One of the younger girls was crying, loudly, near the back of the room. A slim brunette tried to comfort her, stroking her hair, whispering gently. One of the three boys was glaring at her. “Shut her up,” he growled.
“She’s terrified,” the brunette said. “I’m trying to calm her down.”
“Shut her up,” the boy repeated. “Or I’m going to.”
He moved closer to the girls, tightening his grip on the crowbar he carried. Another boy, older by a few months, shoved him into the wall and held him there.

“Chill the fuck out,” he said. “You aren’t helping.”
“She’s going to lead those things here if she doesn’t stop freaking out!” The girl, who had calmed down somewhat, began to sob again.
“She does need to quiet down,” another girl, a blonde, chimed in. “Then we can figure out what’s going on.”
“We already know what’s going on. You saw them, just like we did. The question is, what are we going to do now?”
A low, gutteral moan came from beyond the door. They all turned towards it as the crying girl began to shriek.