“How did you escape?” he asks. “The march, we ran away from the march.” “Do you know why you were marching? Where you were going?” Cibi didn’t know—so much made little or no sense: the violence, the torture, the killing machines. She had learned never to question orders. She shakes her head. “They were going to use you to bargain for their freedom,” he tells her, adding, “and other reasons too: to carry on working for them, but also to stop you telling your stories to the Allies. Thank God you escaped.”
