Carl pushed the door open.

The air that rushed up from the dark stairs was freezing and smelled of sulfur.

Carl pulled a small black flashlight from his pocket and clicked it on.

The beam of light illuminated the steep concrete steps.

“Watch your step,” he said. “It’s damp.”

We descended slowly, the cold air biting at our faces.

At the bottom of the stairs, the basement was vast and dark.

Pipes ran across the low ceiling like thick veins.

The sound of dripping water echoed in the silence.

Carl shone the light toward the center of the room.

The main boiler was a massive, cylindrical iron unit, painted green.

It was silent.

The low hum that usually vibrated through the floorboards was completely gone.

Carl walked over to the pressure gauge on the side of the boiler.

The needle was resting at zero.

“The pilot light is out,” Carl said, shining the light on the burner tray.

“Can you relight it?” I asked.

“It’s not just the pilot,” Carl said, his voice grim.

He moved the flashlight beam down to the copper intake pipes.