We All Fall Down Read online

  Copyright © M.M. Boulder 2021

  Excerpt from THE LAST DOOR Copyright © M.M. Boulder 2020

  Excerpt from DARK AWAKENING Copyright © M.M. Crumley 2019

  Excerpt from THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY: HIDDEN Copyright © M.M. Crumley 2021

  All rights reserved. Published by Lone Ghost Publishing LLC,

  associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of

  Lone Ghost Publishing LLC.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted (vigorously).

  No part or parts of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, stored in a retrieval systems, or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (including via carrier pigeon),

  without written permission of the author and publisher.

  Author: Boulder, M.M.

  Title: WE ALL FALL DOWN.

  ISBN: 9798711257875

  Target Audience: Adult

  Subjects:

  Psychological Thriller, Domestic Thriller, Serial Killer Thriller, Axe Murderer

  This is a work of fiction, which means it’s made up. Names, characters, peoples, locales, and incidents (stuff that happens in the story) are either gifts of the ether, products of the author’s resplendent imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead or dying, businesses or companies in operation or defunct, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Read more by M.M. Boulder

  Psychological Thrillers

  THE LAST DOOR

  MY BETTER HALF

  THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT

  MY ONE AND ONLY

  WE ALL FALL DOWN

  Writing as M.M. Crumley

  Urban Fantasy

  THE IMMORTAL DOC HOLLIDAY SERIES

  BOOK 1: HIDDEN

  BOOK 2: COUP D'ÉTAT

  BOOK 3: RUTHLESS

  BOOK 4: INSTINCT

  THE LEGEND OF ANDREW RUFUS SERIES

  BOOK 1: DARK AWAKENING

  BOOK 2: BONE DEEP

  BOOK 3: BLOOD STAINED

  BOOK 4: BURIAL GROUND

  BOOK 5: DEATH SONG

  BOOK 6: FUNERAL MARCH

  BOOK 7: WARPATH

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  M.M. Boulder

  WE ALL FALL

  DOWN

  For my wonderful fans...

  I wouldn't be here without you!

  Chapter 1

  Tabitha Smith closed the cabin door carefully behind her. She would have slammed it, but she was near Mr. Keller's office and she didn't want him to know she wasn't finished yet.

  Every year, it was the same. Year after year after year. She'd asked to leave. She'd begged, but her husband had just looked at her, eyes full of sadness and despair, and said, "Where would we go, Tabitha? Where? And with what money?"

  He was right. They didn't have enough money to leave. Not really. And there wasn't anyone who could help them. Not anymore.

  "Damn Mr. Keller and his damn camp to hell," she muttered as she headed towards the next cabin.

  Snow crunched softly under her feet, and the light of the full moon bounced from one snow drift to another, lighting her way to cabin number one, the last cabin she needed to clean today.

  All the guests had departed yesterday, and the snow was packed so hard, it was slick in spots. There were two employees whose job it was to shovel the walks, but Mr. Keller was too cheap to buy decent shovels or any type of ice remover, and so the walks were always snowy and icy, even if they had been "cleared".

  Tabitha stepped carefully around the slick areas; after fifteen years of walking from cabin to cabin, she knew every path and icy spot by heart.

  Cabin one's porch creaked when she stepped onto it. It always creaked. The only porch that didn't creak was cabin number six. It had always bothered her that number six's didn't creak. It didn't seem natural. Not when all the other ones did.

  She opened the front door and frowned into the darkness. Guests never closed the curtains when they left, and the full moon was shining, so it should be fairly bright inside, but it wasn't.

  Tabitha set down her cleaning tote and reached inside the door for the light switch. She heard a strange swish noise right before a terrible, hot pain shot up her arm. She jerked her hand back with a scream, stumbling backwards, away from the dark entrance.

  The light of the full moon illuminated the porch; and through her pain and panic, Tabitha could clearly see that half of her fingers were gone. Something was inside the cabin. Something sharp and deadly.

  She clutched her bloody fingers to her chest, trying to stop the bleeding, gasping when a black shadow moved into the doorway. A screech tore from her throat and terror spiraled through her chest as she turned to run. The porch creaked under her feet as she dashed back out onto the icy pathway. Snow crunched under the soles of her boots. Her breath came out in gasps of frosty cold.

  She couldn't hear anything over her screams. She couldn't hear the steady pounding of the feet behind her. She couldn't hear the axe slicing through the frozen air.

  She jerked to a halt as the axe buried itself deeply into her spine. One final gasp of terror passed through her lips, then she dropped to the frozen ground with a whimper, eyes blinking slowly as she watched the blood ooze sluggishly from her finger stumps.

  Black shoes stopped in front of her, and she tried to look up, but she couldn't move. Numbness had taken over her. The searing pain was gone. The terror was gone. She didn't even feel it when the axe was jerked from her back and blood burst onto the sidewalk around her.

  A strange sense of peace filled her as her lungs shuddered one final time and her heart gave one last feeble pump. Finally, was her last thought. I can finally leave.

  The townies of Copper Cliff firmly believe that talking to yourself means you're crazy, loopy, not right in the head. But if that were truly the case, Abby Brooks would have been certifiably insane since she was ten years old. Because, as everyone knew, she talked to herself, a lot. What they didn't know, is that someone else talked back.

  Remind me again why you're doing this? Because I have to. You should just leave. Abby snorted. And go where? Anywhere. Right. And what will I put down on my application? Thirty-four-year-old loser seeking job. Skills: cleaning toilets, measuring wood, and repainting old siding. What about running a cash register? Sure. I can also run a cash register from circa nineteen-sixty. You make it sound so bad. It is. It really is.

  In truth, Abby knew she wasn't a loser. She had some viable skills, viable to Copper Cliff anyway, and she liked who she was as a person; but every time she imagined leaving, she couldn't think of anything she could possibly offer the outside world. There were surely smarter and more skilled people out there already. There wouldn't be room for her. She couldn't help but recall something her dad had said once about a small fish in the ocean. I don't think that's right. You get the point though. I don't belong out there. I'm a Brooks. Brooks live and die in Copper Cliff.

  Well, at least it's work, the voice said reasonably. Are you kidding me?! I'd rather walk through town naked than work at Antler Ridge Camp! I'm like the first townie in thirty years to work at the camp. I... Abby shook her head in disgust as she turned up the long road that led to the camp.

  "I don't understand it," she whispered. She didn't want to work at Antler Ridge Camp. Townies never, EVER worked at the camp. It just wasn't done. The owner, Mr. Keller, had his own staff. They took care of repairs and maintenance. They didn't need Abby. Must not be a normal repair. I hope it's just a light bulb or something stupid so I can just get the hell out. Right, like your dad would send you all the way out here to change a lightbulb. You could'v
e let me pretend. Sorry.

  For some reason, Abby's father had insisted she handle this project from start to finish. Normally he talked to the clients first and got all of the details, then passed the job on to Abby, but not this time. "You'll be running the business someday," he'd said cheerfully. "You need to learn to deal with the clients and all that good jazz." In reality, it was a waste of her time. She didn't handle the contracts or the billing so she was going to have to run everything by her dad anyway.

  She just wished it wasn't the camp. Any other job would have been fine. She wouldn't even mind retrofitting all the forest services' onsite toilet facilities. Really? Really!

  There were a ton of reasons why Abby didn't want to work at the camp, or set foot anywhere near the camp for that matter. One, it was common knowledge that the camp workers were weird and socially awkward. The camp in general was weird. Groups came from all over the country to attend it for a week or two at a time. Mr. Keller said it was a church camp, but no one really knew what went on up there. They could be holding séances or orgies or Kool-Aid sessions or virgin sacrifices or non-virgin sacrifices. Who knew?

  You're being ridiculous. It's a family camp. There're parks and slides, pools, an ice-skating rink, a tubing hill, and horseback riding. It's supposed to be fun. Like a vacation. No, it's not fun. It's a terrible place, Abby argued. Her inner voice was wrong this time. Antler Ridge Camp was not fun.

  The snowy road blurred, and Abby tried to regain her focus. She didn't want to get sucked into memories, but her mind got away from her and wandered off, sifting through her memories until it found the one it was looking for. The one Abby tried unsuccessfully to keep locked tightly away.

  Antler Ridge Camp. Summer. Abby had gone up with her cousin Jen and some other townie kids for a day of townie fun. Mr. Keller had planned it as a way to improve relations between the campees and the townies. It hadn't worked.

  Laughter tinkled through her mind. "You're it!" a girl laughed, tagging Abby's shoulder. Everything was green, and flowers poked randomly through the grass, looking like scattered, broken ornaments.

  "I'll get you!" Abby yelled, chasing after a blond-headed boy.

  Abby shook her head, forcing the memory away, and focused on the road right in front of her. She didn't want to see it. She didn't need to remember. She remembered well enough.

  The laughter and summer heat fought its way forward again, but she pushed it back into the darkness of her mind, trying to bury it beneath a thousand other memories. Happy ones.

  The road curved, and Antler Ridge Mountain suddenly came into view. It towered above the other peaks, making them seem small in comparison.

  Antler Ridge Mountain was the only mountain Abby refused to step foot on. She'd hiked all the other peaks surrounding the valley, glorying in the view from their summits, but she'd never gone near Antler Ridge. She just couldn't make herself.

  Part of her wanted to conquer it, just like she'd conquered all the others, but to get to the hiking trail she would have had to drive right through the camp, and she didn't want to do that.

  A red cabin roof suddenly poked through the trees, like a bloody cut marring the forest landscape, and she took a sharp, terrified breath. Disgust curled in her belly. She was pathetic, and she knew it. It was stupid to fear a place, but she couldn't help it. She hated it here.

  Mr. Keller grinned charmingly as he opened his door to admit Abby into his office. His grey hair was slicked back tightly, and his mustache was oiled to the point of greasiness.

  "Mr. Keller," Abby greeted him, trying to use the cheerful Brooks' tone her family was known for. "How are you today?"

  "I'm doing just wonderful, Ms. Brooks," he replied as he shook her hand vigorously. "I'm so happy your father could spare you for our little project."

  Abby swallowed a snort. Spare; as if her dad wouldn't squeeze every cent he could out of Keller.

  "What exactly is your project, Mr. Keller? Dad didn't give me any details."

  "Sit down, Ms. Brooks, and I'll tell you all about it."

  "Call me Abby." She sat carefully in the worn plastic folding chair that faced Keller's desk and waited for him to explain why she was there.

  "Would you like a soda?" he asked, opening a mini-fridge to display a number of off-brand soda pops.

  "No, thank you." She wished he'd just get on with it. She'd only dealt with him a few times at the store, but she knew he had a tendency to beat around the bush. Indefinitely.

  "Lovely weather today," he said as he sat across from her.

  "Yep," she agreed.

  "Do you enjoy winter sports, Ms. Brooks?"

  "Abby, and no, I don't."

  "You don't?" His eyebrow tweaked in surprise. "Copper Cliff is a strange town to live in if you don't like winter."

  Abby's eyelid twitched. She wasn't good at this part of things: the back and forth, the small talk, the blah, blah, blah. She liked to get right to things. Grab the bull by his horns. Dive right in. She didn't want to dance around the mulberry bush all freaking day getting to the point.

  "I didn't say I don't like winter," she said as evenly as possible. "I just don't like winter sports. Now about the job?"

  "Hum. What about ice skating?"

  "Nope."

  "Tubing?"

  "No."

  "Skiing?"

  Abby ground her teeth, forced a smile, and said, "No. I like snowshoeing. Could you please tell me about the job?"

  "Yes, of course. Have you been up to Antler Ridge Camp before?"

  She stared at him in disbelief. How could he not remember? It has been over twenty-four years. I still remember! Like it was yesterday! You were standing right there. He wasn't. He should remember. Everyone should remember.

  "Once," she finally bit off.

  "It creates a lasting impression, doesn't it?" he said proudly.

  "Yep." A permanent, scarring, life-defining impression.

  He stood and walked to one of the walls, gesturing towards a large, framed site map. "Antler Ridge Camp!" he exclaimed. "Built on land claimed by my great-great-grandfather in 1878."

  Abby sighed and tried to get comfortable in her chair.

  "His original cabin is right here," he said, pointing to a portion of the map. "He built it with nothing more than his own two hands!" Abby rolled her eyes. "It's the center of the camp," he went on. "Right smack in the middle of the Ranch."

  Abby's ears began to buzz at his mention of the Ranch, but she forced the buzzing away and tried to listen to what he was saying, no matter how unimportant it was.

  "It's a museum now," he said proudly. "Showcasing the history of the Keller family and the Antler Ridge Camp."

  "Fascinating," Abby said, nearly vibrating with frustration. "But about the job?"

  "Yes, of course. You can see that we have forty-three cabins and three lodges available for guests' use. In addition, there are twenty-five cabins for workers and their families. We also have five recreational buildings." He pointed to the map again. "This one is an open gym for basketball, indoor soccer, and volleyball. This one—"

  "I'm familiar with the layout and scope of your camp, Mr. Keller," Abby interrupted. "About the job?"

  "The last several years have been tough," Mr. Keller said, face drooping in sad dismay.

  Abby bit her tongue. She wasn't good at sitting still, and she just knew she'd be here all day if he didn't get to the point soon. She wanted to force him to get on with it, but she knew better, so she smiled and tried to pretend interest.

  "Of course, as a resident of Copper Cliff you've witnessed the slump. The camp suffers, so does the town; am I right?"

  He was right, but she'd be damned if she'd admit it. "Does this have to do with the job, sir?"

  "I'm getting there. Patience, Ms. Brooks." He grinned widely, flashing overly-white teeth, and she smiled back, trying desperately to channel her gregarious father, or at the very least, her even-tempered Uncle Dwayne.

  "As I was saying, hard times. Church
camps don't have the same draw they did twenty years ago. People used to want to spend time together, bond, create memories that would last a lifetime."

  His voice and the room faded; and for a second, Abby was back on that summer slope chasing the blond-headed boy.

  "People don't connect that way anymore though," Mr. Keller said, the bitter edge to his voice cutting through Abby's memory. "Now they send a text or play a video game together." He snorted. "What kind of lifetime memory is that? Do you remember the time we played something or other? Which time?"

  He shook his head in disgust. "Do you know what my grandson sent me the other day?" He didn't wait for Abby to respond, but went on. "He calls it a GIF! A GIF. He doesn't call me, won't answer my letters, but he'll send me a GIF! Look at it!"

  He fiddled with his phone for a second then held it out to her. She swallowed a giggle, thinking the silly, little yeti waving back and forth was actually pretty cute.

  "That's it!" he said irritably. "Not even a text. Just a ridiculous cartoon!" He dropped his phone onto his desk and exclaimed, "Can you imagine if I'd sent something like that to my grandpa?!"

  He looked at her expectantly, and she shrugged uncertainly. She wasn't sure what he wanted her to say. He sighed heavily and murmured, "No, things certainly aren't the way they used to be." She nodded, just to keep him moving along.

  "People have changed," he said. "And that means we need to change. I've found an investor who's willing to revitalize Antler Ridge Camp's image and help bring out more guests. But for that to happen, we need to get everything up to code."

  Finally! Abby thought. "So that's the job?" she said out loud.

  "Indeed. I need you to inspect the units, make a repair list, and head a crew to bring it all up to code."

  "I'll get started right now," Abby said, beginning to stand.

  "I'm sure glad my grandpa isn't here," he said, shaking his head sadly.

  Abby grit her teeth and sat back down.

  Two hours later, Abby left Keller's office with a set of keys, a map, and a list of the worker families and which cabin each one lived in.