Rhett McLaughlin - The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek

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.

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.