The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek(93)

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JANINE SAT IN the darkened theater, incredibly nervous.

Donna was to her right and GamGam to her left, which was a definite comfort, but she knew that once their movie had finished screening, her and Donna’s lives—possibly GamGam’s, too—were very likely to change.

And not necessarily for the better.

Though Mary Hattaway had destroyed the tape from that awful night, Janine still had the other ones—including evidence of Alicia being held in the bubbling, glowing spring—stored back at GamGam’s. Almost immediately, she and Donna had thrown themselves into sifting through the footage. Janine had worried it might be too much for her cousin, but, weirdly, it seemed to have the opposite effect, giving Donna a project, a distraction from the reality that she’d taken a man’s life. A very evil man, yes, but a man all the same.

And this project would, for better or worse, reveal to the world the truth about what had happened.

So Janine had stayed in Bleak Creek, taking regular trips with Donna to Raleigh, where one of Janine’s NYU friends had a friend who had a friend who had a hook-up with the NC State film department, which gave them access to an editing bay. They’d worked nearly nonstop, their old teenage rhythms reemerging—cutting together footage, writing and recording voiceover, grabbing talking head interviews with Rex, Leif, Hornhat, and even a quick one with Alicia—until they’d finished a cut, just barely making the deadline for the Durham Film Festival.

Sitting in the Durham Arts Council theater, Janine couldn’t tell what the audience of about seventy people was thinking. No one had walked out, which seemed promising.

Whatever happens, she reminded herself, we’re going to be okay. In less than a week, she’d be heading back to New York City, and Donna was coming with her, finally escaping that mess of a town. They would live together in her tiny East Village apartment and make more movies with their newly formed production company: Donnine.

As the large screen filled up with the image of Alicia underwater in the spring, Janine heard several gasps, the loudest one belonging to GamGam. Donna reached over the armrest and took Janine’s sweaty hand. Janine squeezed tight and didn’t let go the rest of the movie.

As the final, eerie shot of the spring faded to black, Janine’s heart wouldn’t stop pounding. She wanted to sprint out of the theater and not stop running until she made it to New York.

Then the applause started.

And it wasn’t just the polite kind.

Janine and Donna looked at each other in shock as people all around them got to their feet.

A standing ovation.

Tears sprang involuntarily to Janine’s eyes.

They’d done it.

“Wow,” the emcee, a balding man in glasses, said into a microphone at the front of the theater as the applause continued. “Just…wow. I’d love to invite the filmmakers, Janine Blitstein and Donna Lowe, up here for a brief Q and A.”

As Janine and Donna side-stepped out of their row and headed up the aisle, the clapping surged even louder. Janine felt completely out of body.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the emcee said as Janine and Donna sat down in folding chairs. “I present to you the directors of The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek.”

Janine nodded and smiled politely through a final round of appreciation, her heart still thumping in her ears.

“First of all, congratulations,” the man said. “We’re honored to be debuting this stunning work.”

“Thanks. Thank you,” Janine said quietly.

Donna nodded her agreement.

“I think the film speaks for itself, and we’ve got another screening in just a bit, so let’s get right to it and open up the floor for questions.” Janine felt thrilled and terrified by the dozen or so hands that shot up. “Yes, you.”

“Uh, hi,” a long-haired twenty-something guy in a Homer Simpson T-shirt said. “I really loved your movie.”

The emcee passed his microphone down to Donna, who passed it to Janine like a hot potato, the cord dragging on the ground. “Thanks,” Janine said.

“Yeah,” the guy continued. “So my question is…Like, what was the budget? Because I thought it was really amazing, like, how you could get such realistic visual effects on what otherwise seemed to be a pretty shoestring budget, you know? So…Uh, yeah. How did you do that?”

“Oh,” Janine said, exchanging a dry look with Donna as she wondered how to answer without making the guy feel like an idiot, even though he obviously was one. “Those, um, weren’t effects.”

The guy stared at Janine for a second, mystified, before a slow smile broke out on his face. “Ohhh,” he said, chuckling. “Of course they weren’t. Ha, that’s so cool. Well played.”

“No,” Janine said, “I’m serious.”

“Oh, I know,” the guy said, nodding knowingly as he sat down. “So am I.”

Janine barely had time to process this odd exchange before the emcee pointed to someone else.

“Hello,” an older woman said. “While I deeply appreciate the craft and storytelling on display, I think we need to address the elephant in the room. You’ve taken a set of horrific real-life murders of children and used them to create this horror film.”

Janine looked to Donna, this time very unsettled.