Rhett McLaughlin - The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek

“No, I could,” Leif said, sensing an opening. “I really could.”

“Oh, you could?” Rex asked, surprised.

Leif’s heartbeat quickened. Here it was. For better or worse, they were both going to lay it all out there. “Yeah,” he said. “I could.” His whole body tensed as he waited for Rex’s response.

“Thanks, man,” Rex finally said, putting a hand on Leif’s shoulder. “Thanks for supporting me like that and not thinking it’s weird. Even if Alicia does really irritate you sometimes.”

Wait! No! For weeks, Leif had been imagining the joyful moment when Rex would give his blessing to the Leif and Alicia coupling, and now somehow it was Leif giving a blessing to him ? Everything was spinning out of control. He had to undo this.

“Not that it even matters,” Rex said. “Since Alicia is off at Whitewood. Man, it sucks so much. We can stop talking about this, but thanks, dude. Telling you that felt, I don’t know…freeing or something.”

“Um,” Leif said. “Wait, we can…Uh, let’s talk about it a little more.”

“Really?” Rex said. “I didn’t thi—” He stopped midsentence, his head pivoting sharply to the right. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“I thought I heard a twig snap.” Rex scanned the area with laser focus.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Leif said, his sleepless body already exhausted from the waterlogged walk to the Tree, which was now only thirty or so feet away. He wondered if Rex’s sudden concern with a snapping twig was just another case of him employing his sophisticated subject-changing tactics. “Might have been a raccoon or something.”

“Raccoons are nocturnal,” Rex said.

As they emerged into the small clearing that surrounded the ancient hardwood, they immediately noticed something different since last visiting the Tree. There were branches leaning against the oversized trunk, covered in mud and leaves, making a crude shelter. In front of the lean-to, a ring of rocks surrounded a fire that had only recently died, red-hot coals still glinting. Beside the fire, on a flat rock, lay a freshly peeled squirrel skin.

Rex and Leif knew that deer hunters used these woods alongside the river, but this didn’t look like any deer blind they’d seen, and they were pretty sure hunting season was still at least a month away. This was someone’s… home.

They looked at each other, instinctively knowing not to speak.

Rex slowly walked toward the shelter, Leif wildly but silently expressing his disapproval of his friend’s decision to investigate. There appeared to be a collection of belongings under the leafy roof, and Rex figured they held clues as to the identity of this mysterious forest-dweller.

He knelt down at the mouth of the shelter.

“Halt!” a squeaky voice shouted from behind them. They turned their heads to see a boy, probably close to their age. His face was covered in dirt, and he was barefoot, though you may have first thought he was wearing brown shoes given the mud that caked his toes. The only thing unsoiled was his lightning-blond hair, giving him an almost angel-like appearance. He had some sort of animal pelt—maybe rabbit, maybe possum—over his shoulders. In one hand he held a homemade spear, and in the other, a stick skewering a half-eaten squirrel carcass. He took a step forward, his wooden spear not exactly pointed at them, but not exactly not pointed at them either.

“Step away from my stuff,” the wild boy commanded.

“Okay, no problem,” Rex said, trying to hide the fear in his voice with a forced smile.

Leif took in for the first time the dull brown jumpsuit the boy was wearing. Or maybe it was once white. He also noticed a ragged, bloody bandage on the boy’s hand, the one holding the squirrel kebab.

Rex didn’t recognize the boy, which was odd, as everybody in Bleak Creek knew everybody in Bleak Creek. Especially everybody their own age.

“Uh, what are you doing out here? Hunting?” Rex convinced himself to ask.

“Well, this squirrel didn’t impale itself on my spear. So yeah, hunting is one thing I’m doing,” the boy answered, his eyes slowly moving between them. “Better question: What are you doing out here?”

“Uh, we were just leaving, actually,” Leif said, convinced they’d crossed paths with a psychopath capable of killing more than just squirrels. “Sorry to bother you.” He began to walk around the boy, who sidestepped to block his escape.

“I asked you a question,” the boy said, his spear definitely pointing at Leif now.

“We come to this tree a lot,” Rex said, trying to ease the tension.

“I can see why. This is an impressive specimen,” the boy said. “White ash.”

“Yep,” Rex said after a pause.

Leif backed up, joining Rex at his side, then took an additional step in order to put his larger friend in between him and the spear wielder.

“You didn’t know it was a white ash, did you?” the boy asked.

“We came here about a week ago,” Rex said, ignoring the boy’s question. “You weren’t here.”

“I was somewhere else.”

“Are you, like, living out here?”

“I’m not dying.”

“What about your hand?” Rex asked. “Seems like you might not be dying, but you’re definitely getting hurt.”

For the first time, the wild boy seemed unsure of himself as he briefly looked down at his bandaged hand. “Oh. That was from before.”

“What was before?” Rex asked.

The boy looked around, including once over each shoulder, even though there was nothing surrounding them except trees and mosquitoes. He took another step forward, and, lowering his voice, said, “Can I trust you?”

Rex and Leif looked at each other and began a slow nod, not quite sure which of them was initiating their response, then let out a collective “Yes.”

“I heard you say your friend is at Whitewood,” the boy said.

Rex felt a flash of embarrassment, wondering how much of their conversation he had heard.

“I know things about that place. Your friend’s in a lot of danger.”

The boy’s words hung in the air between them.

“What kind of danger?” Leif asked, his worry for Alicia suddenly doubling, momentarily eclipsing his concern for himself.

“Not sure I can tell you.”

The boy raised his squirrel-on-a-stick and took a healthy bite, ripping a chunk of dark meat from one of the rear legs. He chewed it slowly, beginning to pace in an arc around them.

“I’ll tell you what. If you can do something for me, I’ll say what I know about the school.”

“Okay,” Rex said slowly.

Leif hoped he wasn’t about to ask them to kill another squirrel. But he thought he could do it. For Alicia.

“Bring me a rake,” the boy said matter-of-factly. Rex looked around. The ground around the Tree was mostly clear, a mix of dirt, moss, and patches of grass. Grooming it seemed unnecessary, but he didn’t think this was the time to question the boy’s reasoning.

“And a pack of hot dogs, three cans of Cheerwine. And a fire extinguisher. The carbon dioxide kind.”

“Are you messing with us?” Rex asked.

“Do I look like the kind of person who messes with people?”

Rex declined to answer.

“You bring those things to me, I tell you what I know.”

“Can’t you get those things yourself?” Rex asked.

“Would I be living like a caveman in the woods if I could just stroll into the Piggly Wiggly?” the boy answered.

“All right. We’ll get you what you’re asking for,” Rex said.

Leif shot appalled eyes at Rex. “Uh, we really should be getting back,” he said. “It’ll be dark soon.” It wouldn’t be dark for hours.