The Lost Gods Read Online Free PDF Page A

into his sleeping bag. He closed his eyes, reached out with his left hand and touched the south wall. His fingers met with cold steel: a bundle of rebar that Adam had welded together for him. Jesse had not asked for it, but Adam was tired of Jesse breaking all his hammers so he had made Jesse a cudgel. Adam had wrapped some leather scraps around the hilt to make a grip. He had tied the leather with shoelaces and some thin twine. Jesse had fallen in love with the weapon the day Adam had given it to him. Jesse's hand caressed the cudgel and his nerves calmed. When his hand reached the leather grip, he exhaled. His hand returned to the warmth of the sleeping bag and he fell asleep.
    …
    Jesse was on a beach. He felt the wind. Moonlight flickered on the surface of the waves. Gusts of cold, humid sea breeze blew through his wild, coarse beard. All his life his dreams had been vague and colorless, but this dream felt real. He walked through the sand and the tan mounds shifted as he put his weight into each step. Tufts of sand danced in the air with each swell of wind. When he reached the water, Jesse knelt. The smell of kelp filled his nostrils with its briny bouquet. The salty moisture of the ocean air clung to his face, arms, and neck. His fingers were about to touch the water when the ocean disappeared. Dry, hot sand was all that remained. The ocean drew away like a rug pulled out from under him.
    The outline of a person was just visible in the di stance. Moonlight transformed into harsh sunlight. Heat waves obscured the horizon. The silhouette disappeared in the haze. Jesse leaned forward and broke into a jog. He saw something: a speck in the distance. Jesse ran full tilt at the unknown object. Slowly, the speck grew larger. He could see the outline of a tall, sturdy woman. She stood like a monolith in the expansive desert. Her back was facing Jesse. The sandy breeze stung his eyes. He squinted. Her hair defied the wind and flowed down her back in an intricate braid of glossy black hair. It was the color of a raven's feathers. When his eyes fell downward, he fixated on the small space between her muscular thighs. The harsh light shone on her amber skin. Every inch of exposed flesh was uniform and flawless. The sight caused a stir in his pants. Jesse's manhood grew warm and pulsed. His eyes fell further down and focused on the faint dusting of sand on her sandaled feet. Jesse stood awestruck. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He drew closer to her. As he neared her, the desert expanded and pulled her away from him. He stopped and turned in a slow circle searching for what was behind the madness. The sun shrunk and morphed into the moon. Darkness fell upon the sands. Jesse could still see the strange woman. He walked in her direction, but with each step she grew more distant.
    The woman spoke to him in an ancient language. It was unlike any of the countless mother tongues he heard w hile he attended the University of Oregon. He ran toward her again. His desire to touch her increased. She slipped further away as he pushed forward. Frantic, Jesse sprinted, his legs were pistons, and his arms worked in synchronicity with them. The woman seemed only to float on the horizon of his vision. Jesse's heart pounded and his thighs burned and ached. The pale moon again turned into a blazing desert sun. Jesse felt the scorching heat. His lungs refused to draw in air fast enough. He could not run any longer. Jesse stumbled to a halt. She was a distant blur.
    Jesse could feel hot breath on his neck. He turned to see a different woman: a pale crone with ragged white locks that fell where they pleased. He tried to move away, but she held him in place. Gnarled fingers gripped his throat. Long, jagged nails dug into the skin of his neck. She pulled herself close to him. Rotten breath a ssaulted his nose and mouth.
    “You will never find her. You are blood and meat and they the butchers. You will die.”
    The crone squeezed and