by A. E. Snow
“I’m not trying to upset or offend,” Mr. Holland said. “I just want you to know that I am here if you need to talk . . . about anything.”
I didn’t say anything at all but just got up, nodded, and left. Outside the room, I stalked past Mason.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, following me outside.
“He’s just a nosy asshole.”
“Mr. Holland? An asshole? What did he say?”
“He asked what happened the other day. He wants to help me so badly. I think he hoped I would open up to him.”
“He’s a guidance counselor. What do you expect?”
“Let’s just get out of here.”
Chapter 23
The sunshine was encouraging after days of overcast skies and cold weather. The promise of the weekend and a party lifted my mood.
“Where to?” I asked Mason after we left out of the parking lot. I drove and he navigated from the passenger seat.
“I guess head west,” he said. “We can pick up where we left off last time.” He squinted at the map. “Tell me again what the road was like.”
The now-familiar image flashed through my mind. “A dirt road. Trees arch over the middle and weeds have grown up on either side. I’ll know it when I see it.”
“Even in the daylight?”
I thought for a moment. “Yes, I think so.”
In spite of my good mood, the whole project had started to be discouraging. Mason hadn’t doubted my story out loud but every time we came up short, I felt a little more doubt seeping in and it sucked. I didn’t want to admit it but I really wanted him to believe me. Of all the people to think I was crazy, I didn’t want him to be that person. I would admit to Iris, and no one else, that I liked him a lot. But the trust between us was tentative at best.
Yet, I had feelings for him which confused me. I don’t get feelings for people and especially not nerdy—though very hot in that smart kind of way—guys.
We were both pretty quiet on the way to the western end of the county. I let the radio play top-40 junk because I was too distracted to search for a new station.
“Turn left onto Larkin Lane.”
I turned onto a paved road with a few scattered houses.
“Maybe this one will turn into a dirt road after a bit.”
Small, shabby houses dotted the countryside. They all looked like they’d been built before 1940. More than one of them had abandoned vehicles rusting in random spots all over the overgrown yards. Sure enough, after the houses gave way to fields and the occasional cow, the road became dirt.
A strange feeling came over me. I drove slowly and I knew suddenly that we were on the edge of something. That the next thing to happen would change everything.
Although the sunlight shone on the dirt road, I knew when we reached the tree-lined section of Larkin Lane that it was the same dirt road haunting my dreams.
I stopped the car.
“What’s wrong?” Mason turned away from the map.
“This is it,” I whispered. Dizziness and a feeling of being disconnected from reality fought its way inside of my head. He seemed very far away.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure.” I took several deep breaths and closed my eyes, trying to find my center.
“Should we keep going?” Mason asked.
I opened my eyes pushing the pictures swimming in my subconscious to the side. “Yes.” I put the car back in drive and crept down the perfectly harmless-looking road. After passing a decrepit barn that had fallen in on itself, nothing but trees and open fields lined either side of the road.
“Are you sure you don’t want to turn around?” He fidgeted next to me. “The road is getting kind of rough.”
“I’m not worried about the car . . .” I didn’t finish.
We crept forward and with each foot of ground gained, the more anxious I got. I gripped the steering wheel with sweaty hands and guided the car as the road curved ahead. When we came around the corner, out of the trees, I was not at all surprised to see a large abandoned house, the same one from my vision. Every hair on my head rose and for a moment, I forgot to breath.
“Crap,” I said and stopped the car. I reached for the door handle.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” He knew the answer but I think he wished my answer was different.
“Yep.”
“Are we going in?”
I straightened up and reached down to unbuckle my seatbelt. “Yes.” I sounded surer than I felt. I wanted to throw the car into reverse and fly backward down Larkin Lane until we were safely back home.
I grabbed my phone as we got out of the car and shoved it into the back pocket of my jeans. We stared at the house. The wind blew the weathervane which circled slowly, creaking.
“We’ve got to hurry.” Mason pointed to the sky behind the house which had begun to turn pink. “The sun’s gonna set soon and I want to be gone when that happens. This place is creepy enough in the daylight.”
I shivered. “I’m not exactly eager to be here after dark either.”
We walked through the tall grass to the Victorian-style, long-abandoned home, situated off the dirt road a bit. My gaze drifted to shredded curtains fluttering in the tower room far above us.
I held up the small flashlight that Andy kept in the Subaru. “Do you think Riley could be in there?”
Mason’s face was pale. He shifted from one foot to the other while putting his hands in his pockets and taking them back out. “I hope so but I also hope not.”
I stepped around the rotten places in the broken-down steps and onto the sagging porch that wrapped around to the first floor of the house. I peeled a piece off the wall as I went by. Stillness had settled around the house and it was quiet, other than the noise of our steps.
I jiggled the doorknob and found it locked but all the windows were broken so it was just a matter of climbing through the rotting window frame and avoiding the small pieces of broken glass jutting out of it.
“Watch the glass,” I warned Mason as he followed me in.
Once inside, I spun in a slow circle, surveying the room. We stood in what had once been the living room. There were heavy curtains hanging in various states of decay, some with gaping holes that let a little light shine through. Some had fallen off their rods and all were heavy with dust. The wallpaper had peeled and faded so much that you could only sort of tell what it was supposed to be. Flowers maybe.
“I’ve seen this room before,” I said.
“You have?” Mason asked, almost whispering.
I wandered through the old room. Something drew me toward a tall bookshelf that still had a few books stacked on the shelves. Dusty books and papers lay scattered in the floor next to it. He followed right behind me.
“Wow. Really old Farmers’ Almanacs.” I ran my fingers down a row of thin volumes. I took one out and opened it. “‘101 Classic Poems,’” I read aloud.
“That seems weird,” Mason said from behind me. “Poetry and almanacs?”
“Don’t forget the Bible,” I said.
I flipped through the yellow, crumbling pages. The musty book smell filled my nose and I rubbed my nose to discourage the sneeze that threatened. It appeared that this book had been well loved. I turned to the table of contents.
“‘Christopher Marlow, William Blake, William Wordsworth, Christina Rossetti, Robert Browning, Elizabeth Barrett Browning,’” I read aloud from the contents. “I’ve never heard of any of these people.”
“You obviously need to do that English project since it’s clear that you don’t pay any attention in class. And can we please hurry?” He fidgeted.
“Sure.” I stuck the book back on the shelf. “Onward.”
I noticed a single chair sitting in front of the old, black fir
eplace. I blew out all my air in a steady stream. It looked like it belonged to the house but without the dust and there were tracks where it had been dragged from somewhere. My stomach jerked as if I was starting the downhill portion on an old wooden roller coaster. Muddy footprints faded into the next room.
“What is it?”
Mason ran his finger down the dusty mantel and made a face at his dust-coasted fingertip. He coughed. “It’s a little musty in here.”
“This chair.”
“Have you seen it before?”
“Yeah, I have.” My voice wobbled when I answered. I circled the chair. I could almost see Jenna sitting there, her blond hair tangled. “But it’s more than that. It’s been recently dragged from in there.” Darkness washed over me. Something terrible happened right where I was standing. Determined not to leave until I found something, I shook it off as much as I could. “Let’s keep going.” I didn’t tell him, but that chair was the very spot where Jenna died. I knew it, and my blood ran cold.
“What’s wrong?”
Not wanting to terrify him more than he already was, I forced a smile. “Nothing. Let’s go upstairs.” Backing away from the spot that seemed to be a different temperature from the rest of the room, I focused my attention on the stairs.
Tentatively, I placed my foot on the bottom step, but as soon as I shifted my weight, the old, rotted wood groaned.
“I don’t think they’re safe,” he whispered.
Disappointed, I stepped back down onto the floor. “Yeah, probably. I really wanted to go to that tower room, though . . .” I peered up the stairs. The sun had shifted in the sky and shadows had fallen in the house. In the doorway of one of the rooms upstairs, something moved.
I jumped, rooted to the spot.
“What is it?” Mason whispered from behind me.
“Shh.” I pointed with shaking hands. We waited for an eternity. Nothing disturbed the silence except our rapid, shallow breathing. I kept my eyes fixed on the doorway.
Eventually, he tugged on my arm. “Maybe it was nothing.”
I followed him into the next room. Glancing behind me, I expected to see something following me. The hair on my arms stood up. I rubbed my arms and surveyed the room we’d just entered which must have been a dining room at one time. There was a table with a collapsed leg that was barely standing and two more chairs. The chair from the living room was a perfect match.
The next room was the kitchen, stripped of everything except an old-fashioned farmhouse sink and a heavy black wood stove. There was a door leading to the back porch, which was in a similar condition as the front.
I slowly took stock of the rest of the kitchen. I spied a door standing slightly open with darkness beyond it and another door right next to it, closed.
“One of those doors must lead to the basement,” I said. “Assuming there is a basement.” I walked over and opened one of the doors. It creaked but only a little. Total darkness greeted me. I shivered. There were old rickety stairs leading down into a black hole. “Do you think Riley could be down there?”
Mason’s eyes opened wide. He cleared his throat. “Those stairs look totally sketchy.”
“I guess you’re right,” I said, but I let my gaze linger. What was down there? An old, empty cellar seemed like the perfect place to stash someone if you didn’t want anyone to find them. I closed my eyes and tried to feel something, anything like what came through in my vision.
Next to me, Mason tugged on my shirt. “It’s getting darker. We won’t be able to see a thing down there even with a flashlight.”
I disagreed but I sighed and nodded.
The relief showed on his face. I shut the first door and put my hand on the knob of the second door. “What’s behind door number two?”
When I opened it, I faced stairs leading up. They were dim and spooky but considerably less so than the basement stairs.
“We aren’t going up there, are we?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said and started up the stairs before he could say anything else.
“I hope they’re in better shape than the front stairs . . .”
I bounced slightly on a step halfway up. It creaked but not much. “They seem alright.” I went up a few more. “They’re okay. Come on up.”
Mason came up the stairs slowly, testing each one for weaknesses. After the first few, he seemed to get more comfortable and made better time on the second half. When he reached the top, he touched the small of my back and I jumped.
“Sorry I scared you,” he said. He left his hand on me.
“It’s fine,” I said and held his gaze. Flustered, I broke eye contact so I could focus on finding a clue or something. “Let’s look around.”
“Maybe let’s skip this one,” he said as I walked through the first door. “Okay,” he said when I kept going. “Just stay away from there.” He pointed to the corner where the old wood was visibly sloped. I never expected Mason to be scared, even though he was trying really hard to play it off. “And we should hurry.”
I inspected the closet in the second bedroom with my flashlight highlighting cobwebs strung in the corners. Disappointed, I stepped back and scanned the room again hoping to see anything out of place.
A loud bang broke the silence. We both jumped.
“What was that?” he whispered.
“I think a door caught in the wind. I hope it was a door,” I murmured.
We stood completely still, listening.
“It’s an old house. That could have been anything,” he said quietly.
“Yes, you’re right,” I said, terrified. Through the window, the sky had turned purple. We actually needed the flashlight to get back down the stairs and out the door.
“I kind of want to see what’s down there.” I paused in front of the basement door.
“It’s too dark to search anymore tonight,” he said. He stood between me and the back door, clearly torn about whether he should stay with me or run.
I followed him out of the kitchen, through the dining room, and back into the living room. The house, not that scary during the day, had taken on a new life. Every corner and shadow was sinister. Mason turned around slowly with wide eyes. I reached over and grabbed his hand.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, yanking me toward the door. Now that the door was in sight, I started to panic. We dashed across the living room and through the front door, slamming it behind us.
He waited until I had jumped off the porch to jump off himself. As soon as we got into the car, I locked the doors. As I backed around, I kept my eyes on the house. In the twilight, it looked like a thing of evil being swallowed up by the shadows. But there was no doubt in my mind that I’d found the right place. I knew I had to come back. I had to go down into the basement.
Chapter 24
Neither of us dared to talk and barely dared to breathe until we reached the string of run-down houses.
“I’m not crazy, you know,” I blurted into the silence.
“I know,” Mason said. “I believe that you believe. I’m just not sure what it means . . . or what you were expecting to find.”
His words stung. I didn’t say anything. Tears choked me and filled my eyes. Annoyed, I tried to nonchalantly blink them back. I never cry, especially in front of people.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Stop the car for a second.”
At the end of Larkin Lane, I stopped the car. I was glad that it was a little darker and hoped he couldn’t see how splotchy my neck always got when I cried.
“Bellamy, I believe you. I do. I just had a weird feeling there, that’s all. I’m sorry if I was a jerk.”
Tears streamed down my face. After a few moments, Mason suddenly leaned over and put his arms around me, which only made me cry harder. He pulled me into his lap
and held me. He was strong, which I hadn’t expected. I cried into his shoulder, embarrassed but glad to be held by someone. His arms were solid around me and I felt like they were the only thing keeping me from flying apart and into a million pieces. Finally, I leaned back to wipe my nose on my sleeve since that was all I had.
I gazed into his eyes which were dark puddles deep enough to drown in. Despite the circumstances, the air tingled with sparks. He leaned forward and I closed my eyes. I felt his breath on my lips and I was about to be swept away into oblivion when both of our phones chimed at almost the same moment. I sat up and hit my head on the roof of the car.
“Shit,” I said and rubbed my crown.
The moment was destroyed and left weirdness in its place. I climbed off Mason and back into my seat, grabbing my phone out of my pocket.
He scrambled for his phone in his backpack.
It’s getting late . . . read the text from my mom. “It’s my mom.”
“Mine, too,” Mason replied.
“I guess we better hurry.” I shook my hair out of my face and took a deep breath trying to regain some balance. The space between us pulsed with things unsaid and the kiss that hadn’t happened.
“Well,” he said.
“Yeah?” I hoped he would say something to make me forget what he said about believing me.
“Are you going to the party tonight?”
I swept my bangs out of my face and frowned. “I guess so.”
He paused and I waited for something, but he got out of the car. “I’ll probably see you there.”
“You will.”
Mason got out of the car and I watched him run up the sidewalk to his house which appeared perfectly normal. You would never guess that anything bad had ever happened there. I drove home slowly, taking inventory of everything I could of the abandoned house we’d entered. As soon as possible, I’d have to go back to Larkin Lane. And I’d have to do it alone since Mason thought I was nuts.