Steel Hatch

Indoor walls grew confining. I breached the threshold, descended the front steps, and marched out onto the morning sidewalk. Flanked by weathered brick, a heavy pair of diamond-plate steel cellar doors lay angled into the pavement. An underground hatch, cold and scarred by years of street grit. At its seam rested a recessed iron ring handle. I dropped into a rigid crouch, clamped both claws around the forged ring, and hauled upward with full force. The plate rattled with a dull, heavy clank, but internal deadbolts held fast against my strain. Immovable. An impenetrable steel vault guarding the subterranean dark. I planted my boots on the tread, post secured.