Ellen Burkman walked into her kitchen and frowned.

Something didn’t seem right, something was missing, but she couldn’t tell what.

Slowly she looked around, scanning the room for what might be wrong. But she didn’t find anything.

As she looked around, suddenly she realized what was bothering her.

The quiet.

The children where out of school for the summer and normally they would’ve been running through the house by now.

Running and screaming, doing what children do during the summer.

But today was different, today it was quiet, almost eerily quiet and Ellen turned around, hurrying out of the room and up their stairs to the children’s rooms.

First she opened the door of Paul the oldest, he was thirteen and always seeming to try her patience, but today he was laying in bed, quiet.

Slowly she walked up to him and reached out, touching him gently, then gasped when he rolled over to look at her.

His eyes were glassy, and his face was pale.

He was sweating profusely, as she touched his face, her hand came away damp.

“I don’t feel well mom,” he mumbled, and she realized he was right.

He had a fever, a high fever and she hurried out of his room, intent on checking on her other children.

Marcie and Millicent her ten year old twin girls had fevers too, and she went to the phone, afraid that the onset of some childhood disease was growing close.

“Dr. Markus,” she said, “Paul, Marcie and Millicent are all sick. Yes they have a high fever, yes all of them do.”She listened for a moment and her face paled.

The doctor had told her that all the children in town had the same thing, and suddenly she was even more fearful of disease.

“I’ll bring them in right away,” she said, and hung up the phone.

Somehow she managed to get the children, dressed and into the car, driving them to the town doctor.

The sight that greeted her, was one out of a nightmare.

Pale, glassy eyed children, ones she had known for years. Normally high spirited and joyful, now silent zombies.

Quickly she sat the children down, and purposely looked at a magazine, not wanting to look at any of the children.

Finally the receptionist called the children’s names and she stood up, ushering them into the examining room.

The doctor came in and looked at each of them carefully, before looking at her.

“This is the same thing all the children have,” he said, “and I’m sorry to say, I have no idea what it is.”

“What am I supposed to do?” She asked and he put his hand on her arm comfortingly.

“Take them home,” he said, “try and get their fever to go down. If it gets worse, bring them back here.”

She nodded and ushered her children out of the doctors office and into the car.

Once home she put them each to bed and made them cold compresses, hoping that would lower the fever.

Then she waited, and worried.

Suddenly she jerked away, not realizing she had gone to sleep.

Slowly she sat up on the couch and wondered what had awakened her.

She stood up and went up the stairs, opening Paul’s door.

He wasn’t in bed and she felt a momentary panic, running quickly to the twin’s room and opening their door.

Paul stood over his sister’s, a dead cat in his right hand and a knife in his left.

Ellen watched in horror and disgust as he calmly gutted the cat, then put the knife down, taking the cat’s blood and smearing on his face, and the faces of his sisters.

Ellen gasped, and Paul turned around, a strange smile on his face.

“Hello mother,” he said.

She turned and ran, toward the stairs, hearing the thumping of her son’s and daughter’s footsteps, coming after her, stalking her.

Quickly she ran outside and toward her neighbor’s house, screaming in fear as she heard their footsteps getting closer.

She made it to her neighbor’s house and pounded on their door, before noticing the door was ajar.

She pushed it open and stepped inside, suddenly aware that her children had stopped following her.

She walked into the living room and screamed, seeing the dead, decapitated bodies of Miriam and John, her neighbors.

She turned to run and stopped with a gasp, behind her, had gathered, not only her children, but it seemed like every child in town.

Paul walked forward, the blood on his face, the knife in his hand and smiled the strange smile again.

“The children have decided,” he said, stepping forward again as she stepped back.

“The fever has made us decide,” he said, stepping forward.

Ellen stepped back, then screamed as she stumbled over the dead bodies of her friends and fell on top of them, into their blood.

“The fever has made us decide,” he repeated, “to take over the town. This is our town mother, you and the others are not wanted, you must be taken care of.”

He stepped forward and raised the knife, as Ellen whimpered in fear.

“I feel much better now,” he said, then brought the knife down as Ellen screamed.