Dodging around a road crew making big potholes out of little ones, the halfer cut through General Gomez Park. Thumbs couldn’t call out. It would draw unwanted attention to him as well. Come on, Shorty, slow down! Thumbs got tense, but didn’t let it show. Little guy could be going anywhere. Stay arctic. Kids were playing on the concrete slabs as a makeshift jungle gym, couple of oldsters with obviously nothing to steal or take were sunning themselves on the splintery benches, and ork gangers in ballistic vests were sweating out the noon sun in the shade of the few leafy oak trees, slightly wilted but still standing valiant against the temperatures from above and dog urine from below.