The Aguila Incident

It was more unreal than surreal. At first she thought it was a prank, but when the official documents were sent and the visa was arranged, it was really happening. Veronica knew little about where she was going other than what she heard on the news. Like most people, North Korea was about Kim Jong-Un and nuclear missiles. And Dennis Rodman. Oh god, was that really why she had been asked to visit? She pondered over that hundreds of times on the plane. Rodman drew attention because of his fame – and infamy – as a basketballer, and Kim Jong-Un apparently was a huge fan. He was also supposedly a fan of American films. Was he a fan of Veronica's?

It was nerve-wracking for many reasons. Veronica was never a good traveller. She had read about too many plane accidents and dreaded flying. She was also a terrible linguist. Born and bred an American, she could only speak English and a few words of Spanish she remembered from elementary school. She couldn't tell the difference between Japanese and Korean and Chinese, and the characters were meaningless lines to her. She couldn't tell the difference between different Asian faces. How would she know where to go? Then there was the whole North Korean scare. What if something happened to her and no one knew about it? What if she was taken hostage?

The plane shook as it went through some turbulence. The shock wasn't great, but Veronica was so tense that she nearly jumped and spilled her water down her t-shirt. Veronica had dressed light and comfortably for the flight, but her underwire bra kept on triggering the alarm during check-in. At risk of missing her flight, she had taken her bra off and left it behind in her hurry. She was conscious of her ample chest drawing attention on the flight, and her nipples were making a bit of a show in the cabin. Now with a wet t-shirt, she prayed that she wouldn't be kicked off the plane. Fortunately, a passing stewardess saw her plight and handed a towel to her.

The stopover in Beijing was brief. Veronica kept to herself in the corner. She wanted to explore the airport shops, but she felt too much like a foreigner, and too exposed without being able to get a change of clothing. Luckily, the flight to Pyongyang was less crowded, and the flight ended without incident. The initial feeling of the airport was like Beijing – everything just...felt foreign. The sound, the smell. As she got off the plane, she noticed she was the only Westerner.

It was probably for that reason that she was really easy to spot. Her welcoming party was a mix of uniform-clad men and women, several security officers and a couple of women in formal civilian attire. She couldn't catch any of their names and she was quickly hustled away while others took charge of her luggage. In the short dash from the airport to the car, she was flanked by hundreds of Korean faces, cheering and waving. There were a few cameras, mostly held by officials, while those on the sides were content with smiling – mostly because they had been ordered not to take any photos by the armed guards. Veronica had been through this before on the red carpet, and though she really wanted to cover up and head to the hotel, she knew she had a role to play. Pushing her chest out proudly, she smiled and waved back. Today, these people were all her fans. Welcome to North Korea.

* * *

This wasn't just the Hollywood treatment. She was royalty. An American actress in North Korea. Her pre-flight nerves were replaced by her screen confidence. She dressed glamorously, her gowns sparkling and tastefully revealing, her rings and necklaces glistening in the sun, her face polished and eyes bright. The streets were lined up in unbelievable order as the people of Pyongyang eagerly pushed forward to see the American starlet. Every few feet was a proud soldier, standing with his rifle and bayonet. There were women too – identical faces, identical uniforms and identical haircuts, marching by and saluting their American guest. They even paraded armoured vehicles to give her a taste of their military might.

The next few days were a whirlwind tour. Veronica could only loosely remember the places, but the Koreans were keen on boasting about their majestic achievements. In Pyongyang she was taken to the Ryugyong Hotel, formerly a concrete shell for decades, now glistening with its finished glass exterior; the Kumsusan Palace to see the embalmed body of Eternal President Kim Il-Sung and former leader Kim Jong-Il; and the monuments on Mansu Hill – the elaborate detail of the people's revolution, and the magnificent bronze statues of Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il. It seemed that the military wanted to strong-arm their way into the tour by giving Veronica a tour of several barracks, numerous military parades and a chance to fire some weapons at a training range.

Throughout the busy week Veronica was served tirelessly by a small entourage of personal assistants. They were full of smiles and makeup, and were always happy to give Veronica anything she wanted – exotic fruits, alcohol and soft drinks. Though they spoke no English, they were a pleasant group to work with, much better than her assistants during filming days. They didn't gossip with her and genuinely admired her beauty. There were awkward, comical moments too. She had caught an assistant clasping one of her bras as a size comparison, unable to comprehend that one of the cups could cover her face. At some point Veronica later learned that only modestly-sized women were chosen to be part of Veronica's personal entourage, so as to not embarrass their American visitor.

There were two women that dealt with Veronica more than others. Both of them were in their 30's and had different roles to the gaggle of geese that followed Veronica around. One of them was Lee Sun-Hi – whom Veronica could only pronounce as "Sunny", which Sun-hi took a liking to. She was the official interpreter for Veronica and accompanied her everywhere, and as one of the only people in the group who could speak English, she also became Veronica's only acquaintance in the country. The second woman was Pak Jin-kyong, the daughter of a high-ranking government official. She was in charge of guiding the visitor to each of their attractions, explaining their proud history and achievements through Sunny's interpreting.

"Tomorrow, we are going on a flight," Jin-kyong explained. "We will be seeing the beautiful landscape shaped by our Eternal President and protected from foreign ruin by our Dear Leader."

"Will I be meeting with Kim Jong-Un...I mean, the Dear Leader?" Veronica asked.

"Our Dear Leader will organise a meeting soon. He is a big fan of yours." Jin-kyong smiled. "All women in our country are big fans."

* * *

Despite the VIP treatment and the adoration of the masses, Veronica felt lonely. They had surrounded her with pretty women, but no men, and she was beginning to get homesick. The soft hotel bed felt empty and uncomfortable. She thought back to her own home, with her single bed and teddy bears, and the "toys" in her drawer. Her fingers weren't giving the same satisfaction. She heard a thump outside her door. Pulling her nightgown back into place, Veronica got up and checked the door. She was just as surprised to see Sunny in the hallway as Sunny was to see her.

"Miss...Miss Aguila. I'm sorry, I was feeling...tired. Did I wake you?"

"Sunny, what are you doing here? It's late."

It had probably been lost in translation somewhere. Sunny explained that she wasn't just an interpreter. She had been assigned as Veronica's bodyguard, and it was her duty to ensure that Veronica was not harmed and she was able to rest without interruption.

"I apologise, Miss Aguila. I have embarrassed you at this hour instead of fulfilling my assignment."

"Please, just call me Veronica, and you did nothing wrong." Veronica looked compassionately at her guard. "Sunny, why don't you come inside for a bit? You look exhausted."

"But Miss A...Veronica, my assignment is to stand guard and protect you."

"Then you can protect me inside my room. Come on."

Sunny reluctantly obeyed. Veronica offered her a glass of water. Sunny instinctively reached for the jug, but Veronica slapped her hand away. "Please, I can serve you too. Just have a seat."

"Thank you," Sunny said, positioning herself on the edge of the bed. "I'm...I'm surprised. Does the host get served in America instead of the guest?"

"We serve ourselves," Veronica replied. "Everyone's welcome in our home. We don't make people feel like they're superior or inferior." Veronica encouraged Sunny to drink up. "Hydrate! I make sure I drink two bottles of water before I go on camera. It keeps you alert and helps you sleep easier. How long were you out there anyway?"

"Three hours." Sunny brushed off Veronica's surprise. "It is nothing compared to the military."

Sunny wasn't assigned to be Veronica's personal bodyguard out of convenience. As Sunny explained, she had joined the military. As the only child in the family, she wanted to bring pride to the family by serving the country and the Dear Leader. She did twice as much training as other women, was an excellent marksman and was exceptional in martial arts. She served briefly in a secret elite special forces unit and was stationed at the de-militarised zone, watching for any South Korean incursions. She was reassigned from the unit in order for her to take on a training role to encourage more women to serve the Dear Leader.

"Wow, you must be famous," Veronica said, stunned at how her interpreter was more widely known than she was.

Sunny politely brushed the compliment aside and insisted that Veronica was the real star for being in the movies. "So, what movies have you starred in?"

"Oh," Veronica blushed. "Well, you may not have heard of them. Actually, you probably don't know about them. Um, I did play Supergirl once..."

"Superman? You were in a Superman movie!"

"It's not what you think..."

Sunny wasn't listening. She was on her feet doing Superman poses, at least from what she had heard. "He can stop bullets. He punches like, this, and this, and-" the last punch brushed against Veronica's breast. "Oh! I'm sorry, that was an accident."

"It's okay," Veronica smiled. "Say, what don't you teach me some of your fighting skills? Maybe I can use them in my next Supergirl movie."

"Really? Okay. Let me show you this technique. Let's say you are grabbing my neck. Take one step back, turn to the side, chop down on the inside of the elbow to force the arms down, and then – elbow strike!"

"Okay, I think I've got this," Veronica said, allowing Sunny to place her hands around her neck. "So, first I step back..." Instead of turning to the side to throw her assailant off balance, she literally took a large step backwards. This pulled Sunny forward and her hands slipped. Sunny paused and looked up, finding her hands clasped over Veronica's breasts. "Oh, is it that kind of lesson?" Veronica asked with a smile. "Do you know what technique I use when someone grabs my tits?" She grabbed Sunny's collar and ripped her blouse open.

Sunny stepped back in shock and tried to cover her bra. "Veronica, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"Let me show you another technique." Veronica placed one hand behind Sunny's head and pushed their mouths together in a deep kiss. Sunny felt a small pinch behind her back. When she managed to break free, Veronica was holding Sunny's bra in her fingers. "I learnt that one for a movie. Why don't you teach me more techniques?"

"Veronica, I can't, I..."

Veronica pushed her onto the bed and stood above her. "Don't lie, Sunny. I've seen you looking at me. You want to see something, don't you? You want to see what the Dear Leader is hiding from you?" Veronica lifted her nightgown over her head and stood naked in front of Sunny. Veronica squeezed her large breasts together and played with her nipples. "You want these, don't you?"

"I...I can't," Sunny squealed. "The Dear Leader will not let me."

"You said you would serve me anything I wanted," Veronica interrupted. "I'm feeling very horny right now and I need you to satisfy me." Veronica fingered Sunny's crotch through her panties and felt herself getting wet. "Let me give you something the Dear Leader cannot."

* * *

The small plane carried a few representatives from the government press, along with Veronica Aguila, Lee Sun-Hi and Pak Jin-kyong. Jin-kyong pointed out the window, explaining how the Eternal President Kim Il-Sung shaped the mountains and cliffs and gave life to the fish that fed the people. To her disapproval, Sun-hi seemed to ignore her, chattering away with the American guest rather than interpreting her words.

"Sun-hi," she spoke sternly in Korean, "please focus on the duty the Great Leader has given you."

"Yes, Jin-kyong," Sun-hi replied.

Jin-kyong wasn't satisfied. Something was different about Sun-hi. She was too close, too friendly with Veronica. If the rumours were true, the Americans possessed the ability to corrupt the honest, hard-working souls of the Korean people, and Sun-hi was another victim. She would have to report to her superiors to have Sun-hi reassigned. Nonetheless, she needed her now.

Sun-hi continued to interpret for Jin-kyong. Veronica feigned interest, and Sun-hi played along, pretending that Veronica's indifferent replies were statements of great interest, praising the care the Great Leader gave to the Korean people. Jin-kyong was pleased to hear this. Sun-hi noticed, however, that her fellow countrywoman was beginning to sweat despite the cool air inside the cabin. She was also checking her watch, as if they were behind schedule. Her commentary on the landscape ceased.

"Jin-kyong? You were explaining to Miss Aguila bout those rock formations?"

"Oh, yes. Well, if you look out the window, you'll see..."

When Sun-hi looked out the window, she saw a smoke trail, and then a flash.

* * *

When Veronica regained consciousness, she felt like she had been hit by a truck. Looking around through groggy eyes, she remembered why she hated flying. It wasn't that she was scared of flying. It was more the fear of suddenly not flying. What happened? Did an engine fall off? Her head throbbed in pain. She could feel the warm, sticky trickle of blood down the side of her head, but aside from that, she was unhurt. From what she could see, the plane had broken apart into several pieces, and she had survived the crash inside what remained of the cabin. Miraculously, she had not been killed from the impact. She rested for a few minutes, fighting the sudden fatigue she felt. Stay awake or die.

Her head began to clear up and her surroundings became more vivid. She was still in her seat. Her top had been ripped off below her chest, allowing her large breasts to swing freely. More surprisingly – and alarming – was the fact that the cabin appeared to be half-buried. She was up to her waist in dense, smelly mud. Even wriggling her hips was difficult. The mud slurped at her lower body, filling in the holes she dug and refusing to let her go. She placed her arms over the seats and pushed off, but felt a sharp pain and was pulled back down. Did she injure something? Then it occurred to her that she still had her seatbelt on. She dug her hands into thick morass and felt for the buckle. It was far more difficult than she thought, but after a few minutes she managed to get free. The mud had softened up in this time and moved about like jelly. With some effort she extricated herself from her seat, losing her shoes while doing so.

The cabin was tilted towards her side, and the mud was shallower in the aisle. Still, it was almost impossible to get a foothold, and she resorted to settling down to her thighs while standing on the slanted floor. Now that she could move around, she started to assess her situation. Looking to the other side of the cabin, something had ripped through the top half, tearing a huge hole down the side. Several of the passengers had been killed horrifically by whatever the plane had slammed into.

The seats and part of the cabin frame had collapsed behind her. Turning around, she could just see Jin-kyong. She was unconscious and still in her seat, but buried up to her chest in the thick muck, almost like she was lying flat with her chair tilted all the way back, and pieces of wreckage pinning her down. It looked like her arms were pinned too. Veronica checked to see if she was breathing. Her eyes flickered open, and it took some time for her eyes to recover from their glazed appearance.

"Jin-kyong? Are you okay?" Veronica asked. Jin-kyong said something, but Veronica didn't understand what she was saying. And Jin-kyong didn't understand what Veronica was saying. But she was talking. Mumbling about something. She gave Veronica a forlorn look. Veronica tried to pry the wreckage away from Jin-kyong, but it was too heavy for her to lift up. She tried pulling Jin-kyong free, reaching under the metal and surprising Jin-kyong by grabbing her breast for more leverage, but she was firmly stuck, partly because of the thick mud. It was no good. Jin-kyong looked helplessly at her and sobbed, saying something that Veronica wished she could comprehend. She needed Sunny.

Where was Sunny? Veronica struggled to remember what happened before the crash. Sunny had been standing up. Had she been blown out of the plane? Veronica struggled to the back of the wreckage, calling out Sunny's name. When she reached the opening, she gasped at the sight. Bits of the plane were strewn about a large, open clearing that appeared to be of the same thick, peat-like mud. Many parts were already partially submerged. Scanning the clearing, Veronica spotted the dark hair of Sunny partially obscured by a plane seat, laying some distance away from the wrecked cabin. Veronica called out to Sunny and began walking towards her.

"No!" Sunny called out. "We've crashed into a swamp. You'll get stuck!"

Veronica had already trudged halfway towards Sunny, and only now noticed the way the mud was sucking at her thighs. She paused, but that momentary lapse nearly caused her to remain stuck. Stunned at how hungry the mud was, she began fighting her way towards the nearest piece of wreckage. It was a battle in slow motion. She dug her hands deep into the mud to pull herself forward, edging closer to the floating piece of metal, but sinking inches at a time with each motion. She had heard of quicksand before, but whether this was real quicksand or not was beyond her concern. Finally, Veronica reached the flat metal sheet, heaving her chest onto it and catching her breath.

The whole clearing seemed to quake. It dawned on Veronica that the whole place was unstable, and they were trapped right in the middle: Veronica clutching onto a small piece of the fuselage, Sun-hi clutching onto a sinking seat, and Jin-kyong trapped inside the cabin. Sunny continued to shout at Veronica to forget about her, but Veronica was having none of that. Sunny was sinking quickly. Looking behind, Veronica noticed that the quicksand-mud was churned up where she had walked through, leaving large, undulating patches of soft mud with puddles of water, while the rest of the clearing looked more solid. She probably had one chance at this. Pushing off from the metal sheet, Veronica stood up as tall as possible, rising up to her knees as she took her first few steps out. She quickly began sinking with each successive step. Her body was leaning forward precariously, like she was in a sprinting position. With the mud holding onto her legs, it was the only way for her to break free and move forward. She was now a short reach away from Sunny. Veronica stopped. The quicksand began pulling her down. Sunny was up to her shoulders and the seat was all but gone.

"Grab my hand!" Veronica yelled.