The car slowly drove into view. It was the familiar security patrol we’d just avoided during our last
trip. Luckily the driver was looking towards the road and we were well hidden by the undergrowth. He drove past,
but we knew it was only a temporary reprieve, as he was driving down a dead-end. At some point, he would turn
around and come back.
We pushed on and finally reached the toilet block. Every window was covered with plywood, and a thick coat of
anti-burglar paint on the window sills made even a cursory exploratory push a delicate operation. Climbing
through one was not an option.
We sat in the brambles in the searing heat and chewed on our disappointment. Eventually the drone of the car started
again and we waited for the security patrol to pass a second time. We now judged it safe to move out of our dead-end
hiding place and make the long walk back across the northern wastes of Pyestock, back towards the now
familiar (and friendly) confines of Cell3.
