The Singing of the Dead Read Online Free PDF

couldn't feed it, that's what you did. It's not about humanity or compassion then, it's about survival. It's easy to idealize that time retrospectively, when you're full.”
    There was a brief silence. “Don't be shy, Anne,” Bobby said. “Tell us what you really think.”
    Anne stared at him for a moment, and surprised everyone by bursting out laughing. There was a palpable lessening of tension in the room. “I don't know where all that came from. I must be tired.” She looked up when Darlene put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile.
    “Okay, folks, you heard it here first. Anne Gordaoff is not a victim,” Bobby said into the microphone. “This is Park Air, taking you now to the studios of beautiful downtown Detroit, with some music to raise campaign funds by.” He put in a CD and pushed a few buttons, and the Temptations singing “Ain't Too Proud to Beg” rocked out of the quadraphonic speakers in full surround sound.
    “Turn it down, Clark!” Dinah yelled, and he did, marginally, and caught sight of Kate, standing stock-still and staring at Anne Gordaoff with an odd expression on her face. “Shugak!” The wheelchair rolled forward like it was jet-propelled, and Kate emerged from her trance in time to sidestep the wheels and save her toes, only to be yanked into Bobby's lap and thoroughly kissed. She disengaged herself with difficulty, after which Mutt reared up to pay Bobby her respects, which left him with a very wet face. “Goddamn!” he bellowed again. “You let the fucking wolf back in the house! I keep telling you no fucking wolves in the house!”
    Mutt, paws on the arms of his wheelchair, laughed down at him lupinely, not in the least alarmed at his tone of voice. He gave her an affectionate cuff and rolled over to the wood box, where there was always a Jurassic anklebone or two to keep the wolves at bay. “How the hell are you, Shugak?” Bobby said, dark eyes examining her for nicks and scratches.
    “I'm fine,” Kate said. “Really.”
    Easier to convince than his wife, or maybe just wanting it to be true, he accepted this. “Well, join the damn party! Gimmee some beer, woman!”
    “Excuse me a minute,” Kate said, and threaded through the crowd surrounding Darlene and Anne. She waited for Darlene to notice her, and when she didn't, nudged her ungently in the ribs.
    “Hey,” Darlene said, turning. “Oh.”
    “I hear you're looking for my kind of help,” Kate said.
    The door opened and another group of people jammed into the house. The noise jumped seven or eight decibels, and then a figure moving very fast shot around the pillar and hit the back door at a dead run. The screen door slammed sharply in its wake.
    “Johnny!” The voice, high-pitched and furious, bounced off the ceiling. “Get back here!”
    “I'll get in touch tomorrow,” Kate said, and beneath Darlene's astonished eye hit the floor and was under the counter that encircled the central pillar of electronic equipment. She scrabbled around the pillar, the snake's nest of cables slowing her down.
    There was the whisk of rubber tires on wood. “And who might you be, madam?”
    “I'm Johnny Morgan's mother, and I just saw him run out the back door. Let me by! Johnny! Come back here right now!”
    There was a brief scuffle, followed by an “Oof!” as someone came up against a solid wall of chest.
    “Do you have any identification, ma'am?” said Jim Chopin.
    There was the shuffle of a lot of feet, and Kate pictured everyone crowding around to watch, forming a barrier between Jane Morgan and the back door. One for Rats, Rats for All, she thought, and grinned in spite of the situation. She shook off a piece of coaxial cable determined to keep her beneath that counter forever and made a break for the door. Bodies parted and closed in behind her. She pushed open the screen door. It squeaked, loudly.
    “Who's that? Johnny? Johnny, is that you? Get over here, right now! Johnny?”
    “Hey, lady, watch who