A stationary station wagon sat in the driveway of a neat little house nestled, perhaps, too close to the commercial center of Uhlshrin. A moderately sized town of about 200,000 people meant it was not immune to urban decay. The further away you got from the mix of shuttered stores and office buildings, the better. The homes nearby were still reasonably secure, but the definition of ‘reasonably’ became broader every year.

  Curtis had a family. Two daughters, six and seven years old. A wife he loved dearly. A family home he could make payments on, but did not want to stay in. He wanted out, but the budget did not call for that. It was every homeowners dream in the area to move to the suburbs. They could see the writing on the wall as the fingers of antisocial behavior reached into their neighborhoods. He could not afford a house, even a shabbier one, outside what may one day become a demilitarized zone.

  The pine marten rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the claws scrape gently through the underlayers of his fur. It helped him maintain his focus and he had a lot to think about. The kids wanted to go out for ice cream tonight. He told them he was busy. Had to go back to the Amalgamated Box Factory to finish repairing the cardboard extrudicator. A lie, naturally. It was flattening the q541s just as well as when it was assembled in 1968. But, he had to make an excuse. They wouldn’t like what daddy was going to do tonight.

  That mouse. He could practically see him sitting on his shoulder. His left shoulder, naturally. Curtis met him that morning. Came right into his office at the factory. When he asked others about him later, not one claimed to have seen him. One had to wonder how people missed him. He dressed like a wizard out of a storybook. A hooded red cloak over his head, thick red gloves, and a brown tunic and pants. Kept his hood up until Curtis noticed him, then he lowered it to show his long black hair and red/brown fur. That alone was creepy enough. Those eyes were even worse. Yellow, glowing, glassy. Doll’s eyes, but with a strange life to them that did not belong in anything sentient or inanimate. He moved, so he was not a doll, and his fur seemed real. He had a little puppet with him. A wooden marionette with painted eyes and a purple cloak. Puppets never failed to up the unsettling factor.

  “A simple task.” Was his simple ask. His voice was oddly warm, even friendly, but Curtis was too shocked by his overall appearance to find it calming. “Just drive some of my friends where they need to go. I’ll compensate you for your time, naturally. Compensate you quite well.”

  “Your friends?” He asked, still reeling from the encounter. “Drive them? That’s it?”

  “A simple job, provided you can keep your eyes forward.” The mouse chuckled. “Do try not to look back. The cargo may not be entirely legal. Not for the laws of this world, anyway.”

  “Uh… Cargo?” He asked.

  The mouse just smiled. “I assure you, they’ll be quiet.”

  “… They?” Curtis remembered being greatly unsettled by that.

  The mouse only smiled wider, showing perfectly straight, white teeth. “Curtis, we’re friends here. Even though we’ve just met, I know you well. Friends help each other. We don’t concern ourselves with asking too many questions.”

  The sinking feeling in Curtis’s gut turned into a freefall at that moment.

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  “Besides, you’ll be well compensated for this. Enough to get you a nice house, a better house, far away from the stink of the city.”

  “I’m not sure if…” He began, but the mouse kept talking.

  “Enough to ensure you can raise your two beautiful daughters, Lucy and Susan, comfortably. Keep your wife safe. Enjoy your life. Good men like you deserve to have everything they want. No, they need. Right?”

  “Well, yeah, but I’m not sure if…”

  “Oh, don’t worry too much about that. You’re allowed to refuse. I doubt you will. You want what’s best for your family. But, if you are happy living where you are, you can just stay there until the city claims you.” The mouse gave a little bow, almost comical as he was only four and a half feet tall.

  “Just be at the address on this slip of paper at nine in the evening this Saturday.”

  That damnable puppet was at Curtis’s side, holding a paper scrap. Curtis nearly leapt out of his chair. When his heart rate lowered below the triple digit range, he took it. After reading the address, he looked up. The mouse was gone.

  And today was the day. Not just the address was written on it, but the price. It was substantial enough to make a down payment on a house and then some. It was not set for life money, but more than enough to get him what he wanted. All he had to do was something very questionable.

  To make matters worse, his six year old ran up to him as he was leaving.

  “Daddy, daddy!” She exclaimed, hugging his legs. The little raccoon always knew when to hug his legs. She looked up at him with those big, green eyes and a gap-toothed smile. “It’s Saturday! Can we get ice cream?”

  “Uh, sorry sweetie.” He said. “Daddy’s gotta work tonight. Maybe tomorrow.” He patted her on the head.

  She gave him a look that could’ve made a statue cry. Guilt amplified the look. He knew he was going to do something dishonest. What choice did he have? This was in his family’s best interests. Sometimes, you had to do something unsavory to get what you wanted. Really, he had no choice.

  Didn’t he? The angel on his shoulder growing up always told him bad deeds come back on those who do them. Later on, in church, he heard something similar. Everything done in the dark would be brought to the light. Even when forgiven for sins, you would still have to pay for them in this life. Actions had consequences.

  He put the key in the ignition and looked up. On the sidewalk at the end of his driveway, a man was walking by. His heading was toward the city, walking there this late at night. Odd behavior, but an odder man.

  He was very tall. Probably seven and a half feet. A human. His skin was a dull gray, arms too long for his body. He wore a camper’s backpack, gray overcoat, and jeans with patches on them. When Curtis’s eyes settled on him, he paused. His head turned and their eyes met. The pine marten’s heart clenched. Steel gray orbs burned into his. The man’s head tilted and he sniffed the air. That hooked nose’s nostrils flared. An ugly thing. His face was long and thin, with prominent cheek bones. He took one step toward the car and Curtis leaned back in his seat. The gray man sniffed again, as if searching for something. Could… could he smell that he was about to do something wrong? Curtis’s heart sped up as if an entire fleet of police officers were bearing down on him. The look the man gave him suggested he knew. Something bad was going on tonight. He was heading into the town to deal with it. Curtis did not have to participate.

  The gray man stepped back, turned, and continued walking. But, he knew what Curtis looked like.

  Curtis’s head swam. He was holding his breath. He let it out in a rush and breathed in. The angel on his shoulder was right. Somehow, what he was doing would come back on him. No ends justified the means. He got out of his car. Ice cream with the family sounded good tonight.