The underground moves like a rat swimming through the sewers. There is the cold flush of air that whistles through the dark tunnels. People ride the air, exchange packets of information and such. Cash, crinkled crisp or rolled into thick wads held tight with elastic bands. Counted before leaving. Counted again.

Sparkling dust pure and not. Price determining potency. Fools easily fooled; the more knowing, wasted or already dead.

Sometimes the neon lights flickered, the last gasps of strength before giving in to the dark. In the flashes Joseph would see the body of his mother, find her again in the alley, see Devin point with a hand that didn't know she was dead.