“They do always get what they want,” Chevy said to Kunak, even though he wasn’t listening, “and sometimes what they don’t want.” He turned to the person on the other side of him. “Right, Ubluriaq?”

Ubluriaq nodded and smiled. “He’s making this far too easy for me. This one will be a cake walk, or in their case, a River Walk. So simple.”

Chevy felt a shiver run up his right arm and into his heart. He felt the cold splash of ice spread across his chest. Once you call any of the Evil Ones, there is no turning back. He knew that what he had asked for was the only way to get Kunak home. The only way to stop all the nonsense Kunak was living. He was doing this for his boy.

Kunak and Aviak settled themselves at a place on the river’s edge.

“You know, he may have been my gramps, but I knew I was his boy,” Kunak said and sucked back on the mickey. “You just know when someone really loves you.” Kunak handed the bottle back to Aviak.

“Hey, take one of these,” Aviak showed him a dark blue pill. “That blond boy gave me two and I already swallowed one back. Here, pop it in your mouth and take a swig.”

“I’m not taking any of that shit. Never touch drugs. Never will.”

“It’s not like it’s Viagra, you dumb fuck. Come on. The boy called it ‘jackpot’ and said that if I took it, I’d hit it! Come on now, let’s have some real fun! Let’s hit a jackpot together. Whew! That jackpot is strong. Gettin’ to me already.”

“Aviak, no. I mean it, no is no.”

Aviak thought that the river was swaying too much. “Hey, you know what?” she said. “I had a boy. A real baby boy. He died though.” Aviak’s head started to sway with the river. It was the only way she could keep it in focus.

“A boy? What was his name?” Kunak stretched out his aching knees. His legs were sprawled close to the river’s edge. He was enjoying the fresh smell of buds on the trees along the river. They had found a quiet spot under the blue bridge and the sounds of the city were far off. They had found their own little sanctuary. Kunak was happy here.

Aviak reached into her blanket of trinkets and pulled out a pack of smokes. She lit one and sputtered under her breath, “Called him Thomas—you know, like the apostle who became a saint of Aquino or some place.”

“Oh yeah, that guy!” Kunak burst out laughing. “Tommy Aquinas! Sounds like a hardcore Eskimo to me!”

“Stop it, you dumb fucker! He was my boy. Loved him more than myself. When he died . . . I just took to the street and got away from that Norwegian and all his lutefisk. Boy, some people really know how to fuck up a good fish.”