Pak Kun’s cousin, Pak Bae, had come to Chosan bearing gifts for the extended family. Nearly twenty family members had shown up at the railroad station to celebrate this rare visit. Even the cousins’ great-grandfather, Pak Bae’s namesake, had shuffled his way to the reunion.
    Pak Bae was led to an old tree where a picnic had been set up. For the next hour, while everyone feasted on cheonggukjang , kimchi , and the wonderfully sweet tteok , laughter and the occasional gasp filled the air as stories were told of city life. Pak Kun laughed until his sides hurt as Pak Bae, who from childhood had always had a gift for impersonations, imitated some of the important men who came to get gas at his station.
    As always, the time had passed much too quickly, and soon it was time for Pak Bae to catch the train for his return trip to Pyongyang. Hugs, kisses, and blessings were given all around. After Pak Kun received his hug, he separated from his cousin but still held on to his hands as they spoke their words of farewell. When he finally let go, Pak Kun stepped away, turned to cough, and slipped a small, waterproof sheath into his mouth. As the family waved at the departing train, Pak Kun was already planning the journey he would take one week later.
    Now, as the river mud oozed up between his toes, Pak Kun’s tongue slowly ran along that sheath. He wondered what secrets were held in that soft little container—diagrams for a weapons system, plans for an attack, petitions for helping a people’s insurrection? Sure, an insurrection—that will be the day, he thought, shaking his head. Our army is too strong, our leaders too corrupt, and our people too used to being beaten down. Any change for our country is going to have to come from the outside, not the inside.
    Pak Kun’s body tensed as the sweep of the spotlight got closer. He tried to sink deeper into the mud and rotting vegetation. He knew what would happen if he was caught. In his mind he replayed the vision from two years earlier of four badly beaten bodies hanging by their necks from a tree in the town square for three weeks before the police finally cut them down.
    Something brushed against Pak Kun’s ankles, causing him to gasp. He looked down to see a water snake slowly gliding between his legs. He dared not move. He prayed the noise he’d made hadn’t been enough to attract the attention of the boat. But a moment later, everything around him lit up like the middle of the day.
    It took all his self-control to hold still the last few seconds until the snake glided into the water. Then Pak Kun eased down to his stomach. While he inched his way deeper into the brush, he heard soldiers’ voices. Then a large-caliber gun began firing.
    All around him bushes and trees shredded. Branches, leaves, and bugs