Operation Minnow

She's like a girl who knows exactly what to do, I thought, but has never done it before.

Min-Ji's tongue squeezed from between her lips, and it touched my penis and drew back. She spoke again in a kind of hushed awe. Then, with her tongue barely out of her mouth, she licked precisely over the slit of my cock's exit.

Drawing back, she looked at the place where she had licked, surveying the new stripe of saliva she had deposited. She licked again. Then, she spoke to my cock.

Her words were unknown to me, but the tone was soft and loving, albeit with a few halts and stammers from her apparent nerves.

Min-Ji glanced at me again, uttering excited words before lifting my cock to my stomach and taking in the sight of my testicles. She spoke again, and she kissed each one. Her other hand slid up and caressed the sack, gently rolling the balls over her fingertips.

She seemed to be talking about what she was doing. Then, her eyes met mine despite the intrusion of my erection. She said my name and drew herself up level with my cock again.

Grasping the shaft, she aimed it into her mouth. She whispered a final phrase, closed her eyes, and parted her lips.

I watched the mushroom tip distend her lips. Min-Ji's jaw fell open as she welcomed more and more of the shaft into her mouth. She hummed a tiny squeak and ceased the progress. I felt her tongue slither on the underside, and then she slowly disgorged the few inches she'd managed to take in.

With a gasp, she glanced at me eagerly.

I nodded.

She whispered something to me and smiled. Then, she whispered to my cock again and resumed.

Ultimately, she managed to engulf about half of my cock, and from there, she very slowly bobbed upon it. She was almost continually swallowing. I felt the brief tugs and the little flexes and responses that sent undulations throughout her mouth.

I caressed her hair and whispered her name.

When she held in place at the deepest point she could manage, I grunted, feeling the hot power of my climax surge forward, closer.

I could see that she felt the contractions in her mouth.

She looked at me, her jaw straining to encompass and contain the thick living pipe.

Something about her expression swept me to a newer, higher peak. And it was the feel of her mouth, her lips, and her tongue, too. All of it. I felt a ripple of hot effervescence roll down my body to my feet. My toes flexed outward and the soles of my feet prickled and buzzed in response to the shocking pleasure.

I cursed through gritted teeth.

She drew back to the tip, and I felt the dizzying rush begin to explode from me.

Quickly guiding her back down the shaft, I gently held her in place. Cum burst from the tip into her mouth. More. I felt like my head would explode.

More.

Fuck me it was good.

I felt her gather and swallow, gather and swallow. With every ingestion, she squeaked.

More. Fuck me, it was the greatest blowjob I'd ever had.

Don't stop, Min-Ji. Shit.

She swallowed one final time, and it ended.

Letting out a long, whispering groan, my body sagged into resignation.

A few seconds elapsed before I felt Min-Ji expel my cock; I heard her gasp.

I breathed deeply for a few seconds, and then I drew her up to me, kissing her forehead. She looked at me expectantly, her eyes reddened from the exertion. I said her name, smiled, and held her body close to mine.

Fuck, that was good. I needed that.

She fell asleep in my arms.

As the lingering pleasure ebbed and passed, I listened outside of the tunnel, quietly cursing myself for neglecting my duties.

***

By my map, I had put thirteen kilometers between us and the intersection. The South Korean border varied between about 1.5 kilometers and 5 kilometers from that straight line. I guessed the North Koreans had about 40 to 45 square kilometers to search.

They needed luck or dogs. There was no way to get enough people to form a picket line long enough to walk north from the border, outstretched arm to arm, and find us. No way.

It had to be more dogs. Had to be.

And, sooner or later, those bodies might be found. A swift current from the rainfall might loosen the dummy cord from a sinking stone, and suddenly, a floating foot would appear. They would know they're looking for more than one scent, and they might be able to find mine.

Why hadn't I planned for dogs? I pondered angrily.

Because I never considered having to hole up and stay in country, I knew. Kwan shows, we go. He doesn't show, I go. Kwan gets hurt, I make a decision: if he can move reasonably well, we go. If he can't, I kill him. Either way, I planned on being out before sunrise.

But he became she. She wasn't some grizzled old prick of a Colonel. She was an eighteen-year-old innocent who was probably being used for a political purpose. I could not bring myself to kill her.

So I was still in country, and if I had planned for dogs, I could have foiled their hunt. There were techniques, artificial scent markers. I remembered the training.

What they were probably doing now, I imagined, was getting bloodhounds—the real scent dogs. German shepherds were better warriors than scent dogs. Bloodhounds were bred for scent. They were unmatched at trailing.

They would be getting bloodhounds, then, and sending them out randomly, hoping to seize upon our trail.

It was infuriating, thinking our escape was now at the whim of chance and not my own force of will.

I made a decision, right there.

It was 1044. The rain had stopped, and the air temperature was climbing, already in the high 50s.

I climbed out of the tunnel, got dressed, and took up a post watching the north-south paved road in front of us.

I was only about 15 meters from the tunnel, lying prone with cammy netting over my head and arms.

It was a paved road, but two regular-sized vehicles could not pass abreast, much less two military ones.

I was looking for three things. First, I wanted to know all of the types of vehicles that traveled on this road. Second, I wondered how frequently by type each vehicle was used. Last, I hoped to uncover some predictability, some routine, to at least one of them.

Hell, the North Korean delivery driver who picked me up from the beach during my infiltration had a routine. Maybe the civilians or military here did, too.

Checking-in periodically with Min-Ji, I observed the road for two hours. During this time, I saw four UAZ-3151s—basically a covered military Jeep. I counted two Ural-4320s, these were six-wheeled troop and equipment carriers. I saw a FAW-MV3—another six-wheeled cargo truck. Finally, I watched a civilian truck, a white Sangri, roll through.

As I walked back to eat with Min-Ji, I heard the buzz of a four-cylinder car. I ducked and watched. A non-military blue GAZ—an old Soviet sedan—zipped past, heading south. The thing had to have been from the 1980s. It turned right into a drive not more than 200 meters south of us. I watched it park beside a long, one-story building.

A civilian man emerged, carrying a paper sack in his arms. He went into the building.

I went back, ate with MIn-Ji, and returned to watch the road.

More of the same, but the blue GAZ remained.

At 1800, I got Min-Ji out of our tunnel to dress and get ready for travel. A few minutes later, all of our gear was ready at a moment's notice. I put her back in the tunnel and pointed at the eight on my watch face.

Then, I hit our back trail as the sun began to set.

I didn't want to spend more than two hours. I was trying to get a sense of the intensity of their patrols in the area. Just how close, I asked myself, were they to us?

About 20 minutes later, I found a spot with a commanding view to the south, west, and north. From the position, I also knew that no one could sneak in behind me and get to Min-Ji without being seen.

Telling myself I would punch out at 1940, I switched my NVGs to infrared and scanned.

Deacon had told me Defense Clandestine Services equipment was state of the art. He didn't lie. The infrared setting on these NVGs put special forces ones to shame. These could see much farther and clearer. What's more is that they could penetrate foliage and twigs.

We jokingly called them "X-Ray Specs" for that reason, and yes, if I had wanted to get a good look at Min-Ji's body through her clothes, with my X-Ray Specs set to infrared, I could have.

Though, of course, I now knew pretty well what was under there. The memory brought a smile to my face as I listened and watched.

I never made it to 1940. I rolled well before.

"Rolled" isn't the right word. I launched. I ditched. I pulled the ejector handle.

I fucking sprinted out of there.

Sometime shortly after true nightfall, I saw the heat signature of a squad-sized patrol—about 12 soldiers. They were led by dogs—four of them. They were about 1000 meters away.

They were on our trail.

"Mother fuck!" I hissed, turning tail and rocketing back toward the tunnel at flank speed. I no longer cared if I might be seen. It didn't matter anymore. I would shoot and keep running. Nothing but escape mattered now.

They were back on our trail. They had Min-Ji's scent again or they had mine—or both. With squad-sized patrols, it was likely they had found the bodies I Ieft in the creek. No way I could engage a squad without alerting the whole fucking DPRK army to our location.

Leaping down the short cliff, I threw open the tunnel and hissed, "Min-Ji! Now! Go!"

I hauled her out and threw her on my back, careful to cover the tunnel and make sure every item of our gear was in hand. I ran with her to the place where I'd seen the GAZ.

There really was no other choice.

Along the side of the slope, I duck-walked with Min-Ji on my back until I could set her down against the side of the one-story building.

How close were my pursuers now? My run back to the tunnel would have helped me gain on them. Getting to this building would have made me lose ground. Still at 1000 meters, but closing, I guessed.

Creeping from window to window, I listened. Chatter and conversation. Perhaps ten or fifteen people in a single area. Children's voices.

Food. I could smell food.

Dinner time.

I did a slow circuit around the house, listening and scanning, to confirm my supposition.

900 meters.

The low ground to the east seemed clear, but I checked with infrared and night vision to be sure. The road was clear, too.

I went to the car. Windows up. Door unlocked.

One more thing to check.

I deserve some luck, I thought. We deserve it.

I gently opened the car door and looked.

Fuck. No keys. And bursting in that building and demanding the keys was not an option.

What if they wouldn't give them up? Was I prepared to start shooting? Civilians and kids? Fuck, no.

I knew other ways to start the car, but was there time enough?

800 meters from us.

Didn't matter. Had to try.

Setting my pack in the passenger seat, I bent under the steering wheel and looked up. Four plastic Phillips screws. I pulled out my All-Purpose Tool, slid out the Phillips screwdriver, and went to work. The trim covering the steering column came off in a jiffy.

700 meters. Scent getting stronger.

Now for the ignition switch. I needed to find where the electrical circuitry for the starter met the mechanical switch—where the key went.

It was covered by an aluminum box with four tiny nuts. I switched to my needle-nose pliers, tucking away the screwdriver.

The jaws slipped off the first nut.

They slipped off again.

I tried a different nut, and they grabbed. Two twists, and the rest I did with my fingers.

600 meters.

Next nut. Got it. Same-same.

The third little nut was at a tricky angle. I missed twice but got it on my third attempt. My fingers couldn't get in there, so I had to take the time to twist it off with the pliers.

Got it.

500 meters.

Our scent was getting stronger, I thought. Dogs probably closing faster, tugging at the leashes.

When would they set loose the four of them on us? Soon. Fuck. Soon.

Last stubborn nut. The pliers slipped off. And again. Fuck! And again!

I pulled my face up to scrutinize the fucking thing.

Stripped.

The fucker was stripped.

400 meters.

Fuck it. I dug my fingers under the diagonally-opposite corner from the stripped nut and yanked the fucker as hard as I could.

It snapped off.

There were the wires! Three tiny flat-head screws held the housing together.

Switching tools, I began unscrewing each.

300 fucking meters. Shit! Shit!

I stopped.

Baying. I heard the baying of hounds.

Panic seized me. Keep going or get Min-Ji and put her in this car right fucking now? She's got to be pissing herself.

The passenger door opened.

I drew back and swung up my rifle.

Min-Ji. It was her. I sighed, but in my head, I was singing her praises for her presence of mind. Yes, crawl your ass over here. Thank you.

Back to those screws. Two out, one to go.

200 meters. If they see us in this car, we are dead. They'll call it in on their radio. Choppers will be all over us. Dead.

Got the screw out and drew the housing apart. The key cylinder unscrewed, and I threw it aside. Looking inside the hole it left behind, I saw what I needed.

Thank goodness for old cars with mechanical tumble-lock ignition switches!

I switched to my needle-nose pliers, reached inside to the tab, and turned it right one click.

I twisted the steering wheel. The steering column was unlocked.

Turning another click, the battery engaged.

Fuck, yes.

100 meters.

Rising, I threw my shit in the back, and I closed and locked the doors. Min-Ji stared at me wide-eyed.

I shifted the seat back to accommodate my legs.

Hoping like hell the families inside the house were too busy with conversation and grub, I twisted the pliers one last time.

The engine turned over.

And over. Fuck me, 75 meters? Less?

The GAZ started.

I threw it in reverse and eased backward out of the driveway.

Scanning the street, I saw that all was clear. I pulled on the headlamps, backed onto the road, and turned north. As I passed the hill with our tunnel, I thought I saw movement.

Could have been dogs.

Holy shit.

We drove away. Our scent trail was cut off.

***

This, I said to myself, is the best way to thwart scent dogs—get in a fucking car and go. Those soldiers would find out about the car, I knew, but they hadn't seen us in it.

The road hugged the hills to the west, curving northward. After a kilometer or so, I pulled aside.

"Min-Ji, can you drive?" I asked, pointing at her and the driver's seat, then pointing at her and mimicking steering the car.

She nodded. "Ye!"

"Come here," I waved her over. She climbed onto my lap, and I scooted under her to the passenger seat.

She moved the seat forward. I pointed down the road. She pulled out, and we were off.

Checking the map, I saw a major intersection about another kilometer in front of us.

Did they have the roads blocked? Would there be a checkpoint?

I would have checkpoints, I thought, if I were them.

"Slower," I said, pointing to the gas pedal and angling the flat of my hand back and up. "Slow down."

"Ho-kay," she said, easing off the gas.

Re-checking the map, I looked for an alternate route.

A turn-out lay ahead—one that might be able to take us far away from any checkpoints. When I saw the gravel road out the windshield, I said, "Min-Ji!" She watched me point out the new route.

She slowed and turned.

"Lights off," I said.

MIn-Ji continued to drive.

I lined across her and turned off the lights. Min-Ji cried, "Ah!" And brought the car to a stop.

"Yes," I said. "Stop."

"Staw?" she responded as I reached into the back and grabbed my NVGs. Donning them, I switched from infrared to night vision and scanned the road ahead.

I saw what I needed and pushed the goggles up from my eyes.

We looked at one another. I held out my right hand. "Right," I said, mimicking spinning the wheel clockwise. "Left," I said, putting out my left and spinning counterclockwise.

"Right," I said with my right hand out.

"Rye," she said.

"Left," I said, throwing out my left.

"Leff."

I nodded and pulled down the NVGs. "Go," I said.

"Ho-kay."

"Slowly," I added.

"Slo-lee," she said.

We went along, veering toward the left shoulder.

"Screw it," I snapped, grabbing the wheel and putting us back on in the center of the road.

Scanning left, we came upon our turn a few seconds later.

"Left," I announced, pushing the wheel hard over.

Min-Ji turned it the rest of the way.

Once on the new road, I corrected us to the right, and we were headed north again.

The road wound into a low foothill, but it came out on the main road after about two kilometers. I held the wheel and helped her turn, handling all right ones and assisting her on the lefts.

"Stop," I said as we closed with the intersection. Min-Ji was beginning to understand that one. She stopped us bout 250 meters from the junction.

I switched to infrared and examined ahead.

No guards.

I switched back to night vision. Adjusting the focus and scrutinizing the map, I looked for a turn off the main road once we were on it.

There were several.

I flipped the map over and scanned further north. We needed to ditch this car and soon.

Word would be out. The dogs would have led the squad to that building where I stole the car. The people there would see the missing car and describe it, and then the patrol would send out the word—stop any blue GAZ, extremely dangerous.

"Go," I said, and we went.

At the intersection, I said, "Right."

She turned us, and I helped.

Once we were on the main road and moving, I turned our headlights on.

Min-Ji's voice sounded relieved and a bit sarcastic when she spoke.

The road bent hard north. We followed it, winding into foothills. I noticed that had we turned west, the road would have eventually led right back to the intersection where we first met.

Heading north, I was no longer worried about roadblocks or checkpoints; this path was taking us further from the DMZ, even though the border turned sharply north in these parts.

She followed the road for another 10 minutes before I asked her to slow down and had us make a left. We kept the lights on while we wound through a valley around a few acres of farmland.

As the road began to bear north, I said, "Slow."

"Slo," she repeated.

Then, I reached across her and said, "Lights off." I pushed the headlamps off.

"Lye-Aw."

Using my NVGs, I guided her the rest of the way.

After a few hundred meters of left and right curves to keep us on the gravel road, I said, "Stop."

Climbing out, I peered through my NVGs and walked ahead. After about 75 meters, the road turned hard right so that one could circle the farm completely.

I ignored the turn and forged ahead, coming to a low bank.

Could the GAZ make it over this? I wondered as I mounted the small slope. Beyond it, the ground sunk. Lower. Lower.

I heard the water.

I saw it through my NVGs—the river.

This was the tributary that led to the Imjin River. All of those creeks and wetlands we had passed over, everything ultimately led to the Imjin River, which flowed through the DMZ to South Korea and connected with the larger Han River. The Han emptied into the ocean at the Yellow Sea on Korea's west coast.

I ran back to the car.

"Follow me," I said to MIn-JI.

"Fwo-lo," she responded.

I walked in front of the car, leading her to the river.

On the edge of the short bank leading down to the river, I stopped Min-Ji. She got out. I climbed inside and inched the GAZ to the very precipice before parking.

Min-Ji and I spent a few minutes gathering heavy stones and loading both the passenger area and the trunk. Afterward, I slashed all of the tires. Finally, from outside of the vehicle, I stuck my foot on the brake and put it in low-drive. It teetered for a moment, and when I shoved it, the car rolled down into the river.