Sink: Old Man's Tale by Perrin Briar Page A

it.
    “What if we put a current through the magnets we do have?” Graham said. “That’ll make them stronger, right?”
    “Yes,” Jeremiah said. “But that’s what we need the magnets for in the first place – to make power.”
    Graham let out a groan.
    “I can’t believe we’re stuck down here because of fridge magnets,” he said. “I’ve got a ton at home.”
    He stood up.
    “No!” he said. “I refuse to be beaten by this.”
    He paced up and down the room. He stopped, looked at the machine, and then turned to face Jeremiah.
    “What if…” he said, before trailing off and shaking his head. “I’ve got nothing.”
    “If I don’t get back soon they’re going to demolish my house,” Jeremiah said.
    “You don’t know that,” Graham said.
    “But I do know it,” Jeremiah said. “They’ll find I’m not there, see the hole and assume the worst. They won’t spend much time looking for me. They’ll fill the hole in and demolish the house. And that’ll be it. If you don’t get back, what happens? Nothing.”
    “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life down here,” Graham said.
    “You think I do?” Jeremiah said.
    “At least you don’t have much time left to wait,” Graham said.
    They were silent a moment.
    “My boss said he heard rumors about you back in town,” Graham said.
    “Oh?” Jeremiah said.
    “A rumor about what happened to your wife,” Graham said. “One day she just up and vanished.”
    Jeremiah didn’t respond.
    “So there’s no truth to it?” Graham said.
    “There’s always some truth,” Jeremiah said. “Even to rumors.”
    “Then what did happen to your wife?” Graham said.
    “I murdered her,” Jeremiah said. “And then I diced her up and buried her in the Outback. Depending on which version you hear.”
    Graham couldn’t tell if Jeremiah was joking or not.
    “The cops would have arrested you if it were true,” Graham said.
    “Not if there wasn’t enough evidence,” Jeremiah said.
    “They would have searched your house top to bottom,” Graham said. “They would have found something.”
    “They didn’t,” Jeremiah said.
    Graham gulped.
    “They searched your home?” he said.
    “Top to bottom, as you said,” Jeremiah said. “Even the police have to act on rumors.”
    “I used to come to your house, you know,” Graham said.
    “I know,” Jeremiah said. “Snooping around. I still don’t know what you were looking for.”
    “I meant when I was a kid,” Graham said. “Don’t you recognize me?”
    Jeremiah looked at Graham close, but there was no recognition there.
    “No,” he said.
    “I was Stuart’s friend,” Graham said. “There are pictures of me in your photo albums. I used to come over at the weekends and play. You would cook big breakfasts for us.”
    Jeremiah’s eyes moved to the side. He remembered something.
    “Stuart had a lot of friends,” he said.
    “You really don’t remember me?” Graham said.
    “I said I didn’t, didn’t I?” Jeremiah said.
    “I remember you,” Graham said. “You weren’t always this grumpy. You were fun and carefree, once upon a time.”
    “That was a long time ago,” Jeremiah said.
    “What happened to you?” Graham said.
    “Life happened,” Jeremiah said.
    “Your wife was alive then,” Graham said. “You were different.”
    “We all were,” Jeremiah said.
    “But you especially,” Graham said. “Maybe if you were more social people wouldn’t make up stories about you so much.”
    “You think I care what they think?” Jeremiah said. “I don’t care. People will say and do what they want. I’m not a part of their lives any more than they’re a part of mine. I just want to get back home.”
    “I keep in touch with him, you know,” Graham said.
    “With who?” Jeremiah said.
    “With Stuart,” Graham said.
    Jeremiah blinked, casting an eye over Graham.
    “Only by social media,” Graham said. “We’re not close. But I see his newsfeed from time to time. He’s