The night is dark and silent, as am I, as I glide across the yard. With long strides, I quickly separate the distance between myself and the vehicle idling down the street. I am careful to avoid the gravel driveway. A car passes by on the street and I duck to avoid being caught in its yellow headlights. I smile to myself as I hop up from the dew dotted grass.

It has been a long time since my buddies and I have tried anything like this. We stopped last summer once the neighbors started catching on. The second cops started snooping around we changed our agenda and stood quietly on the sidelines. The leaves had changed color, snow had fallen and covered our tracks, and as the spring broke through the ice and the days became longer we decided to give it another shot.

Now, with the moon hanging crooked in the sky, and lightening bugs guiding our way to the open window, I slink along. “pssst.”

I freeze, only for a split second, before realizing that it was just one of my buddies. “You nearly gave me a heart attack man!” I whisper shout at him.

He chuckles under his breath, “Hey, I’m here to help you.” His white teeth show against the black night and I feel my heart return to its normal rhythm. “The window is cracked,” he nods toward the window that is open about two inches, “just like you said.”

“I do my research,” I whisper to him. I gently place my hands on the window and jiggle it slightly. The window glides up another four inches or so. I share a look with my buddy, jiggle once more, and we both smirk as it slides up all the way. “Let me know if you see or hear anything?” I ask.

“As always,” he pats me on the back as I hoist myself up and through the window. I land lightly on my fight, a muted thud resonating around me. “Sayonara,” my buddy flicks me a quick wave, and then begins to shut the window.

I begin to familiarize myself with my surroundings. There is a piano directly in front of me that is decorated with pictures of what I can only assume to be family members. To my left is a large wood table with stacks of unopened mail piled high. A thin layer of dust covers everything. I begin to wonder if the old lady who owns the house is on vacation, but I doubt my own luck. I watched her car pull in two days ago, and I haven’t seen anyone leave since. I walk into the kitchen, careful to keep my step light. Dishes are piled in the sink and the air smells like fish, or maybe old potatoes. I leave the kitchen and head towards what I believe to be the bedrooms. I find a pink tiled bathroom that smells of ivory soap. The shower curtain hangs on a crystal rod and a few lipstick tubes sit on the counter. I drop to my knees and begin ruffling through drawers. I find a few jewelry boxes but nothing worth any value. I shove them aside and dig past a role of paper towel. My fingers scrape something cool. I pull out a little metal box with the initials KL engraved on the front. “Bingo.” I whisper. Inside the box I find a string of pearls and what I assume is an old wedding ring. The band is gold with three large diamonds set on top. I zip them into the inside pocket of my hoodie and carefully arrange the boxes back to how I found them.

Past the bathroom I find two bedrooms, one empty and one occupied by the house owner herself. Her body is a mass tucked under striped satin sheets. I tiptoe into the room and can tell by the lady’s stiff posture that she is a heavy sleeper. I silently slide open a drawer and dig my hands through her clothes. At first, I turn up nothing but old photographs and pill bottles. On my third drawer, I find an envelope. I glide my finger along the seal, and yell a curse word when the paper slices my finger.

I freeze. The air around me is silent. I slowly turn towards the bed and find that the lady is still sleeping. Amazed, I put my bleeding finger in my mouth and open the envelope with one hand. Inside, I find at least ten twenty dollar bills and stop. I slowly unzip my hoodie, if the swearing wasn’t enough to wake the old lady up, I doubt my zipper will. I tuck the envelope into my pocket, next to the jewelry, and shut the drawer. I cross the bedroom in two short strides and pull the top drawer of the other dresser open. It doesn’t budge. I give it a harder pull, and then another. It comes flying open and I stagger backwards, the weight of the drawer pressed against my chest. Then suddenly, the weight is gone. The drawer goes crashing to the ground. The sound bounces off the walls, loud enough to even wake the neighbors, let alone the lady in the bed. I am dashing out the door in a split second. A realization pops into my head. There is no noise in the house. I do not hear the old lady stirring, shouting, or rising from her bed. I poke my head back into the bedroom and see that she is still an unmoving mass in her bed. My heart skips a beat, as I think of the dust and rotting food.

“Man? What is going on? Get out! Get out now!” I hear from the window. But I am frozen in place. I am staring at the old lady. I cross the room in two, no longer silent, steps. Her body looks strange and unnatural. I resist the urge to run away and instead, place two fingers on her chest.

Nothing. No heartbeat. No breath. No frightened eyes. No life. I quickly back away from the lifeless lady. I am desperate to escape the cold feeling now seeping through my body. I bump into a lamp and jump a foot in the air as it crashes down beside me.

I am leaving. I am flying out of this house as fast as my now shaky legs will carry me. I am attempting to escape death. I reach the window and see that my buddy has already flung it open. “What are you doing man? We gotta get out of here! I think the neighbors are waking up!” He is right. The house to the right is now lit up in a way that it wasn’t when we ran across the lawn.

“The-the lady,” I stammer, “The old lady. She’s dead! Dead in her bed!” I stuff my hands into my pockets and feel the small bumps the pearls have made in my hoodie.

“That should make it easier!” My buddy says. “She can’t even hear you!” My buddy’s voice sounds far away, as if I am listening from the other end of a tunnel. “We have to go.” He tells me, but my feet can’t move. I can’t see the ground ahead of me; I can only see the stiff body of the dead women in the bed.

“You go,” I say. “I’ll be right behind you.” He takes off running across the yard and disappears from my view. I think I may throw up, or faint. My head feels as if it has been detached from my body. A strange monster has taken up residence in my chest. I briefly wonder if this is what guilt feels like. Thinking fast, I pull out my cell phone and dial the three numbers I have come to fear.

“9-1-1 what is your emergency?” A calm voice asks from the other line.

“Yeah…I think my neighbor is dead. She isn’t moving or responding.” I am surprised to hear my voice waiver.

“We’ll send someone right away.”

“Thank you.” I end the call and take a second to collect myself. I see the dead women. I see the stacked plates and dust. I see her, alone. How long has she been there? The last two days? No one noticed she was missing? No one was concerned when she didn’t answer the phone?

I hear a door open somewhere down the street. There is a sick feeling in my stomach that only intensifies as I grab the money and jewelry from my pocket. I fling the women’s belongings through her open window and take of running.

By the time I reach the car, I am out of breath and trembling.

“What happened?” My buddy behind the wheel asks.

“She was dead!” I gasp, clutching the stitch in my side and my flipping stomach.

“Did you get anything good?” My other buddy asks.

“No,” I say, “she was dead.”