(If you haven’t read the first part/post, read it before this! If you already read the first one, Have fun reading this one!)

Candle 2:

As the first candle dies, we light another to heat our food. The lids slide off with a satisfying shlurp. I open a can, and the sterol bean scents waft into the air. I offer the metallic pieces to the members of the group. Moore accepts it with a gleeful grin, and Warren snatches two more of them. Under the dim light of the first candle, I hold a can out to Shell. Her teary eyes return an unhungry look.

“You gonna eat or... what?” I criticize, a mouthful of pinto beans.

She didn’t speak often, not since the death of her husband. I had thought she would turn around, be more cheery like she used to. But, she never did. Anyone could tell she expressed a void of hope.

“Nope,” she choked out. “Not hungry,” her throat clenching up, she mumbles. Tension spills between all of us.

I pitied her. “Your not eating again?” I say. She attempted to mutter a vessel-less excuse, but I cut her off. Positioning to her, I started a speech I thought her wisdom knew. “You have to pull yourself together. Look, we need you here; you’re important to our survival. You help us with directions, and we cannot lose that. I know his death bothers you, but you need to eat,” I explain. Moving my long hair out of my face, I look up from my obscured beans. Shells face flushes with tears. The others remain silent, and they pretend to be preoccupied.

She looks at me with heart broken eyes, and saids, “I can’t do this anymore.” She gets up. Then, she leaves. Into the darkness. Into the void.

Contemplating, I stare at the beans, mixing them around with my half-cleaned spoon. Did I make her upset? Why would she ever leave the safety of the light? Moore looks at me, raising his eyebrows in a concerned fashion. I had to stop her.

Away from the flame pooling into a puddle of wax, I jump up and run into the darkness. I navigate the darkened mall rooms. Trying to be stealthy, I notice her silhouette. She sniffles while making her way aimlessly, and I fear the creatures have already heard her presence.

“Wait,” I whisper to her just close enough to get her attention. Inching closer I say, “I’m sorry I was-“

She turns around, and in a quiet whisper she accuses, “You don’t know what I feel! You don’t know the light in the morning, the afternoon, the evening. You don’t know the hopes we used to have before the night.” Her frustration covers the tears. “I don’t want to live like this! Missing someone I can’t get back. There’s no point! Not for me, anymore,” she releases almost leaving the safety of a whisper. There is a pause between us.

“To be honest, I almost have no hope either. We just-we just survive,” I say, words almost surprising myself. I face her. My eyes become teary as well.

She responds, “Yes, I know. Sorry I lashed out. I just don’t want this anymore”

I offer her my arms, and she accepts. We hug for a moment, and the weight of despair feels heavy.

Although I cannot see, She addresses me with her eyes. “You, Chloe, will live to see the light of day, or at least I hope. You are a brave, young girl, and you will survive,” she offers. “get back safely,” her quick voice saids to me. “I’m not coming back. Goodbye,” she apologizes.

I want to stop her, but I believe she made up her mind long ago.

So, I let her leave.

Candle 3:

I return back to a newly lit and dead candle, the tears staining my face. The other two question what happened, but I only answer, “She wanted to leave.”

We spend the rest of the time searching for batteries before the candle expires. Picking apart empty boxes and starving shelves, we come across nothing. Our flashlights rest in our bags, and we are left stuck.

“I’m tired. I’m going to hit the hay,” Warren states fluffing up his backpack.

Moore adds, “A healthy body is a healthy mind.”

“Alright,” I say. “We’ll take turns keeping the candles lit.”

“Ooooo, me first!” Moore exclaimed. “ I want to figure out this rubik’s cube!”