We slipped out of the car, the freezing rain soaking through my clothes in seconds.

We crept along the brick wall, our boots splashing quietly in the shallow puddles.

I found the heavy iron grate set into the foundation of the building.

It was rusted, the padlock hanging loose from years of neglect.

I pulled the grate upward, the metal scraping softly against the wet stone.

“You first,” I whispered to Denise.

She slid down the concrete chute into the darkness, followed quickly by me.

We dropped onto a heap of old coal dust and dry dirt.

The air in the basement was thick, smelling of sulfur, wet mortar, and old grease.

I pulled a small flashlight from my pocket and switched it on, keeping the beam low.

Huge iron pipes ran across the ceiling, sweating condensation onto the concrete floor.

Above us, we heard the muffled thud of footsteps on the wooden floorboards of the kitchen.

“We need to find the old coal cellar wall,” I said, my heart beating in my throat.

We moved quietly through the labyrinth of storage crates, broken chairs, and empty wine racks.