Rhett McLaughlin - The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek

Rex internally cringed and cheered, delighted to finally see their fearless leader make a misstep, one he liked to think he never would have made.

“First of all, never say that again,” Janine said. “And second of all, I want to film everything, so yeah, it would probably be best to have someone—not necessarily a man—help Donna pull.”

“I got a guy, or, um…a person who just so happens to be a male,” Rex said, happily filling his role as Second Fiddle Who Changes the Subject When Necessary. “Travis Bethune. He actually mows the grass at the school.”

“Wait a second,” Ben said, lowering his sunglasses. “He works there? You trust him?”

“Well, he just cuts the grass. He doesn’t go inside. He’s a good friend. And he cared about Alicia. Plus, he’s strong and has a lot of tools.”

“Okay. Sounds like he may at least have some insights if he’s that familiar with the school grounds…” Ben scratched his wig, considering the proposition. “I’m fine with it if the group agrees,” he said, looking to Janine and Donna.

Janine gave a thumbs-up as Donna barely nodded her head.

“Done,” Ben said. “Now we just need one more person to serve as lookout and we’re set. Anyone know anybody?”

Janine considered GamGam for a brief moment before realizing she couldn’t say that because it was insane.

Rex had an idea, but he was desperately hoping someone else would speak up first.

Nobody did.

“Yeah, I think I got someone for lookout, too,” he said, already anticipating how annoying his conversation with Hornhat was going to be.

“Fantastic!” Ben said. “We’ve got a squad.”

“A squad,” Janine said, panning the camera around to film all of them. “That’s adorable.”

“Indeed,” Ben said, nodding so hard that his wig almost flew off. “Main thing we need to figure out now is: Where can we get a lot of blood?”

They were all silent, the rain still coming down.

“Rex,” Ben said, “didn’t you say your parents have a funeral home?”

Rex slowly nodded, even as he cursed himself for not thinking of it first.

23

AS LEIF WAS hastily extracted from the Roll, then blindfolded, gagged, and walked down the hall with his hands tied behind his back, he had the distinct sense that his theory about Whitewood not killing him had been incorrect.

This feeling had started, really, as soon as Whitewood had left the room, that ominous See you tonight echoing in Leif’s head for however many hours he’d been wrapped up.

And it continued now, as Leif heard the whoosh of a heavy door.

They crossed a threshold and he was pelted with rain. He knew that he’d somehow—in only a matter of days—managed to become the next sacrifice. He’d pushed too hard. Just like Alicia.

The helpers walked him a short distance, heavy raindrops soaking his jumpsuit through in less than a minute.

“Thank you,” a woman’s voice said from ahead of him, projecting to be heard over the downpour. Leif was passed on by the helpers, four new hands gripping him so tightly, it felt like they were leaving fingerprint-shaped bruises. The saturated fabric of robes brushed against him.

The cult.

Or, as Whitewood preferred: the group.

“Are we ready to begin?” the woman asked, and this time Leif identified her. Mary Hattaway. The intense lady from Second Baptist whose hand had been bandaged at the funeral.

“Master should be here shortly,” a man’s voice said, this one harder to place.

Leif saw light flash through his blindfold, followed not too long after by a clap of thunder that reverberated for at least ten seconds. Why were they doing this tonight, during a thunderstorm? He found himself worrying about being struck by lightning before realizing how ridiculous that was. If anything should terrify him, it was the invisible presence in the spring that had yanked Janine’s camera away.

“Let’s begin,” Wayne Whitewood said as he joined them.

Leif barely had time to register the profound dread Whitewood stirred before the chanting started. As he was marched away from the school, Leif subtly moved his shoulders back and forth, testing to see if escape would be possible. After all, Ben had done it, right?

“Don’t even think about it, son,” a voice said, two of the hands on his arms clamping down even harder. It was Sheriff Lawson. Even the police are involved . Leif’s hopes of getting away were wilting fast.

His heart started pounding as he comprehended how soon he was going to die.

He thought of his mom—his wonderful, hardworking mom. He didn’t want to leave her.

He didn’t want to leave Rex, either. He hated that their friendship would be ending on such a weird note. Hopefully Rex would remember the good times—drawing contests, stupid messages passed back and forth in church, laughing so hard tears streamed down their faces—and not the pointless arguing from the last month.

“Vee-tah ehst ah-kwa,” the cult chanted over and over again, still in competition with the rain. He felt the ground under his feet change from grass to rocky mud. They were nearing the spring.

All four hands gripped Leif in place, and he realized everyone had stopped walking.

The chanting ended abruptly. Whitewood began to speak.

“Tonight is very special,” he proclaimed. “For we will be saving not just one Lost Cause, but two!”

Two? Leif thought, as his blindfold was pulled off and he saw, standing not ten feet away with two cult members at her sides, J. It was like a slap in the face, as he of course felt responsible. As they made eye contact, there were no silent entreaties to Keep Fighting. J was as petrified as he was, which Leif found comforting before it quickly became soul-crushing.

“A dark, rebellious spirit has been gaining strength amongst our young ones,” Whitewood continued, his swirl of white hair sticking out from under his hood and quickly losing its battle with the rain. “It has been spreading like a virus, infecting souls in a way never before seen. But we have been shown the way! We have found the waters that can purify these wayward souls!”

“We thank you, Master, for showing us the purifying waters that will deliver these young ones,” Mary Hattaway said, her eyes fixed on Whitewood like she was staring at a natural wonder.

“Yes, Master,” the others repeated.

“And let us not forget,” Whitewood said. “If the One Below accepts our two offerings tonight, we will be just one Lost Cause away from seeing fulfilled what has long been foretold…”

They all began speaking in unison. “When the last Lost Cause is given to the waters for purification, the Seven Lost Causes shall be cleansed of their rebellious spirits and emerge as the Seven Shepherds. These holy ones shall lead our youth into righteousness, teaching them to submit to the precepts of the old and wise.”

Leif could only see some of the cult members’ faces—four were kneeling at the edge of the spring in front of him, and he assumed more were doing the same behind—but their huge, beatific smiles were enough to clue him in that for them this was a very big deal.

“Let us begin!” Whitewood shouted up to the heavens, raising his arms.

The chanting started again, Leif’s stomach flipping as he saw that one of the cult members walking J over to Whitewood was C.B. Donner of C.B.’s Auto Parts. He took out her gag and untied her hands from behind her back.

Leif knew all too well what was going to happen next.

C.B. Donner held out J’s right hand as Whitewood brought down his knife and sliced her palm.

The sound of her crying out was among the worst things Leif had ever heard.