The sun is setting over the nearby mountains, bringing with it a somber tone. Looking around me, I can see everyone's smiles appearing as though they have been crudely drawn by a young child. Upon further thought, I realize mine probably looks like that as well. Across the street, the kids have real smiles as they throw water balloons back and forth and stuff their faces with potato chips. 
We are at another one of our annual neighborhood block parties. When you take into account the Johnson's kid, I am not sure why it is still being held. But, like seemingly everyone else in the neighborhood, I still have to show up and pretend like I haven't heard about it. So we are all faking happiness as we eat our overdone burgers and make small talk with people we hardly even like.
At the moment, I am talking to a man, who lives on the next street over, about politics. Well, he is talking. I am nodding along, occasionally chipping in an "oh yes" or a "so true". This is how these parties usually go for me. Even though I have lived in this neighborhood for about three years now, I never really fit in with the community.
The man, I believe his name is Tom, is just starting to talk about how progressive taxes are the way the government is punishing us, when I feel a tap on my lower back. I quickly turn around, feeling a little bit on edge, to see my daughter, Paige. She's sopping wet, with remnants of water balloons strewn throughout her hair. I mutter something along the lines of "Sorry, this will only be one second" to Tom, and begin picking the colorful rubber bits out of her tangled hair.
"Looks like you've been having fun" I laugh to her. 
"Yep!" She respond happily, then begins shifting her weight from foot to foot anxiously. "Hey, Mommy? Do you know where Lila is?"
The question takes me by surprise, and I freeze. Quickly, I rack my brain, trying to find an answer. I look around me, making sure no one has heard the question. I don't know why, it's only a question, but this sickness seems like a taboo subject. While my eyes flit across the neighboring yards, I see that Tom has moved on to his next victim, and they look just as bored as I felt. But her question... Lila Johnson, the Johnson kid, Lilliana, Patient 297. That's who Paige is talking about. She recently contracted the virus that every other kid has gotten, or maybe she went crazy. No one really knows. But we know she isn't the first person to kill someone in her family by biting their necks and letting them bleed out. 
"She's sick." I finally come up with. I guess it's kind of true, so I hope Paige won't be able to sense the nervous undertone in my voice. 
"Okay!" Paige says cheerily. Thankfully, she's oblivious to the truth. She then ducks out from under my hands and starts running off to continue playing with her friends.
I begin to turn around then change my mind. "Paige!" I yell after her. "We're going to go back home now!"
She stops in the middle of the road and looks back at me. I can tell she doesn't want to go, but she's a good kid and I know she will listen to me. "Let me just say goodbye to my friends first!" She calls back. She then proceeds to continue on and hug her friends, then runs back over to my side. "Okay. Mommy, I'm ready now." 
We begin to walk home. The party was held a few blocks away from our house. I don't know why I didn't leave earlier, because I really don't enjoy walking in the dark. The light and sound of the event has finally faded away when I hear a scream. I don't know how I know, but I am positive that a kid has just sunk their teeth deep into their mother's neck. I grab Paige and rush her home, not wanting her to see what has happened. 

As soon as we get home, I put Paige to sleep. If someone else did get the virus, I need to keep her away from everyone. Including me. I don’t know if that will help, but it's the only thing I can do. Nobody knows one bit about this thing. Well, we know our children our contracting some thing that turns them into someone – or something – else. We know that if they have it they will probably try and kill us, and we know what we don't know – how to stop it. There seems to be no symptoms, no telling signs, and no cures. So all we can do is take the thing that was once our child away to quarantine, but only after it's done its damage.
There are no facts. Everyone has theories as to what this thing is, but no evidence. That's part of what makes it so scary. We don't know what to do, or how to save our kids. We know nothing at all.
I need to make a decision. I can leave Paige cooped up in her room for days, or we can leave. I don't know if either of these will help, but I have to do something. This isn't where to go for dinner, or what shirt to buy. This is the safety of my child, and me, and the whole community. This is life or death.
I run over my options again. I could leave her in her room, or we could run away. If I leave her in her room, she will be safe and won't catch it, and if she does have it, she won't infect other people. But I don't even know if she has it. I don't remember if she hugged that little boy... What was his name? I can't seem to remember if I even bothered to learn it, so I pull my phone out from my pocket and search him up. Victim 298, Jack Harrison. That is Tom's son, Tom Harrison. The man I was talking to may have been exposed to the virus... He may be dead now. 
Okay, other option, we could run away. I could drop everything – my job, my life – but at least we would be safe.  
I run up the stairs, trying not to trip on the ripped carpet, and burst into her room. It's completely normal. So normal, in fact, I can hardly bring myself to wake her. So normal I begin to wonder why I came to wake her. The glow-in-the-dark stars are shining brightly above her bed, the sheets tucked snugly around her sleeping body. I want to shut the door, for she looks so  peaceful. But I can't think like this. I need to wake her up, get her out of bed. I need to save her.
I call her name from across the room, with no response. Walking closer I try again, then again, until finally she opens her eyes, looking curiously around the room before finding me.
"Mommy?" She asks. "What are you doing?"
"We need to go." I respond calmly. The art of being calm in stressful situations is something I have mastered after having her. "We're going to go on a little trip."
"Okay!" She says happily, obviously oblivious to what is happening. I jump up and start packing. Well, more like throwing clothes into bags, but it serves the same purpose. After I have a fair amount of clothes packed for each of us, I move onto food. I'm about to pull open the fridge doors when I realize that's a bad idea. We could be gone for days, or weeks, or longer. Bringing perishable food is a bad idea, so I move on to the pantry. I throw in cereals and bars and dried fruit, cringing at what our diet will be like in the near future.
By the clanging in the kitchen, I can tell Paige is downstairs and trying to find food. "Hey honey!" I yell over to her. "Meet me in the car!" 
Without waiting for a response I run outside to our beat up Volkswagen and jump in. Paige follows soon after, still in her pajamas with her arms wrapped tightly around a teddy bear that she has had since she was a baby. She stumbles into the door,, drops her bear, then finally finds the handle and makes it into the car. 
I start the car and am pulling out of our driveway when I realize I have no clue where I'm going. Here I am, sitting in our driveway at 10 o'clock, tracing my fingers through the intricate details of the crinkled leather the steering wheel, and trying to hide my daughter from a virus she probably doesn't have. Great. I run through all the places we could go, but draw a blank. Sadly, I don't happen to own a large cabin secluded in the woods. And I don't own a warehouse to... But my dad does. He has a warehouse. I don't know why, and I hardly remember where it is, but I know he has one. I restart the car and pull out of our driveway, ready to find this place that will keep us safe.

Three hours later, twenty-seven wrong turns, and two failed maps later, we're there. It looks dark, and cold, and very unsafe, but I can't bring myself to care. I don't know what else to do. I practically pull Paige out for the car, along with our stuff.
"Where are we?" She asks. Her wide eyes are glancing  around the dark land, taking everything in. 
"We're just going to stay here tonight." I try to sound upbeat, but it's getting increasingly more difficult
We walk up to the warehouse, only to see that the lock has been broken – probably not a good sign – and the loose door is hanging on it's last hinge - also not a good sign. I can tell Paige is scared, and to be honest so am I, but the only thing that's important now is escaping this virus.
I throw our luggage into the middle of the empty room, surveying our surroundings. There is a chair in one corner. One of those folding chairs that looks about fifty years-old. Three of the seven windows are broken in in one way or another, letting the cold night breeze rush through the room.
Paige is shivering next to me, so I reach up and pull her into my arms. I see the glint of her eyes as she nestles her head next to mine. Soon, she's peeling my hair off of my sweaty neck. It doesn't take me long to realize that that glint wasn't her eyes, but her teeth.
And those teeth are now buried deep in my neck.