'Excuse me,' said Ms Gresham to the Barbican security man. 'Hello?'
The guard's glassy stare swung and locked. 'No way out,' he said.
'Yes, thank you,' said Ms Gresham, 'that's what the man at the main entrance said too. But which way is the way out, please?'
The security man didn't move. He just stood there, arms folded, in front of the glass door. 'No way out,' he repeated dully.
After a couple of false starts - the way wasn't straightforward - Jasmine's group had found a walkway down from the upper circle to the ground floor of the Barbican's foyer. But as they did so, Jasmine had noticed something strange. The building's staff, in their orange armbands, had gathered from all areas of the complex. None of them spoke. Their radios remained on their belts. But they spread out wordlessly around the foyer's edges. Keys were inserted. Glass-panelled doors were locked shut. For good measure, the staff then stood in front of the doors, each one assuming the same position as the security guard: arms folded, glassy eyes staring emptily.
One by one, Jasmine realized, all the exits were being blocked. For some reason it appeared that the Barbican's staff wanted to keep everyone from leaving.
What was going on?
YOU ARE READING
Crawlers
Teen FictionFour boys and four girls are on a trip to the theatre. Little do they know that they will never see the play. They're about to be plunged into a nightmare. Beneath the theatre lies a secret. And now she has been released... This complete novel was p...
