Free The Complex by Brian Keene Page A

something.”
    “There aren’t any electrical poles in the yard.”
    “Listen,” Phil speaks slowly, trying to sound reassuring. “I want to take a peek out the window.”
    Beth stiffens, and her eyes go wide. Before she can speak, Phil pushes ahead.
    “Just a quick glance. That’s all. We need to know what’s going on. How else are we going to protect ourselves? Nobody is going to see me. I’m just going to look through the blinds and then come right back here.”
    Beth shrugs. “Okay. You’re right. Just be careful.”
    Phil gets to his feet, grinning. “You know me.”
    “That’s why I said to be careful.”
    Crouching low, Phil makes his way down the hall. The glare from the headlights gets brighter as he nears the window, creeping through the spaces between the blinds. If they were open, he probably wouldn’t be able to see anything right now. As it is, he has to shield his eyes with his hand as he parts the blinds and peeks outside.
    “What do you see?” Beth calls. “What is it?”
    “It’s Mister Hicks and Mister Mendez and…some guy I don’t know. And there’s…”
    He trails off, gaping out the window.
    “There’s what? What do you see, Phil? What’s going on?”
    “There’s naked people.”
    “What?”
    “There’s a bunch of naked people.” He lets the blinds fall shut and walks back down the hall. His complexion turns chalk white. “And I think they’re going to kill our neighbors.”
    “What do you mean naked?”
    Phil starts to respond, but then he bursts into tears. He stands there, shaking and in shock. Terrified, Beth rushes to him and pulls him close.
    The car horn stops suddenly. When it does, they notice that the screams and gunshots and other sounds have ceased, as well. The silence is even more terrifying than the chaos that preceded it.
    Night arrives, and engulfs the Pine Village Apartment Complex in darkness.

Part Two
     
    Block
    Party

Nine - Sam, Terri, Caleb, Stephanie, Mrs. Carlucci, Shaggy, and Turo: Apartment 1-D
     
     
    The irony is not lost on Sam. Only a few short minutes ago, he was just about to kill himself. Now, plans of suicide have been put on hold and instead, he’s fighting to stay alive. He doesn’t pause to consider why, because there’s no time for self-reflection. Four of the cheap pressboard bookshelves are pressed up against the broken living room windows, forming a double-layered barricade. The sofa and another bookshelf have been shoved against the locked front door. In the kitchen, the refrigerator blocks half of the window. The window’s other half is covered by the small upended kitchen table—a furnishing Sam has never used because he always eats his solitary meals in front of the television or his computer. The table is propped in place by a microwave cart. Atop the microwave is a jumble of debris—the coffee pot, pans, books—anything that could help form a barrier. Sam is pretty sure this area will be the weakest link.
    He snaps his fingers at the tall, scraggly kid with the gun. Sam doesn’t know his name. He only knows that the guy lives in the apartment below him, along with his short friend. Both of them are currently staring at the door, wide-eyed and dazed. Sam is pretty sure they’re stoned. He wishes he was, as well.
    When the guy doesn’t notice, Sam snaps his fingers at him again. “Hey, what’s your name?”
    “Me? Shaggy.”
    Sam suppresses a laugh, resisting the urge to shout, “Zoinks, Scoob!” He knows this reaction is driven by panic and shock, but that doesn’t make it any less amusing.
    “Okay, Shaggy.” He nods at the gun in the kid’s hand. “You got more ammo for that thing?”
    Shaggy glances down at his weapon as if he’d forgotten it. “Yeah. The magazine’s full and I got another in my pocket. All fucking hollow points.”
    “Okay, good. I want you at that kitchen window. That’s our weakest defense, so you need to be ready to pick them off if they get through. Your buddy can help.