A dark fucking room. Thankfully, your flashlight still has some juice.

You whip out your flashlight and hold it under your handgun. The house is a single floor, so there isn't much to sweep as you slowly walk forward. Your ears are trained for anything, the slightest growl, hiss or hoot; so the goddamn creaking floor is like a scraping chalkboard to your ears.

You move ahead. A teenager’s bedroom. Empty. A couple’s room across from it. Also dead to the world. So far so good. You step into the kitchen, which looks stripped bare. Disappointing, but expected. Past the kitchen, a cracked TV and the front door, completely blocked by the thick vine.

Satisfied, you let out a sigh and lower the gun. All empty; not a single caveman in sight.