"...This can't be enough."
"It isn't," another officer replied quietly. "There are over sixty beds in that room alone. This bathroom was designed for maybe a tenth of that number. They were forced to wait, to queue, to suffer."
No one said another word. Everything about the building had been designed to fit as many people as possible, not to let them live comfortably. The message was clear: they were livestock, not people. Their comfort, their dignity, their basic humanity were irrelevant.
They continued searching each room. Nothing. No documents. No computers. Only clothing, personal belongings, and the lingering feeling that hundreds of lives had existed here only hours earlier. The silence was oppressive, heavy with the echoes of suffering.
They stepped back outside. Only then did Ezekiel truly see the compound. His footsteps slowed, his breath catching in his throat.
"...What the hell..."
