In the backrooms, the children gathered from the slums cowered in fear at the sounds coming from outside.
Although it wasn't right to call them children. They were all fifteen, yes, but life in this sort of environment often stimulated premature maturity.
They had seen things most adults dared not imagine. They weren't children. And yet here they were—trembling in fear at the blood-curdling screams and the dull thudding of feet… or bodies. Perhaps both.
"What the hell is happening out there?"
One of them whispered.
The rest didn't respond.
Fortunately, the conflict didn't last long. After a few pained groans, the voices outside gradually began to die down. It didn't take long for those groans to vanish completely.
The night became still. Silent.
Faced with such an ominous calm, the teenagers didn't know what to do. They were caught in a silence more terrifying than the noise.
Then—
The handle to the room they were crammed into dipped down. The door creaked open.
