Bellamy Rising

by A. E. Snow

“Where are we going?” a voice asks. Jenna’s voice. I know it like I know I have a freckle in my armpit. “I thought you were taking me home,” she says, her voice uncertain. My fear blooms with hers until I feel like I’m part of her.

  “I just want to show you something. You seem upset and it will make you feel better,” a male voice says.

  I tried with all my might to recognize the voice. I couldn’t.

  “It’s kind of far away from everything.” Jenna fidgets in her seat.

  We’re met with silence. We drive. I still don’t know who is beside me but I feel an explosion of terror—like fireworks—when the house comes into view.

  “Where are we?” Jenna demands, sounding slightly hysterical.

  “Home. This was my mother’s house.”

  Ding.

  I stifled a scream. Once the terror wore off, I grabbed my phone, totally annoyed.

  Mason had texted, I’m at your door. Can I come in?

  My head spun. Whose mother’s house? Why was Mason at the door? I closed my eyes and rubbed my hands over my face before running downstairs and letting him in.

  “Hi,” he said when I opened the door.

  “Come on in.” I led the way back to my room.

  He sat down on the bed and looked at me sadly. “I miss you.”

  I didn’t say anything for a long time. “I miss you too.”

  He pulled me into his lap. I buried my face in the space between his neck and his shoulder that was meant to have faces buried in it. I started to cry and I let him wrap me up in his arms, which were as long as tree limbs.

  When I finally sat up, I knew it was too late for me. I put my face on his cheek and mouthed the words, “I like you.”

  “I like you too.” My heart exploded into a trillion pieces of confetti and covered the entire earth. “But Bellamy?”

  “Yeah?” I said, drowning into his dark infinity pool eyes.

  “The police were at our house again. They said something was found that might help lead them to the killer. They said you found it. You have to tell me the truth. About everything.”

  And I did.

  Chapter 33

  On Friday, I found myself trapped during lunch in Mr. Caldwell’s classroom.

  “You failed your math test. Again,” he said and tapped his fingers on his desk.

  “Oh,” I said, not surprised.

  “What should we do about it?”

  I tried not to roll my eyes. “I guess we should study more,” I said with very little animation as I slumped in my seat.

  “What’s wrong, Bellamy?” Mr. Caldwell had his ‘concerned’ face on. Caring and understanding with a dash of sadness that I wasn’t living up to his great mathematical expectations for me.

  I shrugged. I could really tell him what was wrong. I stared at the bookshelf behind him so I wouldn’t have to look at him. I was surprised to see that none of them were math related. A book caught my eye. Poetry from the Romantic Period. My whole body went numb.

  “Bellamy?”

  “Uh, what?”

  He smiled. “I asked if you were interested in poetry. There’s mostly poetry on that shelf you keep looking at.”

  “Oh, it's okay, I guess.” I resisted the urge to jump up and run.

  “Do you enjoy poetry from the Romantic period?”

  I tried to fake a laugh. “When I understand it, sure.”

  “Would you like to borrow one of my books?” He smiled.

  Goosebumps sprang up on my arms. “No. No thanks.” I already knew which poem I’d find in that book.

  “If you change your mind, you are welcome to any of the books in here.”

  The intercom switched on. “Mr. Caldwell?” the deep smoker’s voice belonging to the school receptionist asked.

  “Yes?”

  “Please report to the main office right away.”

  He made a face. “Sure thing.”

  I made my escape, stopping around the corner to breathe. Mr. Caldwell? A murderer? I always knew he was a creep, but a murderer?

  In English class. Mrs. Nelson tried, in vain, to get us to care about William Faulkner. I tried to figure out what I was going to do. I could go to the cops but I didn’t really have anything to go on other than a poem.

  The intercom switched on and interrupted Mrs. Nelson. “School will be released at 1 p.m. today in light of a police investigation.” Something had happened. Something new. Mr. Caldwell had struck again. “Upon being released, proceed directly to the bus area or parking lot and return to your homes as soon as possible. This is not a drill. I repeat, when the bell rings, return to your homes and stay there.”

  Mrs. Nelson just stood there, looking stricken. Murmurs erupted as everyone began shoving binders and books into backpacks.

  I took my phone out of the front pocket of my bag. I had a missed text from Iris.

  What’s going on?

  I texted her back. I have no idea.

  When the bell rang, everyone jumped up and tried to exit all at once. I hung back a little and let the crowd disperse for a moment. As usual, once in the hallway, people went out of their way to avoid me or stand in groups whispering while they watched me go. I glanced toward my locker and the halls were totally jammed. I decided to skip my locker and head straight for my car with my backpack full of English stuff.

  The halls teemed with worry and no one seemed to know what was going on. I shoved my way through the mess and out the door. The brilliant sunshine didn’t make me feel any better.

  Iris met me at my car.

  “Dude, what’s going on?” she asked me.

  “I have no idea,” I said.

  “My mom said I had to go straight home,” she said and pulled up the local news website on her phone.

  After waiting in line to get out of the parking lot, I turned right and headed toward Iris’s house.

  “If this thing would load . . .” she said with a frustrated sigh.

  “Everyone is checking. Probably crashed the Internet and 4G in all of Louisa.”

  Iris gasped.

  “What’s wrong? What did you find out?”

  “Another girl from our school has been reported missing. She disappeared last night.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Ally Gilbert.”

  “Oh shit.” Ally Gilbert from yearbook. “Shit, shit, shit.”

  “Did you know her?” she asked.

  “Not really. I just saw her yesterday when I went to yearbook.”

  “Want to come in?” Iris opened the door and started getting out.

  “I guess I’d better get home.” After a beat, I called, “Iris?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you think . . . a teacher could have done it?”

  She made a face. “I doubt it. I guess I’m still hoping it’s a stranger. At least that it isn’t someone we’ve known our whole lives. I’ll call you later. Maybe,” she said and shut the car door.

  “You’d better!”

  ~ ~ ~

  My mom was pacing the house when I got home. She didn’t say anything when I walked in, but she grabbed me and hugged me.

  “I can’t get out of work. Just . . . don’t go anywhere tonight, okay?”

  “I won’t,” I lied. I knew where Ally was, if she was still alive. As soon as my mom was gone, I was going to Larkin Lane. I would not let another girl die.

  I went up to my room and opened my laptop to the local news.

  ‘Allison Marie Gilbert was last seen yesterday evening at the 7-11 on Baker Street. She is 5’3”, 105 lbs., and was last seen wearing jeans and a red tank top. Please contact the Louisa Police Department if you have any information. Police have not released a statement, but
there is speculation that this could be related to the disappearances of two other Louisa County girls.’

  Meredith wandered in and read over my shoulder. “Oh my God.”

  I jumped. I hadn’t even noticed her coming in the room or reading over my shoulder.

  “This is getting ridiculous.” Meredith picked her fingernails, which she does when she’s anxious.

  “Yeah, it is,” I said.

  “Did you know her?” Meredith said.

  “Not really.” I stared at my hands, which were shaking like a leaf.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just a little freaked out.” Freaked out wasn’t even the word for it.

  Meredith gave me a half hug and an annoying, pitying look that adults give children when they are afraid of a thunderstorm. “I have to go,” she said and stood up.

  “Where?”

  “A bunch of us are going to the lake since it’s so warm. Come by if you want. We’ll be in the usual place.”

  I didn’t know how anyone could go to the lake at a time like this. It seemed naïve and spiteful all at the same time. “I thumb my nose at you, danger,” it seemed to say, even though it was probably perfectly safe.

  I dialed Officer Jackson.

  “Jackson,” she answered.

  “Um, hi, this is Bellamy Foster,” I said shakily.

  After a pause, Officer Jackson answered, sounding impatient. “Hi, Bellamy. Can I help you?”

  “I have this feeling that Ally Gilbert is at the house on Larkin Lane.”

  She sighed. “We sent someone out there and nothing was there.”

  “What?” I couldn’t believe it.

  “Not that I should tell you this, but we have a lead and we are doing everything we can to find her. Thanks for your help.” Jackson hung up.

  I considered calling back and dropping Mr. Caldwell’s name. Frustrated, I paced the floor.

  “Belly!” Mom shouted up the stairs.

  “What?” I yelled back.

  “I’m leaving. Do NOT go anywhere!”

  “I won’t,” I lied. I knew what I had to do. I could either wait at home and hope they got to her in time, or I could get her myself. Watch out, Caldwell.

  Before I had time to change my mind, I flew downstairs to find Andrew. He was in the kitchen, as per usual.

  “Do you need the car?” I asked.

  “Why?”

  “Because I need it!”

  “Calm down.” Andrew scowled at me. “I was only asking. No, I don’t need the car. Where are you going?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I grabbed my keys off the hook and ran out the front door.

  I drove to Larkin Lane as fast as I could get away with. I took a few deep and hopefully calming breaths before turning down the lane. The houses, which were already scattered and set far back from the road, grew farther apart until there were none.

  I parked beside the barn and hoped that my car was hidden enough. I didn’t think I’d ever been so terrified ever in my life but I grabbed my heavyweight flashlight out of the glove compartment and a Swiss Army knife that Andrew kept in the glovebox. I slid the key off the key ring and stuck it in my shoe.

  “Get it together, Foster.” I took several deep breaths and got out of the car.

  It was almost dusk and dark clouds obscured the sunset. I didn’t particularly want to be out in the woods by myself but there was no other choice. I had to try and it was too bat-shit dangerous to drag anyone else into. It’s hard to explain but as I stomped through the darkening woods, trying to move stealthily and failing, I was overcome by the certainty that Ally Gilbert was in that house somewhere. I just hoped I wasn’t too late.

  My plan was simple. Go to the house. Try to find out what was going on inside without going in, and call the police again when I found Ally. If I got even one glimpse of Caldwell, I’d call 911. I highly doubted they’d actually even bothered to check the house. I’d texted Iris one sentence: Text me if they find her. If I got that text, I would high-tail it out.

  I have never been afraid of the woods. Growing up in the mountains with forests all around meant I was used to being in them. But this was different. I was terrified. Even though I was afraid, I was much less terrified of the woods than the house on Larkin Lane.

  Rain began to spatter. The first line of the poem popped into my head.

  “The rain set in early tonight,” I whispered. “Damn.”

  About half a mile later, the forest grew less dense. When I could see the clearing up ahead, I stopped and took a survey of the house, eerie in the near-darkness.

  I stayed crouched in the increasing rain and watched. The house seemed asleep. There were no sounds, no screams of help. I started to doubt my certainty. Enough time passed that I felt sure I would have seen or heard something by now and I made the possibly insane decision to approach the house. The big oak in the back was the obvious place to wait. I closed my eyes tightly for a few seconds and then opened them and broke into a run.

  When you’re walking off into the unknown, time slows down. Each second lasts for years.

  “Bellamy, this could be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done,” I said to myself. I peeked around the side of the oak across the overgrown backyard. I could barely make out the kitchen door. I scanned the woods around me. My breath was ragged from fear and adrenaline.

  When more time passed without any noise or movement, I crouched down and began creeping toward the house before breaking into a full-on run. When I reached the dilapidated house, I leaned up against the wall for a moment, listening. Nothing.

  The porch creaked when I stepped onto it and I froze. When I was sure there were no sounds coming from inside, I put my shaking hand on the rusted doorknob and twisted. It creaked when I pushed it open. I took my flashlight out of my backpack and flipped it on. From the kitchen, I could see through to the living room fireplace. There was a pile of wood stacked neatly beside the fireplace. The chair had been moved back in front of the fireplace. Someone had been here recently. I doubted that a bunch of teenage hooligans would be concerned with stacking firewood so neatly. I swung my light around to the basement door. It was closed. I put one foot slowly in front of the other when I noticed the door leading up the back stairs had been closed. Last time I’d been to the house, the door had been open.

  Inching toward the stairs, I was a little glad to not be heading to the basement, at least yet. The bottom step sagged and I carefully put my foot down near the side of the step. When I did, I heard a faint thump. I swallowed hard.

  I was glad I’d worn sneakers instead of boots and I made my way up the stairs without making too much noise. All of my experience sneaking out late was finally coming in handy.

  Dark had fully arrived and I could see little upstairs. I shined my light around tentatively. I tiptoed toward the first room right across from where I stood. Empty. The second room overlooking the backyard was empty too.

  I heard a shuffling noise followed by more thumps coming from the last bedroom. My legs shook so much that they were barely usable, but I forced myself onward and tried to remember the reason I was here. When I got to the room, I heard a muffled scream and I swung my light around.

  Caught in the beam from my flashlight was a terrified Ally Gilbert, tied up on the floor with a gag in her mouth.

  Chapter 34

  “Oh my God.” I moved the light out of her eyes and onto me. “It’s me, Bellamy Foster.”

  She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, tears shone in them. I went to her and wrapped my arms around her.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” I said. “I promise.” I hoped so, anyway.

  Ally nodded.

  “I’m going to call the police, okay?”

  She nodded again.
/>   I started to yank the duct tape from her mouth but the sweeping of headlights across the room sent me into a panic. “I’ve got to hide or I can’t get word to anyone,” I whispered with urgency. “I’m going to get in the closet in the next room and text someone.” I noticed the battery was in the red. The signal wasn’t great and searching for signal seemed to have worn the battery down faster than I expected. I hoped it would hold out long enough.

  Ally’s eyes begged me to stay but she nodded again.

  I tiptoed to the room next door and hid in the back of the long, narrow closet. There were no lights in the house and I fervently hoped that whoever was here, unless it was the cops which I seriously doubted, wouldn’t go poking around.

  I heard the front door slam and the decrepit house vibrated slightly. It took everything I had to keep my heart and my scream inside of my body while they tried desperately to escape.

  Far-away whistling came from downstairs and some thumping around. I barely dared to breathe. Tears seeped out of my eyes when I heard footsteps on the back stairs. Right around the footsteps got to the top of the stairs, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Terrified it would be heard, I grabbed it out of my pocket, shoved it up my shirt and wrapped my arms around myself and the phone and prayed. The steps paused in the hallway outside the door and I held my breath. One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . . eight seconds passed and the footsteps resumed.

  I craned to hear but all I heard when he or whoever got into the room was murmuring. I couldn’t recognize the voice.

  Shuffling and more footsteps followed as Ally was dragged out of the room and down the stairs. The whistling started again and I took the opportunity to get my phone out. I was surprised to see that I had gotten a lot of texts. One from Andrew, who never texted me, one from Mason, and I wanted to cry when I saw his name. I sincerely hoped that I would get to see his face again. I texted him: Call the police larkin lane NOW.

  I said a prayer in my head which I was pretty rusty at. Dear God or whoever, please help. Help me. Please let me see Mason again . . . and my mom. And Iris. Amen.