The Complex (18 page)

Recovering, they turn down the hall toward the bedroom. Sam gapes, alarmed at the amount of smoke roiling out of the spare bedroom. The heat wafting from that direction is unbearable. He coughs again, and then feels Mrs. Carlucci tugging his arm. Sam frowns, confused. Has the old woman suddenly gotten shorter? No, he realizes. She’s crouched down, closer to the floor. He follows her lead and suddenly he can breathe again.

“Crawl,” she gasps, pointing.

They proceed down the hallway on their hands and knees, until they find the bedroom door. Somebody has shut it, probably to keep the smoke out. Sam wonders when that happened. It must have been in the last minute. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to hear Terri before.

“Quit lollygagging,” Mrs. Carlucci snaps. “There’s no time for nonsense right now, Sam.”

Nodding, he follows her as she reaches up, turns the doorknob, and crawls inside the bedroom. Once they’re in, Sam slams the door behind him. This room is smoky, too, but it’s bearable. Sam rises to his feet, and then helps Mrs. Carlucci stand. He glances around the room, and sees that Terri has managed to tunnel through to Mrs. Carlucci’s apartment. She, Caleb, and Stephanie are standing next to the wall.

“We…we weren’t sure what happened to you,” Stephanie explains. “So we were waiting.”

Sam nods, wiping sweat from his brow. “It’s okay. You did fine, Steph.”

“Did you see my cats?” Mrs. Carlucci asks, her voice thick with worry.

“No,” Terri replies. “But it’s quiet over there. None of the… whatever these people are…none of them are inside, yet. I’m sure your cats are safe.”

“How do we know?” Sam asks. “How do we know they’re not inside?”

Terri shrugs, and glances at Stephanie.

“Wouldn’t they have come through the hole after us, as soon as we broke through the wall?”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “Good point. Although…they seem to be more calculating than we thought.”

Stephanie frowns. “What do you mean?”

He starts to tell her about their behavior at the door, and Tick Tock’s bullying of them, but before he can, Mrs. Carlucci hobbles across the room.

“You people can stand here and talk while the building burns down, but I’m going to see to my cats, and then we’re getting out of here.”

Sam smiles, encouraged at the old lady’s courage and single-minded determination. She really is a remarkable woman. He hates that it’s taken tonight’s events for him to truly get to know her, and he resolves to make up for that mistake when things return to normal.

If they return to normal,
he thinks.

Resting his back against the bedroom door, Sam flips open the .357’s cylinder, ejects the empty brass casings, and fumbles in his pocket for more ammunition. His vision has cleared now, but his eyes still sting and his throat still tastes like smoke.

Mrs. Carlucci crouches down and climbs through the hole in the wall.

“Hannibal? King? Queenieeeeeeeeeeeeeee…”

Screaming, Stephanie, Terri, and Caleb back away from the wall as something jerks Mrs. Carlucci into the darkness on the other side. Only her legs are visible, jittering wildly.

“No!”

Sam lunges forward, gun raised, but he realizes he can’t fire into the tight space without hitting Mrs. Carlucci. Instead, he grabs her ankle and pulls. Someone on the other side yanks harder, as if the old woman is nothing more than a rope in a bizarre game of tug-of-war. Then Sam spots Mrs. Carlucci’s head and face. Her eyes and mouth are wide with terror. Several pair of dirty, hairy arms are holding her. Something silver flashes in the darkness—a straight razor. Sam shrieks as it is dragged across her throat. Blood jets from the wound, turning the arms of her captor’s red. It splatters onto Sam’s face, dripping into his eyes, but he barely notices.

Realizing there’s nothing he can do, he raises the gun again and fires into the hole. He squeezes the trigger until it clicks empty. Then he scuttles away and glances at the others.

“Out the window! It’s our only chance.”

“But the fall,” Stephanie protests.

“We don’t have a choice, Steph! They’re in her apartment. And yours is on fire. It’s the only way out.”

He runs to the window. Unlike the other apartments, this room doesn’t have an air conditioner. Sam is grateful for that. He rips the curtains down, shoves the blinds aside, and unlatches the hasp at the top. Then he slides the window up. He coughs, as the breeze blows smoke into his face. Sam looks out on the backyard. Parts of it are on fire. Other sections are nothing more than smoldering ash. And still other portions seem unaffected, the grass still green—except for where it’s covered in blood. The other thing he notices is that the mob has dissipated for the most part. They’re still lurking on the fringes, and breaking into the other apartment buildings and terrorizing the houses across the street, but the vicinity immediately below him is clear.

“We can make a rope out of my sheets,” Stephanie suggests, moving toward the bed.

“There’s no time,” Sam yells. “I’ll go first. Then you, Steph. Terri, we’ll catch Caleb once we’re on the ground.”

Terri nods, too frightened to speak. Sam can’t blame her. His heart is beating so fast he’s concerned about a heart attack.

He hands Stephanie the Taurus. “Drop this down to me. Then you jump.”

Before she can respond, he turns to the window and climbs outside, first one leg, and then the other. Then, he lowers himself down until he’s hanging from the windowsill by his hands. It is then that Sam discovers he is too frightened to let go. He glances down at the ground below him, and sees that he’ll land on the sidewalk, in front of Phil and Beth’s apartment. Then he spots a bush, just off to the left. It’s surrounded by a deep layer of mulch. Shifting his weight, Sam swings to the left, trying his best to aim.

Then he lets go.

He lands in the mulch, just inches from the bush, and though the shock of impact travels up both legs, and the air rushes from his lungs, Sam is surprised to find that he’s okay. He raises his hands up to the window, and sees Stephanie leaning out, holding the gun.

“Drop it,” he says, waving in encouragement.

She does, and Sam catches it. The impact of the pistol striking his hand hurts worse than the landing did. He quickly shoves the weapon in his waistband and then looks back up. Stephanie has already crawled out of the window, and is hanging precariously, swinging back and forth.

“Go ahead,” he yells. “You’ve got this!”

“Sam…”

“It’s okay, Steph. You can do it.”

“I know I can do it! But you need to move out of the way.”

“Oh…”

He steps to the side and Stephanie lets go, dropping gracefully to the ground. She hisses, drawing breath on impact, and then looks at him, wincing.

“Ouch.”

Sam steps toward her in concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just stings the bottoms of my feet. I’m fine.”

He looks back up to the window and cups his hand around his mouth. “Okay, Terri. It’s Caleb’s turn!”

The young mother glances down at them, her expression panicked. Sam notices that smoke is starting to curl through the window. He glances to the right and sees that both Stephanie and Terri’s apartments are fully engulfed.

“It’s going to be okay,” he calls. “We’ll catch him.”

Terri nods. “I trust you, Sam. I trust you both. I’m trusting you with my little boy. Do you understand?”

“I do,” he says solemnly.

Terri lifts Caleb to the window. He clings to her, crying, but then his eyes go wide as he sees something past her shoulder. He tries to scramble away from his mother, and nearly falls out the window. Terri struggles with him, and then dangles him over the sill, gripping the boy’s wrists. Caleb kicks and wriggles.

“Hurry, Mommy! They’re coming through the hole.”

“Sam? Stephanie?” Terri sounds close to tears.

“We’ve got him,” Sam shouts. “Let go!”

Terri does, and Caleb shrieks for her as he falls. Then, Sam catches him. The boy seems shocked. Sam is, too.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “You’re okay, Caleb. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“My Mom is still up—”

Terri lands on the bush, and tumbles over, sprawling into the mulch. Stephanie rushes over to her and takes her hand.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Terri gasps, her expression clouded with pain. “Nothing broken.”

Sam puts Caleb down and the boy rushes to his mother, hugging her tightly. Then, while Stephanie helps Terri to her feet, Sam glances around, surveying the yard. He sees naked figures looming beyond the smoke, but the fires seem to be holding them at bay.

“Any sign of Shaggy?” Stephanie asks.

Sam shakes his head. “Maybe they got him. Or maybe he got away. Let’s do the same.”

He leads them forward, sticking to the sidewalk. Terri and Caleb follow, hand in hand. Stephanie brings up their rear. All four are clustered together.

“Shit,” she exclaims.

Sam pauses. “What’s wrong?”

“I left the knife up there. And the hammer.”

“It’s okay. I’ve still got the gun.”

He reaches into his pocket, intent on reloading, but his breath catches in his throat when he only feels four bullets. Rather than telling the others, he quietly reloads, and then snaps the cylinder shut again.

One for each of us,
he thinks.
But it’s not going to come to that. Not now. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to live. I’m going to live.

They start forward again, approaching the abandoned car in front of Mr. Hicks’s front door. Sam glances up and sees that his apartment is also ablaze. He thinks about his belongings, all the stuff he didn’t want, all the things that didn’t matter—the books he’d written, and the awards, and all the other crap, and he feels a strange sense of relief.

“You’re smiling,” Terri says. “What are you thinking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. Freedom, I guess. I feel free.”

“We’re not free yet,” Stephanie warns.

“No,” Sam agrees. “Not yet. But we’re getting there.”

Suddenly, the door to Mr. Hicks’s apartment is flung open. Sam stumbles, surprised. He raises the pistol, but Mr. Hicks emerges, waving his own gun.

“Don’t shoot,” Sam yells. “It’s us!”

Mr. Hicks squints at them. “Who’s us?”

“It’s Sam Miller, Mr. Hicks. I’m here with our neighbors.”

“Miller?” Mr. Hicks’s expression registers surprise. “You folks are still alive? I thought for sure you’d be—”

“Get the fuck out of the way, old man! The fucking apartment is on fire.”

Sam recognizes the voice at once. Mr. Hicks moves aside and Shaggy bursts from the doorway, scrambling up over the roof of the car. He stares at them in surprise.

“I thought y’all motherfuckers would be burned up by now.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Stephanie says.

Another figure emerges from the apartment. Smoke seems to billow around him. As it clears, Sam recognizes the third person as one of the neighbors. He can’t remember the man’s name.

“You okay, Mendez?” Mr. Hicks asks.

The neighbor, Mendez, nods, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “I am now. Need air.”

The three climb over the car and down into the yard as more smoke pours from the apartment. Their clothes smell like smoke. Then Sam realizes that his do, as well.

“You folks armed?” Mr. Hicks asks.

“Just me, Mr. Hicks. We had to leave in a hurry.”

“Call me Grady. And yeah, we left in a hurry, too. Messed up Mendez’s plan for going out the front window.”

“Into the parking lot?” Sam asks.

Mendez nods.

“Be glad you didn’t,” Sam tells them. “You would have never made it.”

“I think we could have,” Mendez replies, “but I guess we’ll never know now. It became a moot point when they set the building on fire.”

“Actually, that was Mrs. Carlucci,” Sam explains.

Grady’s eyes widen when he hears her name. “Edna? Where is she?”

Sam shakes his head, and glances at the sidewalk.

“Son of a bitch…” Grady spits on the pavement. “These goddamned sons of bitches.”

“Why aren’t they attacking us?” Mendez stares out across the burning yard. “There are less of them now, but even so, they still outnumber us. Why aren’t they rushing in?”

“Sam thinks they’re afraid of the fire,” Stephanie says.

“That’s right,” Sam confirms. “I think it might be some sort of primal thing. Earlier, I noticed that—”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Terri says, “but maybe we should get moving? The smoke’s getting worse.”

“I’m with you, young lady,” Grady says.

“Terri,” she replies. “And that’s my son, Caleb.”

A round of quick introductions are made amongst them.

“Okay.” Sam points to the side of the building. “I vote we go that way. Stick as close to the building as we can. The proximity to the fire should make them keep their distance. When we get to the parking lot, we’ll make a break for the alley or the woods, depending on which path is clearer. Shaggy, Grady—you both have guns. I’m down to four bullets. Can you lay down some cover fire when we get on the other side?”