The Complex Read Free Page B

about the look of this strange intruder. She can hear his labored, heavy breathing even from this distance. His gelatinous body jiggles with each methodical step, and he glistens with sweat. His penis is almost nonexistent, just a tiny nub lost in the folds of flab hanging down from his waist. His smooth, hairless skin is almost fish-belly white, except for a small Hello Kitty tattoo above his left nipple. She almost laughs at the bizarreness of this, but then she notices the machete clutched in his hand. It had been hidden before, concealed in the shadows between the cars. Now, it gleams dully, reflecting the light spilling from one of her neighbor’s windows.
    “Mommy…”
    “Go inside, honey.” Terri moves over to Caleb, putting herself between her son and the oncoming obesity.
    “Both of you go inside,” Randy says. There is an edge to his voice that Terri has never heard before. “And call 911.”
    “Randy, what are you—?”
    Ignoring her, Randy steps forward, approaching the naked man. The stranger doesn’t break stride, nor does he show any reaction. He merely continues toward them, closing the distance.
    “Randy,” Terri calls, and then grabs Caleb’s hand tightly. “Come on, Caleb. Let’s get inside. Now!”
    Caleb doesn’t argue or protest. Indeed, he seems to be the one pulling her as he turns toward the apartment. Terri glances back over her shoulder in time to see Randy confront the fat man.
    “Listen, friend, I don’t know if you’re high on bath salts or something, but—”
    He never finishes, because Tick-Tock (as she thinks of him now) raises the machete—stretching his Hello Kitty tattoo—and swings the weapon down in a vicious arc. She hears the sound the blade makes as it cleaves through Randy’s skull. When she was a kid, Terri’s parents would get bushels of Maryland crabs in the summer. Then they’d spread newspaper out over the picnic table, crack the shells with a wooden hammer, and pry them apart to get at the meat. Randy’s skull makes that same sound. Then, the machete’s trajectory curves to the side, cleaving through Randy’s head and exiting just above his left ear.
    His eyes meet Terri’s. He opens his mouth to speak and blood pours from his lips.
    “Terri…I…”
    Randy jitters for a moment, his shirt turning wet with blood, and then part of the top half of his head slides down his shoulder. He stands there, trying to speak, bleeding and dying, missing a quarter of his head, but unable to fall.
    Terri screams.
    Caleb shrieks.
    Tick-Tock pushes Randy over. Randy slams into the pavement, arms and legs sprawled like noodles. The brains left inside of his cloven skull splatter across the blacktop like some garish Rorschach painting made from oatmeal. Steam rises from the gore.
    Finally, the car alarm falls silent.
    Terri screams again. Her hands flutter to her face. She doesn’t feel it as her own fingernails claw her cheeks. She spins around, grabs Caleb’s hand, and flees for their apartment.
    Grinning, his head still ticking from side to side, the naked fat man raises the dripping machete and plods after them.

Three - Stephanie [Stephen] [Rose]: Apartment 3-D
     
     
    Stephanie doesn’t hear the police sirens or the car alarm or the screams, because she’s in the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. The bathroom’s exhaust fan comes on automatically with the light; something that annoys Stephanie to no end. She can understand running the fan when she takes a shower, but she shouldn’t need to listen to it rattling and wheezing when she’s only brushing her teeth or putting on make-up. The fan is making that noise now, the motor sputtering and the blades sounding like they have a small rodent trapped between them, but she barely notices.
    Instead, she’s thinking—not for the first time—that she can no longer see Stephen’s reflection in the mirror.
    Stephanie has never thought of her birth gender as a separate person, and she doesn’t really