“Unicorns never march in single file.” Trumo Nikan.

“I have to go somewhere,” said Heaven. “Can I count on you to stay put?”

Ben sat at the kitchen table, a smile on his face. He remembered being in Heaven’s arms. He loved the way she felt, the sweet smell of bath oils and lotions. Of course! He would do whatever she asked. He gave a quick nod and followed her to the lift. He watched her enter, and turn, her smile qualified by an index finger pointing between him and the apartment floor.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t peek outside. With the lift door closed, Ben ran to the front door. He stepped into bright sunshine and leaned across the railing of the top tier of apartments to look skyward. The skid rose from the roof, and without a sound, raced away. Ben looked below into the busy apartment plaza. No harm in checking out a lounge seat by the pool.

Ben gave a pat to his pants pocket; the apartment key was secure. He turned and raced down the stairs. The smell of chlorine and water was only a temporary distraction. He soon found himself peeking past the gate to the street beyond. Before he knew it, Ben was down the street standing before a cheery storefront.

A young black man bolted from the open door and raced headlong down the street. An older black man followed yelling after the youth. With a shrug, the man turned to find Ben smiling at him.

“Hey, kid,” called the man. “Wanna earn some creds?”

An hour later, Ben put away the broom and mop. He stood before the register waiting for the owner to notice him. A swarthy young customer was ahead of him buying a Windfall Lottery ticket. Two other youths stood in his shadow. The owner slid a cred card across the counter to Ben with a smile.

“Wanna buy something?” he asked Ben.

Ben bought a lottery ticket as the young man cursed his bad luck. His friends begged him, ‘Trumo, we have to go.’ Ben tapped Trumo on the shoulder and offered his ticket. Trumo took the ticket, a confused smile spreading over his face.

“Ben!” Heaven’s voice left no doubt that Ben was in trouble.

The downtown warehouse smelled of wood. Two of Perfekto’s goons took Trumo by his arms and pulled him forward, throwing him to his knees before the crime lord. Perfekto Amaya had one rule; you mess up, you die. In just under a year, Perfekto had eliminated his competition and combined the barrios of Ashpall under an iron fist.

He was young with jet-black hair and icy eyes. When he spoke, there was no trace of his ethnic origin. Sitting below a single light high in the rafters, Perfekto folded his hands over a crossed knee. Behind the crime lord were men dressed in black, pig blasters showing in their belts.

“Trumo. Trumo,” said Perfekto. “Where are the creds you owe me?”

Trumo squared his shoulders and laughed. “Funny you should ask. I just won the Windfall. I’m waiting for the transfer.”

Perfekto smiled. “Your sister was asking about you. She is lonely. Such sweet lips. I should pay her a visit.”

A sudden earnest note in his voice, Trumo answered, “Honest. I have the creds. I’ll bring them to you right after the transfer.”

Perfekto stood and walked slowly around Trumo as he spoke. “My contact in the police has given me a lucrative job. I just have to find and deliver a certain thorn in their employer’s flesh.” Returning to his seat beneath the light, Perfekto gazed intently into Trumo’s eyes. “I will put you near him. You bring him to me, pay what you owe, and your sister walks. No bruises, no aftertaste.”

Trumo was no stranger to the streets. He lived the life he did to raise his sister. But now, Perfekto had Cora. He could ill afford to say no. Snatch a guy he could do. What they did with him after he delivered, he would ignore for Cora’s sake.

Trumo steeled himself and answered. “Just tell me his name.”

Perfekto snapped his fingers and one of the men behind him handed Trumo a folded paper. Perfekto said, “I reward a good attitude. You know what happens when people fail me. All you need is in your hand.” Perfekto stood. “Do not make me wait.”

Trumo feared Perfekto. He knew only too well what happened to those who failed him. Trumo swallowed hard as Perfekto walked past. He felt courage at the start, but now the best he could do was nod.

Trumo stepped into the small apartment. “Smells like a drunk,” he said to Nab and Turner as they followed him in. “Wonder what happened to the janitor?” he asked, then answered his own question. “Never mind. You two hit up the manager. We’re looking for a Ben Edward Shuller.”

With a nod to each other, Nab and Turner left, and Trumo searched the apartment. He opened a small musty closet and looked at the janitor’s clothing with a sad shake of his head. He rifled through drawers without discovery. Finally, Trumo opened the cooling unit and found a beer. At least there was that.

There was a bed with crumpled oily sheets. Trumo could imagine the bugs waiting for a meal. He scratched. There was no window in the basement apartment. There was a single picture on the wall. The door opened, and his friends entered.

He had been friends with Nab and Turner for years. They followed him everywhere. Nab was tall, Turner was broad-shouldered. Average in every other way, his friends were loyal to a fault. If Trumo was in Perfekto’s place, Nab and Turner would be his right and left-hand men. Nab shook his head.

“So,” said Trumo. “We’ll have to ask around.”

Giving his friends instructions, Trumo left to collect his winning cred card. He called one of Perfekto’s goons and was told that Perfekto was back in the warehouse dealing with a toad. Toad was the name given to anyone about to be crushed under Perfekto’s heel.

When Trumo arrived back at the warehouse, two goons held him in waiting as Perfekto concluded a calm tirade. He clicked his fingers; a goon stepped forward, pig blaster in hand. The toad pleaded, the goon fired. Trumo hoped he was never a toad. The body was dragged away and Trumo was hauled forward. Perfekto smiled from his seat.

Trumo chose a spot free of blood and held out the card. “I have the creds. More than I owe.”

A goon with a heavy brow took the card to Perfekto. “I don’t see the old man,” said Perfekto.

Holding his hands inoffensively before him, Trumo answered, “We’ll have him by this evening.” He cleared his throat. “Say, do you think I can get my sister now? You can keep the extra.”

Perfekto answered, “I’ll keep the creds and the girl. Bring the man.” Perfekto snapped his fingers.

Trumo was dumped unceremoniously outside the warehouse. He jammed his hands into his pockets and kicked the pavement in self-reproach. “Damn!” he said, then turned to make sure no one heard him.

All he had to do was grab some old man and get him to the warehouse by evening. Easy. Right? He walked down the street, turned to look over his shoulder, and swore again. “Damn!”

He walked through Ashpall, a city with two faces. There was the happy face of business and prosperity. People rushed here and there and silver skids flew overhead. There was the sad face of the barrios. People sat forlorn on broken cement walls, a vague look of despair in their eyes. Where was the money? Where was the joy? Where was the reason to see another day?

Cora’s face of sweet innocence broke the surface on a sea of worries. There was Cora’s white skin and deep black eyes. There was Cora’s long black hair. Her smile was not there, but longing. Trumo looked up and spied the gated apartment ahead. He took a breath and imagined himself going door to door. He still had a few dead cards in his back pocket; he might try that ruse. Once he got his sister back, he would take her off world.

Turner spied Trumo approaching the gate and let him in. “We asked around the pool and in the service rooms. No one knows him.”

Nab hurried to Turner’s side with failure on his face. Trumo reached into his back pocket and drew out the dead cards. He passed one to Nab and one to Turner. “Grab a mop bucket and go door to door. Say Ben Shuller lost his card and ask if he’s in. Go.”

Trumo followed slowly behind his friends. He had never been in such a desperate situation. His sister held hostage, and time running out, he hoped the old man was not away on business. If the man was away, Trumo feared for Cora’s life. He squared his shoulders and quickened his pace. There were five tiers of apartments. The lower tiers were occupied with smaller dwellings while the two upper tiers consisted of larger suites.

He grabbed a yellow mop bucket while his friends filled the ones they had. “Add some soap,” said Trumo. “Look natural. If they aren’t the mark, ask if they know him.” He was feeling tense. Trumo checked his wrist comm and was disturbed that it was already after noon.

Heaven settled the skid on the roof of her friend’s home. Without looking, Heaven said to Ben, “I can’t believe you gave a winning ticket to a stranger!”

Ben smiled. “It made Trumo’s day.”

Heaven turned. “I have to ask a favor of a friend. If you’re still in the skid when I get back, we’ll go shopping.”

Michelle’s voice came through the lift intercom. “Come on down.”

Heaven was met with a tight embrace. In a loose floral print robe, sandals, and her auburn hair in curls, Michelle was the picture of suburban prosperity.

“Nice home,” said Heaven in honest appraisal. She sat on a plush sofa next to Michelle, who made a happy show of finding the sweet spot where she sat.

Michelle said with a smile and a wink, “You should have brought your boyfriend. Never mind. Yeah, it’s great. It’s the mayor’s but my boyfriend, Naijik, pays the bills. He’s an APD. So, what brings my long-lost friend down to grope lane?”

The market row buzzed like a hive of bees. It was a happy sound that Heaven recalled from her youth. All smiles beside her, Ben had wide eyes for each new wonder. He carried bags of groceries and new clothing, glad for all matters small and great.

That’s it,” said Heaven. “We should save some creds for a rainy day.”

“But,” stammered Ben at a loss. He stood before a bin filled with odd trinkets and small curiosities. “We should look through these.”

Heaven laughed. “You’re like a child.”

“I still have my cred card,” said Ben.

“Make it fast,” said Heaven.

Ben set his bags by his feet and rifled quickly through the bin. When Heaven looked up from checking the time, Ben was facing her with a pleading smile. In his hand was a pink woman’s wrist comm. Heaven’s frown made Ben defensive.

“I like it,” said Ben.