“You’re sure the dial’s readin’ right?” Clive flicked his finger on the gauge, hoping it would show there was some error.
“Yes, Sir! I’ve gone through the checklist twice.” Wilson wrung his hands together, wishing there were something he could do.
Clive turned to Mark, “We got a procedure for this?”
Mark snorted. “You kiddin’? This isn’t s’posed to happen. This here’s full proof. When those Coats left us here, they said it’d hold forever so long as we kept puttin’ coal in it.”
“Yeah, well, it almost ain’t holding now, and we’ve on’y been here six years!” Clive chewed on his tongue, trying to think of something they could’ve missed. The pressure hadn’t changed, but the door had started moving.
“Um, excuse me?” Wilson interrupted his thought. “Is it broken?”
Mark looked at him solemn-like. “No. It’s right as rain.”
Wilson glanced from one to the other. “I don’t understand.”
“Our meter on the door’s gone haywire. This pump’s not holdin’ that door in place any longer.”
“So it is broken.”
“No. It just ain’t winnin’ anymore.”
“What do we do?” Wilson asked, earnest and a bit fearful.
“Pray, son. Pray.”