The Law of Dreams Read Online Free PDF Page B

the world
     presented itself like a fresh thing. Wandering bracken slopes and shoulder bogs, he had
     observed the rippling mountain ranges the way a bird might view them, lumps of emptiness
     swallowed whole, July sunshine rifling patterns of light on the hills.
    He heard a horse scuffling outside, and men’s voices.
    The smoke inside the cabin was laced with the woody aroma of typhus.
     Peering from the loft, he could see his parents in their bed near the fire, but he could
     not tell if they were alive or dead. He shut his eyes.
    He was alive himself. Certainly, he was.
    Crawling to the ladder, he eased down the rungs and approached their bed,
     where they lay in filth. He studied his father’s face. Bone knobs glistening under
     waxy yellow skin. The eyes suddenly snapped open, violet and sensitive, like hungry
     birds, starlings.
    â€œSoldiers outside,” Fergus whispered. “What shall I
     do?”
    The eyes flapped shut.
    â€œWhat shall I do?” he repeated. His mother raised her head and
     looked about the cabin wildly. “Water,” she whispered, then her head fell
     back upon the straw.
    He stared at the doorway. Had he really seen a soldier? Was it just a
     fever dream? Perhaps the world was dead.
    He should go outside, see for himself.
    Walk outside. That is what you do in dreams. The law of dreams is, keep
     moving.

Soldiers
    â€œTHAT’S ONE!” Farmer Carmichael cried.
     “What of the others?”
    The soldier who had been inside the cabin was bent over, vomiting on the
     snow. Straightening, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “All dead,” he
     gasped.
    â€œQuite sure?” called an officer mounted on a beautiful limber
     horse.
    â€œDead as rabbits.”
    â€œI warned O’Brien he must quit.” Carmichael spoke
     loudly. “I did warn him there’d be nothing for him if he stayed.”
    â€œBetter have a look yourself,” the officer said.
    The farmer approached the cabin, the icy puddles crackling under his
     heels. Pushing Fergus aside, he slipped through the leather curtain and went inside.
     Smoke leaked out from the doorway, curdling in the bright air.
    Stung by daylight, eyes aching, Fergus buried his face in his hands.
    A few moments later Carmichael, coughing, emerged from the cabin. Seizing
     Fergus’s shoulders, the farmer shook him roughly. “Two pounds the fellow was
     offered!” Carmichael shouted to the officer. “Desperate, morose, wild
     fellow! All his life worthless! Always on the roads!”
    â€œWell, he was a strong hand at harvest, though, he was,” Abner
     Carmichael said softly.
    â€œDo you suppose I enjoy this work?” the farmer cried.
    Fergus’s attention was concentrated on a biscuit that one of the
     soldiers wasmunching. Seeing him staring, the soldier broke it and
     held out half. Twisting free of Carmichael, Fergus stumbled toward the soldier and
     grabbed the chunk, but when he tried to bite into it, it was too hard, and his gums were
     too tender. He began licking to soften it, then broke off a small piece and put it in
     his mouth, sucking.
    He turned around just in time to see Carmichael’s two sons touch the
     cabin roof with their torches. There was a thin layer of snow, but the scraws of turf
     underneath had a ferocious appetite to burn. The horse whickered at the flow of red
     sparks, and Fergus felt the officer staring at him. Something in the officer’s
     face — pity, disgust — pierced his stupor. He gave a howl and barged toward
     the cabin, but Saul and Abner intercepted him easily. “Let her burn now.”
     Abner’s kind, moony face closed on his. “It’s all for the best,
     Fergus. There’s no life in it.”
    He was unable to resist another nibble at the biscuit. Thinking he had
     surrendered, Abner and Saul released him. He instantly broke from them, dashing for the
     cabin door. He heard the officer shout but got