Frankenstein: Dead and Alive Read Online Free PDF

seemed like the kind of thing you would say when you were having fun, and this was as close to fun as they had ever known.
    Helene’s face puckered with concern. She stepped away from the sidelight.
    As Bucky heard Helene opening the first of two deadbolts, he said to Janet, “Do something spectacular to her.”
    “I hate her so much,” Janet replied.
    “I hate her, too,” Bucky said. “I hate him. I hate them all. Do something really amazing to her.”
    Helene disengaged the second deadbolt, opened the door, and stepped back to admit them. She was an attractive blonde with a pleasing dimple in her right cheek, though you couldn’t see the dimple now because she wasn’t smiling.
    “Janet, Bucky, you look devastated. Oh, God, I’m afraid to ask, what’s happened?”
    “Something terrible has happened,” Janet said. “Where’s Yancy?”
    “He’s out on the back porch. We’re having a night-cap, listening to some Etta James. What’s happened, sweetie, what’s wrong?”
    Closing the front door behind him, Bucky said, “A terrible thing has happened.”
    “Oh, no,” Helene said, sounding distraught. “We love you guys. You look stricken. You’re drenched, you’re dripping all over the parquet. What happened?”
    “An unspecified terrible thing has happened,” Bucky said.
    “You ready with the camera?” Janet asked.
    “Ready,” Bucky replied.
    “Camera?” Helene asked.
    “We want this for our album,” Janet said, and did something more spectacular to Helene than anything Bucky could have imagined.
    In fact, it was so spectacular that he stood dumb-founded, the camera forgotten, and missed getting a shot of the best of it.
    Janet was a runaway locomotive of rage, a log-cutting buzz saw of hatred, a jackhammer of envy-driven cruelty. Fortunately, she did not kill Helene instantly, and some of the subsequent things she did to the woman, while spectacular in themselves, were sufficiently less shocking that Bucky was able to get some cool pictures.
    When she finished, Janet said, “I think I’ve dropped a few more lines of code from my program.”
    “It sure looked that way,” Bucky said. “You know how I said I thought I’d enjoy watching? Well, I really did.”
    “You want Yancy for yourself?” Janet asked.
    “No. I’m not that far along yet. But you better let me get him inside from the porch. If he’s out there and he sees you like this, he’ll be through the porch door and gone.”
    Janet was still drenched but now not only with rain.
    Comfortable rattan furniture with yellow cushions and rattan tables with glass tops furnished the spacious screened porch. The lights were lower than the music.
    In a white linen shirt, tan slacks, and sandals, Yancy Bennet sat at a table on which were two glasses of what was most likely Cabernet as well as a cut-glass decanter in which more wine breathed and mellowed.
    When he saw Bucky Guitreau, Yancy lowered the volume on Etta James. “Hey, neighbor, isn’t this past your bedtime?”
    “A terrible thing has happened,” Bucky said as he approached Yancy. “A terrible, terrible thing.”
    Pushing his chair away from the table, getting to his feet, Yancy Bennet said, “What? What happened?”
    “I can’t even talk about it,” Bucky said. “I don’t know how to talk about it.”
    Putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, Yancy said, “Hey, pal, whatever it is, we’re here for you.”
    “Yes. I know. You’re here for us. I’d rather Janet told you about it. I just can’t be specific. She can be specific. She’s inside. With Helene.”
    Yancy tried to usher Bucky ahead of him, but Bucky let him lead the way. “Give me some prep, Bucky.”
    “I can’t. I just can’t. It’s too terrible. It’s a spectacular kind of terrible.”
    “Whatever it is, I hope Janet’s holding up better than you.”
    “She is,” Bucky said. “She’s holding up really well.”
    Entering the kitchen behind Yancy, Bucky closed the door to the porch.
    “Where