The Final Complex

“So, how do you feel about this one?” 

Joanne and Kaine looked up at their broker exasperatedly, too engrossed in hushed conversation to notice that they were nearing their ninth showing of the day. They must have heard that question a hundred times now. Night had fallen on the group of three, and even the golf cart they were using to trek around the neighboring communities seemed to sputter in exhaustion. The broker held his phone up to their faces to show them yet another apartment complex. They didn't even bother to glance at it.

“Oh, great. Will this one be any better than the last?” Jo snapped caustically. Kaine prudently nudged her with her leg.

Their broker, Jean, flashed them a forced smile. “You two haven’t been too keen on other potential options. We have shown you apartments in the finest locations. Need I remind you of our first trip to The Swan…”

Goodness, did Kaine not need reminding. The other offers were…underwhelming, to say the very least. Housing complexes with cramped quarters, neighbors babbling boisterously before the couple had even moved in, and the smell of these places. One could easily deduce that the owners at some apartments had gone absolutely ballistic in an attempt to make them more enticing, spraying intoxicating perfumes throughout the interior. To the couple, it was overpowering and grotesque. A boring underground pool awaited them at nearly every complex. Hot, blistering sunshine could never be evaded in these places. He sighed. None of the options just felt right to them. His patience wavered only slightly–a personality trait he prided himself on–but he could pick up on the tensing atmosphere as rejection after rejection reigned strong. At least Jo had the gumption to be forthcoming in what she wanted. Contrarily, Kaine, in his laconic nature, had always been known as a gentle giant. Though he was burly and muscular, he always used a light touch to cool down his wife during her outbursts. Still, he couldn’t help but understand her frustration this time. They had found nothing after searching for the perfect place for hours. Add onto that the temperature dropping rapidly as darkness enveloped them, and her gripes were near cathartic at times. Jo shivered and huddled into Kaine for warmth.

“...to do this for you. Without a break, might I add.” Jean finished with a huff, breaking through Kaine’s introspection. It seemed even Jean was losing stamina after the turmoil the couple had put him through all day. They puttered on in their golf cart, houses and apartments of the past shrinking farther and farther in the distance. They took a right off of the main road, winding through a deeply wooded area. As the path grew rockier, Kaine took Jo’s hand in his. Their wedding rings danced in the moonlight. After another hour of driving deeper into the forest, the GPS on Jean's phone robotically declared that they had arrived. Jean furrowed his brows and frowned at the device. No, he confirmed. This was the right place.

“Lovely story. How about you park this thing and satisfy us and maybe we’ll all get a break?” Jo almost growled her response. Kaine blinked thoughtfully at the thick woods enveloping them.

As they disembarked, Jean pulled out a flashlight and shined it on the potential abode. Kaine and Jo dug around in their pockets to find theirs.

“And you refuse to wait until tomorrow for this?” He turned his head to look at the pair, distraught. 

Their blank stares back answered his question for him. With an almost imperceptible grimace, he slowly pivoted and ventured up to the apartment’s leasing office. 

Preceding them slouched a grey, disheveled building. Abreast it stretched a small assortment of apartments. Their flashlights, as they rocked back and forth with each step, picked up on small things. Weeds growing through the pavement. Vines stretching up the bark of leafless trees, sapping them of life. The front double doors, oak wood painted red, were slightly off and not completely parallel to one another. A chilly breeze ripped through, forcing the trio to huddle into their jackets for warmth. A fallen brown leaf fluttered into one of Kaine’s brown curls. All of the lights were off.

“They’re closed,” Jean announced with a hint of elation. He couldn’t help but beam, grateful the couple couldn’t see him in the dark. “Guess we’re coming back tomorrow–”

“Just knock.” Jo urged. His smile quickly morphed into a scowl. He could feel her glowering at him behind his back. She was a short, quick fuse–figuratively and literally. And Kaine was no better, stoically permitting her behavior. Jean wondered why the universe allowed him to suffer with these two insufferable people as his clients.

Despondently, Jean obeyed, rapping at the door agitatedly. The door swung open at his touch, swinging dangerously on its hinges and creaking loudly. The pitch black waiting room awaiting them was so spacious, the sound reverberated back to them. They took a few wary steps inside. Kaine felt around for a light switch, and, upon finding one, turned it on. The painfully fluorescent lights hummed and flickered in protest. 

The waiting room was in disarray. Chairs that looked like they must have been there for decades were kicked over, while others were flipped upside down on top of dining room tables as if they were used once and would never be so valuable again. Visible dust clumps swirled in the air. The carpet was stained with unidentifiable liquids. Wallpaper was peeling in random places, disclosing the rotting wood underneath. Ancient, red, rickety couches lined the far wall.

To their surprise, a woman was sitting at the front desk. She had been so silent and immobile that they had never noticed her, until she called out to them with a nasally, brassed voice.

“Welcome to Vancove Square Apartments.” The group all jumped at the sound, whipping around to identify the noise. Upon first glance, they reasoned that she must have been as ancient as the building. Spiky, grey hair cracked at its edges, her eyes were sunken in, and her lips were set in a thin, judicative line. Small, dusty glasses rested at the very tip of her nose. With an indolent wave, she gestured to their current room with her left hand, using the other to prop her head up on her elbow. Her hand glittered in the lights as she waved it, and Jean noticed that several rings adorned each of her fingers. Her inflection dipped down with each sentence she uttered. With a deep breath, as if she couldn’t stand being in the presence of other people, she muttered, “Where our motto is: ‘Stay for now or stay forever; either way, we’re open’.” 

Jean stared at the woman incredulously. Jo and Kaine were speechless, eyes locked on her bony fingers. When she became aware that they were too stunned to respond, the old woman rolled her eyes and drawled, “What can I do for you.” 

Jean impotently looked to the couple for guidance, support, anything. He received none. Their eyes were black voids. Glossy. Jean cleared his throat, his mouth suddenly parched.

“We…I…” Jean sniffed, tilted his head to one side, and adjusted his tie. He combed through his blonde hair rapidly with his hands. The woman narrowed her eyes, already losing interest.

“My name is Jean. Jean Berkley. They–we need a, erm, a tour, of this establishment, for these, two very lovely and…kind...uh, folks here, i-if you are…open.” Jean stammered. He licked his cracked lips. 

The woman sat there for what felt like hours before responding. “...We are. I just said that.” Another pause. Nobody moved. Jean’s sweat was staining his armpits. He was too scared to breathe. The woman yawned.

“Tour starts down this hall, first door to your left. We’ve got plenty of available spaces specifically catered to couples.” With a lingering, almost hungry gaze at Jo and Kaine, the woman waved them away in the direction of the hallway to dismiss them. Her duty complete, the woman spoke no more.

Jean nodded graciously and beckoned for the pair to follow him with a jerk of his head. They seemed to still be in a trance, unable to turn their gaze away from the woman who had averted her eyes to read a book. Jean grabbed their arms and dragged them into the dark hallway. He turned to face them squarely and shook them violently as if to wake them up. They blinked at him as if they had never seen him before.

“Listen to me. Listen to me right now.” Jean hissed, his teeth clenched. Each sentence was pontificated with a jab at them with his index finger. “We are getting the hell out of here, do you hear me? This tour is over. I am done. We leave. Now.”

Kaine opened his mouth to speak, but Jo lifted her chin defiantly, interrupting him. “No, Jean. I'm going to say no to that. Not when there are no other options. We’ve been at this all day, and we are going to take a look if it kills us. I'm not leaving, not after hours of searching.” Her voice was scathing.

After a tense staring contest, Kaine laid a hand on her back in a prevaricating way. She took a step back as if she had just remembered something. 

“There may be something here for us, okay?” She murmured after a moment, avoiding his eyes. For the first time in their rapprochement, diffidence was visible on her face. Something in her had changed in the last few moments, but Jean couldn’t pinpoint what. 

He set his jaw to bite back some choice language. He’d let her have it later. After a final pleading look at Kaine, who held his gaze evenly, he conceded. He did feel somewhat bad for them, wanting so desperately to have a place to live. He remembered the first time he had helped a client move into her first house–the bright smile, the emphatic shaking of his hand, the knowledge that he could show someone their Perfect Place so they could make it their own (and, of course, the compensation that came rolling in)–it all made his job worth the stress. Maybe he would get to see this through, he thought, and even have a moment to gloat when Jo ate her words and found an offer she finally couldn’t refuse. He inhaled slowly through his nose and closed his eyes.

“Fine. Let’s look.”

As they ventured deeper, they were forced to turn their flashlights back on, rebelling against the darkness. The silence between the three of them was as thick as the moldy air. They reached the first door on the left and, noticing the key for the door was already inside the handle, entered freely. 

The rooms didn’t fare much better than the leasing office. With their flashlights scoping out the interior, they found cobwebs in every corner. Two beds were arranged side by side, a pitiful bedside table between them with a lamp that might have been an antique, were it not so filthy. Both of the bed's mattresses were sitting upon straining wooden pegs, so tattered and old that their springs were exposed. The ceiling had holes in it and appeared to be caving in. Opposite the door, on the far side of the room, were curtains that scarcely blocked the penetrating moonlight, as there were holes in it that oddly looked like claw-marks made by hands. And, Jesus, the smell–a putrid, rank odor–was suffocating. Jean pinched his nose instinctively. And there, on the floor again, were those strange brown stains.

Jean felt the insidious aura of the space and figured the couple would indubitably be ready to leave now, but Jo moved about the room briskly, interested in exploring more. Kaine was at her heels, trailing behind as she dragged him around and whispered excitedly in his ear every few moments. Jean knew this place was an irretrievable dump that no one could possibly inhabit, but they seemed interested for some God-forsaken reason. Well, who was he to judge? With a yielding huff, Jean decided to look around a bit himself. 

Flashlight in hand, Jean tentatively tiptoed about the room, dodging stains in his wake. There was a small wooden desk in the corner that he had not noticed before, but Jo and Kaine were hunched over it, so he turned his attention elsewhere. As he scoured, his foot collided with something barely protruding from underneath one of the beds.

Curious, Jean focused his light down at his feet and knelt to peer underneath. Almost painfully, his hand flew up to grip his mouth, stifling a scream brought on by what he saw. He had to fight not to gag.

Roaches scattered in all directions in response to the light, revealing a revolting nightmare. Two hollow eyes, stretched open and buzzing with flies, stared lifelessly back at him. The face of this person was so deteriorated, the teeth were exposed. A rotting hand vainly tried to reach out from under the bed. The entire ring finger was missing.

Before he could recoil, a high-pitched, banshee-like scream resounded from deep within the complex. Jean realized it had come from the leasing office. Jo and Kaine cocked their ears toward the sound, and the trance-like state overcame them once more. Freed from his frozen state, Jean let out a blood-curdling shriek and stumbled as he tried to stand.

Animalistic, Jean bounded towards the door. He didn’t even look back; he could no longer be concerned with what those two bozos possibly envisioned in this place. His heart pounded. He hyperventilated. His hands trembled uncontrollably. After finally reaching the door, Jean struggled with the knob–only to find that it was locked from the outside. His arms wrenched at the door to no avail. Gritting his teeth, Jean rammed into the door with his entire body, and its complete ignorance of his attempts felt like derision. Somehow, the same doors that could come undone with a knock were impassable now. He stopped to lean against the door, and he could hear breathing–petrifying, shallow breathing–coming from the other side. Jean craned his neck to beg Jo and Kaine for help, and his eyes widened at the sight of them. 

They looked inhuman.

The couple turned to him, having finished their rummaging through the desk, and walked calmly in his direction. Jean crumpled to the floor in disbelief, realizing with increasing dread that there was no way out. Even as he sat, facing his demise, something told him he wasn't the only one trapped. Suddenly mortified, Jean saw that Kaine’s sinewy, beastly right hand was clutching a dry and blood-stained dagger. His left gripped Jo’s right with fervor. And, with Jo's free hand, a blade was twirled expertly between her fingers. In the moonlight, the silhouettes of the duo, encroaching upon him with weapons in hands, gutted Jean. He begged them for his life, crying fervently until he could no longer speak legibly. His pleas turned into feeble whispers for mercy. Behind him, a breathy voice rasped, “Stay…stay forever...”

Jo grinned at Kaine playfully. Sarcastically, she taunted, “So, Kaine, how do you feel about this one?” 

Kaine let his lips curl up for the first time the entire day, his mouth twisted into a malignant smile. They had reached the trembling broker now, and Kaine knelt down to ready his dagger centimeters away from Jean's eye.

“It’s perfect.”