They All Fall Down

by Roxanne St Claire

  I open my mouth but nothing comes out. I spin away from the light, but I still can’t see anything else, even when I close my eyes.

  “Kenzie!”

  “I’m here,” I call, the older man suddenly a safety net instead of a threat. “By the garage.” I run a few feet across the driveway, chancing a glance back at the open garage bay. Everything is dark.

  At least, I think it is. My eyes are wrecked. Squeezing them open and closed, I frantically try to clear my vision, and little by little, I can see again.

  “I thought you ran away,” Rex says, a chuckle in his voice as he meets me halfway along the walkway.

  “I just … went to …” Finally, I can see him. Looking quite kindly and old, his face more lined than I recalled, his shoulders ever so slightly slumped.

  He isn’t scary, this old man. What’s scary was in the garage.

  “Mr. Collier,” I say, breathless. “There’s someone in your garage.”

  He lifts both brows. “One of Josh’s friends?”

  “No.” Was it? “I don’t think so. Someone older.” That voice was no teenager’s. It was low, booming, demanding. Terrifying. “Maybe an … intruder?”

  He draws up his chest in a deep breath, the dark brows furrowing. “Then we better kill him.”

  My eyes pop.

  “Come on, Kenzie.” He puts his hand on my shoulder again. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  I stand stone still, shocked. “I’ll wait here while you check.”

  “And miss this?” He reaches behind his back with his right hand, holding my gaze for a second, then suddenly whips out a shiny knife that glints in the light.

  I draw back. “Oh my God.”

  He angles it so I can see the deadly point. “She’s a beauty, huh?”

  “She’s …” Got a carved white handle and a tiny gold ring on the end. I’ve seen that knife before, but where? “Sharp.”

  In the underground museum! It was on the wall with the other weapons. I saw it, I know I did. “Why don’t we just call the police?” I suggest.

  “Oh, child, what am I going to do with you?” He has papers in his other hand, which he uses to gesture me forward. “Let’s go.”

  “He has a really bright light and he’ll shine it on your face,” I warn.

  His laugh is the condescending chuckle a wise adult would give to a naïve little kid. “A bright light, huh? Well, we can beat him at his own game.”

  Getting ahead of me, he reaches the open garage and walks in fearlessly. Staying a few feet behind him, I realize my hands are both pressed to my mouth, stifling a scream I know is going to come out. What can he do with a knife in the—

  Light floods everything. The driveway, the garage, the whole world seems lit up by a million watts.

  “He can’t blind me now,” Rex says with a chuckle.

  He must have hit a switch that turned everything on, inside and out. Dozens of spotlights pour light all over the lawns and highlight the trees; the whole house is as bright as if it were noon.

  Only a little less terrified, I walk closer to the open garage, but just as I do, all the other garage doors start rumbling up in unison. I turn to the cars, feeling completely exposed, fully expecting to see … someone. Someone who just spoke to me.

  But there’s no man, just Rex Collier marching up and down the shiny gray flooring, around expensive cars, the massive garage lit up like a football stadium. There’s not a shadow or a place to hide.

  “It’s deserted,” he says, leaning over to look in the sports car, then opening the doors of the SUV and leaving them that way for me to examine.

  “Could he have … gotten away?” I ask.

  At the only door into the house, Rex pauses and jiggles the knob. “Locked tight.” And there are no windows, and not a cabinet big enough for a man to hide in. “Look in the cars if you like.”

  As if to underscore that, he pops the trunk on Josh’s Audi and peers in. “No one.”

  I hear it in his voice, then: disbelief. Maybe a little amusement. Some condescension. “I think we’re safe, Kenzie.”

  “How could he …?” Exasperation washes over me.

  “Maybe it was your imagination?” he suggests.

  The hot denial rises up, but I swallow it. He isn’t going to believe me. “Maybe,” I croak, stepping back into the driveway because, even with the lights on, I don’t want to be in that garage. He had to be in there somewhere. I didn’t imagine that light or that voice.

  Instantly, it’s dark again. I take a second to adjust my eyes, blinking at the sound of footsteps. For a second I can’t see Rex, and I imagine someone else is coming toward me, but I recognize the size of his shadow as he approaches.

  Only then do I realize he turned out every light. Even the tiny white lights that line the driveway and the dim coach lights on the side of the garage. The only glimmer of light is a slim, slim moon.

  “Here you go,” he says, holding out a piece of paper. “This is what you need for the scholarship.”

  I reach for the paper and as I do, I notice the ring on his finger, so close I can see it even in the dark. It’s as large as a sports championship ring, with a bright-red stone. As he angles his hand to give me the paper, I catch a glimpse of the carving in the stone, letters in a distinctive script.

  NIHIL RELINQUERE

  Just as I look up in shock, he backs away so I can’t see his face and turns from me.

  “Mr. Collier?”

  He keeps walking into the darkness of the garage.

  “Mr. Collier!”

  Very slowly he turns around, just as my eyes are adjusting and my vision is clear. And I see his face, the sight stealing my breath and my sanity. That’s not Rex Collier—this man is much, much younger. He looks like Rex and he looks like Josh, but …

  “You’ll want to read that paperwork carefully, Kenzie,” he says.

  I stare at him, speechless.

  “All you have to do is follow the rules and finish the course.”

  I try to speak but all that comes out is a croak. How is this possible? How can I be standing here talking to Jarvis Collier? He’s dead!

  “They’re all wrong, you know.”

  I just try to breathe. “Who?” I manage to ask.

  “The people who say you don’t look like Conner. You have exactly the same expression when you’re in shock.”

  I inch back, my legs wobbling. Conner?

  “Of course, he talked quite a bit more than you. Right up to the very end.”

  For a moment, I actually feel like I’m slipping sideways, like the whole world has tilted and everything I’m standing on is falling away.

  “They’re waiting for you in the woods, Kenzie.” He turns and disappears into the shadows.

  CHAPTER XXV

  Wind sings in my ears as I tear into the inky blackness of the forest, forcing my legs to move as fast as they can. I can’t think yet. I can’t absorb or understand what I just saw—or heard—until I’m somewhere safe.

  I need Levi.

  That realization spurs me on. I ignore the scrape of pine needles on my cheeks and the sharp pain in my ankle when I trip on a rock and manage to right myself without falling. I slow down only to steal one look over my shoulder at the house, now as dark as the rest of the night.

  Did he follow me?

  What just happened? Did I talk to a ghost? No, I’m not Shannon. I don’t believe in ghosts or curses. That man was alive and that man was … Jarvis Collier.

  Who died at sea years ago … but talked to my brother.

  Or was that just some kind of joke? Some test of my will? Some …

  Right up to the very end.

  Fear wraps around me like icy arms. I don’t see any movement in the shadows, no man—or ghost or zombie or whatever that was—chasing me.

  Oh my God, what if Conner’s death wasn’t an accident? And it wasn’t my fault?

  I trip again and stumble as I run deeper into the woods, blinking as my vision a
djusts to the lack of light. The clouds are heavy now, blocking even the pinpoints of stars, so there’s not a chance of me navigating my way out of here if I get lost.

  I need Levi.

  I remember my lifeline again, slowing my steps long enough to dig into my pocket for my—

  Shit! It’s gone. My phone is not in either pocket! I stop completely now, frantically sticking my hands into my jacket, slapping my jeans, my hopes draining. My phone is gone.

  How will I reach him?

  I spin around, hearing the crack of a branch … somewhere. I don’t know where. It’s too dark to get my bearings. I know enough to nestle deeper against a tree trunk and stand very, very still until I can figure out what to do next.

  Who was that man?

  Of course, I know who it was, but I can’t accept it. I don’t believe in ghosts any more than I believe in curses, but I know Jarvis is dead. Or is he?

  They never found his body.

  I shake my head, forcing anything out that won’t help me strategize how to escape and be safe. I listen to the sounds of nature, suddenly all so threatening.

  Is that a possum wandering about … or a killer on my heels?

  Is that the hum of crickets and cicadas … or the catch of a gun safety?

  Is that the breeze fluttering the leaves … or the steady breathing of someone taking aim?

  I can barely hear against the hammering blood in my head, but I try anyway. I can’t see anything; all I have is my sense of hearing.

  And smell. I sniff, turning toward a sudden strong and acrid scent that I know. It smells like the field behind school or a car in the back of the junior lot. It smells like pot.

  Hallelujah, I found them. I follow my nose toward the pungent scent, working my way more slowly now through the trees. I try to swallow against my bone-dry throat and it makes me want to cough, so I cover my mouth and just let my eyes sting until it passes.

  The first low strain of voices reaches my ears, barely audible. They’re whispering. A laugh, then the shush of someone hushing them.

  Silence for a while, and the pot smell is dissipating, so I move more slowly, hugging some oaks, still looking over my shoulder in case Jarvis Collier makes an appearance.

  I hear that laugh again. Dena. I gather up a breath to make a run toward the sound just as I hear something behind me, definitely alive, definitely human. My whole being tenses, waiting for the whoosh of a knife, the crack of a gun, the end of my life.

  Nothing.

  I tiptoe forward, listening for the threat but waiting for Dena’s laugh. Or just a whiff of pot to guide me in the right direction. I get both and I know I have them, but then I hear another voice, coming from my far left, a completely different direction.

  Female laughter on my right, male voices on my left.

  If they’ve separated for some reason, I want to be with the girls. Can I tell them who I saw … what he said? Shannon will go full tilt with her ghost theory.

  I hear a voice, deep and authoritative, about a hundred feet away. I can’t make out the words, but I instantly recognize Josh’s tenor and inflection. Okay, not Levi, but at this point, phoneless and desperate, Josh is my only hope for safety.

  Should I tell him about … his father?

  I take a few more tentative steps, cringing when I crack a small branch underfoot. I freeze for a second, waiting; then I move toward his voice.

  “… that little prick is our only hope.”

  I stop dead and listen. What did he just say?

  “They’re working on it,” someone else says. “He’s been paid, lured, and followed. We’ll get him soon enough.”

  What the heck is he talking about?

  At least two other voices reply in low rumbles I can’t catch. I hear what sounds like Tyler with his baritone, dude-peppered language. I’m still walking very slowly, only slightly less concerned about the threat behind me, but fully intrigued by this conversation.

  “So it’s decided.” I don’t recognize that voice, but then I didn’t recognize some of the guys who were in the driveway. “I have the car covered,” someone else says.

  “I have the note in place.” Yet another voice.

  “All we have to do is make sure he’s arrested as a murderer for any one of these accidents, and they’ll stop.”

  My knees weaken. Levi? They’re going to blame these deaths on him?

  “You think they’ll stop,” one of the boys says.

  “They’ll stop,” Josh insists. “That’s how the curse works.”

  He believes in the curse, too?

  “Hey, you guys!” A female voice cuts through the night, and I instantly step back into shadows when a cell phone shines a beam not ten feet in front of me. “Where did you go?”

  It’s Shannon; I recognize her singsong voice. “We’ve killed the blunt without you. Hey, what’s going on?”

  They don’t answer right away.

  “You guys?” The aroma of weed wafts toward me along with her giggle. “And guess what else we’ve killed?”

  “Shut the hell up, Shannon!” Josh says in a harsh voice. “And turn that thing off.”

  “Why?” But she does snap off the light.

  I hear one of the male voices again, and another snorts. “Jeez, she’s annoying. Wish she was higher on the list.”

  A couple of males laugh in response to that. I grab the tree trunk, trying—and failing—to take it all in. I don’t know what they’re talking about, but I do know this: I have to find Levi.

  No, I have to help Levi and I don’t have a phone.

  Josh’s voice echoes in my ears and I back up while I listen to the two groups converging. I slide behind a bush, ducking low and working back the way I came, as silent as possible.

  I hear laughter and talking and the normal sounds of a—

  A hand clamps over my mouth so hard I jolt like I’ve been burned, and another wraps around my chest, revealing my phone.

  If I were the fainting type, I would have.

  “Kind of hard to stay in touch when you drop your phone.” Levi’s voice is like sweet, hot caramel all the way down to my soul, making me feel so safe in spite of the way he’s holding me. “We have to climb.”

  I shudder, trying to turn to face him.

  “We have to hide, Mackenzie. They’re after me.”

  I nod, dimly aware of the boys and Shannon talking and messing around about thirty feet away. He’s still covering my mouth but I sense that his hand is more protective than predatory.

  “Wait until they’re gone,” he says.

  After a few seconds, they continue back to where the girls are, their voices growing distant. I can feel Levi’s heartbeat slamming into my back and tuck deeper into the warmth of his body. I have to tell him about Jarvis, but not now. Not yet.

  When we’re alone, he slowly takes his hand off my mouth and I turn, desperately needing to see his face, needing to be completely reassured by his presence, needing to see the confidence and certainty in those jet-black eyes.

  I see all that and more, the impact making me wrap my arms around him and take hold. He clutches me back, as if he senses he has to right then. But not for long. Before I even begin to feel secure enough, he pulls us both about ten feet away to a thick tree.

  No, not a tree. It’s an old telephone pole, with homemade ladder rungs. He boosts me up without a word and my fingers grab the nearest two-by-four, clinging with all I have. The first few steps are easy, but my arms quickly start to burn.

  The sound of a motorized vehicle breaks through the silence of the forest, a loud rumble vibrating the whole pole I’m clinging to.

  “Hurry!” he orders, giving my backside another push.

  Forget burning. Forget pain or height or the possibility of falling hard. I have to move. Clenching my teeth, I hoist myself higher, straining every muscle as I shift my foot back and forth to find the next rung.

  In the distance, I see two blinding lights from a four-wheeler rolling across what must
be a dirt path in the woods. And then a single beam, as bright and wide as a klieg light, shoots through the forest just ten or fifteen feet from our pole. And it moves slowly, searching us out.

  I hear a girl scream—not bloodcurdling, but playful. I think. I hope.

  And I finally feel the thick wooden platform. It juts out over my head, so I’ll actually have to bow my back, reach for it, and swing up to the top.

  “You can do it,” Levi whispers. “Once we’re up there, we’re safe.”

  Not exactly, but safer. Bending backward, I close my fingers over the wood. I can do this, I say to myself. I have to do this.

  The spotlight crosses over the base of our pole. That’s all I need to grab and swing and heave myself up to the platform, rolling onto the wood toward the center. Before I so much as sit up, Levi follows, rolling right into me.

  “Stay low,” he orders. “Flat as you can.”

  We both smash ourselves onto the wood, side by side, our ragged breaths deafening. In the distance, the sound of the others drifts toward us, coming from the direction of the house. I turn my head to look over the treetops and I can see the roof and second floor of Josh’s mansion.

  Lights are coming on around the house and lawn, not like the show Rex put on for me when he went into the garage, but like someone is home. The party must have moved back there.

  Does Josh wonder where I am? Does Rex? Does … Jarvis?

  The roar of the four-wheeler rumbles closer now, almost under us. The light is moving slowly, in a circular pattern. Searching for us. At one point it shines right up to the platform and only the planks of wood nailed together hide us.

  But they do hide us, and after a few minutes, whoever is in that four-wheeler continues his search in the rest of the woods. We stay perfectly still, turning only our faces to each other.

  “They want to hurt you,” I whisper.

  “I heard.”

  “They want to pin the accidents on you. They think it will stop the curse.”

  He nods.

  “I won’t let them.”

  Closing his eyes, he inches his face forward so that our foreheads touch. “I won’t let them hurt you, either, Mack.”

  “Oh, and there’s one other thing,” I say, tipping my head so I can see his reaction. “I’m pretty sure I saw Jarvis Collier.”