36. Chapter 36
It turned out that when Kei described their departure time as stupid o’clock, he meant that they’d need to be at San Francisco International Airport by three in the morning.
Eunjae spent a lot of time in liminal spaces: baggage claims, backstage corridors, hotel lobbies, airports. Airports, for him, held a uniquely strange atmosphere. At this hour, that strangeness seemed more pronounced. Their terminal was a ghost town. Most of the shops were shuttered and dim, resulting in a sort of artificial twilight. Fellow travelers were either bleary-eyed and partway catatonic like Max, or infused with fathomless, manic energy like Jesse.
Eunjae fell somewhere in between, as usual. Exhaustion had become his whole personality at this point, but he didn’t feel as though he could rest, either. His brain wouldn’t stop long enough for that. While his two younger brothers slept like the absolute dead in their adjoining rooms, Eunjae volunteered to gather the supplies they’d failed to bring during their escape from Seoul. Three duffel bags, new phones for Max and Jesse so that Emerald couldn’t track their old ones, a few sets of clothes.
Taking care of the other two left him with little time to dwell on everything that could go wrong. Alas, there wasn’t much to do now except wait.
Their flight to Los Angeles would board soon. Jesse had gone to stock up on three days’ worth of snacks that would be demolished in less than an hour. Eunjae worked on his backlog of messages, sending and replying while the Wi-Fi was decent. He wrote another email to Arthur, who replied with his usual speed.
Max was sprawled full length along four seats in the empty row they’d chosen, swaddled in a Golden State Warriors hoodie and swearing under his breath at yesterday”s crossword puzzle. When he suddenly hauled himself upright, Eunjae was prepared to be accosted for another four-letter word that might possibly be the name of a country smaller than Sicily but larger than Mallorca. He’d been stuck on that one for hours.
Max surprised him by choosing to jettison the puzzle entirely. “I’m sorry about the door,” he said, out of the blue. “It was me. I’m the one who found it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, the door. That orange door at the waffle place, like the one in your book. When Jungwoo called you that first time, like the day after you went missing, you said something about it. I remembered. We’d walked past the waffle place a few times, looking for you, and I thought about how that was the only interesting door around there. I just kept feeling like it had to mean something, so we came back on another day.”
“It’s okay. You”re not the one who told them where to find me, that was all Jungwoo. How did you connect it to the door in my book, though? Have you read it before?” Everyone in the group knew about Eunjae’s attachment to his worn copy of The Brass Key, but he couldn”t recall ever discussing the plot with any of them in much depth.
His brother heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I read it once. I just… I saw that you always had it in your bag, back then, if we were traveling or whatever. I wondered why it was so important to you. I figured that Jungwoo probably knew why. That made me so damn mad. Why couldn”t I know, too? Why was Jungwoo always the one you picked, and why did he always pick you? Why wasn”t there any room for me?”
Max kicked at his luggage, refusing to look Eunjae in the eye. “I thought reading the book might give me something to talk to you about,” he went on. “”Cause I really wanted to talk to you about a lot of things. Like how you were always nice to everyone and we didn’t always deserve it. And how you always let Jungwoo do all the talking, even when it was obvious you didn’t agree. And I just wanted to be your friend on the same level that he was.”
Here, Max made an incoherent noise that was part disgusted groan and part wail of despair. “I can”t believe I said all that! Augh!”
Eunjae let the incoherent noises pass. When Max had quieted down, he said, “I hope you still want to be my friend.”
“Idiot, why wouldn”t I? Anyway, we’re brothers. Can’t change that ever.”
“You’re right,” said Eunjae. “So good luck getting rid of me.”
“Ha.” Then, very quietly, he added, “About Jungwoo, though.”
“What about him?”
“He hurt you, hyung. How could you just forgive him like that?”
“I hurt him too.” Being honest about this was like voluntarily twisting the knife, but Eunjae felt lighter as soon as the words left him. “And you just said it, didn’t you? We’re brothers. Can’t change that ever.”
“Gross! I never said that!”
“You did say it, and you were right.”
Max’s brown eyes were ablaze. “I won’t forgive him. I don’t care if I was right.”
“I’m glad you’re around to be mad enough for both of us. Because you do care — you care so much. I hope you never stop.”
“Oh, what the hell, hyung? I’m not crying at this airport. I’ve never cried at an airport even one time and I won’t start now.”
“I’ll cry, then. I’m fine with it.” Eunjae hooked an arm around his brother’s neck. “My life is so much better because you care about me, Max. Sorry I haven’t told you enough.”
“Gross!” But Max returned the half hug with bone-crushing force. Then he squirmed away, flopped back down, and returned to the crossword. Muted sniffling came from the depths of the hood pulled over his head. “Greek goddess of victory. Four letters.”
“Too easy,” said Jesse, hurrying over to them with a casual tonnage of snacks. “It’s ‘Nike’. Like the brand. And, um, I think we’re in trouble.”
“Duh, Jess. We’ve been in trouble for days now. And Ari’s been in trouble for like two weeks straight. Big deal.”
“This is new trouble. Here, hyung.” Jesse already had his phone out. He showed it to Eunjae, rapidly swiping between screenshots.
At first he thought the fatigue had finally done him in. Each of Jesse’s screenshots looked almost the same. He tried blinking again, even removing his glasses and glaring until the pixels came into proper focus, but it wasn’t the hallucination he was praying for.
Max sat up again. “Shit. Aren’t those…?”
“Yeah. They got us.”
These were Apollo’s personal Instagram accounts. Eight of the nine members had their own. The only exception was Nick, who mainly used his phone as a vehicle for gossip. It had taken years for them to be allowed their own accounts. Now, each of these had been reduced to just one post, all their photos and videos archived or perhaps even outright deleted.
Everyone’s grid showed a simple emerald green square. The agency had taken over their social media.
“We had to use company email addresses to sign up for these. Should’ve thought to go in and change everything before we escaped.”
“What about the main account? The one for the whole group?”
“It’s got a green square on it, too. Sunshines are posting conspiracy theories already.”
Max scowled. “I assumed they’d take that one away from us. Not the personal ones, though. Damn.”
“What will we do now, hyung? This makes it a lot harder to get our message across.”
Eunjae didn’t have an answer ready for that, but he wasn’t about to give up yet, either. “It’s fine,” he told his younger brothers. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s just try to get where we’re going.”
“Yeah,” said Jesse, plopping down beside him. “And we won’t let them win!”
“You’re right. We won’t.”