When the Lights Come On: The Last to Stay

P.2

The sun was sinking fast, pulling the last traces of light away from the quiet streets. Celia sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a cold cup of coffee. The house felt too still, like the air was heavy and pressed against her skin. Outside, the road stretched endlessly, empty and lifeless. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen anyone pass by, but the memory of noise, of life, was fading faster each day.

The front door creaked open, breaking the stillness, followed by the familiar, slow thud of boots. She didn’t need to look to know it was Liam. He moved like a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. She heard him pause by the counter, the unmistakable clink of the whiskey bottle, the heavy pour that filled the silence between them.

“You’re late,” Celia said, her voice calm but firm. Her eyes stayed on the window, staring out into the creeping darkness. How long had it been since they’d seen someone out there?

Liam didn’t answer right away. The sound of his glass hitting the table filled the space between them. “What does it matter?” he muttered, the words gruff, laced with the bitterness that had been growing in him for weeks.

Celia sighed, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup. “It matters, Liam. Everything matters.” She finally turned to face him, her gaze landing on the glass in his hand. The whiskey had become his answer to everything, even when the world was falling apart.

“They’re saying more people vanished today,” she said, the tension in her voice harder to keep at bay. She needed him to listen this time.

Liam took another long sip of his drink. “People vanish all the time now, Cee. Nothing new.”

Her gaze narrowed, the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “You can’t keep pretending this is normal. People don’t just disappear, Liam.”

He slammed the glass down, harder this time, his eyes flashing with something between anger and exhaustion. “What do you want me to say? That it’s some divine punishment? That we’re all being judged?”

Celia crossed the room, closing the distance between them, her voice gaining strength. “It’s just like it says in the Bible. People were raptured, Liam.” She wasn’t pleading with him; she was stating it like a fact. “We’re living it.”

Liam stared at her, his face hard, but there was something behind his eyes—a flicker of doubt. “The Bible? Cee, you’re really going to start with that now?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice steady and unwavering. “Because it’s happening. People are disappearing—just like it says. The ones who were worthy… they’re gone. And we’re still here.”

Her words landed like a stone between them, the weight of it pressing down hard. She could see him trying to brush it off, but the cracks in his resolve were starting to show. The disappearances had shaken him, but admitting that she might be right was something he wasn’t ready for.

“And what are we supposed to do?” Liam muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “Run? From what? If people are being… raptured… then it’s over, right? There’s no fixing this.”

Celia shook her head, frustration creeping into her voice. “It’s not about fixing it. It’s about survival. People are losing their minds. Crime is rising every day, and we’re just sitting here like nothing’s happening.”

Liam’s expression hardened again. “And go where? You think it’s any better out there? People are robbing stores, burning buildings down. Cops aren’t showing up anymore. There’s no law, no order. What makes you think leaving here is going to save us?”

Celia clenched her jaw, her patience wearing thin. “Because I can’t sit here watching you drink yourself to death while the world crumbles around us.”

His eyes flicked to the bottle, and for a moment, he seemed like he might argue, but then he just took another drink, the glass trembling slightly in his hand. “You think leaving is going to fix that, too?”

She crossed her arms, her voice low but firm. “I think leaving is the only choice we have left. The violence is getting worse, Liam. This house won’t protect us.”

He looked at her, really looked at her this time, and for the first time in days, the wall between them seemed to crack. But Liam was still Liam—stubborn, hard-headed, and unwilling to let go of control. He set the glass down with a heavy thud, staring at it for a long moment before speaking.

“We did what we had to, Cee,” he muttered, his voice low, rough. “We didn’t ask for this.”

Celia’s brow furrowed, her heart tightening. The guilt was there, just beneath the surface—he was still holding on to it. “What we did doesn’t matter anymore,” she said softly. “But if we stay here, we’ll be next. You know that.”

Liam leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face with both hands as if trying to scrub away the weight of it all. “Alright,” he muttered, his voice thick. “We’ll go. But don’t expect it to be any better out there.”

Celia didn’t need it to be better. She just needed them to survive. She grabbed her jacket and moved to the door, her movements sure, even as the tension in the air felt like it might snap at any moment.

The last light of the sun had vanished, leaving the streets in shadow. They loaded the Honda in silence, the only sounds the dull thud of bags hitting the trunk. The air outside felt thick, almost choking, and the night was too still. It felt like the world was waiting for something, but she wasn’t going to wait any longer.

Liam climbed into the driver’s seat of their old Honda, gripping the steering wheel tight, his jaw clenched. The engine rumbled to life, breaking the silence, and they pulled onto the empty road. The headlights cut through the darkness, revealing streets lined with abandoned cars and broken windows. Law and order had been the first to fade, and now everything else was falling in line.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The tension inside the car mirrored the tension in the world outside. It felt like everything was holding its breath, waiting for the next inevitable collapse.

“Do you think they’re still out there?” Celia asked, her voice quiet but firm. She wasn’t asking for comfort—she needed to know what Liam thought.

Liam’s jaw tightened, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice low, strained. “But I don’t think it matters anymore.”

Celia turned to look at him, her voice steady. “It matters because we’re still here. And the question is why.”

He glanced at her, his jaw tight. “We did what we had to. That’s why.” His voice was hard, but the doubt was creeping in, like he was trying to convince himself more than her.

She shook her head slowly, leaning back in her seat. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s because of what we did that we’re still here. The ones who were worthy, they’re gone. And we’re not.”

Liam’s grip on the wheel tightened, his expression darkening. The silence between them thickened, the air inside the car growing heavier with each passing moment. “No,” he said finally, his voice rough. “We did what we had to.”

Celia reached out, resting her hand on his, her touch steady. “Maybe,” she said softly. “But we still need to keep moving.”

The headlights stretched into the darkness, illuminating a world that was unraveling before them. The violence, the chaos—it was growing, and they were still here, driving through the ruins of what was left. But as long as they kept moving, there was hope.

They had survived this long. They could keep going.