The Complex

by Michael Walters

  It was confusing. It was all he loved to do. Fleur wanted to work, but there was nothing he could think of that he wanted to work at.

  ‘Let’s go and see what the sign says,’ Fleur said, sitting up.

  ‘Sign?’

  ‘By the maze. Look.’

  ‘I’m not going in.’

  Fleur rocked forward onto her feet in one athletic motion. He unthinkingly checked her trousers for grass. She caught him looking. His face reddened.

  ‘Grass,’ he said.

  ‘Grass?’

  ‘With a grrr.’

  She laughed and started towards the maze entrance. The boulevard was mirrored in the bottom half of the garden. The sun was shockingly hot. Fleur trailed her fingers through some ornamental grasses. He jogged to catch up with her.

  ‘What would you be doing now?’ she said. ‘At home?’

  ‘School’s finished. Playing tennis, probably.’

  ‘Not studying?’

  ‘I can’t sit and study like you. I need to mix things up. My body needs to move.’ He wrinkled his nose at her. ‘Not having grid here doesn’t help.’

  ‘Grid is a crutch,’ she said.

  He remembered the headsets in her bag. ‘How were you going to show me your secret project with no grid?’

  ‘It’s all offline. And for studying I prefer books. Physical ones.’

  ‘Yeah. I like books too.’

  Fleur stopped sharply. ‘Did you hear that?’

  ‘What?’ He hadn’t heard anything.

  ‘An animal call.’

  He listened. ‘Where? In the garden?’

  ‘In the maze.’

  ‘No.’ The thought of going into the hedges ahead of them made him feel nauseous. ‘No way.’

  ‘Come on. It’ll be so much cooler in the shade.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Fleur. You don’t understand. I got lost once. Mum lost me.’

  ‘How old were you?’

  ‘Five.’

  He blushed and hated himself. She stepped towards him, a little closer than he was ready for. Her eyes were dark brown. She took both his hands and pulled him gently on. Some strands of her hair were glinting in the sun.

  ‘You can do this,’ she said.

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ he said, laughing at her persistence, but not giving in easily. He made her pull at his arm. Her grip was firm. ‘You want to see if there is an animal, of type-not-yet-determined, but definitely a wild animal since we are in the wilderness, in that scary-as-fuck hedge maze of indeterminate size, of which we do not have a map?’

  She was laughing. ‘Will you calm down? It’s probably a fox. Oh! Or a baby deer, stumbling around lost.’ She fluttered her eyelids at him and the feeling in his stomach wasn’t nausea any more.

  ‘Look—’

  ‘You aren’t going to refuse to help a baby deer wandering, lost, probably crying for its mother?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘No. Of course not.’ He took a breath. ‘That would clearly be the wrong thing to do.’

  ‘I won’t let go of you. Probably full of spiders too, those big, thick hedges. How do you feel about spiders?’

  ‘Oh, spiders are okay.’

  ‘I hate spiders. So, I’ll take care of the maze, you take care of the spiders.’

  Newly buoyant, Fleur led them to the archway. This sign wasn’t in Latin: keep to the path.

  ‘Well, someone thinks they’re funny,’ Stefan said.

  ‘Maybe it’s not a maze at all. Is it a labyrinth? Like the monks used to walk.’

  ‘I’ll do the praying,’ he said. ‘Did you really hear something? I’d rather know now.’

  ‘Yes, I really did. All the answers are in the maze.’

  The entrance was dramatic, from sunlit brick to the gloom of the hedges, the wall enveloped by dark green privet. It all must have cost a fortune to engineer. Someone had thought about every detail of the house and grounds.

  ‘Whose place is this, anyway?’ he asked.

  ‘Dad knows people. One of his business friends, maybe. It’s all new money in his circles. Biotechnology. Genetic modification. Virtual reality. Financial intelligence. I won’t make the hedge funds joke.’

  They were already at the first corner, a right, and once around it everything immediately darkened. The brick path took on a different character in the shadows. Some of the bricks were red and they seemed to become more regular. Again, he tried to pick out a pattern. A line of four on the left, two on the right, one in the centre. Then four again on the left, but only one on the right. He looked behind, then in front, and gave up. His head was beginning to throb. The hedge sucked the life out of him. He looked up at the blue sky only a few metres above them and imagined standing on the hedge walls – they were thick and dense enough to take his weight – and looking back at the house. Where were his mother and father now? He kept glancing at Fleur.

  Left and then right. Left again. There hadn’t been any junctions, so he knew he could get out. The path opened into a wider area with several paths off both sides. There was a stone plinth, on top of which was a lion’s head, mouth open in an endless roar, staring right at them. It was astonishingly detailed and lifelike.

  Fleur went up to it and ran her fingers around the lion’s face.

  ‘It’ll take your fingers off,’ he said.

  ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘Is this the centre?’

  ‘Nah. This is just the start.’

  Fleur scanned the paths, looked back where they had come from, pointed at the sun.

  ‘You always know where you are if you know where the sun is,’ she said. ‘So, you can’t get that lost. The entrance is that way. The lion is looking at it.’ She waved behind them in the direction they had come from. ‘There is probably a centre. I suppose it’s possible there is an exit, though that’s unusual in a hedge maze.’

  ‘Just don’t leave me behind. Seriously.’

  She looked at him more closely and her face dropped.

  ‘Jesus, you’re terrified. Let’s go back.’

  ‘No. I’m in.’

  ‘It is spooky,’ she said. ‘I’ll give it that.’

  He was thinking about how the sign had said to keep to the path when the deer they had hit came back into his mind. His face must have betrayed some emotion because Fleur was still studying him, assessing.

  ‘We ran over a deer,’ he said. ‘On the way here. A mile from the entrance. A young male. Someone had shot it. It died while I was holding it. It had these beautiful stubs where its antlers were starting to grow.’ His voice broke on the last few words.

  ‘You were holding it?’

  ‘I got to it first.’

  ‘Daddy said you lost your grandfather,’ Fleur said. ‘I’m sorry. He said you probably wouldn’t want to talk about it.’ She waited, then said, ‘I don’t think that’s right. When I lost my grandfather, nobody else wanted to talk about it, but I did. I did want to talk.’

  Stefan inhaled a long breath through his nose and blew it out through his mouth. The branches and leaves above him were still.

  ‘How long ago did your grandfather die?’ he said.

  ‘Three years. It’s better now. A brain tumour of some sort. Daddy said it was grim, and he isn’t shocked easily. And before that, dementia. That was terrible. He was obsessed with some stupid project. At the end he couldn’t even recognise me. In the hospital he was shouting at the nurses, and his head was an odd shape. It was horrible. Brains, right? You’d think they could fix them by now.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘The worst part was that, after he died, Daddy had to work more. Grandfather didn’t help with the handover, in fact, I think Daddy had to get the company taken off him in the last six months. I know it was a stress for him. I
t was a nightmare. The whole thing.’

  ‘And your mum?’

  ‘She died when I was small. One of the War cancers.’

  ‘Christ, Fleur.’

  ‘I’ve made it all about me, haven’t I? I haven’t spoken about it in ages. What happened to your grandfather?’

  ‘His apartment was burgled, and he fell. He’s always been ill, since I can remember. But I didn’t think he was fragile. I didn’t see it coming. Pure shock. Right at the start of the year. I still can’t believe it.’

  He looked up at the sky. It was an incredible, vibrant blue.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s show this maze who’s the boss.’ He wiped his eyes on the back of his wrist. ‘If we can do this maze, there are no other mazes that could possibly scare me.’

  Fleur seemed about to say something but instead nodded. ‘Fighting talk. I like it.’

  ‘Which path first?’ Stefan said.

  ‘The furthest one feels good. See those tree tops? That’s the woods, so the maze isn’t that big at all. And we can call to each other if we get separated.’ She held his hand. ‘We won’t get separated.’

  They walked shoulder to shoulder. Fleur’s forearm was always next to his and that gave his fear an excited edge. She was right, it wasn’t actually that big a maze. He felt confident he could get back if he needed to. They were walking slowly, looking up at the sky as much as the path. The hedge was remarkably consistent. One section had some dips in it where perhaps a bird or other animal had tried and failed to make a nest. They eventually came to a junction.

  ‘You decide,’ Fleur said.

  ‘I’m feeling it this way.’ Stefan looked to the right. That path ran for four or five metres then cut back right again, which was roughly the direction of the lion and safety.

  ‘Okay.’

  There was a scuttling noise to the left.

  Fleur put her hand to her mouth. ‘The baby deer.’

  She pulled him towards the sound. She had a strong grip and he smiled as she looked back at him. If she wanted to get them lost in the maze for an hour, well perhaps that was a price, when it came down to it, he was willing to pay. A spark of pleasure lit up in him. Wasn’t it great to be here with her? There was a charge in the air, an unusual energy, and he wondered if being in the endless grey shadows was turning his internal dials into interesting new combinations.

  Turning the next corner, he heard another scuttle.

  ‘Hooves,’ Fleur mouthed, and put a finger to her lips. They tiptoed to the next corner.

  They looked around it together and found themselves staring at a wall of brown fur. Stefan had to refocus to take in what he was seeing. Two legs ran down from a muscled rump, each matted with thick ruffles of mud. Its body was as high as Stefan’s shoulders. The creature’s head was down, away from them, nosing the base of the hedge. A dead end. Stefan was afraid to breathe. Still holding Fleur’s hand, he pulled her gently back. The creature sensed them and twisted its neck. They froze. The hedge vibrated violently on all sides as it twisted, heaving itself around, and still they didn’t move. It was like they were under the creature’s spell. The head was now facing them and from above each ear an antler rose like misshapen, gnarled swords. Stefan couldn’t help but look into its eyes, which were surprisingly brown, but clear too, looking right into him. A black scar ran down its right cheek and the base of each antler was as white and pure-seeming as the rest was weathered and twisted with brown and black. It snorted once, hard, and both Stefan and Fleur jumped. The stag’s mouth opened, and its head went back. A deep bellow started from its throat and got louder and louder so that Stefan’s neck bristled, and his bones vibrated. He was shaking. The beast rose onto its hind legs so that it filled everything, looking down at them balefully, like a terrible god.

  They ran, Stefan pulling Fleur’s hand, Fleur pushing Stefan’s back. The stag’s front hooves hit the path with a crack behind them. At the first corner Stefan looked back and saw the stag coming fast, head down, antlers jutting at face height. With Fleur ahead of him, he pumped his legs and arms for the next corner. The clatter of hooves and the stag’s reverberating call was all around them. Ahead was the junction. Behind he heard a crash of something hitting the hedge. Glancing back, he saw the rear of the stag had overshot at the corner, its feet slipping on the brick, half its body out of sight, but seeing them ahead it was furiously pulling itself out. At the junction, he pulled her shirt.

  ‘We have to confuse him,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘This way.’ The stag gave another terrifying bellow. Fleur’s eyes widened as she looked over his shoulder.

  ‘Go,’ he said, and pushed her right, towards the entrance. He went straight ahead, alone now, sprinting in the stag’s line of sight. As he had hoped, it followed him, not Fleur. He needed to use the corners, get out of its sight and pray he didn’t hit a dead end. He took the next few corners as soon as he saw them, darting quickly, changing direction. The adrenaline made him want to laugh, though he knew he was in real danger. Behind him somewhere the hooves slowed and there was another snort. Stefan stopped and listened.

  He heard Fleur shout his name, loud and hoarse.

  ‘I’m safe,’ he shouted back. Nearby the stag bellowed again. He hurried on further, the path taking him away from Fleur and towards the furthest corner from the house. He kept using the sun, which, although it didn’t reach him, was now lighting the tiniest edge of the hedge top. The path was a long stretch with no turnings, so he ran to the end of it and stopped. The brick path stopped too.

  Turning right, the path became long grass and where the hedge should have been on his left it was instead a stretch of three thick wires, which he presumed were to support a hedge wall. It was as if this part of the maze had never been finished. The right wall was intact for a few metres, then it began to thin out until it too became a wire wall skeleton. A pulse of relief. Woodland. He looked back down the path he had come from. The stag’s antlers appeared, perhaps fifteen metres away. Less alarmed with the open woodland there, but still taking no chances, he ran down the final path, the grass swishing around his legs, the bricks fading completely until he came out into the woods. It was like the whole maze simply gave up in the face of nature. Sun was dappled on the floor through the trees. Stefan jogged along the outside of the hedge wall, towards the house.

  At the corner, he stopped. It was quiet. The field ran up to the glass house-front. He heard a car door slam. Art was running towards the garden gate carrying something. Stefan yelled as loud as he could. Art stopped and looked towards him. Fleur came out from the garden gate and looked too. Art had something on his shoulder. Stefan looked back along the hedge to the other corner. The stag was watching him, head up, antlers high. From the side, he could admire the full, muscular bulk of the creature. The stag’s gaze was softer from a distance.

  Art was sprinting, the gun that had been on his shoulder now in both his hands. He was wearing grey jogging bottoms and a black jumper, as if he had just got out of the shower. He ran like a soldier.

  ‘Is he there?’ Art shouted. Stefan nodded once, afraid to lie. He looked again at the stag, which hadn’t moved. His brain was screaming at it, run! Stefan put his hands behind his head and stepped back as Art reached the corner, hoping the stag would startle. As Art appeared and took aim, the stag bolted. Art tracked it with the rifle, then fired. The crack echoed through the trees. He fired again.

  ‘Missed it,’ Art said. He lowered the gun. ‘What a beauty. You okay?’

  ‘Yes. I think so.’ He was okay. The stag got away. ‘Is Fleur all right?’

  She was still standing by the garden entrance, watching them both. He gave her a rueful wave. She didn’t respond.

  ‘She’s fine,’ Art said. He put the rifle strap over his shoulder and his hand on the back of Stefan’s neck. ‘You did good. You both did good.’

  They walke
d back towards the house, shoulder to shoulder. Two men. But Stefan kept thinking about the stag watching him serenely from the maze edge.

  TUESDAY

  Gabrielle: Woods

  Gabrielle bounced on the patio, warming up. It really was like being on holiday. The sun was already hot on her face and the pool looked clean and tempting. She stretched one quad gently, then the other. Leo was up on the grass bank looking down at the sculptures, lost in thought. She remembered when he liked to look at her in running gear. She wore her long running trousers and her favourite blue training top, which was a bit ragged and now had a permanent whiff of stale sweat. She didn’t care. There was no one for a hundred miles in any direction.

  The car park was cooler, and the air was clean. Following the driveway, still walking, she looked back at the house. It was good to get some distance. There was a streak of yellow on the back lawn, just visible through both front and back panes of glass. Polly was in a bathing suit, by the pool. And was that someone looking out at Gabrielle from the shadows of the dining area? The glare of the sun could be playing tricks. Art, perhaps, or Stefan. She broke into a gentle jog and looked out at the countryside. Her watch said it was twenty-six degrees already. Her suitcase was full of wool and waterproofs. Never mind, this was glorious. She would go down to the entrance, out of the grounds and cut back along the road they had driven in on. Then there were the woods and hopefully a way back in, so she could do a loop. Plenty of time.