You run rather blindly into the lobby, your eyes dazzled by the bright flourescent lighing of the main part of the building. You and your companions run toward the exit. You grimly reflect that two of the four others didn't make it, and it's just you and one man and one woman.
You pause by the concession stand, realizing that something is amiss. (Well, more amiss than what's already happened.) There are no employees anywhere. It's like the entire theatre let its staff go home. Also, the pack of werewolves is not charging out of the theatre after you. Another cacaphony of howling greets your ears, and the sound of a rutting mass of werewolves can be heard, which answers that question.
You glance at your remaining two companions. The first would be a blonde haired man, around six feet tall, rather athletic looking. The other is a petite redhead head, standing only five feet tall. Both look disheveled, and it's a pretty good bet that just like you, they'd been fucking werewolves before the chaos ensued.
"Why aren't they coming?" the girl asked.
"They're too busy fucking," you reply.
"We should get the hell out of here," says the man.
"You're right," you tell him, "We have to get off this fucking insane island."
"But there's no telling what ELSE is out there!" the young woman protested.
"You really want to take your chances with what's in here?!" The guy asks.