Tom Simpson - Sink

Once reaching the bowels of the mountain the pipes were attached to nuclear powered pumps that would divert the water either to or from the existing aquifer depending on the computerized signals from the many sensors placed around the lake.

The hissing noise grew louder as the water pressure separated the connection even further apart. A two-inch diameter stream of water jetted through the firmly packed earth surrounding the many pairs of pipes and it began eroding into the never before disturbed dirt outside the circumference of the original tunnel. The depth sensors around the lake monitored the slow sinking of the water level and signaled the pumps to pull more water out of the aquifer.

The stream of water dissolved the dirt until it reached a three-inch thick layer of limestone. A drilling effect began almost immediately because of the softness of the rock. The water persistently punched at the crumbly rock until finally the stream broke through and plunged forty feet in a wide arc till it hit the bottom of a large cavern. The water joined the swift moving underground river and blended unnoticeably into the current.

The large cavern, hollowed out through many millions of years of water erosion when the water level was much higher was seventy feet wide by sixty feet long. It had a series of old river passages that had dried up thousands of years ago forming a Swiss cheese effect in its limestone walls.

The PVC pipe, succumbing to the constant water pressure, separated and hundreds of gallons of water began dissolving the dirt behind the three-inch thick cavern wall. The exit hole began slowly growing larger and larger allowing more and more of the dissolved dirt to flow into the underground river. This process continued undetected because of the brilliant design of the many sensors keeping the lake at a very manageable level.

Sam (Stretch) Sidel was in a foul mood. Stretch was always in a foul mood. He had spent most of his adult life in one penal institute or another and he felt the world owed him big time. This latest temper flare he blamed on his goody goody brother Steve. Big shot at that computer company he worked for. Making megabucks. All he asked him for was a few lousy hundred to tie him over till his next break came along-the next rich widow he could sponge off. Sure most of them were ugly but, what the heck. They had the money and all he had to do was sweet talk them and tell them they were the most wonderful thing in the entire world. They were starving for attention and they almost shoveled the cash at him just for being nice to them. Once he drained them of their funds he would find another pigeon and move right in. Unfortunately, he usually couldn’t stomach them after only a short while and he would steal everything he could and take off like a bird in their car. That was always the problem. The cops would always seem to know it was a stolen car when he drove past and he would always wind up doing time again.

This is going to be different this time he assured himself. He had the ultimate plan. No more petty thefts. He was going for the big time. He would call his ex prison pal Frankie Medford first thing in the morning and lay it all out for him. When Frankie was released two weeks before Stretch, he had given him his phone number for his aunt’s house in Ohio. Frankie had said if he wasn’t there she would know how to reach him and they would plan a heist when they were both out of prison. Now was the time and Stretch had what he thought was the foolproof plan.

The idea had come to Stretch when he had visited his uppity brother at Datafuture. He was left alone in his brother’s elaborate office for a good half hour while Steve had attended to some dumb problem that had come up. His brother had just finished telling Stretch about the new resort and all the security arrangements his company was providing and how everybody that was anybody was going to attend the grand opening. Steve had acted like it was a big pain that he had to go and make sure all the rich people were protected from lowlifes like Stretch’s pals. Stretch didn’t really argue about that fact because he knew all his friends were losers but that didn’t give Steve the right not to give his own flesh and blood money when he needed it. Steve had used the old excuse that if he didn’t get a job and earn his own money then it wouldn’t mean anything and he would just blow it on drugs and booze. His brother might be correct in what he was saying but Stretch still didn’t think Steve would shun his own little brother.

When Steve’s phone rang he had asked the caller if the problem could wait but apparently it couldn’t so his brother promised he would be right back. Looking around the office, actually snooping, which was definitely in Stretch’s character, he discovered a gold mine in the third file drawer he looked in. There were four copies of the security setup along with complete blueprints of the entire resort. Stretch figured no one would miss one copy of the plans and blueprints so he had stuffed them under the cheap sports coat the prison had supplied and wasn’t too upset when his brother had handed him only sixty bucks and wished him good luck finding a real job.

Sam(Stretch)Sidel drummed his fingers impatiently against the steamy glass on the inside of the front window of the bar. The rain had abated for fifteen minutes then clamored down twice as hard as before the lull. The pay phone was attached to the front wall next to the window and the pelting from the rain made the previous conversation with Frankie almost impossible. Frankie had promised to call him right back but the phone remained silent. Just as he was about to say “fuck it” and go back to his rented ramshackle room the phone rang.

“Where the hell have you been?” He shouted into the phone. “I’ve been waiting over an hour for you to call me back.”

“Calm down son.” Came an elderly voice on the other end of the wire. This is Frankie’s aunt calling back. He wanted me to call you and tell you he will call you back at two thirty sharp. He said he had something to do that was very important but, he would make sure he called you at two thirty.”

“Okay dammit. But tell him I’m not a happy camper. I’ve been waiting in this stupid bar listening to the stupid pouring rain while stupid Frankie was doing something stupid. Just tell him I’ll be at the phone at two thirty and he’d better call me then.”

“I’m sure he will dear. I’ll make sure he calls you. Bye now.”

Stretch slammed down the phone and peered through the misty glass at the clock hanging over the jewelry store across the street. Five hours to go he thought. What the hell am I going to do for five hours? He decided to go back to bar and down a few drafts to kill some time. He had been Shady’s Bar and Grill since 8:00 am on Sunday morning. They opened early since they were low class enough that they did not want to miss out on any paying customers no matter what day of the week it was.

At precisely two thirty Stretch walked back over to the pay phone and breathed a sigh of relief because the rain had quit about one hour before and he might be able to actually hear a conversation. He was thinking that Frankie wouldn’t call but he was in a lot mellower mood since he had consumed eighteen Budweiser drafts while waiting for two thirty to roll around. The phone rang at exactly two thirty three and he reached out a shaky hand, picked up the black receiver, and placed it carefully against the side of his head.

“Hello. Is that you Frankie?”

“Yea, it’s me Stretch. How ya hangin. I heard from my aunt that it was raining cats and dogs out there. You stayin dry?”