Free The Complex by Brian Keene

instead.”
    “I’m not some women.”
    Phil slides his arms around Beth and pulls her close, smelling her shampoo. Her soft hair tickles his nose.
    “I hate this place,” she whispers.
    “I know. Me, too.”
    Phil and Beth are both twenty-seven years old. They met at college, and have been married for a year. They live in the Pine Village Apartment Complex because the rent is cheap, and they’re saving up to have enough money for a down payment on a house. Neither of them like it here. The apartment is small and cramped, and bugs keep seeming to find their way inside. Beth doesn’t mind the insects but Phil is deathly afraid of them. Bugs have always been his phobia, ever since he was a kid. When they first moved in, the place stank like cat piss. In the time they’ve lived here, the smell has abated, for the most part, but they still catch it on their clothes sometimes, and in the carpet. Beth likes to joke that they should just get a cat, but they can’t, because Phil is allergic.
    And so, here they stay, squirreling away their savings, and talking of how awesome it will be when they finally move out. Beth’s father has repeatedly offered to lend them the money, but Phil always declines, insisting that they want to do it themselves. The realtors have told them they need about twenty or thirty thousand dollars for the type of home they’re looking for. Phil works in IT for the cable company, and Beth has a job in the billing department of a health insurance company. At night, they take turns making dinner. Then they cuddle on the couch they received as a wedding present and watch Netflix. They make love two or three times a week. They still have things to talk about when they aren’t. The apartment isn’t so bad in those moments.
    But they still save their money and they still look at homes for sale online, and dream of the day they can buy one.
    Beth stirs. “You made sure the door was locked, right?”
    “Yeah.” Phil nods. “Do you think we should barricade it somehow? Maybe put something over the windows?”
    “It might not be a bad idea. And we should keep the lights turned off, too. Maybe they’ll think we aren’t home.”
    “That’s a good idea. I’ll—”
    Outside, a car horn blares, interrupting him. They hear an engine thrumming loud enough that the walls seem to vibrate. Headlights flash in the living room window, which is weird, since that window faces the backyard. It’s just grass and sidewalk out there—no place for a car to drive. Luckily, the blinds are closed, so the glare is somewhat muted.
    Phil frowns. “What the hell?”
    “Maybe it’s the police. Maybe they rolled up into the yard?”
    “Let’s hope so!”
    Beth puts a finger to his lips. “Don’t yell. We don’t want whoever it is to know we’re in here.”
    “I’m not yelling.”
    “Yes, you are.”
    “I’m not yelling, Beth. I’m just trying to be heard over that damn car! What the hell has gotten into you?”
    Beth flinches, and then Phil does, too. When they first got engaged, Phil’s father gave them the advice of ‘never go to bed angry with each other.’ So far, that advice has worked. They have never had a fight or argument, and have never raised their voices in anger at one another. Both of them are aware that they seem to be now, driven by fear and uncertainty and paranoia. After a moment, Beth says what’s on both their minds.
    “I don’t want to fight. I’m scared. You’re scared. Let’s just stick together, okay?”
    Smiling, Phil nods. “I’m sorry, hon.”
    “I’m sorry, too.”
    The sub-woofer on their surround sound system pops as the power suddenly shuts off. The digital clock goes blank. In the kitchen, the refrigerator’s compressor falls silent. Outside, the horn continues to blare, drowning out the screams and the gunshots.
    “The power’s out,” Phil says.
    Beth nods. “I’m really getting scared, Phil. This is bad.”
    “Maybe that car out there hit a pole or