Sink: Old Man's Tale Page 9

  “You can still get out of here,” Chief Digger 138 said. “They’re not using the exit tunnel yet.”

  Graham and Jeremiah exchanged a look.

  “No, we’ll help you,” Jeremiah said. “It’s our fault the machines are here. We have to shut them down.”

  “Carlos?” Graham said.

  “Yes,” Carlos said, though he sounded hesitant. “I will stay too. Though I will not throw what remains of my wasted life away on some foolish plan.”

  “How do you want to handle this?” Graham said.

  “Why are you asking me?” Jeremiah said. “What do I know about putting a stop to plans for global domination?”

  “You’re the engineer,” Graham said.

  “So is he,” Jeremiah said.

  “I don’t know,” Carlos said. “But we have to stop those diggers otherwise they’re going to get to the surface and wreak havoc.”

  “We need to cut the power,” Jeremiah said.

  “How do we do that?” Graham said. “Chop off their legs?”

  “We cut the cables,” Jeremiah said. “No cables, no power.”

  “We’ll need sharp tools to cut through those things,” Graham said.

  “How about the guards’ swords?” Chief Digger 138 said. “The guards all carry them.”

  “Where do they keep them?” Jeremiah said.

  “In the guards’ camp,” Chief Digger 138 said. “With them all guarding the tunnels like this, there can’t be many inside.”

  “Then how are we going to get close to the cables without them stabbing us in the process?” Jeremiah said.

  “Maybe we should leave them to it,” Graham said. “This isn’t our problem.”

  “And what about all the people up on the surface?” Jeremiah said. “The ones who will lose their lives to these terrorists? We have to do something to stop them. It’s people like you who wouldn’t lift a finger to stop the krauts and Japs during the war.”

  “I’m not sure we should have,” Graham said.

  “At some point you have to stand up to bullies,” Jeremiah said. “No matter who they are or where they’re from.”

  “This from a man who has given up living life,” Graham said.

  “I haven’t given up,” Jeremiah said. “I just didn’t know what to do with my life. But now I know. I helped build these damn diggers and I’m not going to let them misuse them like this. Technology is meant to free people, to make the world a better place. Not this.”

  “Then we’ll need a distraction,” Carlos said.

  “Someone needs to threaten Leader,” Jeremiah said. “He’s up in the castle all by himself. The guards are all busy. They’re protecting the diggers and tunnels.”

  “I’ll go,” Graham said. “I’m the fastest. I’ll get there sooner.”

  “You’re also the strongest,” Jeremiah said. “We’ll need you to hack at the cables. You’ll be more valuable down here. I’ll go. I’ll distract him and the guards.”

  “You’ll need an escape plan,” Graham said. “For when the guards catch you.”

  “They won’t kill me,” Jeremiah said. “I’m too valuable as an engineer.”

  Jeremiah got up and ambled – ambled, because to call it running was to insult the sport – toward the castle.

  “Jeremiah,” Graham said.

  “Yeah?” Jeremiah said.

  “You take care of yourself,” Graham said.

  “It’ll be him I take care of,” Jeremiah said, nodding to the figure on the balcony. “Misusing my tech.”

  He turned and hustled toward the castle.

  “What should we do now?” Chief Digger 138 said.

  “Now, we get ourselves armed,” Graham said.

  There was a crack from one of the tunnels, like a cannon going off. Chief Digger 138 was the first to react, turning to look in its direction. The town folk slowed their peddling, a sense of wariness coming over them.

  “What is it?” Graham said.

  “A breach,” Chief Digger 138 said.

  “What kind of breach?” Graham said.

  “Water,” Chief Digger 138 said.

  His tone was dead, hollow, like a child looking under the bed for the boogie monster.

  A loud roaring rush surged through the tunnel. But the guards reacted fast, and turned a wheel that brought a heavy metal door across, blocking it off. A feather of water splashed over them at the last second, the rest of the torrent thumping the heavy door. It held. The guards were out of breath, eyes wide and fearful.

  “Move to the next tunnel,” Leader said. “And keep peddling.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Jeremiah thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He leaned against the hard stone wall, the breath sawing out of his lungs. He stumbled back, on the very edge of a wide stone step that, if he were to fall down, would mean a broken hip and probably a lot worse.

  Whose dumb idea was it for the eldest of the group to climb the Everest of steps to distract Leader? He knew it was his own, but he didn’t want to admit it. He felt dizzy. Any moment he was going to collapse. He gritted his teeth. With one hand clamped tight to his chest, the other on the stone wall, he continued on up the stairs.

  His feet came to a thick red carpet. He could feel the quality through the soles of his shoes. He unclenched his eyes and saw an opulent richness enjoyed only by the superrich over the peasant masses. There were items behind delicate glass cases that should have belonged in the museum for everyone to enjoy, and a modern kitchen like in a house on the surface. It made Jeremiah sick to think Leader lived like this when so many struggled to survive in the town.

  Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He approached the heinous excuse for a man before him. Leader had his hands clasped behind his back, looking down on the town below.

  Jeremiah tried to approach silently. It was so tempting to shove the evil little man over the side to his death. Jeremiah was old, and they were hundreds of feet below the surface. No laws existed down here, did they? And even if they did, these people would hail him as a hero for ridding them of their evil leader. He was surprised his conscience was clear and would let him do it. He’d never been the murdering type. But then why should he be surprised? He’d been so distant from people for so long he’d lost all apparent empathy for them.

  But all his rumination was negated as he wheezed up behind Leader, who turned and blinked in surprise at seeing the old man.

  “Jeremiah,” Leader said. “How nice to see you.”

  There goes the element of surprise.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “We’ll come with you,” Chief Digger 138’s children said. “We’ll get weapons too, and fight!”

  “You and your mother will go home,” Chief Digger 138 said. “You need to protect each other. Understand?”

  He was looking at his sons, but he was clearly speaking to his wife. She ran her fingers through his thinning hair.

  “Be careful,” she said.

  “You too,” Chief Digger 138 said.

  His family left.

  Graham, Carlos and Chief Digger 138 ran to a squat cubed building the little man assured them was the guards’ barracks. Chief Digger 138 pushed the door open and peered inside.

  “It’s empty,” he said.

  Tidy triple-tiered bunkbeds lined the walls in endless rows. They entered an adjoining room and found a number of large cabinets with shiny swords inside. Graham pulled on the door, but it didn’t budge. He gripped it with both hands and tried again.

  “We’ll never get the doors open,” Digger 138 said.

  “It’s just a lock,” Graham said. “I’m sure we can pry it open. Or smash it. It’s glass.”

  “It’s not glass,” Chief Digger 138 said. “It’s diamond.”

  Graham double-took Chief Digger 138’s expression.

  “You can’t be serious,” Graham said. “It’s the size of a small shed!”

  “Diamonds are common down here,” Chief Digger 138 said, a
s if talking about tulips.

  “Then how do we get it open?” Graham said.

  “We can’t,” Chief Digger 138 said.

  “Then what do we do for weapons?” Graham said.

  “We’ll have to find something else, I guess,” Chief Digger 138 said.

  “Like what?” Carlos said. “We don’t have time!”

  Chief Digger 138’s eyes glazed over. Then he looked up, a smile curling his eyes.

  “I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Follow me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “I see you’re putting my digger to bad use,” Jeremiah said.

  “Now, now,” Leader said. “There’s no need to be like that. They’re my diggers. I’ll use them how I like.”

  “I’ll be how I bloody well please,” Jeremiah said. “My machine was meant for good, to get you and your people back to the surface. Instead you’ve tainted it and turned it into something ugly. A weapon.”

  “There is no good or bad,” Leader said. “Only purpose. Ships were meant to ferry products and people from place to place, they were not designed for war, and yet it was that breakthrough that led to the British dominating the world.”

  “You won’t dominate anything,” Jeremiah said. “We’re going to stop you.”

  “‘We’?” Leader said.

  Leader turned to look down at the town, his eyes searching. And that was when he must have realized his mistake because he spun around, just in time to catch Jeremiah as he fell forward and pushed his weight against the evil little man, toward the balcony railing.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Graham, Carlos and Chief Digger 138 held shovels with glinting edges in white-knuckled grips. The digger center was somewhat less decorative than the guards’ camp. Dirt covered every surface, as if this place too was built within a tunnel.

  The three men looked up at the castle’s balcony.

  “What’s taking Jeremiah so long?” Carlos said.

  “Maybe he never made it to the top,” Graham said. “He probably didn’t make it past the first few steps. I’ll go check up on him.”

  Chief Digger 138 grabbed Graham’s arm.

  “No, wait,” he said. “Look.”

  Leader’s tall red hat spilled over the balcony railing, drifting to the ground. Two heads bobbed against one another.

  “Do you think Jeremiah’s up there?” Graham said.

  “Could be,” Chief Digger 138 said. “He’s going to strangle him! He is. He’s going to do it!”

  His grip grew tight around Graham’s arm. Out of fear? Out of excitement? Graham couldn’t tell. But then Leader pushed back, and the two figures disappeared from view again.

  “The guards haven’t noticed them,” Carlos said. “What’ll we do?”

  “We have to let the guards know,” Chief Digger 138 said.

  He took off at a run, toward the guards at the closest tunnel. They were unfurling a pair of long cables as the digging machine pushed relentlessly on.

  “Guards!” Chief Digger 138 shouted. “Guards!”

  He bent over, bracing his weight on his knees, doing his best impression of someone who’d been running for a long time.

  “What are you doing here?” a guard said. “Get back to your power generator.”

  “Leader…” Chief Digger 138 said, puffing. “He’s… in trouble.”

  The guards looked up at the balcony’s lip, overhanging like a tongue from the castle’s top tier. Two figures were locked together in a dance.

  “We’ll take care of this,” a guard said. “You get back to your power generator.”

  “Will do,” Chief Digger 138 said, turning and pretending to jog away.

  The two guards took off, shouting to the guards on the tunnels to either side of them, leaving their tunnels exposed too.

  “This is our chance,” Graham said.

  “What happens when the guards catch Jeremiah?” Carlos said.

  “Like he said, he’s too valuable to dispose of,” Graham said.

  “Are you sure about that?” Carlos said.

  No, but thinking otherwise only jeopardized their mission.

  They ran toward one of the exposed tunnels, checking left and right for any sign of more guards. They brought their shovels down on the cables, hacking at them with the sharp edges. With two strong strokes, the cables were cut, and the rumbling of the digger at the end of the tunnel ceased.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  It was a battle of wills. Leader was small, but in the prime of his life. Jeremiah was bigger, but past his prime, and so they pushed against one another, with dominance passing from one to the other.

  “Give it up old man,” Leader said through gritted teeth. “You’ve got nothing left to live for!”

  “No,” Jeremiah said. “I’ve got a eucalyptus tree that needs me!”

  Jeremiah pressed all his weight against Leader, holding him by the arms and forcing him back inch by inch. Their muscles shivered and shook under the strain.

  Jeremiah was going to throw himself at Leader. After all, what else did he have to live for? If he died, plummeting to his death, who would care? He had alienated everyone in his life, had forced himself to live in purgatory. He was the man-island everyone always quoted as being unable to exist by itself, but they were wrong. He could survive by himself, and he had. But he had no intention of dying by himself. If his life meant nothing, then at the very least his death could have meaning.

  But he hesitated.

  He did have something to live for. He had his son, his grandson, his daughter-in-law. He had everything to live for. He wasn’t an old man waiting to die. He was an old man with a need to change. But his life had become a meaningless routine with no stimulus to change. Change cannot occur in a vacuum. He had a reason to live, and that was why he couldn’t throw himself over the side of the building with Leader. If Leader was going to die, he needed to do it by himself.

  This left Jeremiah with a problem, but it was swiftly tugged away from him as a dozen pairs of hands seized him and pulled him back. He hit the stone floor hard and felt a tooth loosen.

  “Let me up!” Jeremiah screamed. “Let me up!”

  “Well done, men,” Leader said, straightening his robes. “If he’s out, the others will be too. Find them and throw them in the dungeon. This time under armed guard.”

  The guards pulled at Jeremiah. The old man scrabbled and clawed at the ground for purchase. His fingers snatched a handful of thick carpet fibers. They didn’t tear. Instead, the whole carpet lifted up.

  A shiny boot stepped on his twisted fingers.

  “You won’t get away with this!” Jeremiah said through gritted teeth. “You won’t!”

  “I already have,” Leader said, applying pressure.

  Jeremiah lost his grip.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chief Digger 138 ran ahead, playing out the same routine about Leader being in trouble. It never failed. And as he ran to each tunnel he required less and less acting to show how exhausted he was.

  Meanwhile, Graham and Carlos ran along behind him, hacking at the thick bundles of cables. The shovels were blunting fast. At first they needed just a couple of swings for the cables to snap, now they needed two dozen. The digger inside the tunnel, still running on residual power, dug a few more inches before stopping. The locals continued to peddle, finding the resistance lessened, but none the wiser.

  Graham wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his arm.

  “Another one down,” he said.

  “Only ten million more to go,” Carlos said.

  “Let me go, you savages!”

  Jeremiah screamed bloody murder as one troop of guards pulled at him from one direction, and a second pushed from the other. Several others worked on peeling his fingers from the castle’s doorframe.

  “You keep going,” Graham said to Carlos. “I’ll go rescue the old man.”

  “I’m not sure he’s the one needing rescuing,” Carlos said.

 
The guards pried one hand off, and while beginning on the other, Jeremiah grabbed the doorframe with the first hand. While he was distracting them Graham might actually have a chance to mount a good offensive. He ran, yelling, and threw his body against the guards, knocking them downhill.

  Graham picked one up and spun him around like an Olympic hammer and let go. He sailed through the air and landed painfully three meters away. Graham kicked and punched at the little men in uniform. He’d long since lost his reticence. The guards might not have been bad people, but they were carrying out the orders of their leader, which made them culpable. They deserved to be punished.

  Graham reached down with a hand to help Jeremiah, but the old man ignored it, and pushed himself up onto his own feet. He looked at the flattened little figures.

  “I loosened the top,” he said.

  “More than loosened it,” Graham said. “I’d say you near pulverized it.”

  Jeremiah grunted. Graham thought he caught the hint of a slight lifting up at the corners of the old man’s mouth. Then his eyes bulged.

  “Run!” Jeremiah said.

  A fresh wave of guards was heading right for them. Graham turned to run, his legs aching to sprint. But Jeremiah still hadn’t fully recovered from his ordeal and limped forward.

  “Get out of here!” Jeremiah said.

  The guards roared, brandishing their swords.

  “I said go!” Jeremiah said.

  He pushed Graham, but it was so weak it had no effect. Anger flared up in Graham like a geyser. He would have laid the old man out if he’d been half his age. Instead, he gritted his teeth, grabbed the old man, and swung him over his shoulders into a fireman’s lift.

  “You’re a fool!” Jeremiah shouted. “Imbecile! Moron! Idiot!”