Disturbia «PREMIUM»

Elias backed against the window, the glass cold against his spine. He looked out at the street one last time. Every house was now bathed in that same ultraviolet glow. Doors were clicking open in unison. Figures were stepping out onto the wet asphalt, all of them turning their square-pupiled gaze toward his window.

The suburb wasn't a place. It was a circuit. And Elias was the surge that had to be grounded. Disturbia

"Elias," a voice whispered. It didn't come from the computer. It came from his own hallway. Elias backed against the window, the glass cold

He spun around. His bedroom door, which he’d locked an hour ago, stood wide open. The hallway light was out, but he could see a silhouette standing there. It was tall, its limbs slightly too long, swaying with the same rhythmic twitch as the sprinklers outside. Doors were clicking open in unison

Elias sat by his window, the blue light of his monitor casting a ghostly pallor over his face. Outside, the cul-de-sac was a perfect loop of manicured lawns and motion-sensor floodlights. It was a neighborhood designed for safety, yet Elias had never felt more hunted.

Suddenly, the feed flickered. A face appeared, filling the frame. It was Mrs. Miller, but her eyes were wrong—the pupils were square, pulsing with a faint, digital hum. She looked directly into the lens, her mouth opening unnaturally wide.

As the silhouette in the doorway stepped into the light, Elias realized with a jolt of pure horror why the neighborhood felt so familiar. The wallpaper, the smell of lavender, the specific crack in the ceiling—it was exactly like his childhood home.