ERENHOT, China — It is their last supper together, and the shepherd has gathered his small flock of North Koreans around a table piled with steaming plates of shredded pork, rice and braised tofu. But the seven refugees are too nervous to do more than nibble.
Among them: a woman claiming to be an elite worker in North Korea's nuclear missile program; a muscular former soldier whose heavily scarred arms attest to a previous escape attempt; a woman who had been sold as a bride. Urged to "be strong, be cold," she is leaving her toddler behind.
Their guide and pastor is Chun Ki Won, an affable South Korean who once sold golf clubs to high-flying Japanese businessmen. Despite his good nature and Christian heart, Chun doesn't really trust his charges. Still, he is risking his life to help them.
"We're at the last moment," Chun says now as they grip one another's hands and pray. The women weep softly. "Please God, keep us safe. Please let them be all right."
These "chosen ones" are at one of the final stops on an underground railroad to freedom in South Korea. Each started the journey by slipping across the border to China, where they sought out or stumbled upon a network of safe houses in which Christian missionaries hid them and taught them religion before spiriting them hundreds of miles across northeastern China.
In just one hour, they will attempt to crawl under a 7-foot barbed-wire fence into Mongolia. If things go well, the next time Chun sees them will be in Seoul.
If not, they could die. Deep down, Chun is also nervous, for he knows that danger is all around. The elements could foil them, or if Chinese authorities capture the group and send them back to North Korea, they could be beaten or even executed.
On the tiny screen of his video camera, he shows them footage of the terrain ahead: the dirt-and-sand road that parallels the fence; the foot-high prongs meant to keep out trespassers; and their goal, the Mongolian watchtower in the distance. They can rejoice if they get that far, even though they'll temporarily go to jail. Chun has bribed the Mongolians to hand the group over to South Korean Embassy officials.
"Move quickly. Don't run," Chun instructs them in the most reassuring voice he can muster. "There could be trucks, or guards or dogs."
