Free If Only to Forget by Camryn Lynn

way over the stove to the wall, then run my hand to the side. When my fingers against brush the cardboard box, I almost let out a shout of victory.
    “Matches,” I say, picking up the box. 
    I open it slowly in case I’m holding it upside down and get lucky. Nothing falls out. When I have a little wooden stick between my fingers, I shut the box. A spark crackles in the darkness when I strike the match against the side, but it doesn’t catch. I try it a second time, and a flame sizzles to life.
    “Quick!” Tori says. “Pan it around.”
    I hold it out and move it through the air to light up the room as best as I can. It’s just bright enough to show me the counter, but only a little at a time. I move it to the side as the flame burns down the stick. The heat kisses my fingertips and I know I only have a few more seconds. I catch sight of a fat candle sitting next to the sink. The flame bites at my skin and the match falls from my hand. I curse under my breath.
    “Hold on,” I say, pulling a second one out. “I saw a candle.”
    Footsteps pound against the ceiling above our heads, but they’re slow. Sounds like nothing much is really happening up there, which is a good sign.
    I slide the second match against the box, and it lights up on the first try. Immediately, I head for the candle I saw, using the match in my hand to light it. The flame doesn’t illuminate much, but it’s better than it was.
    I pull it across the counter to where Tori stands. “This will help. Hopefully we can find a couple more candles and maybe a flashlight or two.”
    Tori nods as she looks around, then heads across the room. “If this were my house, I’d keep a flashlight here.”
    I pull open the drawer in front of me as Tori digs through a cabinet built into wall. I’m not finding anything but kitchen utensils and Ziploc bags. 
    “Bingo,” Tori says.
    A light flicks on behind me, illuminating the room, and I almost laugh. Damn, I miss electricity, but a flashlight is better than nothing.
    Tori sets the flashlight down. “Let’s look for something to eat.”
    The footsteps of Riley and Jim are still audible, but nothing has really changed. They’re slow and easy, consistent. The sound of them doesn’t make my heart beat faster, so I suppose that’s a good sign. And I really am hungry. At the moment, it feels like my stomach is trying to eat itself.
    “Okay,” I mumble as I open the nearest cabinet. There’s nothing in it but bowls and casserole dishes, so I move to the next. This one has spices, but still no food.
    “Pantry,” Tori says.
    I turn to find her standing in front of an open closet. When I catch sight of the boxes and cans of food my stomach growls so loudly it causes Tori to arch an eyebrow at me. The beam of the flashlight glints off the metal in her eyebrows.
    Tori and I are busy going through the pantry, which is loaded down with nonperishable items, when Riley and Jim walk into the kitchen behind us. The beam of a second flashlight shines across the room.
    “All clear upstairs,” Riley says.
    Something thumps against the counter, and I turn just as Jim sets a box of shells next to a shotgun. My stomach twists uncomfortably, and it has nothing to do with hunger. Seeing the gun brings reality screaming back. We are in the middle of a crisis, and we need weapons. Badly.
    “I’m beat,” Riley says with a yawn. “Let’s get some food in our stomachs, lock the place up and get some sleep. Jim offered to take first watch down here.”

and I find ourselves in the master bedroom. It’s small, and most of the space is taken up by a large canopy bed that’s way too frilly for a farmer. I’m so tired my muscles hurt, and even in the faint glow of the candles we carried up, the exhaustion in Riley’s eyes is clear. He looks like he can hardly stand.
    “Is it safe to get undressed?” I ask as I pull down the sheets. “I hate sleeping in clothes, but with everything that’s going on…”
    The idea of