I pause in front of one that looks particularly empty. It looks like it was once a comfortable middle-class house, with flowery curtains in front of the windows and a potted plant near the front door. But the plant has dried out, and the white slash across the door has cracked and faded. One of the small windows on the second floor is broken. Inside is completely dark.

“We should take a look,” I say. I take a mask from my belt and gloves from the infirmary that Casey gave me. We still don’t know for certain if the plague spreads by touching the same surfaces. We deal with it by not taking any chances.

Sofia hesitates. “Here?”

I ball my hands to fists to keep them from shaking. “Here.”

“Didn’t we have anyone left who got convicted for burglary?” she asks, and it’s clear she tries to make it sound like a joke, but it lands like a gut punch. Sofia sighs. She reaches for her own supplies. “Never mind. Window? Door?”

“Let’s try the door first.” I walk over and half-heartedly give it a push. I expect it to be locked, but it creaks and swings open to a darkened living room. The little bit of light filtering in around me and through the windows illuminates the shapes of furniture. I hold my breath, waiting for any sound to come from the inside, but what greets us instead is a deep silence.

My nose itches.

When my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can see the chaos in front of me. The sofa has been overturned, and what must have been once a coffee table is cast aside and has a crack down the middle. Everything else looks normal enough. The cabinet along the wall hasn’t been opened. The drawers are all where they’re probably supposed to be. No one stole the TV off it either.

But someone pushed their way in and had to make room.

I take a deep breath and step in, and the second thing that hits me is the stench. The putrid, sweet smell of rotten flesh. I gag, I can’t help it. Behind me, Sofia makes a muffled sound then dashes out again and vomits. I want to gulp in fresh air, but I’m terrified of opening my mouth. The smell is so heavy, I can taste it.

I manage another minute of edging my way in, but by then, my stomach is protesting so loudly, I dash back outside like Sofia did and retch.

“We can find another house,” she hisses, while she’s still wiping her mouth.

We could. But the trouble is, “I don’t know which other ones are safe yet.” We could keep mapping. Give it another day or so, but I’d feel far more confident if we could stockpile extra food now. To be safe. To be sure.

“I’ll try again,” I manage. Trembling, I reach for the small bottle of water in my backpack and use it to soak my mask. I don’t know if that’ll be any better, maybe it’ll make it worse, but I hope the layer of cold will protect my nose.