"I don't hear anything," Anderson said quietly.
"Agreed. But if they're at the front of the house we wouldn't." Stern gestured toward the kitchen door, then climbed over the edge of the broken, leaning porch and crept to the door. He slowly rose up to peer through the grimy glass that filled the top half of the door. After a moment, he sank back down, and motioned for Anderson to follow him.
Climbing onto the porch, Anderson moved to the far side of the door, waited until Stern moved back, then reached up, turned the handle, and slowly pulled the door open. Stern moved in first, rising to full height as he stepped into the kitchen. He motioned and Anderson followed him, carefully pulling the door shut behind him.
Two handguns lay on the counter next to plates of half-eaten sandwiches and potato chips.
"Idiots," Stern muttered and took one of the guns, checking it thoroughly and waiting as Anderson cleared the second weapon.