Sink: Old Man's Tale (11 page)

“And then my son came around. I would have thought that of everyone, my son would have understood. Of all the people. He was meant to understand. But he didn’t. He wanted to spend time with his mother, to say goodbye. But she couldn’t stand goodbyes. ‘Better to always have the chance of saying hello again one day than saying a final farewell,’ she said.”

“It must be terrible,” Graham said. “To have loved someone your whole life, to know them inside out, and then for them to go like that.”

“She didn’t go,” Jeremiah said. “She was taken. Right when we were going to reap the fruits of our labors. We had retirement plans. We were going to travel the world, see incredible things. But when she left, those things didn’t seem worth doing anymore.”

“Do you ever regret marrying your wife?” Graham said. “If you knew you were going to hurt for so long after she was gone?”

“Not for a second,” Jeremiah said. “I would gladly suffer a thousand lifetimes of pain before sacrificing one minute with her. But I regret the way I’ve lived since she died. All that time… I could have done something, could have helped someone.”

Jeremiah smiled, but it was full of sadness. The man’s world had been torn apart. That was why he didn’t really care about getting out. He had fallen to a place far deeper and darker than the space he now occupied.

“How is he?” Jeremiah said.

“Who?” Graham said.

“My son,” Jeremiah said.

“He’s fine,” Graham said. “He’s working, saving, raising his kid. Surviving. Living.”

“Good,” Jeremiah said. “I have something for you. As we’re at the end of our journey – charming as it was – and never going to get out of here, you might as well have it.”

He reached into his jacket and took out some worn papers.

“They’re what you were looking for, aren’t they?” he said. “The deeds to my property. I keep them on me at all times.”

Graham looked at the old man. The thought of lying didn’t even cross his mind.

“Yes,” he said. “Uh, thanks.”

He didn’t quite know what to do with them. They really were useless in their current predicament. He folded them up and tucked them in his pocket.

“I realize this perhaps isn’t the most use with us down here either,” Graham said. “But I thought of a way for you to keep your house.”

“You’re right,” Jeremiah said. “It isn’t of any use. I already know a way. I’m staying, and that’s that.”

“You can believe however much you want that just staying in your house is going to keep you there,” Graham said. “But it’s not. The courts will rule against you and you’ll be forced from your home. They’ll knock it down and build on top of it. You’ll have no say in the matter.”

“Because I’m old?” Jeremiah said.

“Because you don’t know the system,” Graham said. “It’s like an engine. Pull the right cable, connect the right wire, and it stops. Or, you can make it do something it wasn’t designed to do.”

Jeremiah was quiet for a long time.

“If you help me they’ll fire you,” he said.

Graham shrugged.

“It was a crappy job anyway,” he said. “But even that beats being in here.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Jeremiah said. “If we ever get out of here and back on the surface, you can tell me your plan.”

“All right,” Graham said. “Deal.”

He offered his hand. Jeremiah eyed it for several seconds, pressed his lips together, and then shook it.

“You’re still a dipshit, though,” Jeremiah said.

Graham laughed.

“It’s nice to know we’ve done our small part in overthrowing the world, don’t you think?” he said. “Leaves a nice glowing feeling.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Jeremiah said. “It was me who built it.”

“Not only you,” a voice from the corner said.

The mound of rags reassembled themselves into a man. He threw his skinny legs over the side of the bed. He had a big bushy mustache and bright glowing eyes.

“And I’ve had enough of listening to you two petting each other,” he said. “I built most of the machine, so I’ll be the one going to hell, thank you very much. You only added the special ingredient.”

“
How long
have you been here?” Jeremiah said.

“Almost twenty years,” the mustached man said.

“What’s your name?” Graham said.

“Carlos,” the mustached man said. “Carlos Lopez.”

“How did you come to be down here, Carlos?” Jeremiah said.

“I was out in the Desierto de Tabernas, checking up on an oil pump that wasn’t working as it should,” Carlos said. “It’d been getting stuck often in recent weeks, and kept dredging up bog soil. So, I went down there to dislodge it again. That was when I sank through a sinkhole and couldn’t get out. I got trapped down here. Leader said they were having trouble digging through the soil and needed someone to build a digger. I jumped at the chance.”

“He spun us the same tale,” Graham said. “Did you have any family on the surface?”

“A wife and daughter,” Carlos said. “We weren’t on the best of terms when I left. I swear, if I could change the circumstances of how we parted…”

He shook his head. He’d no doubt suffered this same thought many times in the past.

“Have you tried to escape?” Graham said.

“Many times,” Carlos said. “The locals warned me about Leader and his plans. They drew a map on my palm and I ran. I was so close to getting out, I could practically taste it.”

“What did it taste like?” Jeremiah said.

“Like… Like blossoming flowers on the day of San Fermin,” Carlos said.

“That sounds nice,” Jeremiah said.

“Any idea of how to escape now there’s three of us?” Graham said.

Carlos shook his head.

“I’ve tried everything,” he said. “Nothing works.”

“Do you know what Leader is planning on doing with the diggers?” Graham said.

“They’re going to use them to create sinkholes,” Carlos said.

“Sinkholes?” Jeremiah said. “What use are they down here?”

“They’re not making them down here,” Carlos said. “They’re making them up on the surface.”

“What for?” Graham said.

“They’re going to weaken the earth below our cities to sink them,” Carlos said.

“Is that even possible?” Graham said.

“Oh, it’s possible all right,” Carlos said. “When the foundation to anything becomes weak the rest has to crumble.”

“How do you know this?” Graham said.

“I’ve been here a long time,” Carlos said. “You pick up things.”

“Sh,” Graham said. “Someone’s coming.”

Footsteps hurried down the corridor. The three men stood up as the door was thrown open. Graham ran through the door, elbows raised to jab whoever was there. He disappeared into the darkness. There were several smacks, like a butcher beating at a stubborn lump of meat. Graham fell back through the door and onto the floor. Then a little man was tossed to the cell floor beside him. He was hogtied and squirming. The door slammed shut, the lock turned.

Jeremiah bent down to untie the figure. Once he was free, the little man ran at the door, beating on it with his tiny fists.

“Let me out of here!” he shouted. “Let me out! Now! I’m a Chief Digger, damn it!”

“Chief Digger 138?” Graham said.

The little man turned. His face was swollen, red and purple. He had a cut across one cheek.

“What happened to you?” Graham said.

“They beat me,” Chief Digger 138 said. “They threatened my family.”

“It’s okay,” Graham said. “It’s not your fault.”

“I told them what I told you,” Chief Digger 138 said. He addressed both Graham and Carlos. “Both of you.”

“Now they know there’s an exit tunnel?” Graham said.

“They already knew about it,” Chief Digger 138 said. “I could tell by the smiles on their faces. They already knew!”

“What do you mean they already knew?” Graham said.

“They’ve been gathering information about the surface for years,” Chief Digger 138 said. “Like our ancestors. Looking for weaknesses. Ways to exploit you. They’ve been studying you for years. Maps. Everything they need to attack. They never intended for us to return to the surface.”

“Carlos told us,” Graham said. “They’re going to use the diggers to sink our cities.”

Chief Digger 138’s face screwed up and he beat at the prison door again.

“They don’t stand a chance,” Graham said. “Not against our modern weapons.”

“Are they designed to fight underground creatures?” Chief Digger 138 said.

“No,” Graham said.

“Then what makes you think they’ll be effective against us?” Chief Digger 138 said. “They’ll think they’re natural disasters, nothing more.”

“We have to get out of here,” Graham said. “We have to stop them.”

“How?” Carlos said. “I’ve been in here twenty years. There’s no way out.”

Stray stones rattled across the floor and bumped against walls and their shoes. The room felt like it was shaking.

“What’s going on?” Graham said, pressing himself against the prison door.

“It’s the far wall,” Chief Digger 138 said. “It’s about to blow!”

“What do you mean it’s about to-?” Graham said.

Boom!
A rush of small rocks and dust descended like a curtain. The rumbling had stopped, and when it began to settle they could make out a large square-shaped shadow with a few bumps on it. A dancing ball of light grew larger as it moved toward them.

“There might not be a way out of here,” Chief Digger 138 said. “But someone can make a way in.”

The dust settled, revealing Chief Digger 138’s wife and kids straddling a digger.

“You stole it?” Chief Digger 138 said.

“No,” Chief Digger’s wife said. “We just borrowed it.”

They beamed with big grins.

After three
hundred years, today would mark the crowning achievement of all their hard work. His engineers had backward engineered the power converter with ease and assembled their own. Innovation might not be their forte, but copying and improving on an old idea? That was easy.

The guards brought out the power generators and assembled them in long lines throughout the town. They were bizarre devices, something Carlos cooked up years earlier. Someone would sit on it and pump a pair of peddles around in a circle, generating power. This power was then funneled into the diggers via cables. A pair of guards were in charge of each set of cables to ensure they unwound without kinks or blockages.

Leader stood on a castle balcony overlooking the town square. The locals were packed in, watching him.

“Brothers and sisters, today we shall take our rightful place up on the surface,” Leader said.

He paused, expecting them to cheer. None did.

“This is what we and our ancestors have been striving for our whole lives,” he said. “This is our moment to rise from the depths and continue our plans for domination!”

The people had blank expressions.
The look of the dumb masses.
They’d spent too long staring at blank dirt walls. Leader wished he could give them the vision his eyes saw, of the little man reigning supreme over the Surfacers. Didn’t they realize what he was giving them? A chance to make amends for all the wrongs that were done to their ancestors? That was the reason he was in control. He alone saw what they needed to do, and it was his will they were carrying out, for all their benefit.

“Take your place on your power generator,” Leader said. “We begin now.”

But they did not move. Were they so stupid not to realize what they were about to do? To shake the very foundations beneath the Surfacers’ feet and send them running in fear. Leader glowed at the thought of it.

Leader turned and nodded to the guards. They stepped forward, swords raised. With their boots and pointy helmets they were a fearsome sight. The town folk’s resolve broke and they headed toward the power generators. They each climbed on, even the kids, on specially-made smaller versions.

“Begin,” Leader said.

At first it was difficult to get the pedals moving, but once they did, they got into a rhythm. The pedals turned and the power flowed through the cables to the diggers, currently sat perched at the tunnel entrances. The guards hit the power buttons and the machines began to chug, the engines turning over. First one, and then two, and then a dozen, and soon the whole town was alive with the rattle of engines. They moved forward, their drill bits spinning in place. They entered the tunnels, rising up the inclines.

They met the earth walls. Dirt and stone billowed up out of the tunnels, rising as a dirty curtain that descended over the town and peddlers. The giant drill bits carved their way into the soil with ease. A day’s worth of digging completed within a couple of minutes.