The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek

by Rhett McLaughlin

  As he surveyed the defeated faces in the room, all of them looking down at their feet, he was reminded just how strong the spell was. These students had been conditioned to follow for weeks or months. Why did he think he’d be able to change their minds in a few days?

  But then he saw J walking in.

  She cracked the slightest, shortest smile.

  Once everyone was present, the female helper from his first class spoke. “Welcome, Candidati. Does anyone have anything to report?”

  Sweat dripped from Leif’s underarms.

  After a young redheaded boy reported an older girl for longingly looking out the window for an extended period of time, and a tall teenage girl outed her roommate for asking her how she was doing, the helper prompted again, “Does anyone else have something to report? No infraction is too small.”

  Leif heard himself swallow.

  He looked over at J.

  She locked eyes with him.

  Keep fighting.

  He shot up from his seat without thinking.

  “Hey, everybody,” he said, immediately wanting to sit back down and pretend it hadn’t happened, but knowing it was too late for that.

  So he kept speaking.

  “My name is Leif Nelson—not Candy Datoose or whatever—and I want you all to know: There’s some truly evil stuff going on in this place.”

  “Stop that!” the helper shouted as she started marching toward him from across the room, weaving through the crowd, stepping over those seated.

  Leif tried to speak faster, knowing he had minimal time. “And I’m not just talking about being rolled up in a carpet. Kids are being murdered!” His heart was pounding so hard, he felt it in his ears. “But guess what? There’s more of us than there are of them! So we don’t have to follow!”

  Flattop and Sideburns were now making their way to Leif along with the woman, pushing students aside. Not one of his peers was showing any indication they were hearing him.

  But then J stood up.

  “He’s right! We don’t have to follow!”

  The female helper, already feet away from J, turned to grab her, affording Leif a few extra seconds to speak.

  “They can’t put us all in that carpet at once, right?” he said. The two male helpers reached him, hooking him by the arms and beginning to drag him out of the room.

  But he kept talking.

  “Don’t follow!” he shouted, trying not to get disheartened by the complete lack of a response from anyone other than J.

  “Don’t follow!” he repeated.

  “Don’t follow!” J joined his chant.

  The female helper grabbed J by the arm, but she and Leif continued shouting, leading their defiant, two-person mantra from the unhappy clutches of the helpers, the rest of the students silent and staring down.

  “Don’t fol—”

  Everything went black as Leif was whacked in the head with something hard.

  * * *

  —

  WHEN LEIF OPENED his eyes, he was covered by a cushy purple comforter.

  He blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. Even without his glasses, he could see the room was decorated with bright splashes of color, and the bed was about a hundred times more comfortable than the one in his dorm.

  “Well, there you are.”

  Leif almost screamed when he saw that Wayne Whitewood was practically next to him, sitting at a desk, writing.

  “Your glasses are here if you want ’em.” He pointed a gloved finger toward the corner of the desk, which was almost close enough to the bed to serve as a nightstand.

  Leif sat up, reaching out a trembling hand to retrieve them.

  Was this how it ended?

  Was this where it had ended for Alicia, too?

  With glasses back on, it became clear he was in a little girl’s bedroom. Maybe that should have been comforting, but in the context of a school where every other room was that same insipid beige, Leif found it chilling.

  The door was closed.

  “You could try to run,” Whitewood said, as if reading Leif’s mind, “but I wouldn’t recommend it.” Leif didn’t know whether that meant there were helpers standing guard outside the door, or if Whitewood himself would pummel him if he stood up. Either way, his head was still aching—pounding, really—from whatever had knocked him unconscious earlier, so he had little choice but to lie there.

  Whitewood put his pen down and held up a stack of paper. “See this? It’s the names of all my students, their real names, along with a record of what they did to get here and how they’ve behaved since arriving.” He placed the stack on the desk. “I’ve been lookin’ at this list a lot.”

  Whitewood paused as if waiting for Leif to respond, but he was too scared to speak. This was the man who killed Alicia. Those three other kids. Sure, he’d be stupid to kill Leif, but he could still harm him.

  “That was quite a little speech you gave,” Whitewood said, now turning his rolling desk chair so he faced Leif head-on. “I liked it. Very much.”

  Leif nodded, unable to say thank you.

  “You see, that kind of thing only makes my job easier.” Whitewood stared at Leif for what felt like a full minute before standing and starting to pace around the room. “Now, what I did not like was that comment you made in class, the one that got you sent to the Roll. What was that word you used…?” Whitewood turned back to Leif. “Oh right. Cult. I hate that word.”

  Leif nodded again.

  “It’s got such a negative connotation.” Whitewood stepped toward the bed and sat down on the edge, inches from Leif’s feet. “What I have is a group. A group of people who help me accomplish what I need to accomplish. And you know what’s funny, Candidatus?”

  Leif gave a small shake of his head.

  Whitewood leaned toward him and said in a low voice, “This group doesn’t even actually know what it is that they’re helpin’ me do. Not really.” Whitewood laughed to himself.

  Leif felt vulnerable sitting in bed under the covers, like it would be hard to defend himself if Whitewood decided to attack. Maybe that was the point.

  “I know what you think of me. You and your friend are just so sure I’m a bad man.” Whitewood looked at Leif with disappointment in his eyes. “Shoutin’ about me in funeral homes. Cafeterias. Did it ever occur to you that maybe it’s not so simple?”

  Leif blinked.

  “Let me ask you this: Have you ever loved someone so much you would do just about anything for ’em?” Leif didn’t respond, but his presence in this school right now attested to the fact that he had. “That’s who this room is for, you understand? It’s for my daughter. This is all for my sweet, sweet Ruby.”

  Leif had no idea what Whitewood was talking about, but the man seemed genuinely heartbroken.

  “Look,” Whitewood said, suddenly getting to his feet and pointing to a photo of a blond girl on the wall. “This is my baby. Just look at her. Who wouldn’t do what I’ve done for that face?” Whitewood shook his head in pride and despair, his back turned to Leif. “I’m so close, Ruby!” he shouted at the photo.

  Leif wasn’t sure what was happening, but he noticed that Whitewood’s pen was nearly within reaching distance.

  A pen could be very helpful.

  In a number of ways.

  Leif quietly reached out his hand and wrapped it around the pen, pulling it under the covers.

  “I will make this happen,” Whitewood said, his voice now steely. “No matter what it takes.” He turned around. “Now give it to me.”

  “Huh?” Leif said, trying to play dumb.

  “Gimme the damn pen.”

  Leif put the pen into Whitewood’s gloved hand.

  “Thank you for being so helpful, Candidatus,” Whitewood said, placing the pen in the orange mug on the desk.
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  He walked to the door and opened it, for three helpers entering with the Roll.

  They picked Leif up and rolled him in the carpet once more, taping it closed with even more layers of thick duct tape than the first time.

  “Don’t worry, you won’t be in there too long,” Whitewood said. “I’ve got bigger plans for you.”

  Leif felt cold dread in his heart as the helpers left him on the floor and filed out of the room.

  Whitewood was the last to leave.

  “See you tonight,” he said, before flicking off the light and shutting the door.

  22

  “Y’ALL SURE YOU don’t want any more snacks?” GamGam asked, poking her head into the shed in her backyard where Janine, Donna, Rex, and Ben were gathered.

  “I think we’re all set,” Janine said, feeling like a twelve-year-old as she gestured to the grapes, pretzels, and goldfish her grandmother had just set down in bowls on a wooden bench. She could’ve really used a tequila. “But thanks, GamGam.”

  “Okay, Neenie. If you change your mind, just give a holler! This is so excitin’. My girls, makin’ a movie together again!”

  “Yup,” Janine said, nodding awkwardly, camera on her shoulder, intent on making sure GamGam didn’t suspect they hoped to do much more than just make a documentary.

  “It’s starting to rain out here!” GamGam said as she ambled away. “My gout’s gonna go nuts…”

  They stood listening to the rain beat down on the shed’s corrugated roof, inhaling the smell of mulch as they waited for GamGam to move out of earshot. Donna took sips from a can of Diet Pepsi. Rex grabbed a handful of goldfish.

  “All right,” Ben said, suddenly all business, “so as I was saying—”

  “Hold up, kiddo,” Janine said. “Let me get the camera going.” She wasn’t sure how all this would play out, especially now that they were dealing with more than just a cult. They’d uncovered some kind of sick supernatural kidnapping scheme, and Janine had decided it would be wise to record as much of the planning as possible. If it didn’t result in a film, it could at least be evidence.

  “Oh, sure, of course.” Ben subtly readjusted his expression, as if he had a specific face he thought would look best on camera. It was hard for Janine not to laugh, as Ben—paranoid that Whitewood still had people out searching for him—had disguised himself with Rex’s help. He was in a T-shirt, sweatpants, the brown curly wig Leif had worn when he thought he’d replace Alicia in PolterDog, and red sunglasses that Rex had gotten for free at last year’s middle school dance. Ben didn’t seem to have any idea how ridiculous he looked. “All set?”

  “You got it, Curly Sue.”

  “Excellent,” Ben said. “So as I was saying, our focus needs to be on getting Alicia out of the spring. If we—”

  “But we still agree,” Rex interrupted, “that if Alicia’s down there, that means all the other kids reported as dead are probably alive down there too, right? Like, trapped in the dirt walls?” Rex still couldn’t believe how crazy this whole thing was.

  “Most likely,” Ben said. “But taking into consideration the small window of time we’ll actually have to do this, it behooves us to focus on Alicia first.”

  “Okay,” Rex said, not sure what “behoove” meant or why Ben found it necessary to use such words. He was pretty sure he was doing it for the camera. “But we also have to save Leif from the school.”

  “That’s not our focus either,” Ben said, somewhat sternly. “Look, if we can rescue Alicia from the spring and show everyone that she’s alive, Whitewood’s plan will be exposed and the school will be shut down, thereby allowing us to go back and save those other kids, including Leif.” Ben crossed his arms and looked at Rex. “Cause and effect.”

  “Hmm,” Rex said, nodding, not wanting to fully agree. Somehow Ben had taken the mantle as leader, which seemed all wrong. Leif and Alicia were his best friends; he should be the one planning the rescue. He was sticking his neck out enough as is, lying to his parents that he was at a classmate’s house for a school project (almost true), so he should at least retain control of how this all went down. And if he were going to cede leadership to anyone, it would be to Janine, the experienced filmmaker in her twenties, not the homeschooled weirdo dressed like Screech from Saved by the Bell.

  “It’s our best shot,” Ben said. “I’ve been at the school, I know how it works.”

  Rex, who hated nothing more than being told he didn’t know about something, couldn’t accept that. “What about posters, though?” he asked, not entirely sure where he was going with it.

  “What do you mean?” Janine asked, pointing the camera at him.

  “Just, like…what if we took a still frame of Alicia from that underwater footage and put it on a flyer that says, you know, like: Alicia Boykins is alive! In Bleak Creek Spring! All the other “dead” kids are there too! Whitewood School is a scam! And put it on telephone poles and stuff. Around town.” Rex muttered the last two words, as he’d realized about halfway through what a terrible idea it was.

  “What would that accomplish?” Ben asked.

  “You know,” Rex said. “Just…gettin’ the word out.”

  “Will people even be able to tell that’s a picture of Alicia?” Donna asked.

  “I mean…probably.” Rex reached for some more goldfish to try and diffuse his discomfort. “It’s just another option. Maybe we can come back to it later.”

  Everybody gave sort of a half nod, then looked back to Ben. As much as Rex hated it, he had no choice but to let Ben assume the role of leader, at least for now. He finally understood Leif’s frustration with always taking the back seat. When they got him out of the school, he’d make sure to apologize.

  “All right,” Ben said, gesturing like a tour guide, “before we get into the details of our rescue mission, I’d now like to turn things over to Janine, who’s done some great research for us.”

  Again, Janine had to hold back a laugh. Though she’d more or less gotten used to working side by side with fourteen-year-olds, there were still moments when she was struck by how surreal her life had become. “Thanks, Ben,” she said in a peppy newscaster voice. “Let me just…Here.” She passed the camcorder to Donna. “Could you film for a sec?”

  “Oh,” Donna said, receiving the camera with reverence and care, as if she were holding a newborn. “Yeah.” Janine knew this was probably the first time Donna had held a camera since their teenage movie-making days.

  “So,” Janine said once Donna had started filming, “when I went back to the library, I found…” Janine picked up a large book from the ground and dropped it onto the snack bench with a thud. “This.”

  Donna zoomed in on the cover, which read Paranormal Phenomena.

  “Out of everything I read during the, like, eight hours I was there, this one seemed to have the most helpful info for our situation.” Janine picked up the heavy book and began leafing through the pages. “I was trying to read about everything water related, and I found this whole section about…Yeah, here it is.” She put the open book back down on the bench, pushing aside the snack bowls to make room. Everyone huddled around.

  “Pretty sure we’re dealing with a cursed spring,” Janine said.

  Rex sneezed. It was a dusty book.

  “Feel free to read all the tiny print,” Janine said, “but for now, I’ll give you the Cliffs Notes: There’s this idea in Celtic folklore that springs can be cursed. And once they’re cursed, lots of weird shit goes down.”

  There was a huge crash of thunder, bizarrely well-timed for dramatic emphasis. They all silently acknowledged it before Janine continued.

  “So, the idea is that every spring has a spirit within it. And the spirits are thought to be capable of doing different stuff: They might heal people, or give them knowledge, and sometimes—in the case of a cursed spring—do bad things, like co
llect people, so to speak, storing them…alive.”

  “Storing them for what?” Rex asked.

  “It’s not clear, but it seems like the spirit feeds on the people in some way. Like, absorbs their souls or something.”

  Janine realized that Donna had stopped filming, the camera held down by her side, a look of terror on her face.

  “What’s wrong, Don?”

  “I met the spirit,” Donna said.

  The thunder boomed again as Rex, Ben, and Janine stared at Donna, unsure what to say next.

  “So, like…” Janine said, trying to be delicate with her words. “How come you, uh, never…mentioned this?”

  Donna shrugged. “Didn’t want to sound crazier than I already seem, I guess. Also it’s not the most fun thing to talk about.”

  “That’s…awful. I’m sorry,” Janine said, reaching to take the camera from Donna, realizing this might be good to film.

  “It’s not like I really saw it or anything,” Donna said. “I never even had a word for what it was until I just heard you say that. It was more of a feeling, like I was being surrounded by something. Someone. Who was, like, inspecting me or something.”

  “I felt that too,” Rex said. “When I was swimming. I mean, probably not nearly as intensely as you did, but I know what you’re talking about.”

  “And that’s what must’ve grabbed the camera,” Ben said.

  “And what the cult is worshipping,” Rex added.

  “What else does it say in there?” Ben asked.

  Janine continued to film, now focusing on the open book as she spoke. “Blood is required for the spirit to collect someone,” she explained.

  “Oh, man,” Rex said. “Like the blood that made the spring light up and bubble.”

  “That was the spring opening up,” Ben said, putting it together.

  “Exactly,” Janine said. “Once there’s blood in the water, that seems to create, like, a gateway.”

  The rain suddenly intensified to a downpour, forcing them to speak louder.