The Complex by Brian Keene Read Free Book Online

at each other, unsure of what to do.
    Then, Ron decided for them by punching Genova in his still-smiling mouth. The stunned criminal stumbled backward, arms flailing. Jimmy darted forward and grabbed the briefcase, wrestling it away from the injured man. Then, before the other three mobsters could even draw their weapons, Jimmy took off across the parking lot.
    “Come on,” Ron shouted, as Shaggy and Turo stood there blinking. “Move your ass!”
    Shaggy and Turo raced after Ron and Jimmy. Shouts echoed behind them, but they were too afraid to turn around and see what was happening. They were halfway to the car when Jimmy lurched forward, as if he’d been kicked in the back. Bloody holes appeared in his shirt. A second later, they heard the shots. The briefcase slipped from Jimmy’s grasp as he tottered back and forth, weaving unsteadily on his feet. Then the back of Jimmy’s head exploded.
    Turo slid to a halt and screamed. Shaggy clutched his arm and urged him on. Without stopping, Ron bent over, snatched up the briefcase, and ran for the car. Bullets pinged off the pavement and the surrounding automobiles. Then Shaggy and Turo started running again.
    “You boys know who you’re fucking with?” Genova shouted.
    Ron’s car roared to life. Seconds later, the tires squealed as he barreled out of the parking lot, baring down directly on the gangsters. The gunmen scattered as he rocketed toward them, recovering fast enough to shoot out his rear windshield. He screeched out onto the road, his rear bumper banging off the asphalt, and then zoomed away.
    By then, Shaggy and Turo had fled through the parking lot of an adjoining Taco Bell, behind a dry cleaners, and into a stretch of woods bordering an industrial park. They ran all night, hiding in culverts and garbage dumpsters, plowing through forests, and racing across highways, fields, and vacant lots. They babbled to one another in shock and fear about Jimmy’s fate, and the fact that Ron had abandoned them, and how they were going to get home, and what the hell they would do now.
    They’d made it back to Red Lion just before dawn, exhausted, sweaty, and dismayed. Seeing nothing suspicious around their apartment, the two had gone inside. Then Ron called, informing them that he’d stashed the money inside an old iron ore mine out in the woods near LeHorn’s Hollow. He apologized for leaving them behind, saying he’d been in shock after seeing his brother gunned down, and wasn’t thinking clearly. He assured them he was all better now, and that all they had to do was lay low for a while, and when the coast had cleared, they’d split the money between themselves.
    That had been four days ago. Shaggy and Turo have spent much of that time stoned or drunk or both. They’ve waited to hear from Ron, or the cops, or the people they robbed. So far, they haven’t. They’ve been afraid to go outside, afraid to make a phone call, afraid to do anything but sit and drink and smoke and play video games.
    Now, all of that has changed.
    “Let’s make a break for it,” Shaggy says, crouched behind the sofa.
    “And go where?” Turo parts the vinyl blinds with one finger and peers out the window. So far, the yard outside their apartment, which borders a small stretch of woodland, is empty.
    “I don’t fucking know. Anywhere but here!”
    “How? We ain’t got no fucking car, no fucking driver’s licenses, and no fucking money. How far we gonna get?”
    Turo lets the blinds fall shut, sinks back down to the floor again, and tries not to cry.
    Shaggy stands up, still clutching the .45, and snatches the spare magazine off the table. Then he heads for the door.
    “Stay here if you want,” he says, “but I’m leaving while I still can. I’m betting they killed Ron, and I’m also betting he fucking gave us up before they did. Probably tortured him and shit.”
    “Dude, for all we know, Ron took off with the fucking money.”
    “Bullshit, motherfucker.” Shaggy shakes