The Panic Bar Below

The echo grew deeper as I reached the bottom landing. Stillness first. Head tilted. A tall metal exit door stood chained shut with an emergency crash bar, but resting on the cold riser was an abandoned red manual pull station. A thick plastic lever stuck straight out from its brass frame. I bounded onto the narrow concrete footing, talons scraping grey paint. Hooked both front claws over the lip. Downward drop with full chest weight. Clack-whir! The internal switch snapped flush with a ringing, hollow bite. A tiny indicator flag popped into view. Terrific click. Pathway sealed for the night.