Bellamy Rising

by A. E. Snow

  Ally ran, limping on her hurt ankle.

  When the woods started to thin, I called, “We’re almost there.”

  Chapter 35

  We slowed down enough for me to get my bearings and then the barn came into view.

  “Come on,” I said.

  When we got to the car, I tried opening the door but I’d locked it. “Shit.”

  I bent down and pulled my shoe off and struggled for my key. I heard something plowing through the woods not far from us. My hands shook uncontrollably, and for a moment I thought I wouldn’t be able to unlock it. Finally, it clicked. I threw myself into the car and hit the unlock button leaving my shoe on the ground.

  Ally got in the car and slammed the door shut.

  Hitting the lock button over and over, I tried to breathe.

  I fumbled the key into the ignition and turned the car on. The engine sputtered.

  “Oh God no,” I cried.

  Ally sobbed.

  I tried again. The car came to life. I closed my eyes and rested my head on the headrest for a split-second. Then I threw the car in reverse and backed out from behind the barn. I put the car in gear and switched on the lights. Standing ten feet from the car was Mr. Holland. He panted, out of breath, but smiled with his brows knit together. Pure evil. He started to raise the gun, but I slammed my foot down on the gas. I hadn’t come this far just to die.

  The old wagon lurched forward. Mr. Holland’s face was calm in the second before I hit him and he went under the car. I cringed as I ran over him. I didn’t know if he was dead or not, but I hoped he was.

  I never stopped. I yanked the car onto the road and stepped on the gas again. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” Next to me, Ally collapsed into wracking sobs. I flew down Larkin Lane with my eyes both on the road and in the rearview. It wasn’t until we reached Main Street that I dared to take a breath.

  Still running on adrenaline, I didn’t bother to park when we got to the police station, I just stopped in front of the station door and pulled Ally along as we ran inside, certain that he was still back there somewhere.

  “This is Ally Gilbert,” I panted.

  The officer just stared at me, his mouth slightly open.

  “We’ve just escaped from a raving lunatic kidnapper-murderer!” I yelled.

  “Good God.” He stood up and grabbed Ally’s other arm to help me keep her up. “Come with me.”

  Later, we sat in rolling chairs, wrapped in blankets, and sipping on hot tea while I held a towel to my head. The bleeding had stopped but I knew I’d be heading to the hospital for stitches as soon as my mom showed up. Our parents were on the way. Jackson had apologized on her way out the door to the scene. Over half of the cops in the station had taken off after we explained who we were and where we’d been.

  “I have no idea how to thank you.” Ally’s voice was weak and ragged.

  I grabbed her hand as tears rolled down her dirty face leaving streaks to go along with the cuts from the trees. Her hair was tangled and frizzing and she had dirt smudged on her face. She shook so much her tea sloshed out onto her blanket. I took it and rested it on the desk nearest to me.

  “You don’t have to thank me.”

  “How did you know?” she asked.

  “It’s a long story.” I had no idea how to even begin. I changed the subject. “How did you end up there?”

  “Mr. Holland said he needed my help after school and that he would take me home. I didn’t know he was so unhinged. I was so upset and afraid after Jenna and Riley died. He was so nice to me.” Ally closed her eyes and took a breath. A sob escaped.

  I squeezed her hand tighter.

  When she calmed, I asked, “But how did you end up at the house?”

  Ally sniffed twice and swallowed hair before she spoke. “He said he wanted to show me something. I trusted him. I’m so stupid.”

  “Bellamy!” I heard my mother cry as she came bursting through the door.

  I jumped up and started crying at the sight of her. Even though she was smaller than me, she wrapped me up in her arms and held me tight while I cried out weeks’ and months’ worth of fear onto her shoulder.

  Ally’s parents arrived moments later. They hugged from all sides as they sobbed together. We waited, me, sitting wrapped in a blanket, and Mom, next to me holding on for dear life.

  The ambulance came and took us out on stretchers.

  “I don’t need a stretcher,” I protested as the EMT fastened the Velcro safety strap around me.

  “Miss, you are in shock and bleeding from the head. The best thing to do is go to the hospital.” He smiled gently.

  “I’m riding in the ambulance,” Mom said in her no-nonsense voice.

  For the first time in months, I was safe. They wrapped my bloody hands in bandages on the way to the hospital. Then I was lifted out of an ambulance onto the ground and wheeled inside. It seemed so strange. After I transferred from the stretcher to a hospital bed in the ER, a doctor and several nurses squeezed into the tiny cubicle.

  “Bellamy, is it?” The doctor smiled at me kindly over the top of his glasses.

  I nodded, too exhausted to speak.

  “How do you feel? Does anything in particular hurt?”

  “I kind of hurt all over. My head hurts the most.”

  My mom stood silently by my side, tears glistening in her eyes. She squeezed my shoulder.

  “We are going to keep you here for observation. You’ve had quite a traumatic evening. For now, here’s something for the pain.”

  A nurse approached and swabbed my arm. “This might pinch.”

  The shot was quick. Within moments, I fell asleep.

  I woke sometime much later. Opening my eyes felt impossible. Everything was blurry. I blinked but it didn’t get much better. I shifted around in the bed and tried to sit up.

  A hand grabbed mine. “Don’t try to sit up.”

  I lay back down and tried to smile but my mouth hurt too much.

  Two hands gripped my own.

  I blinked again and the picture started to clear up. Mason sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Hi.”

  He smiled, relieved. “Hi.”

  “Did you call the cops?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  “You have a pretty severe concussion.”

  “I’m not surprised. Mr. Holland?”

  “He’s dead.”

  I breathed in deeply. I didn’t cry, the drugs were too strong. “How?”

  “He was already dead. They found him in the woods near the barn.”

  “I killed him, didn’t I?”

  Masson nodded. “Yes.”

  Anger, horror, and sadness whirled inside of me. I had the crazy urge to laugh and I fidgeted in the bed.

  “Belly. You had to.” He leaned forward and put his hands gently on my shoulders. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sorry I doubted you too.”

  “Let’s forget about that part.” He kissed me, his lips barely daring to touch mine.

  Moments later, my family burst in the door. Meredith and Iris rushed to my side. Mason squeezed my hand and then got up to give them room. Meredith threw herself on me and wept. Iris had been crying but she smiled broadly, her hair frizzing out bigger than usual.

  Andrew moved up to the end of the bed, his arm around mom. “I’m glad you’re okay.” And from him, that was bigger than the moon.

  ~ ~ ~

  The next morning, Mason came back with his mom and step-dad who carried a vase filled with daisies.

  “Hi, Bellamy,” Mason said. His mother took my hand and held it in hers. His step-father cried silently and the daisies trembled as h
e shook.

  “We can’t thank you enough,” his mom said, her voice breaking.

  “I didn’t—” I protested.

  “You did.” She leaned down and hugged me, her tears running into my hair.

  They didn’t stay long. Mason kissed me goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Once I got home, I slept for about three days. My mom refused to leave me alone even for a minute and was back to sleeping in my room. The first night, long after I’d gone to bed, she climbed in the bed next to me and held me all night. I was mostly asleep but I heard her say, “Your father would be so proud of you.” I fell into a dreamless sleep with a smile on my face.

  I was surrounded, at all times by my family and friends. Iris brought Sara over. Even Will came over. While Mason was there, of course.

  “I’m glad you're okay,” Will said and hugged me. Before he left, he whispered in my ear, “Call me if you guys ever break up.”

  I smiled, relieved that some things never changed.

  Instead of school, my mom drove me to the police station on Monday morning.

  Jackson led us to a small room with four chairs and a table. “Thank you for coming. We just want to take your formal statement. Your mother is welcome to stay with you.”

  We sat down at the table and I answered all of their questions. I dreaded the one question I didn’t know if I could answer.

  Officer Lewis was the one who asked it. “How did you know, Bellamy?” he asked after I told them my story.

  My mom interrupted. “Maybe if you’d taken my daughter seriously then you would know how she knew. You could have prevented this.”

  “It’s okay.” I reached for mom’s hand. “I kept having these dreams.”

  “Dreams?” Jackson asked.

  “Visions?” I said. “Kind of, I guess.”

  “Tell me about them,” she said.

  I told her about the road and the house, all of it.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” she said. “I’m sure you can understand why . . .”

  “I can,” I agreed. “But if I ever call you again . . .”

  “I promise to listen.”

  I smiled. “Thanks.”

  Epilogue

  “Close your eyes,” Mason said.

  “Why?” I asked, grinning. I’d gone back to school, which had returned to normal, as much as it ever could. No one knew exactly what happened except they kept calling me a hero, though I still felt guilty about Jenna and Riley. “Survivor’s guilt,” my therapist called it.

  Therapy and anxiety meds were part of my new routine at Mom’s insistence. I didn’t hate therapy as much as I thought I would.

  The local news tried to interview me but my mom firmly told them no. I was glad. My story wouldn’t be easy to tell and I wasn’t ready.

  The entire school was shocked and appalled that this man who was stark-raving mad had been guiding us in college selection and career planning. There was talk of giving every teacher a fresh background check. It wouldn’t have done any good if they had given Mr. Holland a background check. Sometimes crazy doesn’t show up on those things.

  Prom had been canceled. When my yearbook was delivered, I couldn’t even look at it. I did peep at the memorial pages. Jenna’s smile, frozen in time, would always be the same. She would always be young and smiling. Riley’s page was the same. Two girls, completely different, would be forever linked by their fate. It hurt to look. I closed the yearbook and tucked it away, never intending to open it again.

  I knew that Jenna was finally at peace. She was truly gone. I didn’t hear her voice in my head anymore. Mason and his family were able to begin the process of moving on. They sold the house and moved across town which was as far as they could get and still be in Louisa.

  Eventually, I went back to work under Ana Sofia’s careful supervision. Every week, I went to work with Miss Octavia. My mother finally believed that I had the sight and wasn’t just nuts. The end of the school year neared. Life simply went on.

  One afternoon, Iris came by. “The house on Larkin Lane is being demolished.”

  “I want to see it,” I said calmly.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  Iris drove my car. As soon as we turned down Larkin Lane, memories of that night, only a couple of months before, almost overcame me. I took deep breaths and repeated my affirmation over and over in my head. “All is well. All is well. All is well.”

  The house looked the same. I’d never see it as anything other than sinister. The sun beat down on the rotting shingles and I could see bits of the inside of the house as we drove up. She parked the car and I got out. I didn’t approach the house. There was no need. Iris, knowing I needed a moment, got out of the car but stood back.

  I no longer had nightmares about Jenna, but I might always have nightmares about what almost happened to Ally and me. My gaze traveled around taking in the faded and peeling yellow paint. The oak tree towered up behind the house. A warm breeze ruffled my hair while a butterfly drifted by.

  “Let’s go,” I said, getting back into the car. I watched the house disappear in the rearview mirror until it was gone forever.

  ~ ~ ~

  The warm June day faded into evening. Fireflies appeared, a few at first, then more and more. I waited for Mason on our front porch. When he pulled up, I stood up and brushed off my jeans. Since everything happened, we’d been official.

  “Hi,” he said, getting out of his car. “Happy anniversary.”

  A smile washed over my face. “Hi. Which anniversary is it?”

  “A month and a half.” He kissed me. “You ready?”

  “Yeah,” I said, laughing.

  We drove to the lake on the road that stretched all the way down the ‘local’ side of the lake. For the first time in years, I felt perfectly content, as if I was starring in a car commercial.

  Eventually, he stopped the car and turned off the ignition. “Here we are.”

  We got out and he took my hand. “Close your eyes. Don’t open them until I tell you to, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said and closed my eyes tightly.

  He led me slowly and carefully down what I imagined was a narrow, bumpy path leading to one of the beaches. We stopped finally.

  “Open them.”

  I opened my eyes and saw a pre-set picnic framed by the sun setting on the lake. I laughed. It felt good to laugh again. “Mason, this is amazing.”

  “I wish it was bigger, brighter, better,” he said.

  “It’s perfect.”

  “I even finagled some champagne.” He pointed to the blanket.

  “I’m impressed.”

  The sky was purple, orange, and bright pink. It would not be easy every day to wake up and remember what happened and how close I’d come to leaving this world. But here I was with the boy I’d never have thought of twice.

  “I love your lip ring.” He pressed his smile into my face.

  “I know. All the boys do.”

  “You’re a bad girl,” he teased. “The kind my mother warned me about.”

  “And you love it.”

  “I do.”

  If I were looking down on us from the sky, this would be the moment that I would pan out and turn my camera to the sunset and fade out.

  Life is hard and messy. Sometimes terrible, awful shit happens. But life wouldn’t be worth living if something good didn’t come out of the bad.

  Everything has a silver lining. Mason was my silver lining. Having my family back was too. We’d been through hell but we slowly pieced ourselves back together knowing that if we didn’t have each other, we might as well be alone.

  One day, the terrible memories of grie
f and loss would be a distant memory. One day, I’d think of Jenna and Riley without being wracked by guilt. Mr. Holland wouldn’t always haunt my dreams.

  I just had to keep living and finding joy in the small things: birds singing their morning songs, a hot cup of sugar coffee, the sound of my best friend’s laugh, and the sparkling eyes of the boy I never expected.

  Acknowledgements

  I assumed (stupidly) that after I wrote my first book, the second would be easier. I was terribly mistaken. I wrote the first draft of this book as part of Camp NaNo 2014. Since then, an actual village helped me get it from a long series of words strung together in no particular order to a book and now I want to thank those dear people. Thank you, Sheri. You were one of the first readers and you’ve been involved in every part of the process. I’m so thankful to call you my friend. Thank you thank you thank you. Andra, thank you for loving this book. Your advice and insight were invaluable and I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you J Ray. You are a beautiful angel and I appreciate every moment you’ve spent talking me down from the ledge or ledges.

  I am so grateful to be a part of the most amazing writing group. You beautiful people are my lifeline for all things writing. A more awesome collection of writers and wenches would be extremely hard to find.

  Big thanks to my family. Thank you, David for being such a great husband and father. Thank you for getting our children out of my hair so I can work. Thank you Ezra and Miriam for being so darn cute and sweet. You people are my whole world.

  Thank you to my parents for their unwavering support.

  Finally, thank you Robert Browning. I read your poem for the first time in college and it clearly made an impression.

  Also from Soul Mate Publishing and A.E. Snow:

  MEADOW PERKINS, TRUSTY SIDEKICK

  Meadow has always been someone’s sidekick. It stinks, but it has always kept her safe. On the last day of school, Emilia, her so-called best friend, deals her a blow in the form of public humiliation and her spot in a prestigious art school is compromised. Meadow is knocked out of her sleepy existence and realizes she needs to make some big changes, starting with Emilia.