Chapter Forty-Seven
Somehow he knew he’d slept long and deeply without being aware of any dreams. That was the whiskey for you, and it was actually a relief. No tedious teases or false starts this time. He knew this was the right dream right away, though it seemed unlikely at first. He was all alone, and walking through a blasted landscape.
The road was spottily cobbled, the curb all broken up. The detritus of battles past lay scattered everywhere: bones, broken weapons and skulls, the tangled remains of war machines. The sky was shrouded, the wind carried smoke and ash and the faint stench of carrion. Only the ragged remnants of fortifications were visible through the murk.
In the bed where his paralyzed body lay, it was the darkest grave of the night. Here on the stage of his awarene
