The Complex

by Brian Keene

  He slows down their pace, for which Terri is grateful. They walk in silence, alert and ready. All of them are out of breath, and Terri notices that Grady is rubbing his chest again. His expression looks pained. She wants to ask him if he’s okay, but she’s mindful of Mr. Mendez’s warning.

  The alley is a narrow lane of blacktop, bordered on both sides by backyards and garages. She bites down on her lip as stones and pebbles poke the bottoms of her bare feet. Trees rustle in the wind, and shutters creak. A rabbit darts in front of them, running for shelter. A dog howls somewhere in the distance.

  Terri peers into the backyards of the homes they creep by. Some of them have clearly been broken into. Others seem untouched by the wave of violence that has decimated the town. Two of them are on fire, belching smoke and flame. Another is smoldering ruins. She sees corpses, here and there—both normal people and naked killers. A man’s legs jut out into the alley. His chest has been crushed by a garage door. A woman sprawls, impaled on a white picket fence, now stained with blood. The charred remains of what she thinks might have been a child and a cat lay smoking in a backyard, amidst a circle of burned lawn. A red plastic gas can sits nearby them. The smell is revolting—the sight even worse. Caleb whimpers as they pass by it, and Terri hurries him along.

  Behind them, the convenience store continues to burn. A fresh series of explosions shatter the stillness, causing Terri to jump. She assumes they can probably be attributed to the cars in the store’s parking lot. She wonders if Mr. Mendez’s plan worked—if he was successful in killing Tick Tock and the others.

  Shaggy squeals behind her. She turns around and sees him balancing on one foot, weaving back and forth. It is not a flattering position for him, given his nudity. He glares at her, lips pressed together tightly, and points at his upraised foot. She sees a small drop of blood beading on his sole.

  “Stepped on a piece of glass,” he whispers.

  “Sshh,” Mendez hisses, not bothering to turn around.

  Shaggy stops hopping, regains his balance, and shoots Mendez the finger.

  They pass by a wrecked car, its front end crumpled into the side of a brick garage. The windows are smashed in, and so is the head of the young woman hanging out of the open passenger-side door. The car is making a ding sound, over and over again, indicating that the door is open, and the keys are in the ignition. A young man is scattered across the pavement nearby. One of his legs is next to the car. The other leg is sticking out of a mailbox. His upper torso has been dragged down the alley, leaving a crimson snail-like trail of gore. Terri doesn’t see his head anywhere.

  Then Terri gasps.

  The alley intersects with another side street, from which a group of six crazies emerge. They lope into the alley, moaning and growling, carrying knives and hatchets and makeshift clubs. They pause when they see the others, heads tilted in appraisal.

  Mendez growls, low in his throat. The naked people respond in kind, and begin to move on.

  Terri whispers a silent thank you to a God she’s not even sure until tonight that she believed in. And she’s still not sure she does now, but if He will help them get through this, she promises she’ll take Caleb to church next Sunday—the same promise she’s been making to her mother for the past year.

  Mendez leads them forward, staring directly ahead, rather than at the other group. They lope along behind him, doing their best not to appear frightened. The naked figures cut through an open yard, heading toward Main Street.

  Terri realizes that she no longer hears Shaggy walking behind her. She is about to turn and check on him when he speaks.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding.”

  All of them spin around. Terri’s eyes widen in disbelief as she sees Tick Tock plodding down the alley in pursuit. One meaty fist clutches some kind of makeshift torch which sputters flame and smoke. He points at them with his other hand and roars, his head never missing a tilt. Then he starts to run, feet pounding on the pavement, rolls of fat jiggling obscenely. The flames from the torch arc out behind him.

  Howling, the group in the yard charge toward Shaggy, ignoring the others. Shaggy glances at them, then back to Tick Tock, and then darts to the right, slipping into the narrow crevice between two garages. The naked people chase after him, pushing past Terri and the others without a second glance. Grady starts to go after them, but Mendez grabs his arm and shakes his head sternly.

  Then, the alley is empty, except for them and Tick Tock. Terri realizes that while their disguise may have fooled the rest of the pack, it’s not working on the obese giant. Trumpeting with rage, he plows toward them.

  And then they run.

  She hears his footfalls behind them, thundering like hooves. The sound is terrifying.

  It’s even more terrifying when the footsteps stop.

  Terri glances back over her shoulder.

  Tick Tock is gone.

  Twenty-Two - Shaggy, Bryan, and Mike: The Garbage Dumpster

  Shaggy grits his teeth in pain as his arm catches on a rusty nail, tearing a ragged furrow through his skin. He rips free and emerges into a fenced-in backyard. A dog charges toward him, barking furiously. It crashes into the fence and begins leaping up and down. Without slowing, Shaggy vaults the fence and dashes across the grass. The dog starts to pursue him, but is then distracted as Shaggy’s pursuers follow him, clambering over the fence. Shaggy hears the animal yelp in pain, and then fall silent. Instead of glancing back, he focuses on running faster. Every loping step hurts his injured foot. Worse, his ribs and back are beginning to throb again. He ignores the pain, pushing onward.

  He jumps the fence again when he gets to the house, runs along the side of it, and emerges onto a sidewalk. The sounds of pursuit echo behind him. He spots a factory across the street—the place that makes custom kitchen cabinets. He and Turo applied for jobs there once, but neither of them got hired. The fucking place never even bothered to call them back and tell them, although, now that he thinks about it, it’s not like either one of them actively followed up on it either. He charges across the street, dodging a corpse, and heads into the alley next to the factory.

  He is aware of the breeze on his naked skin. He wishes there was time to enjoy it.

  He twists and turns, running to and fro in a panic-driven and adrenalin-fueled parkour. He leaps up onto a loading dock, ignores the pain in his foot and side, and darts around the side of the building. Then he barrels through the nearly-empty employee parking lot. Risking a glance over his shoulder, he is surprised to see no sign of his pursuers.

  Maybe I gave them the fucking slip, he thinks.

  He crouches down behind one of the few cars in the lot, and looks for a better place to hide or something he can use as a weapon. He doesn’t see anything that will suit the needs of the latter, but he nods in approval when he sees a row of three green garbage dumpsters lined up against the factory wall. Checking to make sure the coast is still clear, he hurries, limping toward them. After reaching the dumpsters unscathed, he slowly approaches the one on the right, and lifts the lid. The hinges groan, but he barely notices, because somebody inside the dumpster swings a broomstick at his head.

  Shaggy totters backward, narrowly dodging the blow. He is just about to run when the attacker gasps.

  “Shaggy?”

  Pausing in confusion, Shaggy peers inside the dumpster. His eyes widen in surprise.

  “You’re Shaggy, right? It’s me, Mike. From the store. The guy you almost shot. Quick. Get in here!”

  Shaggy glances around, and then hurriedly climbs into the dumpster, catching a glimpse of Bryan cowering in the back before Mike eases the lid back down, engulfing them in darkness.

  “Where are the others?” Mike asks.

  “Quiet,” Shaggy whispers. “There’s a pack of those fuckers around here. They were chasing me. Don’t make a fucking sound.”

  The three men huddle in the dark. Shaggy tenses every time one of them moves, rustling the garbage. The dumpster’s interior smells aw
ful, and it’s all he can do not to retch. Even his breathing seems loud in the enclosed space. He wonders if those crazy fuckers can hear it outside. Something buzzes in his ear—a fly. He wants to swat at it, but he’s afraid to move. His fingers clench, sinking into something foul with the feel and consistency of cottage cheese. For all he knows, that may be exactly what it is. He wonders how it came to this—naked and hiding like a pussy. Hiding in garbage, no less, with two strangers he doesn’t even know. He shifts his position carefully, trying not to make any noise, and his leg slides into something warm and sticky. He wonders what it could be, and then decides that he doesn’t really care. The horrors of unidentifiable rotting garbage are nothing compared to the horrors outside.

  His thoughts turn to Ron, and the money, hidden in that old abandoned iron ore mine in LeHorn’s Hollow. It’s still there, waiting for him, but Shaggy is surprised to discover that he no longer gives a fuck. He’d give up the money in a heartbeat if it meant shit would return to normal. He just wants to go back home, and chill in his apartment, and get laid, and get fucked up, and play X-Box with Turo.

  Turo…

  The sob wells up out of him, surprising Shaggy with its unexpected suddenness and ferocity. A weight clutches his chest, as if Tick Tock himself were sitting on it. Shaggy tries to breathe, but can only wail as another sob comes bubbling out. He begins to shake, tremors wracking his body.

  “Hey,” Mike whispers. “You okay?”

  “Be quiet,” Bryan warns. “You said those—”

  Shaggy gasps for breath, unable to stop crying. He no longer feels in control of his body. It’s as if his grief and shock have become palpable and sentient, playing him the way a puppeteer works a marionette. He’s aware of Bryan and Mike urging him to be quiet, but he can’t help it.

  Then, he smells smoke.

  And hears heavy, labored breathing from outside the dumpster.

  Shaggy’s sobs catch in his throat.

  Mike whispers, “Fuck…”

  The lid is flung open, and Shaggy blinks as the dumpster is suddenly flooded with light. He sees a fiery torch, but that’s all. The flickering flames are oddly calming. He focuses on them, feeling his grief subside.

  Screaming, Mike swings the broomstick, but it is snatched from his hand. Mike falls backward, flailing in the garbage.

  Then Tick Tock leans forward and grins.

  “Fuck you, fat boy,” Shaggy mutters. “Go on and get it over with, you piece of fucking shit.”

  Mike and Bryan shriek as Tick Tock drops the flaming torch into the dumpster with them. They scurry away from it, clawing at the metal walls, as the fire begins to spread through the garbage.

  “We’ve got to get the hell out of here,” Mike screams.

  He and Bryan push past Shaggy, scrabbling frantically, but the spreading flames cut them off. They circle around the other way, crawling on their hands and knees, when another crazy appears in the opening. He hands Tick Tock a plastic jug filled with some sort of yellow liquid. At first glance, Shaggy thinks it’s full of piss, but when the fat man tilts the bottle and splashes the contents inside, he smells what it really is.

  Gasoline.

  Bryan and Mike’s terrified cries turn into agonized shrieks. They scuttle away and roll around in the garbage, spreading the fire as they burn.

  Smiling, Shaggy remains where he is, enjoying the feel of the heat on his skin. He glances up and sees that Tick Tock is smiling, too. His head goes back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Shaggy’s head matches his rhythm.

  Then, Shaggy raises his hand and gives him the finger. He locks eyes with the fat man, refusing to look away even as the flames come between them.

  He decides he will not scream. He will not give Tick Tock the satisfaction.

  He succeeds for a full twenty seconds.

  Twenty-Three -The Exit, Terri, Caleb, Stephanie, Grady, and Hannibal: Main Street

  The Exit tries not to cough as they walk through the smoke, but he can’t help it. Although he can’t see the others, he can hear them, coughing and wheezing all around him. He also knows that the smoke isn’t the only reason they have stopped.

  “Take hands,” he rasps, deciding to risk speaking out loud. “Keep going. Don’t think about it. There is nothing we can do now. It’s gone.”

  They forge ahead, continuing down the alley. To their left is an inferno that was once the Pine Village Apartment Complex—now entirely engulfed in flames. The wind blows the smoke across the parking lot and into the alley. It occurs to the Exit that they are now where he had originally wanted to go, when he and Grady were hatching their original escape plan back in Grady’s apartment. That now seems like a lifetime ago. He wonders if Grady is aware of the irony, as well, but doesn’t ask him. If he opens his mouth to speak, he’s going to choke on smoke. Instead, he focuses on leading them out of it.

  The Exit isn’t sure how he ended up in charge of this ragtag group. He was uncomfortable with it at first, but has now grown to accept it. After all, is it really so different than his normal work? He does what he does to protect humanity. Is that not what he’s doing now? These people—his neighbors—are a part of that collective humanity. The only difference is that instead of saving them from an outside, otherworldly threat, he’s saving them from their other neighbors—and perhaps from themselves. If they’ll listen to him, he’s certain he can see them through this night. If they don’t, then they’re on their own, much like Shaggy and the two men from the convenience store are right now.

  He will keep them safe, he vows, as the smoke stings his eyes, making it impossible to see. He will keep them safe as long as he can, provided it doesn’t lead to his own death. He will protect them, just as he protects everybody else.

  And this time, it won’t require a sacrifice.

  The thought pleases him. It will be nice to do good without having to spill blood for a change. It will be nice not to need a sacrifice.

  Finally, they pass beyond the burning ruins of their former home, and the smoke starts to dissipate. On their left now is the woods. To their right are a few more homes and garages. When the smoke has cleared enough to breathe again, the Exit halts. He lets go of Stephanie’s hand and wipes his stinging eyes. When his vision returns, he surveys them.

  “Is everyone okay?”

  Coughing and sputtering, they nod, wiping at their eyes and noses. The Exit notices that Grady has put the gun down and is flexing his right hand, as if the appendage has gone to sleep.

  “Grady?”

  “I’m fine,” the old man wheezes, picking up the gun. “Let’s move out.”

  “Remember, try not to talk from here on out. We are almost to the end of the alley. When we reach Main Street, we’ll be more exposed than we are here.”

  They all nod in understanding, even the boy, Caleb. The Exit is impressed by how well the child has endured tonight. He feels a swelling of admiration for him. He glances behind them, expecting to see Tick Tock, but there is no sign of the fat man. They haven’t seen a single pursuer since they all chased after Shaggy. The Exit wonders how much longer that luck will hold out. Then he leads them forward again.

  A large, yellow cat slinks out of the woods to their left, green eyes appraising them curiously. Its bushy tail hangs low to the ground, twitching slowly back and forth. The movement reminds the Exit of Tick Tock’s head. The animal is obviously frightened and wary, but it doesn’t flee. He admires that.

  Stephanie gasps, and the Exit turns to her.

  “That’s one of Mrs. Carlucci’s cats,” she whispers. “That’s Hannibal.”

  Before the Exit can stop her, Stephanie breaks ranks and slowly approaches the cat. The animal eyes her warily, but still doesn’t retreat back into the smoke-filled woods. Stephanie crouches down and holds out one hand, wiggling her fingers. It occurs to the Exit that although the girl was worried about her nudity before, that no longer seems to be a concern. Perhaps it is the cat who has put her at ease, although he doesn’t underst
and why. The older he gets, the more certain he becomes that he will never understand other people, and their emotions and motivations. At least, not completely.

  He suddenly feels very alone.

  Stephanie makes a kissing noise, wriggling her fingers more urgently. “Hannibal. Come here, kitty kitty kitty. Come on.”

  Hannibal takes one step forward. Then two.

  “That’s it.” Stephanie smiles.

  “Stephanie,” the Exit whispers. “We don’t have time for this.”

  “Then go on without me,” she mutters, not taking her eyes off the cat.

  Sighing in frustration, the Exit glances around. The alley remains deserted, but the sounds of conflict still echo across the town—faded gunshots, muted screams, car tires screeching from far away.

  Hannibal seems to relax as he approaches Stephanie. He consents to let her pet his head and scratch under his chin. He walks in tiny circles, vigorously rubbing each side of his face against her outstretched fingers. His purrs grow louder with each stroke, and the Exit worries for a moment that someone might hear them. Hannibal turns again, allowing Stephanie to scratch his back. Then he walks over to the rest of the group.

  As Stephanie regains her feet, Terri and Caleb pause to pet the cat. The Exit’s annoyance with them grows, but he reminds himself that at least they are doing so quietly. Yes, they are creating a delay, but they aren’t attracting attention—at least as far as he can determine. It was possible a lone attacker or a group of lunatics were hiding in the shadows right now, watching the entire display. But he didn’t think so. From everything he’d seen so far tonight, and all of the behavior they had evidenced, the naked mob didn’t seem very keen on waiting. They tended to charge ahead instead.

  Except for Mrs. Carlucci’s apartment, he reminds himself.

  Terri motions at Grady, indicating he should pet the cat. Grady raises his hand and waves, declining the opportunity.