Pyestock Diaries
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It sounded like the chug of a small engine. As it echoed around the buildings, it was impossible to try
and determine its direction. It got louder and louder and I was reminded of JonDoe's original warning
about security travelling around on a small motorbike or car. Was someone coming? We were out in the open and could
clearly be seen.
I ran around behind a pipe and crouched, scanning the road for the arrival of something. Marlon,
on the other hand, was nonplussed. "What?"
The noise got louder then gradually died away. Cautiously I emerged from my hiding place to find Marlon
looking at me quizzically.
"What?"
"That noise."
"What noise?"
"That engine noise – hang on..."
The sound rose up again, and again I found myself crouching in the gravel, trying to find some hiding place
amongst the giant hollow pipe sections and small walls. If only it was summer; the foliage would've hidden
us well but this bare leafless scrub wasn't going to help. I imagined a security patrol emerging at
any moment but from where? It was impossible to figure out the sound's direction.
Eventually with nothing appearing on the horizon and the noise still circling, I decided on a different hypothesis.
"I wonder if the noise is one of those model aircraft enthusiasts buzzing the place."
Marlon shrugged and I suggested moving on. What ever that noise was, it wasn't coming after us. Quickly
we moved south and further into Pyestock.
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Discarded pipes to the south of Number 10 Exhauster. 24|03|07 © Simon Cornwell 2007
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