The look revealed a dormitory, which explained the clothes. But it wasn’t a dormitory like something out of basic training, which was my only reference. The dorms at Lackland Air Force Base had contained beds in organized rows, with two files of personal lockers on the other side of the room. In San Antonio the floors had been cleaned twice daily, with eager recruits on their knees, scrubbing away with toothbrushes. The floors there positively shone. Here it was different, there was no floor, just rock and dust.

We went through.

The dorm was a large cavern with a high ceiling. As far as housing went, the place was a dump. The limestone walls were lined with squalid mattresses, barely covered by thin sheets and insubstantial blankets. Instead of pillows, meager piles of clothing were being used. The smell of damp textiles and cooking oil impregnated the place. In the middle of the room was a food preparation area, which consisted of a camping stove on a foldable table. Bulk supplies of basic stuff, rice, beans, oil, and various bottles were set in open cardboard boxes, surrounded by a couple of upside-down crates to sit on. A big pack of drinking water bottles was mostly depleted. A pile of cooking utensils sat submerged in an orange plastic wash basin, half filled with dirty water. Two naked bulbs hung in the center of the room, too high up to give out much light. I scanned and counted fifteen mattresses.

And then I noticed the girls.

At first glance the beds had been empty. The room looked like it had been vacated in a hurry. Discarded foam mattresses with crumpled sheets and blankets. But something moved in my peripheral vision. I zoned in on the movement, advanced with the H&K up and ready. Someone was under the sheets, lying down. A pale yellow forehead was visible, dark greasy hair stuck out from the covers. The girl had dark circles around glazed eyes. The eyes were green, and glinted in the light of the exposed bulb. The girl saw me, that was for sure. But she avoided looking at my face, as if she’d made that mistake before and suffered consequences. A moaning sound came out of her mouth and she turned away, curling protectively into a fetal position.

I looked around at the other beds. They were inhabited. Miriam approached one of the mattresses and caught my eye. She cursed. We covered the room and checked each mattress. More than half of the beds were occupied by limp but live bodies under dirty sheets. The blankets were thin fleece, at best. I walked over to another mattress. The girl had dark curly hair. She might have been sixteen years old or less.

I touched the back of my hand to the girl’s cheek. “Cold.” I whispered to Miriam.