At a contentious meeting in a normally placid suburb, parents erupt in anger, demanding to know just what their children’s teacher has been telling them. The teacher looks shellshocked, young and tiny among a surging crowd of middle-aged concerned citizens, choking out a few tentative sentences before being overpowered by the outraged roar, as her principal makes an ineffectual stab at restoring order. As the teacher makes her way back to her car, she has to push her way through a throng of cameras and smartphones, while people keep screaming at her: What did you do?

In Zach Cregger’s Weapons , the parents have good reason to be upset. Seventeen children have gone missing, rising as one in the dead of night and running out into the streets, and every one of them came from the same clas

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