Rhett McLaughlin - The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek

Rex saw what Ben didn’t, though: an especially dark wave rising high above the surface of the water, accompanied by a loud, buzzing scream.

It darted furiously across the surface, spiraling toward Ben, who had just placed one foot on the shore.

“Ben!” Rex yelled. “Behind you!”

Ben turned his head in alarm right as the black wave engulfed his body, streams of gravity-defying water wrapping themselves around him and dragging him along the surface of the spring.

Ben screamed.

The black wave rocketed to the center of the spring, where it enveloped Whitewood’s body, then suddenly dove down, sucking both Whitewood and Ben beneath the surface.

A second later, the spring went dark and calm.

No blue glow.

No bubbles.

Not even a ripple where the wave had descended.

Everyone standing on shore—Janine, Donna, Hornhat, the remaining students, the cult—stared in confusion at the now placid water. Even the low hum of the cicadas sounded perplexed.

Rex knew what to do.

He picked up his hammer and dug its sharp end into his left palm as hard as he could, then once again for good measure.

When the blood came, he dove in, hammer in hand.

He made his way through the darkness, waiting for the water to start glowing.

He wasn’t sure why it was taking so long.

His hand had definitely been bleeding.

Dismayed, he jabbed the hammer into his palm again, ignoring the searing pain. The fresh cut streamed more blood into the spring.

Nothing. It wasn’t responding.

He swam desperately to the side of the spring, then dove down, feeling the rocks, frantically running his hands across the wall.

No signs of Ben.

No signs of anything.

A horrifying thought occurred to him:

What if the spring never opens again?

What if the gateway is closed…forever?

He pushed the thought away, trying to will the spring back to life.

Any moment now it would start glowing.

Any moment.

Rex gripped his hammer tight.

He waited.

26

“IT’S VERY CLEAR now,” Sheriff Lawson said, speaking to a crowd of reporters and concerned citizens outside the Bleak Creek Police Station, “that Wayne Whitewood was not the man we thought he was.”

“Well, that’s for darn sure,” Martha McClendon said, her arm wrapped tightly around her son as if she intended to never let go. She sat with Rex and her husband on the couch, all eyes glued to the television screen.

“After a tip from an inside source at the school,” Sheriff Lawson continued, “we were able to uncover the truth about what Mr. Whitewood had actually been doin’ all these years, taking certain students captive and, in some cases…”—the sheriff shook his head, seeming genuinely mournful—“murdering them.”

Rex’s mom clutched him tighter, her lower lip trembling. “I just can’t believe it,” she whispered.

“I made the same mistake as everyone else,” Sheriff Lawson said. “I trusted this man.” He grimaced, like he had a bad taste in his mouth. Rex was impressed; the sheriff’s acting chops were nearly as honed as Whitewood’s had been. “That won’t happen again. Even though Mr. Whitewood was able to elude our grasp last night, I have full faith that we’ll find him. Justice will be served.” Rex wondered how long Sheriff Lawson would be able to sustain a fake manhunt. He pictured concerned Bleak Creekians combing the woods around town, destined to find nothing. “And I do have some good news,” the sheriff continued. “Mr. Whitewood had announced Alicia Boykins to be deceased—with a cover story just like the ones he’d concocted for his other victims—but that turned out to be another lie. Last night, we were able to save her.” He nodded solemnly as some of the crowd applauded. “Don’t get me wrong—he put that girl through hell, keeping her isolated and carrying out his sick ‘punishments.’ That poor young lady is still in a place where she doesn’t know fantasy from reality. But now she can start to get better.”

“I’m sorry, son,” Rex’s dad said, the first words he’d uttered to Rex since they’d driven him home from the Whitewood School the night before (after having been awakened by a call from Sheriff Lawson himself). “I’m sorry we didn’t believe you. I might never forgive myself.” He put his arm around Rex and kissed the side of his head, something he hadn’t done since Rex was little. “From now on, whatever you tell us, we will take you at your word. I promise you that.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Rex said, still numb as he continued to watch Sheriff Lawson lie on television to thousands of people. There was, of course, a ton that he wanted to tell his parents. And maybe they truly would have believed him, but he cared about them too much to take that chance.

By the time Rex had finally emerged from the spring—once it was obvious that there would be no more glowing and bubbling, that Ben and the others were just…gone, Sheriff Lawson had started to explain to everyone gathered on the shore what was going to happen:

Whitewood would be blamed for everything.

All the students—minus the Seven Lost Causes down in the spring—would be returned safely to their homes.

The Whitewood School would be shut down.

None of them would ever again speak about the cult, about the spring, about anything other than Whitewood being a mentally unstable murderer.

“But…we can’t taint Master’s name like this,” Mary had said. “He’s with the One Below now, but what if he comes back?”

“We don’t have a choice,” Sheriff Lawson insisted.

“Can’t we at least wait for the Seven Shepherds to come out before makin’ any decisions?” Travis asked. “I mean, the One Below’s got all the Lost Causes He asked for. It should happen any minute. Everybody will be thankin’ Mr. Whitewood once they understand what he did for all of us.”

“Master never told us how long the Purification would take,” Mary said. “It could be days. Weeks.”

“Right,” Sheriff Lawson said. “Which is why we need to stick with my plan.”

“You can’t stop us from talking about this,” Rex said.

“Oh no?” Sheriff Lawson took two menacing steps toward him. “Who do you think people will believe? A bunch of kids who have been tortured and brainwashed by a psychopath, kids who were already troubled to begin with? Or a dozen respected pillars of the community?”

“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” Janine said.

Sheriff Lawson looked to Mary Hattaway. “You destroyed the tape in that camera, right?”

Mary nodded.

“Good. Now, if any of you want to challenge me on this,” Sheriff Lawson had said, staring deep into Rex’s eyes, “I promise: I will make life very hard for you. For your friends. For your families. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

As Rex now felt the warm weight of his parents’ arms on his back, he knew for sure he couldn’t say anything. Sheriff Lawson and his crew had killed Donna’s father, and even if they weren’t willing to murder again, there was no shortage of horrible things they could do. They held such sway in the town; who’s to say they wouldn’t come up with a reason to encourage everyone to boycott his parents’ funeral home, crushing their livelihood in one fell swoop? No. Rex couldn’t do that to them.

“Unfortunately,” Sheriff Lawson continued at the press conference, “four students are still unaccounted for: Patrick Small, April Li, Josefina Morales, and Ben Merritt.”

Rex took deep breaths through his nose.

“Oh, baby, are you friends with any of them?” Martha asked.

Rex nodded. His parents held him tighter.

“We believe that Mr. Whitewood snuck these four students out of the school sometime in the past month,” the sheriff said. “He had been keeping them captive somewhere off the premises. They may still be at that location, or he may be moving them as we speak.”