Read Sink: Old Man's Tale for Free Online

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.

Chapter Eleven
     
     
    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.

Chapter Twelve
     
     
    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