Let The Light In.

Chapter two: Yuna

I was still rattled from this morning's scare. The thought of losing Xavier lingered, gnawing at the back of my mind. It made me question everything about our relationship. God forbid something happens to him... but what if it does? Could I keep going without him? Or would this miserable excuse of a life swallow me whole? There it was again—my dependence on him. I hate it, but I can't deny it. Deep down, I know I won't be with him forever. No one survives forever.

Lost in thought, I didn't notice he was talking to me until he turned back, a flicker of irritation in his voice. "Yuna, I was talking to you. I need the map."

I fumbled with it before handing it to him.

He sighed, his expression a mix of exhaustion and concern. "You need to focus. We can't let our guard down." His tone was sharp, almost scolding, like I was a child who had forgotten the gravity of the situation. He unfolded the map, continuing to walk ahead while I trailed behind.

We switched places every so often. The one in front was the guide, the one behind, the defender. His backpack swayed with each step as we made our way down the empty road, littered with abandoned cars. Some of the vehicles still had occupants—some moving, some long decayed.

I kept my grip tight on the revolver. Heavy, loud, slow. Not exactly the weapon of choice for what we were facing, but it was all we had. Five bullets. Three for emergencies. Two for us—for the moment we couldn't run anymore.

As I guarded our rear, I scanned the silent, desolate landscape. The birds chirped occasionally, filling the stillness with deceptive calm. But it was too quiet. Too peaceful. I couldn't shake the eerie feeling that something was about to go wrong.

Time seemed to blur as we walked, the monotony of the road stretching on like we'd been moving for days. Finally, we stopped in front of a small town mall. It wasn't huge—just the kind of place you'd go for a quick errand or a lazy afternoon. Before everything fell apart, malls were one of our favorite places. Now, they loomed in the distance like ominous fortresses.

Still, it was better than staying out in the open. Or was it? Outside, at least we had room to run if something—or someone—came after us. But the fading light outside meant danger, unpredictability. The longer we stayed exposed, the more vulnerable we became.

Reluctantly, I followed Xavier inside.

The first thing I noticed was the lack of smell. That was a good sign. If the "things" were here, we'd know by the scent alone. That unmistakable stench—like rotting flesh mixed with something sweet and sickly, a twisted, overripe fruitiness that turned your stomach in an instant. For now, the air was clean. Safe enough.