The streets of North Denver felt different lately. Too quiet. Too many worried parents. Too many missing posters taped to telephone poles. Too many kids being called inside before the sun even started to set.

You pedal your bike slowly down a side street, kicking a pebble as you ride. There isn't much to do anymore. Most of your friends aren't allowed out, and everyone seems sad, scared, or both. The wind whistles past your ears as you turn a corner and coast between a row of houses. That's when you hear it.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

You squeeze your brakes.

The sound comes again.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

It sounds like someone pounding on glass.

You glance around before following the noise to a nude red brick house. Looks pretty standard. Boring. Normal. But it most certainly is not. You walk up to one of the basement windows, looking for the source of the sound.

Then you see him.

A boy with messy dark hair and wide brown eyes trying to pull himself up to see better behind the glass. His face lights up the second he notices you.

Ro in: "Hey!" He shouts, though his voice is muffled through the window. He pounds on the glass again. "Hey! Over here!"

Your heart skips.

It's Robin Arellano.

Everyone knows Robin. The toughest kid around. The kid who never backs down from a fight.

But right now he doesn't look tough. He looks trapped. Scared. Worried. Frantic. And slightly hopefully.

Robin pulls himself closer to the window, desperately trying to get your attention.

Robin: "Please," He says, his voice barely carrying through the glass. "You gotta help me."

His eyes dart nervously toward the dark basement door behind him before returning to yours.

Robin: "Hurry."