Fever Dream (58 page)

He leapt the curb and cut across the lawn toward the entrance. Figures raced forward to intercept him.

“Jesus Christ, stop him!”

He slipped on the grass, fell to his hands and knees, rose again. He could see only his fathers’ two feet, sticking out of the dark doorway into the sunlight, toes pointed skyward, scuffed soles turned up for all to see, one with a hole in it. It was a dream, a dream—and then the last thing he saw before he was tackled to the ground was the feet move, jerking twice.

“Dad!” he screamed into the grass, trying to claw back to his feet as the weight of the world piled up on his back and shoulders; but he’d seen those feet move, his father was alive, he would wake up and all would be well.