Pyestock Diaries

Suddenly the relaxed atmosphere changed completely. We both froze. Something was wrong; some primeval sense kicked in and the adrenaline started to rush.

“Did you…?”
“Shhhhh…..”

I quietly walked further into the room, away from the door. Tom remained motionless. Our ears strained but all we could hear was the deafening silence. Quietly, and as quickly as we could muster, water was packed away along with cameras and tripods. Bags were zipped. We were ready to run, but were cornered as this small room only had one exit.

If you were to ask me, I’d have sworn I’d heard muffled bangs and voices; as if someone had come through the door at the end of the "brown corridor". And, if there was someone there, they probably heard us as well, as both groups lapsed into silence and stillness. Now it was a waiting game. If it was security, they’d have been more brazen and come straight up. Another group of explorers on hearing noises would’ve probably decided to get away themselves. So, thinking that was the most likely outcome, Tom and I quickly conferred.

“Let’s get out of here. Make a bit of noise. Hopefully frighten the others off.”

The view from the southern Air House office. 03|03|07 © Simon Cornwell 2007