wytchcroft

Transport. The sun was setting now low over the broken metallic teeth of a dozen wrecked vehicles, pieces of machinery - motors, wings, doors, wheels and the what-nots, all piled up into a crude semi-circular wall, with many more strewn across the sandy space of the yard itself.

Not an easy place to walk straight across - from the gate to the crumpled looking shack of an office. Not without tripping over something.