They All Fall Down (31 page)

How will we get through that? I look around, my eyes
slightly adjusted, my ears completely in tune with the footsteps that could be fifty feet behind me … or five.

And then I see the tree—a tree that’s not a tree. It’s a telephone pole, and it has the two-by-four steps leading up. I stop and lean back to see how far up it is—oh, Lord,
far
—and squint into the starlight to catch a glimpse of a zip line.

A zip line that would take me over the trees and far away fast. Surely a man bleeding from a knife wound wouldn’t have the strength to follow us up there and get on that line.

“We’re climbing,” I say to Molly.

“What?”

I don’t explain but drag her to the pole and place her hands on the closest piece of wood. “Up!” I order. I have to go behind her so I can push.

She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind but I just shove her up the first step. “Go or die!”

That works. She starts to climb, slowly, but then I get on the ladder rung under her and shove her butt up each rail, refusing to let her slow down.

She pauses just long enough to turn her head and look down at me; then she sways and slips.

“Don’t look down, Molly,” I order. “Just look straight ahead. Go.”

She follows the instructions and climbs, reaching a narrow hole cut into the platform. It’s only big enough for one of us to squeeze through at a time, which she does without even consulting me.

As soon as she disappears through the hole, I follow, hoisting myself up to find her in a fetal position on the platform, covering her mouth either to stay quiet or keep from throwing up.

“Oh, God, how long do we have to stay up here?”

Right then, I realize there isn’t one zip line; there are three. Levi’s words come back to me.
When you get up there, you don’t know which line to take, since there are two or three or even more. One takes you farther into the course, the other two dead-end on the ground and you have to start over
.

Damn. I peer at the three lines, each going in a different direction. I’m so turned around I have no idea which would take me where.

But didn’t Levi say there were instructions? Weren’t they burned into the wood? I look around, squinting in the darkness, the thick cloud cover making it almost impossible to see three straight lines scratched into the wooden platform. I look harder at the marking, noticing there are two more running perpendicular to those three on the top and—

“Oh, jeez,” I say, not even able to believe I didn’t see that Roman numeral. “That’s a three.” So now what? How do I find the …

Instructions!

I stuff my hand into my back pocket and exhale with relief that the sheet of paper Molly made me bring is still there. Could these phrases help me navigate the course?

I open the paper and try to angle it to catch any light available and read the list in Latin, my gaze going right to number three.

MEDIUM TENUERE BEATI

That means …
middle … kept … happy
. I know this one. I can hear Mr. Irving’s voice:
Blessed are those who have kept the middle course
. Bingo.

I choose the line in between the others and reach for a small silver clip, knotting the rope that hangs from it.

“You’re kidding, right?” Molly whispers from the platform, slowly getting up to her knees as she realizes what I’m doing.

“Actually, no.”

“Kenzie, I can’t.”

“I’ll hold you.”

“I
can’t
.”

We both hear the first footfall on the bottom rung. I peer down the hole and see the shadow of a man starting his climb. “We have to,” I whisper, reaching for her.

She hesitates only long enough to hear another footfall, then her hand closes over my wrist and she lets me pull her up.

“Hold on,” I say, opening my arms so she can wrap herself around me.

For one quick second, we are face to face and eye to eye, best friends who need each other more than any two friends ever had. “I won’t let you fall,” I promise.

“I just hope it holds us both.”

The whole platform shakes with the weight of a man climbing closer. “I do, too.” I dry my hands on my jeans, letting go of Molly completely as I reach up and close my hands over the rough rope, anchoring my wrists against the knot. I have no idea how far this line goes or if it will break or whether we’ll live or die.

“Lift your feet, Molly.”

She does and I do the same, closing my eyes as a fat drop of rain hits my face and we fly.

CHAPTER XXXI

W
ind whistles over us. Raindrops pelt our faces as we sail above the treetops, some so close they brush the bottoms of my sneakers. My hands already ache and my whole upper body is throbbing with Molly’s additional weight.

Every second feels like an hour, every foot a mile, regardless of the fact that we’re going fast. The ride starts to slow and drop, not to the ground but to another platform. We almost crash into it, but I steady us and we tumble across the wood, Molly grunting and crying out in pain.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. That actually cleared my head.” She manages to get up and we both look around to get our bearings. “Now what?”

We’re definitely lower, but not, I realize, low enough to jump off the platform. As I sit up, I look around and see no lines and, of course, no railing—just rain.

There’s no way down … only up. Way up. There’s a platform about twenty-five feet overhead, then another built off that one that is higher and farther out, then a third, even higher, in the opposite direction. It’s like a giant spiral staircase that leads at least fifty or sixty feet in the air.

They all have multiple zip lines, and each one looks more impossible than the last.
Please, God, don’t make me climb to the top
.

I peek over the edge of our platform. “What do you think of jumping?”

She leans and looks down. “Not a chance one of us wouldn’t break something. Probably both of us, and it could be our legs.”

She’s right. “Anyway, we’re so deep into the woods I wouldn’t have a clue how to get out without getting completely lost.”

“Could we just wait here until morning?”

I consider that but shake my head. “This guy’s a killer and he built this course. He’s going to know how to find us.” I look up again. “But if we go higher, we might see a road and get a sense of which direction to go.”

“And then we ride again.”

I dig up a smile and nod. “Let me consult my instructions.”

As I read, Molly pushes up to stand, swaying a little but holding on to the post attached to the platform. She leans closer to read over my shoulder.

I point to the bottom of the page, at number nine. “I think that’s where we are. See how there are three lines of text? Wild guess, but maybe one for every platform.”

“Maybe. What do they say?”

The first clue is
haud passibus aequis
. “ ‘Not with equal steps.’ ” I frown. “What the heck does that mean?”

She looks at the wooden rails that lead upward. “They’re perfectly equal in size and distance.”

“Maybe it means not to take the zip line from the platform that has equal steps?” I suggest.

“I guess we have to get up there to find out. What’s the next line say?”

Sweat beading on my neck despite the cold, I study the words:
alia tendanda via est
. “ ‘Another way must be tried.’ ”

“Great, Yoda wrote the directions.”

I almost smile, more encouraged that Molly is back than by any humor in the situation. “It’s Latin,” I say. “But maybe it refers to the second platform? Let’s climb and see what we find.”

Molly turns and immediately puts her hands on the third rung. “I’ll go first.”

As I fold the instructions to keep them dry, she starts to climb, but suddenly I hear a loud crack and her gasp as she falls backward.

“Molly!” I leap to her but the platform board under her gives way and she tumbles into space. I dive after her, our hands flailing to find a grip on each other before she falls all the way to the ground.

I just manage to snag the sleeve of her hoodie and stop the fall. “Don’t move, Molly,” I tell her. If she squirms, the jacket could come right off.

She looks up at me, dangling in open space, horror in her eyes. “What do I do?” she whispers, as though even talking could end in a fall.

“Hold on.” With strength I don’t even know I have, straining every muscle to its snapping point, I fight to hoist her back
up. Her wet hand nearly slips through mine, but I grip so hard I could break her wrist.

I will not drop Molly. I will
not
let her die. I don’t waste energy talking but pull with everything I have, one agonizing inch at a time, until she can finally grab the wood and climb back onto the platform.

We both collapse and let out a breath I think we started holding when the step fell.

“Well, now we know,” she pants.

“Know what?”

She lifts a shaky arm and points to the ladder. “Why we have to take unequal steps.”

Scrambling to my knees, I nod. “Skip every other step.”

“And pray.”

We do both and get to level two without a mishap, but there’s no clip on the zip line. “So this is the part where we ‘try another way.’ ”

“The way up.” Molly points.

In silence, we climb to the next platform, the wind strong enough up here for the rain, now a light shower, to sting our faces. As I poke my head through the opening to the next level, I get the best view of the woods I’ve had yet. Molly’s already kneeling on that platform looking around.

“Look, Kenz.” She points to a golden glow on the horizon.

“That’s probably the lights of Vienna. Good, that tells us where we are.” I turn and peer to the north.

“That’s the direction where the cave and that room was,” I tell her. “Where all that art is hidden.”

“I was thinking about that,” she says. “Maybe that’s why he faked his own death, because he’s some kind of international art thief.”

“And a serial killer? That’s pretty bizarre.”

“Yeah, ’cause the rest of this is so normal.”

Staring in the direction of town, I swear I see a light moving. It flashes, disappears, then flashes again. Is that Jarvis on the hunt? “Whatever he is,” I say, “he’s out there and he’s looking for us.”

I scan our platform and plan our next move. There’s one line connected to the next level, but as we examine it, we both see what we have to do to get to it—balance on a series of six logs suspended from ropes that lead to the start of the zip line.

“Holy crap,” Molly mumbles.

“Yeah,” I agree.

But we manage our way across the logs to the zip line. This time we move like a team, Molly wrapped around me, the zip-line rope firmly in my hands. When I let go, the ride seems smoother and faster, ending not on another platform but a soft mound of pine needles. We fall, safe and alive.

“I know where we are,” I say as we brush off and look around. “Levi and I were here the other day. We just have to jump that overhang where the cave is, run to the right, then the left, and straight to a road.”

“Thank God.” We bolt together to the cliff, stopping when we reach it to look over the embankment.

“Levi helped me do this,” I say. “Hold on to me and I’ll dangle you, then it’s not so far to fall.”

“ ’Kay.” She scoots down to the ground and we clamp our hands around each other’s wrists. As she gets into position, she looks at me and smiles. “Thanks for saving my life, Kenzie.”

I just nod. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

She manages to laugh at my pun. “Seriously. You’re the best.”

I give her wrists a squeeze. “Remember that the next time you want to be popular and cool,” I joke as I let her down.

“So overrated.”

She’s swaying in the air, her sneakers about five feet from the ground. “Ready?” I ask.

“Let go.”

She falls with a soft thud, rolling under the overhang so I can’t see her. “Here I come,” I say, turning and hoping I can do this without help, like Levi did.

I get a grip on some rocks sticking out of the ground and slowly lower my body until I’m hanging. “Watch out so I don’t land on you,” I call to Molly.

Three, two, one
, and I let go, hitting the ground with a jolt.

“There, now we …”

When I get up, I scan the area. “Molly?” I turn again, peering into the bushes that cover the cave. Did she go in there? “Molly?”

I push back the foliage to peer into the darkness, and hear the distant, muffled sound of running footsteps from deep inside the cave. And then, silence.

CHAPTER XXXII

I
t takes me no more than five seconds to decide what to do. I can’t leave. By the time I find my way out of the woods and get help, Molly could be dead.

Shoving the branches and leaves away, I’m swallowed into the blackness of the cave, longing for Levi and the light we had last time we were in here. I stick my hand straight out and shudder at the sudden cold.

I stay still, listening for any hint, any sound other than the relentless hammering of my heart, clobbering against my chest. How could he—or someone—have gotten Molly so fast?

I have one advantage: I’ve been here before. I shoot one hand out and use the other to hold on to the cold stone wall to walk through the darkness, utterly alone and wretchedly scared.

As I concentrate on each step, I follow the corridor to a lower level on the stone path, trying to imagine the footpath
I’m on. I pause, my hand still on the wall, remembering the engraving.

Many are called, few are chosen
.

Yes, Levi was right that it’s a Bible quote, but the phrase was also used by Romans to mean that only the elite could do something.

I let one of the trainees take the credit
.

Training for what? Professional killers?

I reach the dead end, my heart sinking because there’s no sign or sound of Molly. Is she in that room? Is she still alive?

I don’t really think about whether or not to go in—it’s more about how. Remembering the force it took Levi, I place my body against the stone wall and push as hard as I can and—