“Is your companion breathing, ma’am?” I ask, stepping closer and pointing to the unmoving body. People choke and die on their own vomit. I have read about this happening. “What?” she says again, but obligingly puts a hand on the other woman’s shoulder and gives her a vigorous shake. I flinch at the roughness of the gesture, but it does the trick. Her companion sits up, and now I am speaking to two unclothed and wasted women. “Where is Atlas?” I ask firmly,
