Rhett McLaughlin - The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek

The events from the night began to crystallize in his head. It was real. His beloved baby girl was trapped. He had to get to her.

Wayne went up for air, then came back down again, his heart racing as he tore at the sharp rocks where’d she gone in, scooping away handfuls of earth in his determination to free her. The jagged edges lacerated his hands, but he continued to grab, dig, and pull, the blood from his tender fingers mixing with the stirred mud.

He felt an effervescent tingle on his face, then saw that the spring was once again filling with the blue glow.

There was a shift in the rocks, and suddenly she was there.

His Ruby, her head sticking out from the wall. Her eyes were open but unfocused.

Wayne reached out to touch her sweet face, but the water was already forcing its way into his nostrils and mouth. Again he tried to fight it, but the persistent water easily passed his lips and overwhelmed him. He waited for everything to turn dark, bracing himself for the violent ejection.

It never came.

Instead, the darkness intensified until he saw only blackness.

For a moment, he experienced nothing at all. No sound, no light, no sensation of any kind. He had no idea how long this lasted.

Slowly, he began to feel his body, like coming to after a fainting spell.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness.

It seemed he’d been transported to an entirely different place: a vast ocean, endless in every direction.

He was submerged deep in the boundless watery expanse, but felt no impulse to breathe.

Wayne knew, of course, that he hadn’t actually been transported anywhere.

He was dead.

He hadn’t expected it to feel like such a relief.

“You’re not dead, Daddy.”

Wayne’s heart jolted as Ruby appeared next to him, her white dress floating around her. She was as blurry as the rest of his surroundings, radiating a strange light.

“And I’m not either,” she said.

“Ruby,” Wayne said, finding he could somehow speak underwater. “We’re not dead?”

“Nope,” Ruby said. “Want to meet my new friend?”

Before he could respond, another glowing body floated up next to Ruby.

“This is Timothy,” Ruby said.

Timothy, a little boy he guessed to be four or five, came closer. He wore a white polo, khaki shorts, and a blank look that made Wayne’s skin crawl.

“Nice to meet you, Timothy,” Wayne said.

The boy just stared.

“He’s been down here for a while,” Ruby said, as if it was very impressive. “But he’s not dead either.”

“I have a twin brother,” Timothy said. “Eli.”

“Oh,” Wayne said. “Is he…down here too?”

Timothy shook his head. “I miss my family,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

“I’m sorry,” Wayne said, suddenly becoming aware of another presence hovering around them. This one wasn’t a body, and it wasn’t glowing. It was more of a…shadow. It was even more unnerving than Timothy, appearing right next to them, then farther away, then somewhere else, impossible to pin down, accompanied by a sort of buzzing scream.

“That’s the Keeper,” Ruby said.

“Oh,” Wayne said.

“He says he’s willing to let me go. And heal me. If you do something for him.”

“What’s that?”

“Bring him seven more.”

Wayne’s insides went cold. “Ruby…”

“But the Keeper only wants young, strong ones.”

Timothy nodded along confidently.

“I don’t understand…” Wayne said.

“The Keeper needs the ones who won’t follow,” Timothy added.

Wayne looked at his daughter as the Keeper pinballed from location to location faster than before.

“Can you do that, Daddy?”

“I…I don’t know…”

“You don’t love me?” Ruby suddenly looked and sounded distressed.

“Of course I do, baby.”

“Then please! Do what the Keeper asks, Daddy!”

“I…”

As he stared at his daughter, everything blurred to black as her words blended with the buzzing scream, getting louder and louder and then abruptly cutting out.

Wayne was back to looking at the dirt wall of the spring, the water mercilessly pressing in on him from all sides. Rather than rudely flinging him away, Wayne felt himself deliberately lifted to the surface and lightly shoved toward the shore.

The retching was just as terrible as it had been the night before, maybe even worse. When it was done, Whitewood lay in the dirt in his blue swim trunks, trying to make sense of what he’d just experienced.

His daughter was gone.

But there was a way to get her back. Fully healed.

He propped himself up on one elbow as he noticed a boarded-up building about a hundred yards away.

—

THE WHITEWOOD SCHOOL opened in August of 1979, just four months after Wayne Whitewood first visited Bleak Creek.

It filled a need the people of Bleak Creek didn’t even realize they’d had, finally getting the kids in town to fall in line.

It was an immediate success.

—

“WHERE ARE THE ones who won’t follow, Daddy?” Ruby asked.

“I’m trying, Ruby-girl,” Whitewood said.

It was the fall of 1982, and the new year had just begun at the Whitewood School. While Whitewood felt like he’d aged a decade in just three years, even his hair going prematurely white, Ruby hadn’t changed at all. She was still the sweet seven-year-old she’d been when the Keeper had taken her. He was now seeing her monthly, his body unable to visit more often, as each violent invasion of the spring water took him days to fully recover.

“The Keeper says you’re not trying hard enough.”

“I’ve given him a few kids now, and he spit ’em all out! And they all ended up…well, changed. Like the life had been taken right out of ’em.”

“He says they weren’t strong enough.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” Whitewood said, growing frustrated. “None of those kids would not bow to my authority. I pushed them so hard.”

“Sorry, Daddy, you need to push harder.”

“I just…You gotta tell the Keeper this is gettin’ ridiculous! I just want you back!”

Whitewood heard the familiar buzzing scream, the shadowy form coming close and pulsing near his head.

Suddenly Ruby began to shriek, her face stretching out like taffy, as if it were being yanked. “Daddy! Help me! Daddy!”

“Stop that!” Whitewood yelled. “Right now!”

Ruby’s face returned to normal. “The Keeper says he’s going to hurt me if you don’t bring him one very soon.”

“Okay, baby, okay,” Whitewood said. “I just…I don’t know if I can do this alone.”

“Then get help!” Ruby shrieked. “Do whatever you have to do!”

“Calm down, Ruby!” Whitewood said.

The black shadow presence of the Keeper enveloped Ruby, the dark cloud seeping through her nose and mouth. Her face grew angular, demented.

“The Keeper is growing impatient!” she said, the voice a mix of Ruby and the grating buzz of the Keeper.

Whitewood felt like he was going to freeze.

The freakish version of his daughter shot toward him, her face inches from his, the inky residue of the Keeper leaking from her obsidian eyes.

“He thirsts for those who will not follow!” she/it screamed.

Whitewood cowered. “I need time,” he said sheepishly.

“How much time do you require!” it yelled.

Whitewood hadn’t expected a negotiation.

“I don’t know…” Whitewood said. “I’ll have to come up with a cover story for any child the Keeper accepts. Explain to the town what happened to ’em. I’m no good to you if I’m locked away.”

“How much time!”

“Uh, ten years?” Whitewood said reflexively, guessing his suggestion would be met with more screaming. Or worse.