Arthur followed in tense silence as Tim marched up to the garage, shoved a heavy key into the rusted padlock, and threw the rolling door upward. A concentrated wave of the stench hit Arthur full force, making him step back and cover his nose. Tim walked inside and aggressively yanked the heavy blue tarp off the mysterious shape. There was no body. Instead, the tarp clattered against a massive, heavily corroded oval cylinder made of dark iron. It was an ancient, forgotten 1950s underground heating oil tank that had been partially dug up and stored on the garage floor years ago.
“The house was converted to natural gas back in the nineties,” Tim explained, pointing to a massive fracture along the bottom of the iron tank where the black sludge was pouring out. “Dad was supposed to pay to have this decommissioned and emptied, but he just left it here full of old heating oil. With the heavy rain and heatwave this week, the foundation shifted, the rusted metal finally gave out, and thirty years of stagnant water and degrading, sulfur-heavy fuel oil burst through the bottom. Since the floor slopes toward your yard, it all drained your way.”