Bad things always seem to happen when it’s raining. Not that every time
it rains bad things happen, it’s just that every truly bad thing seems to
happen on a rainy night in fog and dark.

The night we escaped it was raining. Nothing bad happened while we
escaped. Most guards we rendered defenseless and shoved into one of the
small cells that we hadn’t made tunnels in. Some, of course, were killed.
But there are always casualties in war. And this, to us, was war.

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