Sink: Old Man's Tale (5 page)

“No,” Graham said, waving his hands to stop the little man. “Don’t. It’s okay. We mean you no harm.”

Lights came on in the windows of the houses around them. Fellow little men and women poked their heads out of their homes, staring down at what, to them, appeared to be giants.

“Well,” Graham said to Jeremiah. “It’s been nice knowing you.”

He took off at a sprint, knocking the uniformed guard aside.

“Wait!” Jeremiah said. “You can’t leave me here!”

“When I get to the surface I’ll send help,” Graham said.

“You coward!” Jeremiah said.

“And proud of it,” Graham said.

Jeremiah turned to face the deluge of little men and women that surrounded him.

“Uh, hi,” he said.

It didn’t sore
Graham at all to see the little figures surrounding Jeremiah. The old geezer might even be able to fight them off, running through their town like King Kong.

Graham had never been much of a stay-and-fight type. He was much more into the self-preservation flight response. He ran into the darkness at a speed none of the little men could hope to match. But he was at a disadvantage: he didn’t know where he was going, or indeed if there was even somewhere he should have been going to.

The road split off in two directions. With no idea where he was heading, he turned left and hoped for the best.

Movement in the darkness.

Graham skidded to a halt. Uniformed guards ran at him, slings clutched in their hands. He turned back the way he had come, taking the right-hand road. He heard something whizz overhead, but didn’t look back. Another of the weapons sailed over his head: a pair of stones attached to a thin cord. He’d seen them before on history documentaries. They were designed to snap around a prey’s limbs and trip them up. Graham picked up his knees and made his strides as long as possible to offset their effectiveness.

He was drawing close to a tunnel. A series of tunnels, one next to the other. Good. They felt like the right way to go. He ran at the closest one. Then he felt a tug on his shirt.

He looked down to see a small pair of eyes and tiny hands. It was one of the little men! The little man slid down Graham’s body to his ankles, and held on tight. Two more of the creatures leapt off the craggy wall and latched onto him.

They wrapped themselves around his legs and arms like children desperate to go on a theme park ride. He pried off their fingers on one hand, and they would clamp down harder with the other. When he reached for the second hand they gripped with the released hand again.

“Get off me!” Graham said.

He looked back. A horde of them were running after him. Graham turned and ran, slightly slowed by the miniature men. It was only when they released their legs and dragged them along the ground, hooking around anything they could find that Graham really slowed.

Graham raised his fists to beat at them, but they were so small and delicate-looking that he felt like he would be striking children. He couldn’t do it.

The guards were catching up, shouting in their small voices like kids on a playground.

Graham, with more than a little hesitancy, pushed aggressively at the figures on his legs, prying at them and finally, with no other choice, punched at them. They were tougher than they looked, and, not an experienced fighter, Graham wasn’t used to dealing damage. He pried one of the little men off and tossed him aside. The others clung on like limpets, giving no inch.

“Come on, guys!” Graham said. “What have I ever done to you? Let me go!”

The horde caught up with him. They jumped, piling on top of him, wrapping around him with their strong bodies. Graham disappeared beneath them like a rugby scrum.

The guards
led Jeremiah toward a castle hewn from a rock that rose up from the middle of the huge cavernous space. They wound down identical corridors until they came to a large room decorated sparsely with well-appointed furniture. The guards closed the door behind Jeremiah. He heard the lock click.

The carpet was thin, a vivid red, like spilled blood. The cabinets had been refurbished to a high standard. Jeremiah noticed because it was something his wife had spent her life doing. She was a carpenter by trade, rare for a woman, especially one as dainty as she was. She had the skill to create really beautiful, ornate pieces, and was commissioned far and wide by people all over the world.

The guards hadn’t answered his questions, but they were gentle. Jeremiah tried each of the three doors in the room. They were all locked.

He heard a commotion down the corridor. The set of doors he’d been brought through banged open and a body was tossed inside. A guard gently placed Graham’s jacket on top of the heap, and then vacated.

Graham didn’t move for a while, preferring to just lay on the floor.

“Are you all right?” Jeremiah said.

“Just… leave me alone for a bit,” Graham said.

He stared into space. Then finally, he sat up. He rubbed at his ankles and wrists. His clothing was wrinkled and scuffed with dirt, but he was in otherwise good shape.

“How far did you get?” Jeremiah said.

“Far enough to know there are thousands of these little monsters,” Graham said. “I can’t believe this. I’ve died and gone to Munchkin heaven.”

He got up and moved to the first two doors. They were locked.

“I already checked,” Jeremiah said.

Graham checked the last door anyway.

“Locked,” he said.

He pressed his eye to a door crack and peered out. Next he tried the windows, grumbling to himself. Then he looked out of the huge arched windows. They peered down on the town from a great distance. No way they were getting out that way. There was nowhere to run.

Jeremiah took a seat at one of the large tall-backed dining chairs.

“We’ll just have to see what they want with us,” he said.

“How can you be calm at a moment like this?” Graham said.

“Because there’s no use in getting ourselves all worked up for nothing,” Jeremiah said. “Will you sit down? You’re making me dizzy.”

But Graham didn’t sit down. He pressed his hands against each of the ornate panels around the room.

“You’re never going to pull those panels off,” Jeremiah said. “They’re fixed to the wall. It’d be easier to tear the castle down.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Graham said.

“Perhaps I should run as fast as I can and leave a defenseless old man to the whims of God-knows-who,” Jeremiah said. “That sounds like a better plan.”

“Now you’re thinking,” Graham said. “I would have come back for you.”

“Sure you would,” Jeremiah said. “The moment after you changed your name and moved to Brazil.”

“Why Brazil?” Graham said. “I prefer Paraguay.”

He pressed his lips together.

“Would you have done any differently if the tables were turned?” he said.

Probably not. But Jeremiah wasn’t about to admit that. Holding guilt over someone could have its uses. It would make Graham think twice about doing it again. But looking at Graham’s nervous disposition, perhaps that was just wishful thinking. He would be off the moment he had the chance.

“What do you think they want with us?” Graham said.

“Steak, I shouldn’t wonder,” Jeremiah said.

“Steak?” Graham said.

“They’ll go for me first, I suspect,” Jeremiah said. “Use me as some kind of entrée. They’ll certainly fatten you up first. Good, lean meat like you. They wouldn’t waste that.”

“Thanks for the reassurance,” Graham said.

“What were you looking for in my drawers, anyway?” Jeremiah said. “My prized matchstick collection?”

“Nothing,” Graham said. “I wasn’t looking for anything.”

“A man doesn’t break into an old man’s house to admire the furniture,” Jeremiah said.

“I didn’t break in,” Graham said.

“The hole in the wall would beg to differ,” Jeremiah said. “You big city people are all the same. You come to the country and you think because you’ve got money you can push the rest of us around.”

“I don’t think I can push you around,” Graham said.

“It certainly felt like pushing,” Jeremiah said. “Your boss is a real piece of work.”

“I’m not my boss,” Graham said.

“Same suit, same hairstyle,” Jeremiah said. “If the suit fits.”

Graham ground his teeth.

“What does it matter now, anyway?” he said. “We’re trapped miles beneath the surface, in some kind of midget hell. It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing or where I work. We have to figure out a way to get out of here.”

“You ran the length of the town,” Jeremiah said. “What did you see?”

“Tunnels,” Graham said. “Lots and lots of tunnels.”

“One of them must lead back up to the surface, don’t you think?” Jeremiah said.

“Maybe,” Graham said. “But if one does, why are all these people still here?”

The tall doors opened and a small figure entered. He was dressed in a long red flowing cloak that trailed ten feet behind him. He wore a large gold amulet and walked with the grandeur of a Caesar before the Senate, head held high, chest out, taking long loping strides. He wore shoes with high heels and hair brushed up to look taller.

He looked Graham and Jeremiah over, barely moving his head, only his eyes working up and down. Then his harsh expression melted and he smiled broadly at them.

“Hello there!” he said. “I am Leader. Welcome to Api Penyucian.”

Graham and Jeremiah
just stared at the little figure. Graham was the first to find his tongue.

“You speak English?” he said.

“We all can,” Leader said.

“But none of the others spoke to me when I asked them questions,” Jeremiah said.

“Or when I swore at them,” Graham said.

“They’re under orders never to speak unless during the course of duty,” Leader said. “Makes for dull conversation, but very efficient guards.”

Graham and Jeremiah exchanged a glance.

“I apologize if our guards were not careful with you,” Leader said. “They are not used to handling Surfacers.”

“Surfacers?” Jeremiah said. “What’s a Surfacer?”

“Our word for people like you – from up top,” Leader said, “and not down here like us.”

“What are you called?” Graham said with a snort. “Undergrounders?”

“Actually, yes,” Leader said.

“Oh,” Graham said.

“Do you get many Surfacers down here?” Jeremiah said.

“No,” Leader said. “It’s been quite a while since we had a fresh Surfacer down here.”

Fresh. Maybe they were going to eat them after all. Graham gulped.

“Are you hungry?” Leader said. “You look a little thin.”

Graham vehemently shook his head.

“Where exactly are we?” Jeremiah said.

Leader smiled.

“If we knew that, we would have been out of here decades ago,” Leader said. “We know we’re underground – far underground – but we don’t precisely know where.”

“Deep underground?” Graham said. “But… we didn’t fall far. Did we?”

“I wish you hadn’t,” Leader said. “But you may have fallen farther than you realize.”

Jeremiah cocked his head to one side. Something about Leader’s statement had piqued his interest, but he said nothing.

“How did you and your people come to be here?” Graham said.

“Rather like you,” Leader said. “Our tribe fell through a sinkhole hundreds of years ago. A huge one. Our ancestors were tribesmen, out on a small island off the coast of Indonesia. Our whole island was swallowed. We’ve been down here ever since.”

“Centuries?” Jeremiah said. “Why haven’t you found a way out yet?”

“We’ve been digging,” Leader said. “Digging in every direction we can, trying to pick up hints of where we are and where we should be heading. It’s tough when you don’t know your starting place.”

“What do you do for food?” Jeremiah said.

Graham glared at him. Of all the questions to ask.

“Roots, mainly,” Leader said. “Bugs, crushed roots, and Mush, something we discovered while digging. Anything we can get our hands on, really. Another reason to dig in every direction. For food. We have hit water and oil many times and lost many of our people, but we keep digging.”

“How is it you can speak English?” Graham said. “Why not Indonesian or some other language?”

“Both you and our ancestors met in the past,” Leader said. “They traded. Our ancestors learned your culture and language.”

“That’s all very interesting,” Graham said with folded arms. “But how do we get out of here?”

“There is no getting out of here,” Leader said. “At least, not yet. Come for a walk with me. I’ll explain.”