Rhett McLaughlin - The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek

Alicia smiled, a bit more uncomfortably than Leif would have liked, before turning to Josefina. “Have we met too?”

“Yeah. It’s J. Josefina. From Whitewood.”

“Right,” Alicia said, in a way that made it clear she still had no idea who J was. “I’m sorry,” she said, frustrated. “My life before here is just…cloudy.”

Leif was very freaked out. “It’s only been a week,” he said, desperate to further jog her memory. “Remember? It was summer…We were making PolterDog …”

“Polter…Dog?” Alicia said. She might as well have driven a dagger through Leif’s heart.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Rich said, suddenly appearing next to them with Timothy.

“Do what?” Leif asked.

“Ask any of us about our life up there. It begins to fade quickly, and it can be difficult, even painful, to try to remember.”

Leif looked at Alicia, who seemed very confused. He’d heard what Rich said, but he couldn’t help himself. “Do you remember Rex? Our other best friend?”

Alicia looked down at her hands, as if maybe she’d scrawled the answer there in pen.

“Tall guy?” Leif prodded. “Hilarious and great? Likes to boss people around?”

“I don’t know,” Alicia said, putting her hands on her head. “I don’t know!”

“I told you not to do that, man!” Rich said.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Seeing Alicia this distressed made Leif want to implode. To make things worse, he realized that even if he finally got up the nerve to tell her how he felt, it would mean absolutely nothing to her.

“It’s okay,” Rich said. “Just…don’t do it again. You’ll understand soon enough. Especially after He…visits you.”

“Who’s He?” Josefina asked. “Who are you talking about?”

Before he could answer, the buzzing shriek came back, louder and more intense than before, and the shadowy presence began to pinball among them. Leif was disturbed to see a little blond girl by the shadow’s side, moving in tandem everywhere that it went.

Suddenly Rich, Timothy, and Alicia were screaming in agony, enveloped by wisps and tangles of the dark shadow, the little girl giggling as their bodies seemed to be stretched out like Silly Putty.

“Oh my god,” Josefina said, as she and Leif watched in horror.

The little girl appeared inches from Leif’s face. “Nice to meet you,” she said, laughing. “Now the Keeper only needs one more!”

“One more what?” Leif asked, but the girl didn’t answer.

Instead, he was enveloped by the shadow.

Then there was only pain. Unfathomable pain.

His limbs felt like they were being ripped away at the joint, his ligaments stretching beyond any natural limit, his bones bending past the breaking point.

It was unbearable.

And endless.

As Rich had said, time was irrelevant here.

Finally, and without warning, the shadow was gone.

Leif felt like a deflated balloon, as if the dark figure had fed on him. Josefina floated nearby, clearly having also been through it.

Leif’s mind was a blur. He thought back to the time before. It seemed so distant. He remembered that he’d been at the Whitewood School. But for how long?

He had no idea.

Rich floated up next to him.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said. “Everyone does.”

24

“NOW, REMEMBER,” BEN said, standing next to the chain-link fence in the curly wig, the red sunglasses, and Rex’s oversized black T-shirt, illuminated by Janine’s camera light as she filmed. “If we stick to the plan, we should be able to get in and out within twenty minutes or so.”

Oh, sure, Rex thought. We’re only dealing with an angry spirit that stores humans and feeds on their souls. What could possibly go wrong? Even as he knew this plan represented their best (and probably only) option, he also knew there was a high likelihood that by the time this night was done, he and Ben would both be students at the Whitewood School. Or worse.

The risk was worth it, though, if it meant they might save Alicia. And Leif.

And maybe even bring down Wayne Whitewood and his twisted school, once and for all.

Ben looked at each of them gathered in the dark by the old tobacco barn—Rex, Janine, Donna, and Travis—doing a silent count, as if they were a much larger group of people. “Your lookout person is still coming, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rex said. “He’ll definitely be here.” If Hornhat no-showed, Rex would never speak to him again.

“With the scuba gear too? That’s essential so we can stay underwater as long as we need to.”

“I know,” Rex said, trying not to get annoyed by Ben’s patronizing tone. “Don’t worry, he’s bringing it.” Hornhat had been all too eager to offer up the equipment his family took every summer to their three-story beach house.

“He’s bringing scuba gear?” Janine asked. “How is he getting here?”

“He said he had his own ride,” Rex said, realizing how bizarre it would be if Hornhat’s parents dropped him off at a cow pasture late at night on a Monday. “But—”

All heads turned as a small, almost silent vehicle pulled up right next to them.

“Hey, dudes!” Hornhat said, waving as he came to a stop. “Say hello to the Horn-cart.”

Of course the Hornhats had a golf cart. And of course they named it the Horn-cart.

“This baby’s top of the line,” Hornhat continued, running his hand down the candy apple red exterior as Janine shined her camera light on him and Travis nodded appreciatively. “ ’Ninety-one model, built-in stereo. My dad even put in a subwoofer.”

“Uh. Okay,” Rex said. He hoped his choice of Hornhat for lookout wouldn’t get them all killed.

“Sorry I’m late, by the way,” Hornhat said. “Thought there would be clearer signage.” He stepped out of the cart, guilelessly introducing himself one by one—“Mark Hornhat, nice to meetcha”—to Janine, Travis, Ben, and Donna, who seemed particularly appalled.

“Do you have the scuba gear?” Ben asked.

“Oh, do I ever,” Hornhat said. He walked to the back of his cart, where, strapped in next to a bag of golf clubs, were two diving tanks, along with masks, fins, and breathing regulators. “Are y’all gearing up here?”

“Yes,” Ben answered. “Best to get fully prepped here to minimize our time at the spring.”

“Rad,” Hornhat said as he went to work, strapping the tanks over Rex’s and Ben’s backs and explaining how everything worked, Janine filming the whole time.

“I gotta say,” Travis said, wearing a black tank-top that, along with his utility belt, brought out the Redneck Batman even more than usual. “I’m still in shock about what you said Mr. Whitewood’s been doin’ with these kids. I mean, dang, you think you know somebody…”

“Yeah, well, thanks for being here,” Rex said, sitting on the back of the cart as Hornhat helped slide fins onto his feet. “I know that if we succeed tonight, you’ll be out of a job.”

“Aw, that’s no problem,” Travis said, fiddling with some of the keys on his belt. “I got some stuff to fall back on.”

“All set, amigos,” Hornhat said.

Rex stood up from the cart, the weight of the tank on his back making all of this feel more real. They were actually going through with it. He and Ben looked at each other in all their equipment, almost as if they were peering into a mirror. “This is good,” Ben said, his mask hanging off his neck. “Nice work, Mark.”

Hornhat gave a salute.

“It’s almost go-time. Let’s grab the blood.” Ben led Rex back toward the fence, where they’d dropped their blood bags, the collection of which had been an ordeal unto itself.