FBI special agent William Carter pulls up, stopping his car in the picturesque, tree-lined suburban street. His surroundings are the very vision of archetypal 1950s America – modern houses, well-kept lawns and white picket fences. But something isn't right. The scene seems frozen, eerily quiet. There's no activity in the streets. No kids playing or selling lemonade. No guys working on their cars in their driveway. Something terrible lurks beneath this silence.