Thunder in the Morning Calm by Don Brown

then we could head for the border somewhere just to the west of Kanggye. Perhaps something like this.” With the grease pencil, he began outlining an escape route.
    “There.” Jung-Hoon put the grease pencil on the pastor’s desk. “That should do it.”
    Gunner studied the map. Had Jung-Hoon actually laid out the plan? And was he taking charge of planning the whole mission? No one inall of Korea would be better suited to lead such a deadly mission than Jung-Hoon.

    North Korea with route from Sea of Japan to China,
angling toward Hamhung
     
    “Interesting,” Pastor Lee said after a minute of studying the map. “Of course you understand that the escape route you are proposing is extremely mountainous.”
    “Everything in Korea is mountainous,” Jung-Hoon said. “But at least we’re avoiding population centers.”
    Gunner sensed a spark of passion in Jung-Hoon’s voice. He looked over and saw Jackrabbit nodding.
    The pastor studied Jung-Hoon’s route, then said, “I will mention this to two elders who head up our rescue program. Regardless of their decision, I want you to know that I am with you in spirit, and if you undertake this brave and daring mission, I pray that the Lord will allow us to be a part of helping you to succeed.”
    “Thank you, Pastor,” Jung-Hoon said. “When can we expect to hear from you?”
    Pastor Lee scratched his chin. “I will call you as soon as I have a decision.”
    “Thank you,” Jung-Hoon said. He looked at Jackrabbit and Gunner. “Let us return to the hotel. We have some planning to do for this suicide mission.”

CHAPTER 6
     
    Corbin Hall
Suffolk, Virginia
    T he aroma of roasting turkey saturated the rooms of the house. The familiar warm fragrance of Thanksgiving brought a smile to her face. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and her feet found her slippers. She stood and reached for her robe, which she had draped over the side of the pink wingback chair.
    The clock beside the bed showed that the turkey had been in the oven on low heat for over eight hours already and had four hours to go. The house would soon be bustling with activity and laughter and fellowship. The family would begin arriving soon, and she still had tons of preparation to do. She headed for the kitchen.
    Darkness filled the small bathroom adjoining the large kitchen of the grand country home. She stepped in and flipped on the light.
    The mirror did not lie.
    Her beauty had not faded, not totally anyway, even in the more than half a century of years that would be credited to her on her next birthday. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she could produce, if demanded, information relating to the exact number of years that she had endured upon this earth. But when she hit fifty a little over a decade ago, her strong will had made her forget her exact age.
    Still, the mirror did not lie.
    The high cheekbones, once the topic of male suitors over the years, were still set against an olive skin marred by few wrinkles. Even the streaks of gray were not all that unattractive, she thought, as she pulledher hair back into a ponytail and began to apply makeup. Her hands showed the wrinkling and ropey veins of age. Her wrists were now boney. Yet arthritis had not beset her, as it had other members of her family, and she remained grateful for the strength she had heading into her sunset years.
    As she put on a comfortable pair of jeans and the red sweater Gunner had given her last Christmas, she thought about the last ten years. Had she made a mistake by rejecting two proposals of marriage after her husband died? The last one, a rather dashing and handsome suitor, was wealthy to boot. But marrying him would have required her to trade the serenity of Corbin Hall for the West Coast.
    The ties of family and the pull of Corbin Hall had never allowed her the luxury of starting anew. The new would never be like the old.
    Enough reminiscing. Today was Thanksgiving. Time to liven up. She left the bathroom and