Wormwood Dawn (Episode III) by Edward Crae

heard some footsteps,” he said. “Maybe leaves crunching or something.”
    He opened the door all the way and shined his light outside. He swept it from side to side for a few minutes, pointing it at the ground to check for footprints. There was nothing.
    “Oh well,” he said. “Must be hearing things.”
    They stepped outside and made their way next door. There was no reason to pile into the Hummer again, as the houses here were fairly close together; at least closer than what made Dan comfortable. Yuppies were a little different, though.
    The next house was of the same style; modern, but with a Victorian-style outer décor. There was a large porch with planters on either side of the front door. The door itself was French style, with twelve panes of glass total. Dan busted one out, reaching inside to unlock the door.
    “You didn’t even check to see if it was locked,” Jake pointed out.
    “Who cares?” Dan said. “I like breaking shit.”
    Jake shrugged, punching out another pane. “Say,” he said, “that was fun.”
    The smell of decay was rampant in this house, and the reason why was fairly obvious. As they made their inward toward the main room, they were shocked at the number of bodies that were scattered around.
    There were at least a dozen men and women lying dead on the hardwood floor. They were all dressed formally, and covered in vomit and various other dried bodily fluids. Shattered wine glasses and broken bottles were around them, apparently dropped when they suddenly became ill.
    “Jesus, man,” Drew said. “Fucking party, or what?”
    “Apocalypse party,” Jake said. “Why not?”
    “Fucking yuppies,” Dan said, shaking his head. “They’ll celebrate anything.”
    Vincent was crouched over a woman’s body, checking out her jewelry. “She got some expensive shit,” he said. “All of ‘em do. I wonder if this was a block party or somethin’. They all got together to have one last bash before the end of the world.”
    “How would they know, though?” Drew asked. “The fog came in the morning. Nobody parties in the morning.”
    They all stared at Drew, pointing out their own tendency to party in the morning. Drew shrugged. “Good Point.”
    Dan kicked some of the bodies around, noticing that a few of them had been partially consumed. Bite marks covered their flesh, and some of them were deep enough to take out chunks.
    “One of them turned or something,” Dan said. “Probably ate the others after they all died.”
    Jake shot him a worried look. “It could still be around,” he said.
    “Stay sharp, fellas,” Dan said.
    Drew packed a few bottles of wine in his bag, grinning widely as he studied the labels. “Now this is the good shit,” he said to Vincent. “And I bet there’s a bottle of cognac around somewhere. Come on, let’s check the kitchen.”
    “Right behind ya, dawg.”
    The two disappeared through the double swinging doors on the opposite side of the room. Jake sat down on the fancy couch, bouncing a little to test its comfort level. “This couch sucks,” he said. “It’s hard as a fuckin’ park bench.”
    “Hey now,” Dan joked. “Someone paid three grand for that park bench, prolly.”
    “They overpaid,” Jake said, standing up again. “I’ve sat on bean bags that were more comfortable.”
    Dan grinned as he shined his light around. There were French doors along the back wall leading to a patio, and a heavy door near the back corner with a plaque on it. He went over and lit the brass plate to read it.
    Dad’s Den
    “Hmm,” Dan said. “Let’s see what Dad had.”
    He pushed open the door as Jake joined him. There were more French doors here, also leading out to the patio, so the room was dimly lit by the light of the moon. The walls were covered in bookcases, with an entertainment center right in the middle. A more comfortable, manly couch was centered in front of it, with large, sturdy end tables on either side that sported driftwood