EIGHTEENBACK INSIDE, AFTER quickly checking his breathing and vitals, I used one of the robes to wrap Samuel Cheng’s limp body in—he seemed okay.
A startled scream from the bathroom told me one of the girls had woken up—I had no time to attend to that, she wasn’t a threat. I hoisted Cheng over my shoulder, all 130 pounds of him smelling of argan oil. I hoped he didn’t piss himself while I carried him.
By the door I turned left and followed the corridor down to the door I knew would lead to where the girls had their own changing room. It was unlocked, as Amiko had assured us it would be. On the floor behind me the man was sobbing, probably not sure whether to clasp his knee or his foot in pain. He would be re-evaluating his life choices in the morning, I bet.
The women’s changing room wa
