The door opens into a poorly-lit cavernous space. There are fading lines on the grey concrete, dividing the area up in to parking bays, and criss-crosses which should be kept clear. Your footsteps sound damp, and it appears that there’s enough rain coming down outside to seep under the rattling, banging automatic roller door to wet the floor. You walk around to where the lifts are, then over to the roller shutter doors.

The doors seem ill-fitting, especially at the bottom, where there’s a gap big enough to get a hand through. You try and lift it, and the mechanism’s so slack that you can pull up one corner more than far enough to crawl under. You carry on your tour of inspection, and you’re almost back at the door to the stairs when you spot, in one corner, what looks initially like a pile of discarded plastic and rags.

You shine your torch beam at them, and realise that they’re moving.

Do you:

Go back to the stairs.
Go over to the corner.