Their bodies tensed, a shudder running down their spines as their eyes flared open in shock.
Their muscles locked, Arma squeezed tightly into a ball while their shoulders slumped down, slow breathing taking root in their chest.
Their eyes flicked to one another, yet their heads did not move. As if a silent message was being transferred to the other. A warning of some sort, or perhaps a mental plan.
But that was dumb. None of them were psychic.
Yet they still did it. Subtle, without physical movement. Just a nudge of their head, as if glancing at each other would give them a better view of their predicament.
But it didn't.
What came next was a footstep, then footsteps. Slowly, purposefully, one by one, two by two, group by group.
From a door within the darkness. Hidden. Unknown. Confusing.
For a moment, Darrell could have sworn they were the only ones present in that area.
The front of the Lecture Theaters was hardly ever used. Not for anything worth noting.
