Away From the Sun Read Online Free PDF Page B

not quite. It is as if he has been surrounded by death so much that he is becoming death himself.
    “Do you think we will get him this time?” I ask, trying to focus on the task ahead and not my father.  
    He takes a long draw on the cigar and the ashes on the end smolder. “If we don’t this time, we will succeed the next,” he says. He turns and reaches into the back seat of the SUV. “Take your pick.”
    He shows me an open box filled with rifles. I reach for an M-4 and slip a few magazines under my belt. Usually I like to be discrete but the plan is to draw out Shadowface and his men, which will require some noise.  
    The two of us stand in silence as we wait for Lester and the others to show up. I glance at my father once or twice, but he keeps his eyes fixed ahead toward the smoke. I wonder what a normal father-and-son duo would be doing right now. Would there be small talk? There really isn’t much to have small talk conversations about. It’s not like there are playoffs or tournaments anymore. Gone are the conversations that start with: Weatherman says there’s gonna be a downpour this weekend… Better bring an umbrella…
    I suppose small talk has become useless for most people. That’s fine with me. I like the quiet. To know that I don’t have to make conversation if I don’t want to is a relief. The more people congregate together, and the more outside influences there are, the more useless the conversations become. Anarchy destroys all that. It brings us to our basic human level. We eat when we are hungry. We make conversation when something needs to be communicated.  
    I look back on my life and the few precious years that I have lived. Was it really living? How many classes did I sit through in college and high school that meant nothing to me once I got out? How many ‘ how was your day’ and ‘where are you from’ conversations have I gone through? How many hours—days—were wasted sitting in front of a television, watching something that made me laugh; listening to the news about things that would never affect me, the newscaster staring into my eyes as she lied to me day in and day out?
    The virus stopped all that.  
    But let me make myself clear. I am not happy that the virus struck. I’m simply happy because humanity has finally woken up. Sadness overtakes me at times. I am a human being, despite Ashley’s tongue-in-cheek suggestions that I’m too cold to be human. Hardened? Yes. But human. I have lost friends because of this. Close friends. There are people that come across my mind every single day, but I don’t dwell on them. That would be a waste of time. And wasting time is not living. It’s dying. And I’m a survivor.  
    An engine growls in the distance and my father and I straighten and turn our heads toward the source of the noise. A white truck speeds down the road toward us. Ashley is driving with Ryan in the front seat. Lester and Josh stand in the back bed of the truck, rifles ready to take down anything that gets in the way. Ashley cuts off the engine after she parks in front of us. My father and I walk up to the window, my eyes still fixed on the burning wall in the distance.  
    “Was the explosion successful?” my father asks, looking back at Lester.  
    Popping noises from the smoky interior of Shadowface’s safe haven indicates that the soldiers are in a panic, trying to kill off a herd of greyskins that have probably breached the wall by now.  
    “It’s not as big as I hoped for,” Lester says. His scraggly beard and soot-covered skin looks as if he was in the explosion himself.  
    “What happened to you?” I ask.  
    “The idiot got a little too close to the blast,” Ashley answers.
    “I’m all right,” Lester says.  
    Ashley rolls her eyes, but then looks at my father. “We should be ready to move in soon. I don’t want to try and push through with so many greyskins.”
    My father shakes his head. “No. We have to get in there now. We