The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek(65)

Rex snapped his goggles on. “I’m going in.”

Even though Leif had only minutes ago been complaining about Rex’s need to lead, he didn’t object. Rex was the better swimmer anyway.

Janine panned the camera across the premises, then looked back to Donna, who’d stopped about ten steps earlier than the rest of them. “You sure you’re all right?” Janine asked.

Donna gave a slight nod, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes locked on the spring, captivated and terrified.

Rex found Donna’s look of dread more than a little disconcerting, but he had to press forward. He reminded himself that this was all some sick scam masterminded by Wayne Whitewood. Granted, it was technologically impressive, involving some sophisticated engineering to turn a natural spring into a giant hot tub with bubbles and lights, but a scam nonetheless.

He took a few steps into the spring, the water warm around his knees. He bent his face down to the surface, dipping his goggles in. Nothing but darkness. Obviously. He came up and wiped the water away with his arm, hoping he didn’t smell like farts now.

“Didn’t you say the water lit up?” Janine asked, pointing the camera at Rex.

“Uh, yeah,” he said.

“But you don’t know how to make it do that?”

“Uh, not exactly. But, I’m gonna do a couple dives, see if I can find a switch,” he said, trying to sound confident.

“A switch?” Janine asked.

“To turn the light on.” It sounded stupid as soon as he said it, but Rex didn’t know what else to do, so he strode deeper into the spring, just as Mr. Whitewood had done. Once the water reached his waist, he pushed off and started to swim.

As he moved farther from shore, the black Hanes V-neck he’d borrowed from his dad’s drawer began billowing up around his midsection. Without the reassuring underfooting of the creek floor, Rex instantly felt uneasy. The water was a temperature somewhere between bath and hot tub that should have been soothing, and yet…he felt cold, too. As if a pocket of chilly air had cocooned around him.

He continued toward the center of the spring, swimming in a slow, deliberate breast stroke, when he was suddenly gripped with another, more disturbing sensation: that feeling he sometimes got at the beach when he swam out farther than he’d intended and couldn’t shake the thought that a shark was lurking in the depths below.

The feeling he was being watched.

He had trouble convincing himself to drop his head below the surface, but he needed to find something underwater for Janine to film; footage of a goggled teenager doing laps around Bleak Creek Spring at night wouldn’t prove anything.

He inhaled deeply, then dove down, his eyes breaking into the darkness. As water filled his ears, he was struck by the sheer quiet. No muffled whooshes from his arms paddling. No gentle rumble of water flowing into the mouth of the creek. No sound at all.

He looked around, seeing pure blackness in every direction, the filtered moonlight unable to pierce the murk. There was no way he’d be able to spot an underwater cave, if that was indeed what Whitewood had gone into. He’d at least been hoping to see a glint in the water—of steel, or some other metal—but there was nothing other than uniform, lightless deep.

He felt his arm brush against something and realized he’d collided into one of the spring walls. He moved his hands across a wide patch of it, thinking maybe he’d feel some pipes or cables, but it was only rocks and dirt.

The water suddenly got colder—frigid, even—and Rex had the ominous thought that he was somehow closer to whatever was watching him. Or, more precisely, like he was swimming inside it.

Rex frantically kicked his legs to return to the surface, guessing it was only inches away, a foot at most.

But he didn’t emerge.

He looked up, only to see more blackness. Was that even up? What if this was some kind of Bermuda Triangle he would never escape?

He began to propel himself wildly, hoping he’d eventually hit the side or the bottom of the spring, which might orient him. Just when his breath was running out, he felt the night breeze on his face as his head broke through.

Gasping, he looked out toward the creek bank and saw no one. Oh no. Had they left him here?

“Hey!” he heard Leif call from behind him. “What’d you see?”

Rex tried to hide his terror while swimming toward Leif as quickly as possible, feeling profound relief when his feet brushed the rocky bottom.

“Couldn’t find anything yet,” he said, lifting his goggles to his forehead and stepping out onto the creek bank, water dripping from his cargo shorts. He wanted to tell them what he’d just experienced but was unable to find words that didn’t sound ridiculous. “It’s too dark.”

“My camera has a light on it,” Janine said. “But I’m not sure I can get to the button with the way I’ve wrapped it. Dammit. Didn’t think about tha—”

“Blood,” Donna said, still ten steps away.

“What?” Janine asked.

“It has to be blood.”

Rex had been slightly creeped out by Donna all night, and this didn’t help.

But Leif understood. “Oh, right!” he said. “The spring didn’t light up until that woman dipped her bleeding hand in.”

“Wait, for real?” Janine asked.

“Yes,” Donna said.