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in place.
           "What the fuck?" Sid moved into the light of the overhead sodium bulbs and looked down at the lock.
           "Jesus." The main body had been crushed, the solid casting looking as if it had imploded. The steel hoop section was twisted backwards. If Sid hadn't known better he'd have thought something had been chewing it.
           With the lock in his left hand Sid fumbled with the clasp on his belt in an attempt to release his radio and shout Norman. The stud clicked open and he pulled the radio free, raising it to his mouth and then pausing when he heard the muffled laughter from outside the church.

           "Who's there?" Sid peered through the railings.
            Silence
           Sid strained his eyes, the surrounding woodland distorted by an oozing fog that swept between the trees like a perpetually moving sea of grey. He tried to listen for the sound again, almost sure it had been the giggling of a young child. But that was impossible, wasn't it?
           "Hello?" he shouted; the sound of his own voice dead and flat.
           "What're playing at, Sid?" Norman crackled over the radio.
           Sid lifted the radio and depressed the talk button. "I wish you wouldn't watch me on those damn cameras, it creeps me out."
           "Just making sure you're safe."
           "Something's been fucking around with the gate." Sid turned and held the lock up to the nearest camera.
           "Do you want me to come out?" Norman queried.
           "No, I'm gonna take a quick look around and then I'm coming straight back."
           "OK. Tea or coffee?"
           "What?" Sid replied, confused.
           "Tea or coffee, to drink?"
    "Coffee." Sid replaced the radio in his belt and waved at the camera before resting his palm on the butt of the pistol.

           He thought about pulling it from the holster, rubbing the handle as he considered the option. He'd never had use it before and he doubted he'd need it now. It was probably some local youths fucking around outside the perimeter. He didn't fancy being brought up on charges for shooting an innocent teenager. Instead he moved his hand around the belt and pulled out the long, black cased torch the company had supplied. He flicked it on and pointed it ahead as he pushed the gate open.
           The gate squealed, the hinges grating in protest at not being oiled and Sid stepped outside the church.
           "Hello," he called in as manly a voice as he could manage, better to scare people off than meet them face to face. "You might as well go home, nothing worth stealing here."
           Sid spun left at the sound of running footsteps and the wheezing chuckle that passed his ears on the cooling breeze. He ran the torch light across the tree line, but the fog had thickened, acting like a wall of cotton wool. The laughter came again and, this time, it was from over to the right.
           "This ain't funny," Sid yelled. "If you keep fucking around someone'll get hurt." He warned.
           "Yes they will," came the reply. "You." Sid heard the words and felt the breath on his ear.
    He reeled around in a full circle, disoriented and scared. The fog was drawing in and, even though he wasn't far from the gate it was already obscured from view. Sid turned his head from left to right, attempting to get his bearings, but all sense of direction was lost.

           "Hurt," said the voice and Sid felt a burning pain in his thigh.
           He looked down and saw the dark stain spreading over his beige uniform trousers. Suddenly he was light headed and his legs gave out from underneath him. Sid collapsed to his knees and swayed for a moment before keeling over backwards. He felt cold as he looked up through the fog at the night sky and its pattern of flickering stars.
           "Hurt," the voice repeated and finally Sid saw his attacker, right before it