The Complex (10 page)

Caleb turns and flees back into the bedroom. In the kitchen, Shaggy unleashes another volley of gunshots as, judging by the sounds, the mob begins trying to breach the windows again. Mrs. Carlucci shouts something unintelligible. Terri stares in horror at the grisly monstrosity looming in the doorway. Sam gapes dumbly, as well, arms straining as he continues to hold up his end of the dresser. Only Stephanie acts, rushing forward, butcher knife raised over her head to deliver a deadly strike. The fat man’s eyes dart toward her, and then he flings the corpse in her direction. The bloodied meat slams into her, knocking Stephanie to the floor. She shouts as the knife slips from her grasp and tumbles across the carpet.

The fat man squirms and struggles, trying to force his way inside, but he’s too wide to fit through the narrow doorway. Behind him, the other crazies gibber and snarl. Their words aren’t any sort of language. It’s a rabid, maniacal sound.

Stephanie writhes beneath the leaking dead man, choking with disgust. Sam is about to help her, when he spies the fat man receding from the door. The space is open for a second, and then the horde surges forward. There are so many of them that they block each other from getting inside. They begin to fight amongst themselves, scratching and punching one another. Shouting, Sam drags the dresser toward the doorway and shoves it into the space. The assailants push and claw at it. Sam pushes back, locking his knees and planting his feet. Fingernails claw furrows in the skin on the back of his hands. A naked woman clambers over the top, so thin she looks cadaverous, and swipes at his eyes. Sam reels back, and the woman springs to the floor. She grins, flashing receding gums with missing teeth. Sam fumbles, trying to free his pistol from his waistband, as the woman lunges.

Then, Mrs. Carlucci appears beside him, armed with an aerosol can full of oven cleaner. She sprays it in the attacker’s eyes, and the naked woman falls to the floor, shrieking in agony, and clawing at her face. Mrs. Carlucci kicks her in the ribs and steps forward, unleashing a stream of toxic chemicals at the rest of the mob. They scream and cry, frothing with rage, and recoil from the doorway. Mrs. Carlucci presses on, leaning over the dresser and extending her arm, spraying back and forth.

Sam hears someone else screaming, and realizes that it’s Stephanie. He notices that she’s managed to retrieve her knife. Now she’s on top of the naked woman, who’s coiled beneath her, blinded and flailing as Stephanie plunges the butcher knife into her again and again. Blood splashes them both in wide arcs, splattering the walls and carpet. Stephanie’s arm moves like a machine, stabbing and slashing, even after the naked woman stops moving.

The mob rushes the open door again, as Shaggy and Turo run out of the kitchen.

“They’re getting through,” Shaggy pants, wild-eyed. “We can’t hold them back anymore. There are too many!”

“You’ve got a gun,” Sam shouts. “Shoot them!”

“For every fucking one I shoot, two more take their fucking place.”

He wheels, fires four shots into the crowd at the door, and then pushes past Sam and flees down the hallway toward the bedrooms. Mrs. Carlucci sends another arc of oven cleaner at the horde, but then the stream sputters and dies.

“I’m empty again.”

She tosses the can at the crowd. It bounces off a naked man’s forehead. Then she follows Shaggy and Turo.

Sam stares at the mob. He glances down and sees a long-handled axe lying in the doorway, apparently dropped by one of the people Mrs. Carlucci blinded. He bends down to grab it, and hears the blockade in the kitchen crash to the floor.

“Shit.” He seizes the axe. Its weight feels reassuring. “Stephanie, come on!”

She looks up at him, her face drenched in blood. Her chest heaves. “I killed someone…”

“You had no choice. Come on. We’ve got to go.”

She rises unsteadily to her feet. Sam grabs her hand and leads her toward the bedroom. Their footfalls echo down the hall. Behind them, the dresser creaks as the mob pushes it out of the way. The last hinge snaps and the front door crashes to the floor. Something that sounds like a stampeding herd of cows trumpets out of the kitchen.

“Don’t look back,” Sam shouts, pulling Stephanie along. “Just run!”

At the end of the hallway, he spies Shaggy standing in the bedroom doorway, gun raised. Sam flinches.

“Don’t shoot us, you asshole!”

Shaggy motions with the gun. “Then hurry the fuck up!”

Shaggy moves aside as they reach him. Sam shoves Stephanie into the bedroom and then turns to look. His eyes widen in horror.

“Oh shit!”

The crazies rush into the apartment. Shaggy empties his magazine, firing into their midst. Sam has to admit, the stoner is a great shot. Each bullet finds a target, and each target drops to the floor. More naked attackers clamber over their fallen comrades. Shaggy pushes past Sam.

“Dude,” he shouts, “come on!”

Still hefting the axe, Sam slams the bedroom door shut behind him as the mob pours into the living room and down the hallway. Their pounding feet drown out everything, including his scream.

Ten - Grady, The Exit, Adam, Phil, and Beth: The Yard

As the crowd of naked people begins to surround them again, Grady fires two rounds. The gun jumps in his hands, and the bullets miss. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to remain still. Then he squeezes the trigger four more times in quick succession. This time, all four rounds hit their intended targets. Three of the crazies drop. The other one staggers backward, hand clasped to a sucking chest wound. The rest of the mob barely seems to notice. Grady is not surprised by their reaction. Obviously, there’s something very wrong with these people, given their current state of agitation. But even if they were normal, they might not notice that he’s just shot four of them, since Mendez from next door just ran over three times that number with his car, crushing them beneath his wheels and buying Grady and Adam a brief moment of respite. Now the car is racing across the yard, away from them. Some of the horde give chase, further lessening the numbers he and Adam face.

Grady reloads on the run, arthritic fingers fumbling with the bullets. The task is made even more difficult by the fact that he can’t seem to stop shaking. He hasn’t been this scared since Vietnam. The pain in his chest returns, more pronounced this time. Grady winces when he draws breath. Adam stumbles along next to him, still disoriented and half-blind as more blood streams down his forehead into his eyes. His skin is very pale, and his pupils are dilated. He keeps glancing back at their pursuers, and each time he does, he slows down.

“Where’s your fiancée?” Grady asks, trying to keep the younger man focused as they flee. He feels bad for not being able to remember the girl’s name in the heat of the moment.

Adam shakes his head. “They…there was a knock on the door and she…”

He falters, and then, sobbing, begins to turn back toward the crowd. Grady grabs his arm and pulls.

“Come on, Adam. Focus. Head for my front door.”

“But they…they had knives…and a piece of rebar. They…”

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not. She’s dead!”

“I’m sorry, Adam. I—”

A naked man who Grady recognizes as a tenant of Building B charges ahead of the rest of the crowd. He’s carrying a broken mop handle, the tip of which is stained brown with blood. Grady pauses and shoots him in the head. The man runs four more steps before tumbling over. He never lets go of the mop handle.

“Mr. Hicks! Mr. Hicks, wait up!”

It takes Grady a second to find the speaker. The voice comes from across the yard, near the apartment complex. He turns toward it, searching, and spots Phil and Beth, the newlyweds who live a few doors down from him, inching along the side of the building. Phil clutches an aluminum baseball bat. The crowd is between them and Grady, and don’t seem to have noticed the young couple. That changes as Phil waves and shouts again.

“Mr. Hicks, we’re coming. Wait up!”

“Wait up,” Grady mutters. “That boy’s crazy. Wait up my ass.”

Mendez whips the car around in the yard, tires chewing up the grass and topsoil as the vehicle bares down on the crowd again. The engine chortles manically, and the mob’s rear flank scatters. Mendez lays on the horn. Grady isn’t sure if he does this to further distract and disorient their attackers, but if so, it doesn’t achieve the desired results. Mendez doesn’t get the main crowd’s attention until he slams into them at full speed. Naked bodies fly and tumble like bowling pins. The car bounces up and down, and for one moment, Grady is sure his neighbor is going to crash. Then, Mendez regains control. The car’s rear end fishtails, sliding on the grass, and he manages to clip two more pursuers. Then he roars off again across the yard. The naked people turn their attention back to Grady and Adam, but several of them splinter off from the main group and begin stalking toward Phil and Beth.

Struggling to stay upright, Grady guides Adam forward as the insane throng closes in on them again from three sides, herding them toward the apartment building. Grady realizes the crowd are doing the same thing to Phil and Beth. But in truth, there’s nowhere else to run. He hears gunshots in the distance, over the mob’s cries and Mendez’s car. He realizes that whatever is happening here is taking place all across town.

“Head for my apartment,” he shouts, realizing the newlyweds are already cut off from theirs.

Phil swings the bat, smashing an attacker in the face, pulping the man’s lips and shattering his teeth. Phil uses it again to strike another pursuer in the stomach. The woman doubles over, immobilized. Beth claws and punches, fighting alongside her husband. She shrieks, and to Grady, she sounds both panicked and furious. He’s heard men make that same noise, in the war. Now, the war is happening right here.

“I’ve got to get home,” Adam mutters.

“Bullshit. You stick with me if you want to stay alive.”

“But…”

A young boy, maybe ten or eleven years old, breaks free of the rest of the group and charges toward them. The kid clutches a broken glass bottle in one hand, and his lips are curled back in a snarl. Grady’s attention is drawn to the braces on the boy’s teeth. They seem strangely out of place. The boy closes the distance quickly, and Grady raises the Smith & Wesson, still staring at the orthodontics. He tries to aim, but his arms wobble. At the last minute, deciding he can’t shoot the kid, no matter how murderous, he lets go of Adam’s arm and sidesteps the young attacker, sticking out one foot and tripping the boy. The boy falls face first onto the grass. Grady winces when he hears the broken bottle being crushed beneath the kid’s body.

Adam lopes away in a running, stumbling gait, heading back toward his building. Shouting his name, Grady steps over the fallen kid and reaches for him. That is a mistake. The boy rolls over and slashes at Grady’s ankle with a shard of glass. Yelping, Grady teeters on one foot. Then, without thinking about it, he shoots the naked boy in the face. He realizes what he’s done a split second after he pulls the trigger. Grady wants to take the action back, but it’s too late. The boy’s face implodes right between his nose and his left eye, collapsing into his head. Grady’s stomach churns.

Phil shouts something—Grady can’t understand him. He glances up and sees the two newlyweds still fighting off the frenzied attackers. Then, even though he doesn’t want to look, his eyes are drawn back down to the dead boy. Grady notices that his shoes are spattered with the child’s blood. The kid’s brains cling to the blades of grass like chunks of red and gray cottage cheese.

“I’m sorry,” Grady sobs, and he is.

Feeling his sock turn wet with blood, he limps after Adam, feebly gesturing for him to come back. Grady shouts, but if the younger man hears him, he doesn’t turn around. Instead, Adam weaves back and forth in a sort of Z-formation, keeping his gaze fixed on Building-C. As a result, he doesn’t see the mob rushing toward him until it is too late. Grady watches in horror as they quickly overwhelm him, dragging Adam to the ground and delivering countless vicious blows with fists and feet and various weapons. There are bricks and rocks and a hockey stick, and all of them are quickly slicked with blood. Adam’s screams are horrific.

Shuddering, Grady raises the pistol, unsure of how many shots he has left. He takes aim, then hears someone growling behind him. He turns and sees a dozen more naked people closing in. Instead of helping Adam, Grady heads for his apartment again, leaving a trail of blood behind in his wake. His eyes dart from Adam to his front door and back again, but he doesn’t turn around, afraid that if he does, he will falter and that will be it for him.

Adam’s shrieks become muffled as a naked woman stuffs a fistful of crumpled paper money in his mouth, effectively gagging him. Grady frowns, thinking that the woman bears more than a resemblance to Adam himself. She could almost be the young man’s sister. He decides that can’t be possible. Instead, he must be going into shock—not thinking clearly, seeing things that aren’t real. He takes two steps toward Adam, then stops again as the woman begins clawing up handfuls of grass and dirt, and shoves that into Adam’s mouth, as well. Grady blinks his eyes but the woman still looks like she’s related to her victim. Another naked man pinches Adam’s nose shut. Adam squirms and wriggles, but is unable to break free.

Grady realizes that he can’t outrun his pursuers. Even if he wasn’t injured, they are younger and faster than he is, and their stamina seems to be fueled by their insanity. But neither does he have the courage to face them—to face his own demise and stare into their insane eyes. Keeping his own gaze fixed firmly on Adam, he watches as the younger man twitches and then lies still. Grady raises the pistol to his temple and hopes he has at least one bullet left in the gun. Then he closes his eyes.