The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek(20)

“Well, this squirrel didn’t impale itself on my spear. So yeah, hunting is one thing I’m doing,” the boy answered, his eyes slowly moving between them. “Better question: What are you doing out here?”

“Uh, we were just leaving, actually,” Leif said, convinced they’d crossed paths with a psychopath capable of killing more than just squirrels. “Sorry to bother you.” He began to walk around the boy, who sidestepped to block his escape.

“I asked you a question,” the boy said, his spear definitely pointing at Leif now.

“We come to this tree a lot,” Rex said, trying to ease the tension.

“I can see why. This is an impressive specimen,” the boy said. “White ash.”

“Yep,” Rex said after a pause.

Leif backed up, joining Rex at his side, then took an additional step in order to put his larger friend in between him and the spear wielder.

“You didn’t know it was a white ash, did you?” the boy asked.

“We came here about a week ago,” Rex said, ignoring the boy’s question. “You weren’t here.”

“I was somewhere else.”

“Are you, like, living out here?”

“I’m not dying.”

“What about your hand?” Rex asked. “Seems like you might not be dying, but you’re definitely getting hurt.”

For the first time, the wild boy seemed unsure of himself as he briefly looked down at his bandaged hand. “Oh. That was from before.”

“What was before?” Rex asked.

The boy looked around, including once over each shoulder, even though there was nothing surrounding them except trees and mosquitoes. He took another step forward, and, lowering his voice, said, “Can I trust you?”

Rex and Leif looked at each other and began a slow nod, not quite sure which of them was initiating their response, then let out a collective “Yes.”

“I heard you say your friend is at Whitewood,” the boy said.

Rex felt a flash of embarrassment, wondering how much of their conversation he had heard.

“I know things about that place. Your friend’s in a lot of danger.”

The boy’s words hung in the air between them.

“What kind of danger?” Leif asked, his worry for Alicia suddenly doubling, momentarily eclipsing his concern for himself.

“Not sure I can tell you.”

The boy raised his squirrel-on-a-stick and took a healthy bite, ripping a chunk of dark meat from one of the rear legs. He chewed it slowly, beginning to pace in an arc around them.

“I’ll tell you what. If you can do something for me, I’ll say what I know about the school.”

“Okay,” Rex said slowly.

Leif hoped he wasn’t about to ask them to kill another squirrel. But he thought he could do it. For Alicia.

“Bring me a rake,” the boy said matter-of-factly. Rex looked around. The ground around the Tree was mostly clear, a mix of dirt, moss, and patches of grass. Grooming it seemed unnecessary, but he didn’t think this was the time to question the boy’s reasoning.

“And a pack of hot dogs, three cans of Cheerwine. And a fire extinguisher. The carbon dioxide kind.”

“Are you messing with us?” Rex asked.

“Do I look like the kind of person who messes with people?”

Rex declined to answer.

“You bring those things to me, I tell you what I know.”

“Can’t you get those things yourself?” Rex asked.

“Would I be living like a caveman in the woods if I could just stroll into the Piggly Wiggly?” the boy answered.

“All right. We’ll get you what you’re asking for,” Rex said.

Leif shot appalled eyes at Rex. “Uh, we really should be getting back,” he said. “It’ll be dark soon.” It wouldn’t be dark for hours.

“Okay,” the boy said as he took another bite of squirrel, though it seemed mostly for effect, as he came away with little to no meat. “I believe our business here is done anyway.”

Rex stuck out his hand. “It was nice to meet you, uh…”

“Ben. The name’s Ben.”

“Nice to meet you, Ben.”

“Likewise.” Ben dropped the spear to his side, letting the blunt end rest on the ground, and extended his non-bandaged but still dirty hand, grabbing Rex’s.

Leif was already backing away, hoping to avoid a handshake and wondering why Rex had found one necessary.

“Don’t tell anyone I’m out here, or I’ll have to kill you,” Ben added, thrusting his spear toward them and winking.

It seemed like a joke and also not a joke.

Nobody laughed.





5


“CANDIDATUS,” THE UNSMILING woman at the front of the classroom said.

She was staring directly at Alicia.

The woman wore a collared blouse, along with a skirt that struck just below the knee, revealing skin-colored hose several shades darker than her pale face. Her modest, fashion-backward style was not unlike what Alicia would expect to see on a teacher at Bleak Creek High School, the place she had been planning to start ninth grade in only a matter of days. There was one notable difference, though: Every article of clothing was a uniform beige. Even the woman’s shoes. Her outfit alone was strange enough, but even more unsettling was how the woman blended in with the classroom itself, as its walls, floor, and ceiling were all painted the same shade of lifeless yellowish brown.