ELARA
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The omega quarters were on the lower floors of the pack house.
Where else do you dump the people you’ve decided are at the absolute bottom of the pack food chain? On the top floor with the nice balcony views? In the east wing to catch the morning sun?
I don’t think so.
You put them underground, hiding them away where nobody has to look at them unless they want a floor scrubbed or a shoe polished.
The stairwell smelled like damp laundry, and old cooking oil. The walls were unpainted, cold concrete. A single flickering bulb buzzed overhead like it was tired of life itself.
Honestly, I could relate.
The room was exactly what I expected, yet somehow managed to be worse.
It was one massive room where eight narrow bunks were rammed against the walls, topped with mattresses
