Bellamy Rising Read online

  I put my phone in my back pocket and crawled out of the closet and to the top of the stairs. I heard raucous laughter and then more thumping.

  The music was welcome. Maybe I could make it down the stairs without being heard. I stood up as slowly as I could and prayed again. Don’t let the floor creak God, really, this is super important. I closed my eyes and tried to steady my legs.

  More murmuring and talking floated up the stairs. The door at the bottom was wide open. I stepped down one step. Clinging to the wall, I waited without daring to breathe. Hopefully I wouldn’t pass out from lack of oxygen and fall down the stairs.

  Over the course of at least five or ten minutes, I crept down the stairs flinching every time there was a creak or a groan. I was halfway down when footsteps came out of the living room and into the kitchen. Looking around for an escape route, I started to panic and decided the only way out was back up. I froze and willed the dark to hide me once again. Faint, dancing light came from somewhere. A shadow darkened the room as it started to enter the kitchen. I squeezed my eyes shut and died for a second right there on the back stairs.

  Nothing happened and I opened my eyes, squinting. Whoever it was headed back the way they came. All the air that I’d been holding in whooshed out of me and I gripped the heavy flashlight tightly in one hand while the other hand held onto the wall. I almost wished I’d brought the small flashlight, except the big one made an excellent weapon should I need one.

  I continued the world’s longest descent down stairs. I finally reached the bottom and waited.

  A woman with a voice like honey sang an old song. Someone had hooked a speaker up to a phone maybe. The sweet words bounced around the empty rooms in this creepy old house, and it sounded hollow and sinister.

  I peeped around the door slowly moving farther into the dining room until I could see a little bit of the next room certain that Mr. Caldwell would round the corner at any moment. As I suspected, a small fire flickered in the fireplace. It crackled comfortably while a terrified Ally sat in front of it tied to a chair. Next to her, a figure crouched, drenched in shadow.

  “This song . . . it reminded me of her,” he said softly. “And it reminds me of you.”

  I drew closer, my eyebrows knit in concentration. I recognized the moment Ally Gilbert was about to die and this shadowy man was going to be the one who killed her. It was my last shot to do something. I knew that with enough force, I could knock him out with my flashlight. Thank God I’d brought it. I whispered, “This is it.”

  I clung to the wall and tiptoed silently, grateful for the noise of the crackling fire and song.

  When I got close enough, I held the hulking flashlight over my head and rushed toward the man. I brought the light down hard on his head. He groaned and then slumped to the ground at my feet, unconscious.

  “Mr. Holland!”

  All the visits to his office. The interest in my life. The ride home. I could have easily been sitting here tied to a chair instead of Ally. I froze, in total disbelief, holding the flashlight.

  Ally screamed through the duct tape, tears running down her cheeks while she frantically wiggled.

  “We have to get out of here and quick.” I dropped the flashlight and it landed with a crash. I put the Swiss Army knife to good use to saw through the ropes around her hands and feet. It took nearly an eternity. With every moment that passed, I grew more and more panicked. Finally the ropes gave way.

  I grabbed the edge of the tape. “I’m sorry about this.” I ripped it off and Ally cried out. She reached her hands out to me and I helped her up.

  She started to sob. I fumbled with the ropes; they were too short to tie around his hands or feet since I cut them. Mr. Holland began to stir.

  “Come on.” I grabbed Ally’s hand and pulled her behind me. We tumbled out the back door. “Run!” I yelled and we ran as hard as we could to the woods.

  “I’ll find you!” his warning rang out from the back porch.

  “Keep running, stay with me,” I huffed and let go of Ally’s hand. “Hurry.”

  Still sobbing, she ran right behind me into the woods. We had a tiny head start.

  Only seconds later, Mr. Holland crashed into the woods behind me, cursing.

  I ran to the left, checking behind me to make sure Ally was still there. I could make out her figure right behind me. Rain soaked us which made running harder but the noise of the raindrops on the trees might be enough to cover the noise we were making. We ran in what I hoped was the direction of the car. As long as I heard him thundering through the underbrush behind me I kept running.

  I don’t know how far we’d gone when I realized I no longer heard him crashing through the woods behind us.

  “Ow,” Ally cried out. She pointed at her ankle, limping as she ran.

  I went back and got her, grabbing her around the waist. “Put your arm around me,” I whispered. We got a slow start. “We’ve got to hurry.”

  She tried to run but we only got a few feet before she stopped.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, my whisper barely audible.

  The rain came harder, pattering on the leaves. I wiped running water out of my eyes and followed her gaze.

  Ally stared straight ahead. Her mouth hung open.

  Though I knew what she was staring at, I turned my head slowly and found myself staring into the eyes of the devil.

  “Come on!” I shouted but my voice cracked. I tried to pull Ally, but she didn’t budge.

  “There’s no use running, Bellamy,” Mr. Holland said in a pleasant but evil tone. Suddenly, he was illuminated. He held my flashlight and shone it up into his face.

  I shuddered with fear but I held my head up and stood up straight.

  “I know where your car is,” he said. “I park there sometimes, you see. “I’ve been waiting for you.” His voice was calm and he smiled. But it wasn’t a warm smile. It was the coldest smile I’d ever seen. It was as if the man I knew from school had been possessed.

  “Let’s go,” he said and walked toward us slowly.

  Ally started to sob.

  As he got closer, he swung the light down so we could see the gun he held.

  He marched us back toward the house through the woods with the gun pointed at my back. I guess he thought I was more of a flight risk. I wracked my brain trying to think of an escape route, but I knew that I’d just get shot.

  “I don’t want to use this thing. I don’t really like guns.” Mr. Holland stuck the gun into my back. I had no choice but to go back up the rickety stairs and into the house.

  “Bellamy!” he cried. “I take it you’ve been here before.”

  I struggled mightily to see the enthusiastic and dorky guidance counselor inside of this monster but I didn’t see him anywhere. I nodded.

  “My mother’s name was Evangeline Larkin. This was her house,” he said proudly. “She grew up here.” He acted as if we were talking about a normal situation or going to an open house. He pushed us both into the living room. “I should have brought more rope.”

  “There’s some in the basement,” I said drily.

  Mr. Holland laughed the laugh of a maniac. “You still think I’m stupid, don’t you? You and everyone else!”

  I gulped.

  “That’s right. You should be afraid.” He brought his face close to mine.

  I felt my back pocket buzz.

  “Have a seat, girls.” He gestured to the floor.

  I sat down next to Ally and reached out for her hand, a gesture that made Mr. Holland laugh. “This upsets my evening a great deal. I hadn’t planned for two.” He said it like he was talking about not having enough food for a dinner party. “I expect we’ll manage.”

  I let out a breath. I couldn’t figure out a way out. My brain was shutting down out of
sheer panic.

  “Let’s just relax.” He crossed over into the dining room and restarted the song that had been playing before, which came from a tablet and poured out of portable speakers that felt entirely out of place. Soft piano and the same sweet voice filled the room.

  Mr. Holland sighed contentedly. “I love this song.” He smiled broadly. “It reminds me of Mother.”

  Good grief. He had a mother complex. Great. That was usually a bad sign, i.e., Norman Bates.

  The old jazz standard wasn’t a particularly terrifying song but I was officially terrified beyond belief. Death isn’t the worst thing, I thought to myself trying to be rational. Maybe you’ll see your dad again. The thought of my dad made me want to cry and to live. I missed him but I didn’t want to be gone. I didn’t want to watch my family living without me, if I even got to see them again. The thing about death is that it happens to everyone and no one really knows what happens. Death, the greatest mystery of all.

  Mr. Holland came over and knelt by me. He ran a finger down my jawline. Bile rose in my throat.

  “When did you know, Bellamy?”

  I didn’t speak. I just stared at him.

  “I really thought you’d have figured it out sooner,” he said. “I left you plenty of notes.” His voice got soft. “Bellamy, I don’t want you to die. But you have to. Don’t you see? You were going to anyway. You were going to be next.” He laughed, giddy at the prospect.

  “I suppose so,” I said, my voice shaking.

  “You do?” he said as if I’d agreed to go to prom with him. “I’m so glad you agree. I’m so glad you understand.” He stood up and threw his arms in the air.

  I stared at the man in front of me. We were literally dealing with a madman. He was nuts. Bat-shit crazy. And how had no one ever noticed?

  I hesitated a moment and then spoke. I squeezed Ally’s hand. I hoped she would understand what I was trying to do. Our only hope was to stall and pray that Mason had called the police. “I know that Jenna had to die too.”

  Mr. Holland beamed at me.

  I sincerely hoped I could keep up the act long enough to think of something.

  “It was so perfect. She was waiting on the sidewalk right outside of your coffee shop,” he said as if it was some sort of happy coincidence. “I just happened to be driving by and offered her a ride.” He shook his head and laughed. “Apparently, she’d had a fight with her boyfriend and decided to skip the party and go home. Do you see how perfect that is?”

  My blood turned to ice. He’d given me a ride. I could have died that night. I wondered why I hadn’t. I choked out the words, “Yeah. That was . . . some timing.”

  The firelight turned one side of his face orange. The other side remained in shadows, much like Mr. Holland. Half of him a public servant dedicated to education while the other half was a monster.

  Finally, I cleared my throat. “What about Riley?”

  “Ah. Riley was such a dynamite girl. Always helping. She organized that beautiful vigil for Jenna.” One side of his mouth raised in a smile. He stared into the distance, wistful.

  I but my lip to keep from throwing up, but I had to keep distracting him. Time was our only hope.

  “‘Porphyria’s Lover,’” I said. “I know that poem.”

  “Yes, I sent you some of it,” he said shyly, as if he left me chocolates instead of threatening and terrifying notes. Mr. Holland giggled. “Wasn’t that clever how I copied your handwriting? I’ve always been good at that. I thought that was a fun game, did you?”

  I didn’t answer.

  His smile faded and his face went dark. “But you had to be warned, Bellamy. I wanted you to be the last one. It was all going to end with you.”

  “Why me?”

  “You’ve always been a challenge.”

  I knew then for certain that he was a psychopath. He didn’t need a reason to kill. His deranged mind had set up the poem thing as a game. A game he’d been winning. But not this time.

  He stared off into the distance with a slight smile. “It was beautiful the way they died. Her blond tresses wrapped around her neck. She had such long hair. Her face blushed red and then poof. Not everyone has long enough hair. You don’t.” He chuckled and cocked an eyebrow.

  I swallowed but the lump was stuck in my throat. “What is it about that poem?” I asked.

  Next to me, Ally cried silently. She had a death grip on my hand.

  “It was my mother’s favorite.” He sighed. “She loved poetry. Did you know, my middle name is Browning? She wanted me to be a poet like him.”

  “Why didn’t you become one then?”

  With that one question, he snapped. “I was perfect at everything. I made straight A’s, always. I took care of our family. But she only ever cared about my brother. He was the only one who made her proud,” he hissed. He leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “But she’s proud of me now.”

  He sat back on his heels, his tone almost conversational. “Did you know she used to lock me in that closet upstairs? Maybe the very one you were hiding in?”

  His mother had really done a number on him. I cleared my throat. “What about Ally?”

  “Bellamy,” he said.

  I hated the way he said my name.

  “I thought you understood. They were so innocent and young. Now they will always be that way. You will be too.”

  Ally whimpered.

  Far away I heard something. A burst of hope sparked in my chest. It was a siren.

  Mr. Holland heard it just after I did. “Oh, this won’t do,” he said with perfect calm. “We won’t be able to do this right now.”

  By “this” he meant our deaths.

  “Come on, up you get.” We stood up as he still had the gun pointing at us. “You’ll just have to wait in the basement.”

  Adrenaline started pumping through me again. Somehow, I had to get us out of that basement. I remembered a small window down there. It had been nailed shut. I just hoped it was big enough and the board loose enough.

  Mr. Holland, the crazy madman killer, quickly covered our mouths with duct tape. He whirled me around roughly and taped my hands behind my back. He did the same to Ally and shoved us toward the basement door. It was pitch black down there. “Go, and don’t make a sound until I come to get you.” His voice was hard again.

  I tried to keep my balance as I slowly descended the stairs since I couldn’t hold on to the railing. I tripped and fell down the last few stairs knocking my head on something in the dark. With a groan, I struggled to my feet and then staggered, dizzy.

  He slammed the door and with it went the little bit of light we had. Next to me, Ally cried and strained to get her hands undone.

  I had to get the duct tape off. I struggled and strained, tears pouring out of my eyes. I had to get the duct tape off my mouth so I could scream. By the time I wriggled enough to free my hands, I heard the front door close.

  I ripped the tape from my mouth and gasped at the pain. I rubbed my face for a moment before grabbing my phone out of my back pocket. I was so relieved he hadn’t checked for it. No signal and barely any battery left. Turning the flashlight on the phone on, I aimed it at Ally who blinked at the light. I ripped the tape from her mouth. Her entire mouth was red and raw from being taped shut twice. I undid her hands. She clutched at her wrists once the tape was gone.

  Shining the light around, I tried to remember where I’d seen the window. Finally, I spotted the board and rushed over. “Come here. Hold the light for me.”

  Ally shined the light at the board and I heaved as hard as I could. A thump from upstairs stopped me.

  For a long moment, I didn’t breathe. I knew we had seconds before he came. The flashlight and my phone died just as I braced against the wall but I still couldn’t move the board. All
y reached up and helped me. We pulled with everything we had. The board came off and splintered, cutting my hands in the process. I wiped the blood on my pants and grabbed my phone out of Ally’s hand. I waited again and heard nothing from upstairs.

  “Give me a boost.”

  Ally knelt down and helped me up. I struggled with the rusty, clouded window.

  “Come on,” I urged the window as I pushed against it harder and harder. With a screech, it finally pushed open and I could see the flashing lights fading around the bend. “Maybe we can catch them.”

  I used every ounce of upper body strength I had to hoist myself through the window. I shimmied through the narrow opening and then lay on my stomach and reached for Ally’s hand. She scrambled up the wall and slipped through the window just as we heard the basement door open.

  “Girls? Where have you gone?” Mr. Holland cooed. “Are you hiding? I’ll find you.”

  Ally handed me my dead phone and I stuck it in my back pocket. I grabbed her hand. “Can you run?” I whispered and led her toward the front of the house.

  She nodded, determined.

  We ran down the dirt road after the police cars which disappeared out of sight.

  “Keep going,” I whisper yelled.

  A crash came from the house followed by a roar.

  Afraid to turn back, I ducked my head and ran faster.

  As soon as we were down the lane a bit, I shouted, “Woods, now!”

  We crashed into the woods not even trying to be quiet. I kept glancing behind me but I could see nothing.

  “Stay near the edge,” I directed.

  We ran for our lives, stumbling over fallen trees, and dodging branches which tried to grab our clothes and keep us. If we could get to the car, we had a chance.

  Sharp pains rippled through my head, making me dizzy. Warmth trickled down my face and into my eyes. I wiped them frantically. Blood.