hellingly | the gt hine lock-in

The security guard pulled on his coat and stepped out into the morning sunshine. The wind was blowing harder and he expected rain. The run was over and the finishing line, banners and barriers were being packed up and driven away. Soon the asylum would return to a quiet, lonely, derelict ruin.

The car-parks were empty, the only vehicles remaining being loaded with the paraphernalia for the runners. Except there were three other cars, now conspicuous, all empty. Where were their owners? He started his patrol.