Black Bird Read Online Free Page A

was time for the press release. Marie’s job was done, and theirs began.
    She would let the others contact the media. She wasn’t interested in words, unlike her brother. Words were so anemic compared with actions; words were the weapon of her enemies, the English politicians. What had she heard but empty words all her life? No, they could stay up the rest of the night arguing over their text. Marie was going home to a well-deserved rest; next afternoon she could read in the paper just what an impact her actions had had, and what the press and the public thought of her companions’ words.
    She left the basement room by the rear, into the lane. A receiving dock blocked one end. The vapour rising from a sewer screened the other, which opened onto the street. No one would see where she had come from. She would appear out of the mist like a ghost or a banshee. In the dim light just before dawn, if anyone saw her at all in this district, she would likely be taken for a streetwalker.
    Her route took her back past the scene of the bombing. Already the windows were being boarded up and the shattered glass and debris had been swept off the street corner. A single patrol car remained.
    Early morning buses were already running, empty, through the downtown streets. She passed through the campus of McGill University, crossed in front of the building that had been her high school, turned onto her street. At the top of the block the mountain rose, grey from the leafless trees, the fields around it white with snow. Halfway up the block, directly in front of the Desouche house, a police car was parking.
    Uncle’s dog woke before his key turned in the lock, and whined ceaselessly while waiting for him in his bedroom. It leapt and circled him until, receiving a smack for its trouble, it settled back to sleep when Uncle slid into bed and began to snore. When the doorbell rang, the dog’s head snapped erect. Uncle rose and went to the window and looked out, leaning the balls of his hands on the sill. When he saw thepolice cruiser his chest began to punish him. He ran to Grandfather’s room.
    Grandfather had been trying to silence the crow, which had begun its morning screeching as soon as he opened the door. Aline turned her face to the wall, burying herself in the pillow. She couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t keep the crow elsewhere. Unless he got some satisfaction out of displeasing her. She was surprised to see it when she moved in. He never mentioned it before their marriage. The sight of the enormous, ragged black scavenger sealed the lid on the idea of any time alone together, hidden away from all the rest of the world, even if no real honeymoon was possible. The presence of the crow transformed their marriage bed into a bier.
    Uncle pounded on the door, yelling “Police! Police!” and set the crow off again. Even Grandfather gave out a little screech. He tore the door open. Uncle, in his underwear, grabbed him by the shoulders and shouted again, “Police! Police!”
    Aline sat upright, confused and terrified by the sight of Uncle nearly naked in her bedroom. “What’s going on?”
    “Shut up,” said Grandfather. It wasn’t clear whether he was addressing her or Uncle. He disappeared into the hallway and Uncle followed him. Aline sighed and lay down.
    Grandfather stomped down the hall and banged on Father and Mother’s door. When Father answered he said curtly, “Tell them we’re not here. We’re not here, you don’t know where we are. Understand?” Fathernodded. Grandfather grabbed Uncle by the arm and ran him down the stairs, careful to stay out of sight of the windows. The two men hid in the basement.
    But when Father finally answered the bell after the third ring, the police asked for Mother.
    Jean-Baptiste was only a few pages from the end of
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
. He was dazed, still caught in the dreamlike state of reading. He had just read the line, “Our lives may be separate, but they run in