Out of the Dark (Light & Dark #1) Read Free

and some dry grass to the fire until it is big enough to cook on. I found the lighter—and the cigarettes—a week or so back. Which was lucky, because my hands were covered in so many blisters from making fires using two sticks that I could barely hold Lilly’s hand without it hurting. The lighter makes things much easier. Eventually the fire is burning well enough for me to heat the beans for her, and soon enough she’s tucking into them with enough gusto to make me laugh.
    “I thought you hated them,” I say between drags of my cigarette.
    “I do.” She smiles and fills her cheeks, chewing greedily. “But I’m hungry.”
    My stomach grumbles loudly, and heat rises in my cheeks. I’m glad that I’m sitting down as a dizzy spell passes through me, making my empty stomach twist in on itself. The headache that has been building all morning eventually breaks free, and I feel momentarily blinded by the pulsing pain behind my eyes. The urge to squeeze them shut and moan in agony is heavy and ripe, but I contain it because I don’t want to frighten her.
    I stare off into the distance, controlling my breathing until the pain subsides. My cigarette burns down between my fingers until it singes the tips and I drop it with a yelp. When I look down, I see Lilly is staring at me sadly, fork poised before her open mouth.
    “You should eat,” she whispers.
    “I’m okay, I ate earlier,” I lie easily. I suck on my finger to ease the burn, but it does little to help.
    Satisfied with my answer, she continues to eat, and I stand and sift through the first aid kit until I find the last painkiller. I pop it in my mouth and grab the water bottle before realizing it is empty. I drop the empty bottle back into the trunk of my car and force the dry, powdery tablet down my equally dry throat. I feel it wedge there and I continue to swallow until it starts to dissolve, leaving a vile, bitter taste in my mouth. At least it’s down is all I can think.
    I pinch the bridge of my nose to ease the pain of my headache. Both frustration and anger burn through me. Tears build behind my lids, but I press them away with the heel of my hand and I turn to Lilly as she finishes the beans and lets out a small burp.
    “All better now?” I ask.
    She nods and smiles before picking up a stick and drawing in the dirt on the ground. Everything is dirty these days—dirty and ruined. And dying.
     

 
    Chapter Two.
    #2 Trust your instincts.
     
    It’s early afternoon before the headache subsides enough for me to think clearly, and I approach Lilly with thoughts of a scavenger trip. As usual she instantly says no, but I press the matter with her. We have no water and now no food. If we don’t go today, we’ll need to go tomorrow, and if not tomorrow, then the day after. Each day that passes, I warn her, I grow weaker and less able. We have no other choices; it’s only a matter of time. She doesn’t reply to me. Instead she climbs into her chair without further words and refuses to look at me.
    I pack our things back into the beat-up car, and as I back out of our parking space I pray that we have a safe trip and make it back up here before nightfall. I glance at Lilly in my rearview mirror. She’s sulking, her hands wrapped tightly around Mr. Bear and her bottom lip poking out in a pout. She still refuses to look at me, but she’ll be happier when we have food and water. Perhaps I can find her a coloring book, or maybe a toy—anything would do at this point, though I know I’m grasping at crumbling straws.
    My stomach gurgles in pain and anxiety as we drive away from our hilltop encampment. I climb out and pull the large gate back behind us, snapping the lock into place, and continue down the ruined road, dodging burnt-out cars and dried-out bones. Our car leaves tracks in the dust, showing just how long we’ve been up here, and I’m satisfied that no one found this path. No monsters, no humans—no one. We are still safe. For now, at