It was a red dawn when Kyle handed Jon the key.
"To the thackleth," he whispered. He didn't have a lisp, it was just that the sound 'th' carried less than 's', and the men needed to be as quiet as they could. This was the third escape attempt since Jon had been in this hole, and every time, they failed.
Every time, he had to dig more graves.
Every time, a part of him died.
Jon shook his head. Kyle motioned eagerly. Jon glared, and took the key. He knew Kyle shouldn't have given it to him now—they were only escaping come nightfall. This was dawn. Was the man daft?
It was suicide. It always was.
When Jon was summoned to the General's quarters by a guard, he was immediately wary. Had one of the men sold them out as a desperate gamble to get out himself?
"I do not yet know your name, and you have been with me for three weeks."
Jon remained silent.
"I am General Hans Beiber." Jon still kept silent, regarding the man. "I have a family," he said. "I assume you do too."
Jon's jaw twitched. The General saw, and smiled. "I thought so."
"What do you want?"
"A favour. And you can return to your home."
Jon felt the weakness. He closed his eyes. "Oh, God. Be with me."