Chapter 3 – Beneath the Surface
827 Words
The warning note burned in Leah’s palm. "Stop digging or you’ll drown too."
She read it again, every letter carved with quiet menace. Someone knew she was asking questions. Someone had been watching her.
Still, her pulse didn’t race with fear—it pounded with determination.
She wasn’t going to stop.
By morning, Leah had packed a duffel bag with essentials: a recorder, power bank, flashlight, an old camera, and her notes. Her next stop was Dune Ridge Secondary School—where she and Zuri had spent their teenage years. Maybe someone from back then knew something… or remembered someone named Juma.
The school hadn’t changed. Faded paint, broken windows, and the same dusty bell that hadn’t rung in years. She walked toward the administration block, where she found Mr. Simiyu, the janitor, sweeping.
He looked up. “Leah Mwende?”
She was surprised he remembered. “Yes.”
“You came back… after what happened to your friend.”
Leah nodded carefully. “I want to know the truth.”
Mr. Simiyu lowered his voice. “You won’t find truth here. But there’s something you should see.”
He led her behind the abandoned music room to a storage shed. Inside, he unlocked a drawer and pulled out a rusted student ledger.
“She was looking into this just before she… disappeared.”
He opened the ledger to a page from 2013. Names. Attendance. Notes.
Zuri’s name had a remark beside it: Withdrawn. Unauthorized meetings reported.
Below hers, another name caught Leah’s eye.
Juma Kamau.
“Who is he?”
Simiyu looked uneasy. “No one knows. He wasn’t registered. But he came here. Sat in classes. Spoke to kids. Then vanished.”
“Is that even possible?”
He looked at her. “In Dune Ridge, ghosts wear uniforms and sit in empty chairs.”
Leah took a photo of the page and headed toward Zuri’s old neighborhood. The house was empty, the gate chained, the paint peeling.
But Mrs. Barasa, the neighbor, was hanging laundry next door.
“Zuri’s friend,” she said softly. “I remember you.”
“Do you remember anyone called Juma?”
She dropped a shirt. Her eyes darted around.
“You shouldn’t say that name.”
“Why?”
“They said he could fix anything. Pain. Loss. Lies. But there was a price.”
Leah frowned. “What kind of price?”
Mrs. Barasa backed away. “Ask the lake. It remembers.”
By dusk, Leah was back at the lake shore, recorder on.
“This is Leah Mwende. July 30. I believe Zuri’s death is connected to someone—or something—called Juma. He wasn’t registered in school but appeared in records. People speak of him like a curse… or a spirit.”
She paused.
The water was still. Too still.
Then a ripple. A shadow beneath the surface. Something… or someone watching.
She stepped back instinctively.
Behind her, a voice spoke.
“You’ve come far, but are you ready to see what’s buried?”
Leah turned. A man stood a few meters away—lean, dreadlocked, eyes too calm for the chaos they held.
“Who are you?”
He smiled faintly. “You already know. You’ve been chasing me.”
Her chest tightened. “Juma?”
“I never claimed to be a ghost,” he said. “Only that I remember what others forget.”
“Did you… did you kill Zuri?”
He looked genuinely hurt. “No. But I warned her.”
“About what?”
“Dune Ridge. The pact.”
Leah stared at him. “Pact?”
Juma looked toward the lake.
“Ten years ago, this town made a deal. Silence in exchange for protection. But someone broke that silence.”
“Zuri?”
He nodded. “She asked questions. She remembered the drowned boy. The first one. The boy they sacrificed.”
Leah’s heart pounded. “Are you saying—Zuri was silenced… because she knew the truth?”
“Yes. And now… so do you.”
Suddenly, headlights flashed behind them.
A black SUV screeched to a stop.
Juma grabbed Leah’s hand. “Run.”
They sprinted into the forest as men in suits jumped out, flashlights sweeping through the trees.
Gunshots cracked behind them.
Leah stumbled, adrenaline surging. They dove into a dry creek bed, heartbeats loud as drums.
“We can’t stay here,” Juma whispered. “They know you’re awake now.”
“Who are they?”
“The ones who made the pact. The ones who own this town.”
Leah shook her head. “No one owns truth.”
Juma smiled grimly. “You’ll find out how wrong you are.”
Back at her hideout, Leah played the recordings she had gathered—Baraka, Simiyu, Mrs. Barasa, and now Juma. The puzzle was forming.
One thing was clear: Zuri hadn’t drowned.
She’d been drowned.
And the whole town had helped.
- Writer
