Arrival Records

The following materials were recovered from a water-damaged shoebox in the attic of 214 Bell Street after the property was sold in 1998.

Excerpt from The Bell Street Gazette June 3, 1974 CITY TO DEMOLISH ABANDONED TRAIN DEPOT

After standing vacant for nearly a decade, the Old Bell Street Depot is scheduled for demolition on June 20. City officials cite structural instability and repeated reports of trespassing as reasons for removal.

Built in 1891, the depot once served as the industrial center of Bell Street. Engineers note the building’s foundation has required periodic reinforcement over the years due to irregular subsoil conditions beneath the structure.

Residents with memories or photographs are encouraged to contact City Hall before demolition begins.

Transcript - Police Interview July 2, 1958 Interviewing Officer- Sgt. N. Durity Subject- Brice Baillie, age 17

Durity - When was the last time you saw Zahra?

Baillie - On the platform. Around 10:15. The freight train had just passed.

Durity - You’re sure she didn’t get on a train?

Baillie - There wasn’t a passenger train scheduled.

Durity - Son, people don’t just vanish.

Baillie - I know.

Durity - Then tell me what happened.

Baillie - I turned around because I heard something fall inside the depot. Just for a second. When I looked back, she was gone.

Durity - Gone where?

Baillie - That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.

Journal of Brice Baillie June 5, 1974

I read about the depot in the paper this morning.

They call it abandoned. That word feels wrong. Empty, maybe. Quiet. But not abandoned.

I haven’t stepped inside since 1958. Not since the night Zahra disappeared.

I used to tell myself I would go back one day. Just to prove there’s nothing there. Just to prove I didn’t imagine hearing her voice on the platform after the last train had already left.

Now they’re going to tear it down.

If there’s anything left to find, I have two weeks.

Journal of Brice Baillie June 14, 1974

I went back today.

The boards over the windows are newer than I remember. The beams beneath the floor have been reinforced in places - not evenly. As if they were built around something.

The air inside smells like rust and old rain.

I stood on the platform where we were that night. I tried to picture her red sweater. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous.

I called her name.

Quietly at first.

Then louder.

The depot answered.

Not in words.

In sound.

A dull knock from somewhere below the floorboards.

Handwritten Note (undated, found between journal pages)

If you hear knocking, do not answer.

It keeps count.

Journal of Brice Baillie June 16, 1974

There is a hatch beneath the ticket counter. I had forgotten it.

The knocking came from there.

I brought a flashlight tonight. And a crowbar.

The boards gave way easier than they should have.

The air that rose from below was cold. Not cool. Cold like something sealed too long and finally disturbed.

The space beneath is not a cellar.

The beams above it are cut around an opening that was already there.

The walls are not wood. Not brick. They look poured at first, but the surface ripples under the light - as if it hardened in motion.

There are no tool marks.

No seams.

At the center of the chamber is a metal ring bolted into the floor.

The ring is modern.

The floor is not.

At the far end is not a door.

It is an opening.

Unframed. Unfinished.

The air beyond it feels older than the depot above.

Excerpt from The Bell Street Gazette June 18, 1974 LOCAL MAN INJURED AT DEPOT

Brice Baillie, 33, was treated at St. Mary’s Hospital yesterday after being found unconscious inside the condemned Bell Street Depot. Authorities report Mr. Baillie appears to have fallen through weakened flooring.

City officials urge residents to remain clear of the structure until demolition.

Journal of Brice Baillie June 19, 1974

They think I fell.

I let them think that.

The chamber beneath the depot was not built with it. The depot was built around it.

The tallies cover the walls.

Some shallow. Some deep. Some nearly swallowed by the surface itself.

They do not begin at the same height.

They overlap.

They layer.

I tried to count them.

The first wall stopped at 5,842.

There are other walls.

Behind the newer marks are older ones. Different hands. Different reaches.

The counting did not start with Zahra.

There was a sound behind me while I was reading the marks.

Breathing.

Slow. Patient.

Not trapped.

Waiting.

When I turned, nothing was there.

But near the floor, beneath the oldest marks, a fresh line had been carved into the wall.

Still pale.

Still shedding dust.

I do not remember lifting my hand.

Transcript - Emergency Call June 20, 1974 - 2:13 a.m.

Dispatcher - 911, what’s your emergency?

Caller - It’s under the depot.

Dispatcher - Sir, I need your location.

Caller - It isn’t empty. It never was.

Dispatcher - Are you at the Bell Street Depot?

Caller - They built on top of it.

Dispatcher - Who did?

Caller - It knows my name.

Dispatcher - Sir?

Caller - It’s been waiting.

Dispatcher - Who has?

Caller - (whispering) Zahra.

[Line disconnects.]

Excerpt from The Bell Street Gazette June 21, 1974. DEMOLITION HALTED AFTER SUBSIDENCE

Work crews reported sudden ground instability beneath the Bell Street Depot during initial demolition. Crews described the floor as having “given way” into a previously undocumented void.

Demolition has been postponed pending further inspection.

In unrelated news, local resident Brice Baillie has been reported missing. He was last seen near the demolition site late Thursday evening.

Journal of Brice Baillie June 22, 1974

When they tore up the floor, the ground did not collapse.

It opened.

There is a space beneath the depot that was never on any blueprint.

Because the depot was not built over empty earth.

It was built over something already hollow.

The deeper chamber is larger.

The marks continue.

Some are mine now.

I do not remember making them.

There is light sometimes. Not from above.

It rises.

And when it comes, I hear her voice.

Not calling for help.

Counting.

Final Clipping from The Bell Street Gazette

July 3, 1974 CITY FILLS SINKHOLE AT DEPOT SITE

Following structural failure during demolition, city crews have filled a large sinkhole beneath the former Bell Street Depot with concrete. Officials report no further instability.

The disappearance of Brice Baillie remains unsolved.

Residents are reminded that trespassing at the former depot site is prohibited.

Last page of the journal (water-damaged, ink blurred)

The depot was never a station.

It was a roof.

They laid schedules over something that does not keep time the way we do.

This place does not trap people.

It holds them.

The tallies are not for hope.

They are for arrivals.

There were marks here before Zahra.

There will be marks after me.

It is not a cellar.

It is not a sinkhole.

It is a platform.

And we are not lost.

We are early.