The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek(82)

“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.

She writhed in place as C.B. and another man restrained her.

Whitewood turned to Leif, whose gag was removed as he felt his hands being untied.

I don’t want to be here I don’t want to be here I don’t want to be here, he thought, trying to imagine he was somewhere else, anywhere else, even as he felt Sheriff Lawson forcing his hand out toward Whitewood.

Leif was with Rex on their island. He was on the Small Rock, and he had a very important question: Why was all this happeni—

The pain was blinding, all-consuming.

Leif stared in shock at his hand, his poor hand, as he felt himself being walked toward the water.

This was his last chance.

He pulled his arms away from Sheriff Lawson as sharply as he could, but the man’s rough hands wouldn’t let go. Leif jabbed his knee into the other man, making solid contact with his hip.

“Dammit, boy!”

Leif heard an explosive thud as the man slapped him on the ear. It was both painful and disorienting, followed by a ringing that wouldn’t stop. The men dragged him into the spring, warm water spilling into his school-issued shoes as he stepped into the shallows. There would be no escape.

“We will immerse both at once! On my signal!” Whitewood said, and moments later Leif’s hand was underwater. The chanting got louder behind them—Ah-miss-um in-trot ah-qwam sank-tum—as Leif half noticed the start of the glowing and the bubbling, how it seemed brighter and more intense than the other two times.

Soon he was being walked deeper into the water, side by side with J.

His hand was still screaming, his ear was still ringing, and he thought he might faint.

He felt Sheriff Lawson’s hand clamp down on the back of his neck, pushing his head toward the surface.

Leif took a panicked breath before going under.

The second his face entered the spring, water began streaming into his nose and mouth, pushing its way in with undeniable force. No amount of struggling seemed to make a difference, and the discomfort of being literally filled by the spring was so much worse than his cut hand or clocked ear. The bitterly cold water coursed through his body, its icy tendrils seeming to race down his veins into his core. He was overwhelmed with the feeling that something, or someone, in the frigid water was scanning him, evaluating him.

Judging him.

He was suddenly, violently pulled toward one of the spring’s walls.

As everything around him began to blur and blacken, he knew he would be dead soon. He even thought he saw Alicia’s face sticking out from the dirt, as if waiting to greet him.

Hi, Alicia, he thought during his last few seconds of consciousness.

It was a wonderful hallucination to go out on.