Aaron

I opened my eyes and listened hard.

Nothing. No sound. I frowned a little. Why wasn't my mom snoring? Where was Dad's gentle 'cooing' as he slept? I couldn't even hear little Anna's voice. She was usually awake at this hour.

I looked over at my cousin, crumpled on the floor. I panicked and leaped up on the bed. I crouched down and reached out my hand, then curled it back. Instead I stuck out my foot and let it hover over him for a moment. Then I prodded him gently. Nothing. My heart caught in my throat. No, he couldn't be. I just hadn't kicked him hard enough. So this time, I kicked him… hard. Right in the back.

"Motherf--!" John shot up from the floor in fury. "What the heck, Aaron?!"

I was relieved, but suspicious. "Why weren't you snoring? You always snore."

John gave me a dirty look. "Because maybe I wasn't sleeping." He sighed, rubbing his back sorely. "I woke up and was trying to figure out why when you poked me. I thought you were sleeping 'till ya kicked me!"

I cocked my head to the side. Odd. "I woke up for some reason, too."

"Yeah. But it couldn't have been a raccoon or anything 'cause I haven't heard a single thing since I woke up."

John and I simultaneously looked at each other. I ran to the door and jerked it open.

"Mom?... Dad?... Anna?" I called down the hall. My voice was uncomfortably loud in the quiet house. I slowly opened the door wider and walked cautiously down the black hallway. I could hear John feeling his way behind me. I didn't have to. I'd walked through this hallway numerous times in fifteen years. I stopped and wrapped the doorknob in my clammy fingers. I turned my hand until I heard a sharp click. I pushed it open and snapped on the light.

I gasped and turned the light off again. Then I shut the door. John was peering curiously at the closed door behind me.

"Are they awake?" he asked.

"N-no." I told him, my voice cracking. I turned him around and guided him to the kitchen. I turned and slid both doors shut, locking them, then walked to the counter and picked up the phone.

"Who are you calling?" John asked. He was smart. He was catching on.

"Shh," I said as I dialed the short number. The phone rang a couple times then clicked as someone picked up. "Hello? 911?"

John paled as I talked on the phone, explaining what I had seen. I was glad I hadn't let him look inside the room.

I told the authorities the story again and again as they filtered through our house, looking for clues, I guess. It wasn't until they left me and John alone that I noticed the ambulance and police cars two houses away, too. I stood and looked closer. Everyone there was busy talking to each other and moving bodies into the ambulance.

"That's all of 'em." A man said, closing the door as he loaded a body in.

All of them?

"John," I said, nudging him awake as he slept beside me.

"Mmm."

"Isn't that Elle's house? Ella Warner?"

"Mmm." He opened one eye lazily to glance where I was pointing. "Yeah."

"John," I said again. "She's dead."

"Dead." He echoed. His face collapsed in pain. He opened his eyes, awake now. I saw the red and blue lights reflected in his eyes.

"What about the family in the next house over?" a man asked.

A second man sighed. "all taken care of now. The house is empty.

"Hmm." The first man paused. "Did it… was it the same thing as here?"

I didn't know if the second man nodded because they were behind us.

"I feel worst for the kids," the second man whispered.

"I know," the other agreed. This is the eighth case I've seen like this in the last few days."

"I've seen about seven myself." The second man sighed. "They all end up the same. Kids call us, parents are dead."

"Must be some kind of chemical or somethin'," the first man grunted and lumbered off.

"Fifteen families this week." I breathed in astonishment

John didn't say anything.

I was dreading tomorrow.