Dead Soul Read Online Free PDF Page A

for a walk with a two-year-old. Poor old woman. Wonder if this is how I’ll be getting around when I’m her age. He comforted himself with the thought that it was highly unlikely he would live so long.
    Daisy Perika muttered without looking up at her nephew. “I still got some Christmas stuff to buy. I’m glad you brought me here.”
    Despite her rudeness to the priest, he had noticed that she was mellowing with age. Now, not less than once or twice every year, the cranky old woman would say something that sounded almost like thank you. “I hope you have a good time. Buy everything in sight.” He smiled at the scarfed head bobbing along at his left elbow. “We’ll fill up the pickup, haul it all home. As long as you brought plenty of cash.”
    Daisy patted her flowered purse. “I got my Social Security check right here.” She slowed, squinting at the storefront. “I can’t recall what it is, but there’s something about this place I don’t like.”
    It was too good to last. Moon prepared himself for the inevitable complaint.
    The Ute elder stopped in her tracks.
    “What’s the matter?”
    “I remember now.” She pointed her walking stick at the entrance. “This is where he hangs out.”
    “Who?”
    “You’ve seen ’im.” The tribal elder made an ugly grimace. “That nine-hundred-year-old white man.”
    Her nephew frowned. “What’re you talking about?”
    “Clyde,” she sneered.
    “You know his name?”
    “Sure—it’s sewed onto his vest. That’s so when he can’t remember who he is, all he has to do is check his label.”
    “You talking about the elderly gentleman who greets the customers?”
    “When that old buzzard got so feeble he couldn’t tie his shoes and started to slobber in his oatmeal, I guess his family was too lazy to dig a hole and put him in it. So they propped up Gran’pa Broomstick to frighten the children when they come in the store.”
    Children come in all ages. “That’s no way to talk about one of the greeters. Besides, you’ve got a good ten years on him.”
    “In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s a big difference between being old and being dead.” She snorted. “That man is a walking corpse.”
    She gets worse every year.
    Daisy clenched his arm in a grip surprising for one of her years. “They put those zombie white men right inside the door just to keep ’em off the street.” She shuddered. “What’s the matter—ain’t there enough matukach graveyards to hold ’em all?”
    “Now listen—”
    “It’s a wonder they didn’t put him in the carnival. Lotsa folks would pay two bits to see the old freak—Clyde the Tooth-Clicking Dead Man.”
    “Are we going inside or not?”
    “We’ll go, but if that old bag of bones pops his teeth at me just one time, I’ll lay his skull wide open with my stick.”
    The amiable Ute looked to the heavens. Why me, Lord?
    They passed through the portal into the bright land of plastic-wrapped merchandise.
    “Look out.” Daisy clenched Moon’s arm all the harder. “There he is.” She withdrew behind her nephew.
    “If you keep acting like this,” he murmured, “I’m not going to take you anyplace.”
    “Hush—Clyde looks like he’s about to pounce. You keep him away from me.”
    The skinny man in the blue vest had indeed spotted the potential customers. He took a halting pace forward to meet and greet. His wrinkled face creased into a merry caricature of a smile, exposing a pearly set of dentures that did not quite fit his gums. The false teeth clicked as he spoke. “Hello—anything I can do for you?”
    Moon smiled at the greeter. “Not right now, thank you.” Just a few more steps and I’m home free.
    Clyde Sprigg recognized the tall Ute and leaned sideways to see behind him. Yes, there she is—that peculiar old Indian woman. She was always good for a laugh. He tipped an imaginary hat. Clicked the porcelain teeth.
    Daisy peeked around her nephew’s elbow. “Back off, Walking Dead—or