It's Probably Nothing

Jimmy had been missing for three days when Deidre and Vince found the cave.

Jimmy was Deidre’s boyfriend and Vince’s first cousin. Twelve other children and teenagers had disappeared with him. The adults searched roads, houses, and abandoned buildings.

Deidre and Vince searched for the Sandman.

Jimmy had reached Deidre through dreams. He told her the children were hanging underground. He warned her not to touch the dust.

Most importantly, he told her two things.

Water hurt the Sandman.

Moonlight revealed his trail.

They had followed that trail to a cave hidden on the mountainside, but Vince stopped Deidre from entering unprepared.

Now they knew where to return.

The next day, they went back to the library.

Mrs. Kline watched them copy cave maps and mark tunnel splits. Near the end of lunch, she walked over and placed an old folklore book on their table.

She tapped the cover once and walked away.

Deidre opened it.

A drawing showed a tall figure with narrow shoulders, dark hollows for eyes and dust trailing from its hands.

Der Sandmann.

Vince leaned closer. “That’s him.”

The passage beneath the drawing described sleep as a doorway. Children were placed in sacks made from silk and sand. The creature fed on the energy of youth.

Then came its weaknesses.

Water.

Sunlight.

Waking minds.

Deidre turned the page.

Speak his name, and he listens.

She closed the book.

“Mrs. Kline knows.”

Vince looked towards the librarian.

“She knows something.”

After school, Deidre’s father met them in the garage.

Supplies covered the workbench.

Flashlights. Batteries. Rope. Water bladders. First-aid supplies. Protein bars. A pocket knife.

And a handgun.

Vince stared at it.

“I don’t want you using this,” Deidre’s father said. “But I want you to have it.”

“Dad—”

“Water first. Light second. Noise lasts.”

Vince looked at him. “You believe us?”

“I believe thirteen children vanished. I believe my daughter fought this thing when she was seven years old. And I believe this town kept quiet because it was afraid of frightening tourists.”

He handed Deidre an old leather belt.

She had worn it as a child, fastening herself to her bed so the Sandman couldn't take her. Her parents had later allowed a counsellor to erase those memories.

“Wear it,” her father said. “Anchor yourself.”

Deidre buckled it around her ankle.

Her mother appeared with blankets and a thermos.

“Come back.”

Deidre nodded.

That night, she and Vince returned to the cave.

Their lights cut through the darkness. The air smelled damp and old. Deidre kept her mouth closed.

Sand did not belong there again.

Vince moved ahead, checking the ground while Deidre kept her light raised.

The cave narrowed and then widened.

A sound came from somewhere ahead.

A faint rasp.

Vince stopped.

“What was that?”

Deidre listened.

Nothing.

“It’s probably nothing,” Vince whispered.

She looked at him.

“Do you believe that?”

“Not even a little.”

They continued.

At the first split, the rasp returned from the passage on the right.

They followed it.

The tunnel opened into a chamber where moisture clung to the rock. Water dripped from stalactites overhead.

Deidre raised her flashlight.

Shapes hung in rows.

Cocoons.

They were thick, swollen, and large enough to hold children.

Deidre's mouth opened.

Vince clamped his hand over it.

Her breath rushed against his palm.

“Nod if you understand.”

She nodded.

He removed his hand.

“How many?” she whispered.

“Too many.”

Something moved inside one.

A foot kicked weakly against the silk.

“Jimmy.”

Vince grabbed her sleeve.

“Quiet. The Sandman could be close.”

Deidre searched the darkness.

Nothing moved.

Still, she felt watched.

“We drop them,” Vince whispered.

“What?”

“The cocoons. We get them swinging until they strike each other. Gravity breaks the anchors.”

“If they fall—”

“We cut them open. Feed the kids. Get them out.”

Deidre placed her palm against the nearest cocoon.

The silk felt cool and gritty.

She pushed.

It swayed.

She pushed harder.

The cocoon struck the next one.

That one began moving.

Soon the row swung together. The strands holding them overhead creaked.

“Now.”

Deidre and Vince pushed.

The entire row swung.

The anchors snapped.

Cocoons crashed onto the cave floor.

Small cries came from inside.

Vince pulled his knife.

“Cut.”

Silk parted.

Dust puffed into the air.

Deidre recoiled and pulled her collar over her mouth.

A child rolled free, pale and weak.

Vince gave him water and a protein bar.

“Stay awake.”

Deidre cut the next cocoon.

Another child.

Then another.

She kept cutting.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Still no Jimmy.

The ninth cocoon opened.

Mark tumbled out, face grey and lips cracked.

Vince grabbed his shoulder.

“Stay awake.”

Deidre moved on.

Ten.

Eleven.

Twelve.

Her hands shook.

“Where is he?”

Vince looked towards the last cocoon.

It hung heavier than the others. Dust clung to its surface.

“I’ll cut.”

Deidre nodded.

Vince sliced through the silk.

Dust poured out.

A body slid onto the stone.

Jimmy.

Deidre dropped beside him.

Vince caught her sleeve.

“Careful.”

Jimmy opened his eyes.

“Deidre.”

“I’m here.”

“Stay awake,” she whispered. “Please stay awake.”

His eyes struggled to focus.

“He’s close.”

Deidre froze.

“He smells you.”

The rasp came again.

Closer.

Vince turned.

Dust shimmered in the darkness.

A tall shape stepped forward.

Its shoulders were too narrow. Its head tipped at an angle that made Deidre’s stomach turn. Its skin looked like packed sand held together by nothing she understood.

The Sandman.

His dark eyes fixed on her.

The belt around Deidre’s ankle suddenly felt too loose.

Jimmy tried to sit.

Vince pressed him down.

“Breathe. Stay awake.”

The Sandman moved closer.

Pressure filled Deidre’s head.

Her eyelids grew heavy.

Her knees buckled.

Vince grabbed her arm.

“Deidre. Anchor.”

Her fingers found the belt.

She pulled.

Leather tightened around her ankle. Pain cut through the haze.

She forced her eyes open.

The Sandman continued towards her.

Vince shoved a water bladder into her hands and moved towards the side of the chamber.

Deidre saw the moisture dripping from the stalactites above him.

She understood.

The Sandman wanted her.

Let him come.

The pressure increased.

She pulled the belt tighter.

Jimmy’s voice barely reached her.

“Now.”

Deidre squeezed the bladder.

Water struck the Sandman’s chest.

He recoiled.

Pain.

His body shuddered. Dust poured from him.

Then he lunged.

Vince moved.

The handgun came up.

He didn't aim at the Sandman.

He aimed at the ceiling.

The shot cracked through the cavern.

A stalactite broke.

Water poured from the rock.

It struck the Sandman across his head and shoulders.

His body convulsed.

Deidre sprayed him again.

The Sandman began collapsing, his body losing its shape as water tore through it.

He tried to retreat.

The water followed.

Deidre kept spraying.

The Sandman dissolved.

Wet grit collapsed onto the cave floor.

Nothing moved.

Only water continued falling.

Deidre dropped beside Jimmy.

Vince gave him water.

“You came,” Jimmy whispered.

Deidre laughed through her tears.

“Always.”

They moved quickly.

The rescued children supported one another as Deidre and Vince led them from the cave.

Snow struck their faces outside.

They reached town before dawn.

Deidre’s father waited at the driveway. When he saw Jimmy and the other children, his shoulders dropped.

He opened the door.

Deidre’s mother moved among them with blankets, food and water.

Jimmy sat against the couch holding Deidre’s hand.

Vince stood near the window.

Morning arrived.

Parents began appearing.

Then came the town council.

They wanted explanations. They wanted control of the story.

Deidre’s father stepped onto the porch.

“No secrecy. Not this time.”

A councilman started to speak.

“Tourism—”

Deidre’s father pointed through the window towards the thirteen rescued children.

“Look. Then talk.”

He stopped talking.

Jimmy came to stand beside Deidre.

“He’s gone?”

She looked towards the mountain.

“Gone.”

“We scattered the wet grit,” Vince said. “We didn't leave it together.”

Deidre nodded.

She trusted water.

She trusted light.

She trusted people who stayed awake.

The town tried to return to normal.

Deidre wouldn't let it forget.

She told parents what happened. She told teachers. She returned to Mrs. Kline.

“You kept that book all these years.”

“I kept many things.”

“Why give it to us?”

Mrs. Kline looked towards the mountain.

“Because you stayed awake. Because you moved.”

Deidre touched the belt around her ankle.

It had left a bruise.

Weeks passed.

The children returned to school. Jimmy regained his colour. Mark's laugh came back.

Tourist banners went up again.

But beside the visitor centre stood a new sign.

CAVE ACCESS CLOSED.

At night, Deidre slept again.

Sometimes she woke with the taste of dust in her mouth.

Whenever that happened, she sat up and remembered.

Nobody would erase it this time.

Leavenworth would not forget again.

Neither would she.