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primer parte de la triología dustlands de moira young completo en inglés

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• Copyright 2011 by Moira YoungAll rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, orstored in a retrieval system without the prior written consent of the publisheror in the case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, license from the Canadian CopyrightLicensing Agencyis an infringement of the copyright law.Doubleday Canada and colophon are registered trademarksLibrary and Archives Canada Cataloguing in PublicationYoung, Moira Blood red road / Moira Young.eISBN: 978-0-385-67184-2 I. Title.PS8647.O64B56 2011 jC813.6 C2010-907846-2This book is a work of 8ction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the authors imagination or are used 8ctitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales orpersons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.Published in Canada by Doubleday Canada,a division of Random House of Canada LimitedVisit Random House of Canada Limiteds website: www.randomhouse.cav3.1

• FOR MY PARENTS AND FOR PAUL

• CONTENTS

• CONTENTS

  CoverTitle PageCopyrightDedicationSILVERLAKETHE TRACKWAYCROSSCREEKSANDSEAHOPETOWNHOPETOWN: ONE MONTH LATERDARKTREESTHE BLACK MOUNTAINSFREEDOM FIELDSAcknowledgments

• LUGH GOT BORN FIRST. ON MIDWINTER DAY WHEN THE SUN hangs low in the sky.Then me. Two hours later.That pretty much says it all.Lugh goes first, always first, an I follow on behind.An thats fine.Thats right.Thats how its meant to be.

• Because everythins set. Its all fixed.The lives of everybody whos ever bin born.The lives of everybody still waitin to be born.It was all set in the stars the moment the world began. The time of yer birthin, the time of yer death. Even what kinda person yer gonnabe, good or bad.If you know how to read the stars, you can read the story of peoples lives. The story of yer own life. Whats gone, whats now an whatsstill to come.Back when Pa was a boy, he met up with a traveler, a man who knew many things. He learned Pa how to read the stars. Pa never sayswhat he sees in the night sky but you can see it lays heavy on him.Because you caint change whats written.Even if Pa was to say what he knew, even if he was to warn you, it would still come to pass.I see the way he looks at Lugh sometimes. The way he looks at me.An I wish hed tell us what he knows.I believe Pa wishes hed never met that traveler.

• If you seen me an Lugh together, youd never think we was the same blood.Never think we grew together in the same womb.Hes got gold hair. I got black.Blue eyes. Brown eyes.Strong. Scrawny.Beautiful. Ugly.Hes my light.Im his shadow.Lugh shines like the sun.That must of made it easy fer them to find him.All they had to do was follow his light.

• SILVERLAKE

• THE DAYS HOT. SO HOT AN SO DRY THAT ALL I CAN TASTE IN my mouth is dust. The kinda white heat day when you can hear thearth crack.We aint had a drop of rain fer near six months now. Even the spring that feeds the lakes startin to run dry. You gotta walk some ways outnow to fill a bucket. Pretty soon, there wont be no point in callin it by its name.Silverlake.Every day Pa tries another one of his charms or spells. An every day, big bellied rainclouds gather on the horizon. Our hearts beat faster anour hopes rise as they creep our way. But, well before they reach us, they break apart, thin out an disappear. Every time.Pa never says naught. He jest stares at the sky, the clear cruel sky. Then he gathers up the stones or twigs or whatever hes set out on theground this time, an puts em away fer tomorrow.Today, he shoves his hat back. Tips his head up an studies the sky fer a long while.I do believe Ill try a circle, he says. Yuh, I reckon a circle might be jest the thing.Lughs bin sayin it fer a while now. Pas gittin worse. With every dry day that passes, a little bit more of Pa seems to I guess disappearsthe best word fer it.Once we could count on pullin a 1sh from the lake an a beast from our traps. Fer everythin else, we planted some, foraged some, an, all inall, we made out okay. But fer the last year, whatever we do, however hard we try, it jest aint enough. Not without rain. We bin watchin theland die, bit by bit.An its the same with Pa. Day by day, whats best in him withers away. Mind you, he aint bin right fer a long time. Not since Ma died. Butwhat Lugh says is true. Jest like the land, Pas gittin worse an his eyes look moren more to the sky instead of whats here in front of him.I dont think he even sees us no more. Not really.Emmi runs wild these days, with filthy hair an a runny nose. If it warnt fer Lugh, I dont think shed ever wash at all.Before Emmi was born, when Ma was still alive an everythin was happy, Pa was di5erent. Ma could always make him laugh. Hed chaseme an Lugh around, or throw us up over his head till we shrieked fer him to stop. An hed warn us about the wickedness of the worldbeyond Silverlake. Back then, I didnt think there could be anybody ever lived who was taller or stronger or smartern our pa.I watch him outta the corner of my eye while me an Lugh git on with repairs to the shanty roof. The walls is sturdy enough, bein thattheyre made from tires all piled one on top of thother. But the wicked hotwinds that whip across the lake sneak their way into the smallestchink an lift whole parts of the roof at once. Were always havin to mend the damn thing.So, after last nights hotwind, me an Lugh was down at the land1ll at 1rst light scavengin. We dug around a part of it we aint never triedbefore an damn if we didnt manage to score ourselves some primo Wrecker junk. A nice big sheet of metal, not too rusted, an a cookin potthats still got its handle.Lugh works on the roof while I do what I always do, which is clamber up an down the ladder an hand him what he needs.Nero does what he always does, which is perch on my shoulder an caw real loud, right in my ear, to tell me what hes thinkin. Hes alwaysgot a opinion does Nero, an hes real smart too. I 1gger if only we could unnerstand crow talk, wed 1nd he was tellin us a thing or twoabout the best way to fix a roof.Hell of thought about it, you can bet on that. Hes watched us 1x it fer 1ve year now. Ever since I found him fell outta the nest an his manowhere to be seen. Pa warnt too happy to see me bring a crow babby home. He told me some folk consider crows bring death, but I wasset on rearin him by hand an once I set my mind on somethin I stick with it.An then theres Emmi. Shes doin what she always does, which is pester me an Lugh. She dogs my heels as I go from the ladder to the junkpile an back.I wanna help, she says.Hold the ladder then, I says.No! I mean really help! All you ever let me do is hold the ladder!Well, I says, maybe thats all yer fit fer. You ever think of that?She folds her arms across her skinny little chest an scowls at me. Yer mean, she says.So you keep tellin me, I says.I start up the ladder, a piece of rusty metal in my hand, but I aint gone moren three rungs before she takes hold an starts shakin it. I grabon to stop myself from fallin. Nero squawks an flaps off in a flurry of feathers. I glare down at Em.Cut that out! I says. Whatre you tryin to do, break my neck?Lughs head pops over the side of the roof. All right, Em, he says, thats enough. Go help Pa.Right away, she lets go. Emmi always does what Lugh tells her.But I wanna help you, she says with her sulky face.We dont need yer help, I says. Were doin jest fine without you.Yer the meanest sister that ever lived! I hate you, Saba!Good! Cuz I hate you too!Thats enough! says Lugh. Both of yuz!Emmi sticks her tongue out at me an stomps off. I shin up the ladder onto the roof, crawl along an hand him the metal sheet.I swear Im gonna kill her one of these days, I says.Shes only nine, Saba, says Lugh. You might try bein nice to her fer a change.I grunt an hunker down nearby. Up here on the roof, I can see everythin. Emmi ridin around on her rickety two-wheeler that Lugh foundin the landfill. Pa at his spell circle.It aint nuthin moren a bit of ground that he leveled o5 by stompin it down with his boots. We aint permitted nowhere near it, notwithout his say so. Hes always fussin around, sweepin clear any twigs or sand that blow onto it. He aint set out none of the sticks fer his raincircle on the ground yet. I watch as he lays down the broom. Then he takes three steps to the right an three steps to the left. Then he does itagin. An agin.You seen what Pas up to? I says to Lugh.He dont raise his head. Jest starts hammerin away at the sheet to straighten it.I seen, he says. He did it yesterday too. An the day before.

• I seen, he says. He did it yesterday too. An the day before.Whats all that about? I says. Goin right, then left, over an over.How should I know? he says. His lips is pressed together in a tight line. Hes got that look on his face agin. The blank look he gits when Pasays somethin or asks him to do somethin. I see it on him more an more these days.Lugh! Pa lifts his head, shadin his eyes. I could use yer help here, son!Foolish old man, Lugh mutters. He gives the metal sheet a extra hard whack with the hammer.Dont say that, I says. Pa knows what hes doin. Hes a star reader.Lugh looks at me. Shakes his head, like he caint believe I jest said what I did.Aint you 1ggered it out yet? Its all in his head. Made up. There aint nuthin written in the stars. There aint no great plan. The world goeson. Our lives jest go on an on in this gawdfersaken place. An thats it. Till the day we die. I tell you what, Saba, Ive took about all I can take.I stare at him.Lugh! Pa yells.Im busy! Lugh yells back.Right now, son!Lugh swears unner his breath. He throws the hammer down, pushes past me an pratikally runs down the ladder. He rushes over to Pa. Hesnatches the sticks from him an throws em to the ground. They scatter

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