Free Wormwood Dawn (Episode III) by Edward Crae Page B

right. Its walls were sliding doors hiding linen closets. Dan didn’t bother to check them. The door at the end was open to a large guest bathroom. There were fancy soaps, generic but functional towels, and a rubber ducky in the tub. Dan pointed at it with his finger.
    “You’re the one,” he said.
    He opened the medicine cabinet. Obviously there would be nothing in the guest bathroom, other than some aspirin or Tylenol. He was right. Toothbrushes, OTC shit, and a water pick. Who the fuck would use a water pick at someone else’s house?
    “Fucking yuppies.”
    He returned to the long hallway, turning right. The first door was open, as was the one across from it. Here was a child’s bedroom, full of toys that Dan had never even seen before. One wall was lined with action figures, completely mint and still in their boxes. This kid was quite the collector. Against another wall was a huge computer desk with countless shelves filled with CDs, game boxes, empty Twinkie wrappers for long gaming sessions, and a state-of-the-art, yet now completely worthless computer.
    “Damn,” Dan said. “Fucking kid.”
    The bed was perfectly made; with a tightly stretched duvet and hospital corners. Everything but the computer desk was spotless and tidy. It was like a Norman Rockwell painting, if Norman Rockwell lived in the 21 st century, and painted stupid shit.
    The other room across the hall was no different. Everything was in order, and looked like it had just been cleaned. No fucking dust or anything. He continued down the hallway, seeing two more doors. They too were across from each other. One was another kid’s bedroom, and the other was…
    Locked.
    “Fuck,” Dan said.
    He jiggled the handle roughly, noticing that the door was cheap and paper thin. He stepped back, poised himself for a kick, and let loose. The door slammed open against the side wall, nearly falling off of its hinges.
    Beyond was slightly messier bedroom, probably a teenager’s. It wasn’t nearly as tidy as the rest of them, and the walls were plastered with old posters of bands that Dan actually listened to. This kid, or teenager, was a metal head. There was even a large poster of Ronny James Dio sitting on a skull throne, flashing devil horns with that RJD face of his.
    Dan chuckled, returning the devil horns as he entered.
    There was a black Jackson guitar propped up against the bed, still plugged into the Marshall double stack that dominated the closet. There were effects pedals lying near it, and a pile of picks on the night stand. Dan reached down to strum the guitar’s strings. They rang out in perfect pitch.
    Standard C tuning, he thought. Death metal.
    There was a glass pipe on the night stand beside the picks. Dan picked it up and sniffed it. Weed. He opened the drawer, seeing a large bag of it stuffed in the back corner. Drew and Vincent might like it. He picked it up and stuffed it in his pocket. There was also a bottle of pills with the label worn off. He picked it up and studied it. Inside were small round pink pills. He would have to look them up in his med book.
    When he returned to the living room, the others were just arriving. They all looked disheartened and empty handed.
    “There ain’t a drop of liquor in this fuckin’ house,” Vincent said.
    “Nothing,” Drew added. “They were like the fucking Brady Bunch.”
    Dan reached in his pocket and pulled out the bag of weed. Drew and Vincent’s eyes widened. He tossed it over, and Drew caught it, stuffing it in his pocket.
    “Alright,” Dan said. “Let’s hit the next house.”
    “Wait a minute,” Jake said, holding up his hand. He craned his neck, furrowing his brow. “I thought I heard something. Did anyone see a basement?”
    The others looked at each other, shaking their heads. Jake leaned his head against the door to listen. He shook his head, and then cracked the door a little, peeking outside.
    “What do you hear?” Dan asked, becoming a little nervous.
    “Though I