The shake became a strong, persistent thump that Leo’s surfacing consciousness insisted it could ignore. It was followed by a crash, several sharp bumps, and what sounded to Leo like forty footfalls, all wearing clunky, heavy heels. His eyelids snapped open. He was gritting his teeth so hard, his cheeks bulged. Something screamed—a long, wiggly sound that was either child or demon—and with the window open beside him, it was loud enough that whoever was making it could have been in bed with him. He heard his upstairs neighbour slam the window shut and the sound did quiet…in the way that a transport truck rumbling past sounded quieter than a train.
Nine or twenty children went running from one end of the apartment to the other.
Something crashed into the ceiling.
Something else shattered.
A door slammed.