The Complex by Brian Keene

Grady to run. Astonished, Grady does just that, moving as fast as age and his injury will allow him. Out of the corner of his eye, Grady spots Phil and Beth careening toward the car, as well. He reaches the vehicle first, and clambers over the hood. The hot metal burns his hands, but Grady barely notices. He slides off the other side into the narrow space between his front door and the car’s passenger door.
    “I hope you have your keys,” Mendez yells through the shattered passenger window.
    Grady nods, because he’s too winded to speak. He fumbles with the keys, pulling them from his pocket, but his hands are shaking too badly to select the correct one from the ring.
    “Mr. Hicks,” Phil shouts. “Mr. Mendez!”
    “Hurry up,” Grady yells. “Damn kids are gonna get themselves killed.”
    “Just get the door open,” Mendez urges him, slipping out of the broken window. “They’ll make it okay.”
    Grady slides the key into the lock and turns. The latch clicks and he throws the door open. Mendez nearly knocks him over rushing to get inside. Grady is about to rebuke him when Beth screams.
    The horde has caught up to Phil and Beth, surrounding them, and cutting them off from Grady’s front door. He takes aim with the pistol, but realizes that if he fires into the crowd, there’s a good chance he’ll hit one of the newlyweds instead.
    “Drop down,” he bellows. “I can’t get a shot!”
    “What are you doing?” Mendez yells. “Shut the door and get inside!”
    “It’s Phil and Beth. We’ve got to help them, goddamn it.”
    “We can’t help them now. Don’t be an idiot.”
    Before Grady can argue with him, he realizes that his neighbor is right. Phil swings the baseball bat savagely, trying to defend both his wife and himself, but he is quickly overwhelmed by the sheer number of foes. Someone hits him on the back of the head with a flashlight. Phil slows, and his shoulders slump. Another attacker lobs a broken cinder block, which cracks him in the ribs. Phil stumbles, reeling, and the crowd pulls him down. He desperately reaches for Beth, but she’s wrenched away by more naked people. She slams her head backward, breaking one of their noses, and stomps on the arch of another’s foot, freeing herself. Then, she tries to run toward the car, but the naked people shove her back into the fray. One man picks up Phil’s baseball bat and swings, smashing Beth in the shoulder. Screaming, she doubles over, cradling her injured arm. A second blow knocks several teeth from her mouth, and her cries turn to gurgles. Someone else grabs a fistful of her hair and yanks her head up. The veins in her neck stand out like tree roots.
    “No,” Grady cries. “Oh God, no. Goddamn it…”
    He raises the pistol again and fires a shot, hitting a nearby crazy in the chest. The wounded attacker topples backward, but five more are going to work on Beth with shovels and knives and chunks of masonry. One of her cheeks hangs down like a bloody mud-flap. Her eyes are wide. She’s staring right at him.
    Weeping, Grady realizes there is nothing he can do for the couple. He lowers the gun and closes the door behind him. When he closes his eyes, he can still see Beth’s stare.
    “Lock it,” Mendez says.
    Grady opens his eyes and wipes snot from his upper lip. “What good is that cheap little lock going to do against this shit?”
    “It will buy us some time.” Mendez speaks matter-of-factly, as if he were discussing how to program a DVD player, rather than referencing the army of killers marauding outside. “Even a few seconds can make a difference. And my car will slow them down, as well. They won’t be able to get any leverage to beat your door down. We just need to barricade the windows. Hurry up.”
    “Phil and Beth are dead,” Grady yelps. “So is Adam from across the way. Those people butchered them. Don’t you care, Mendez? Don’t you give a damn?”
    Mendez shrugs. “People die every day, Grady. Tonight, it