He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me behind the thick stone archway.

Daniel dropped to his knees, covering his head with his arms.

A deafening crack shattered the silence, followed by a brilliant flash of white light that seeped through the cracks of the cellar door.

Even behind the stone wall, the pressure wave vibrated in my chest.

The smell of magnesium and burnt paper drifted down the stairs.

“They know we’re down here,” Marcus whispered, his voice tight.

He reached into his vest and pulled out a heavy steel bolt.

“We have to bar the door from this side,” Marcus said.

He looked at the iron brackets bolted into the stone frame of the cellar entrance.

The old wooden bar that belonged in those brackets was gone, likely burned for firewood decades ago.

“We need something to slide into those brackets,” I said.

My eyes scanned the dark room, landing on the heavy iron pipe running along the base of the wall.

“The water main,” Daniel said, following my gaze.

“It’s decommissioned,” I said. “But it’s threaded into the brick.”