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

least.
    It’s an hour or so before we are back in any form of civilization—if you can call it that now. Everything here has been picked clean—I should know, I’ve tried almost every house in the little seafront town. I know that I’m going to have to go further afield this time, and that’s even more worrying. At least here, I know more or less what to expect. I know where the nests of these things are, and I know most of the places to avoid. I roll down my window, letting the sea air into the car to help clear my thoughts. Stress eats away at my empty gut but I ignore the pain as best I can and grasp at memories of playing by the sea, the water washing between my toes.
    I drive out of town with a worried sigh, and Lilly’s voice whispers to me from the back seat.
    “Where are we going?”
    “There’s nothing here anymore—nothing we can eat or drink. We need to drive to a different town. One that will have food.” I watch her in my mirror. Again, she doesn’t argue with me on the matter, but looks away with another pout and begins to cry softly against Mr. Bear’s brown, matted fur. I think I’d prefer her to argue with me than cry. At least then I wouldn’t feel so guilty at making her sad, or so full of self-doubt that we are doing the right thing by leaving. I wish there were another way, but there’s not. Food and water are our goals. And of course a coloring book. She’ll be happy then , I reason as I continue to drive, trying to ignore her soft whimpers from behind me.
    Another hour of driving passes with nothing but ruined houses, collapsed buildings, and abandoned cars. We pass down a tree-lined road and I see a small sign pointing to a turnoff on the left. I stop the car and look around before I get out. I examine the road carefully, seeing no recent tracks of any sort—no telltale wheel marks from other cars or footprints, and even more thankfully, no claw marks from the monsters. The road is almost invisible, blocked by debris and bushes.
    Satisfied, I get back in behind the wheel, take the turn, and follow the ruined road upward between the trees, panicking when they become so tightly packed that they momentarily block out some of the daylight. Lilly has fallen asleep, and for that I’m glad. I don’t think she would be happy about our current situation at all, and I’m not sure my gut could take any more guilt.
    The road eventually opens up onto a long driveway, and right at the end is a circular island with bright green grass in its center. Behind the circular, green-grassed island there is a huge mansion with enough windows to put a glass company to shame.
    “Jesus,” I murmur to myself. My stomach does a little flip, but my heart is excited. This could be the mother lode , I think as I drive faster toward the house, sending dust billowing up behind us.
    I drive the car around the circular island in front of the house, pulling to a stop outside the large, heavy-looking wooden front door. Lilly is still sleeping soundly, her small snores sounding peaceful. I wonder whether to wake her or leave her be, thinking that the rest might do her good. I step out and look to the sky. The sun is still high, indicating that there is plenty of daylight left. The sky is bright and clear, not even the sprinkling of a cloud to be seen.
    I think she’ll be okay here, I decide. I haven’t seen signs of the monsters or another human. In fact, it’s been months since we’ve seen another human. It’s probably safer in the sun than inside the danger of the shadows from the house, so I decide to leave Lilly sleeping until I know it’s safe. I make my way to the front steps and peer in through a bottom window beside the wooden door. Nothing moves inside. The place is covered in a thin layer of dust, and again my heart flips in excitement. The front foyer of the home is like a greenhouse—more expensive glass lets in sunlight from every angle.
    I walk around the perimeter of the house, checking in as