Walters - The Complex

SYNOPSIS

The countryside, the near future.

Gabrielle Hunter, husband Leo and son Stefan drive to a remote luxury retreat for a spring break at the invitation of new client Art Fisher, who will be there with his wife, Polly, and daughter Fleur. As Gabrielles family approach the retreat, their car hits a deer. Investigating, they discover it was dying already, from a bullet wound.

The two families settle in. Stefan falls into a relaxed companionship with Fleur, while Leo finds himself drawn to Polly. Gabrielle, meanwhile, has some unresolved issues around Art.

Off-grid and away from the Areas, Leo and Art jockey for position. Subtle shifts of power are magnified. Gabrielle and Polly have their own secrets. In the garden, the fruit and vegetables ripen too early, while an unidentified shooter continues to take down animals in the wood. Stefan and Fleur seek an escape route into a Virtual Reality darkened by the shadow of war.

The family holiday that already resembles a bad dream soon turns into a waking nightmare.

PRAISE FOR THIS BOOK

Captures the elusive nature of dreams and nightmares brilliantly. Its original, cinematic, and very clever. LUCIE MCKNIGHT HARDY

The Complex is a lucid, menacing and utterly captivating novel, as elegantly designed as a labyrinth but as touching and human and chaotic as your own mind. Its hypnotic blend of technological horror and psychological accuracy, the intensity of its troubled characters and deeply eerie location worked its way into my dreams and I dont think its going away. Like the very best speculative fiction it feels less like speculation than a present-day novel somehow transported back to us from the near future, not so much to warn us as to let us see more clearly where we are now. LUKE KENNARD

Enigmatic and unsettling, with elements of Black Mirror and J. G. Ballard, The Complex is a gripping tale about the chilling, disorientating effect of technology on our lives. TREVOR MARK THOMAS

The Complex

MICHAEL WALTERS was born in Port Talbot, South Wales, in 1973. He studied astrophysics at the University of Kent, then spent a year training to be a journalist before becoming a computer programmer. In his spare time, he studied creative writing, first at the Open University, then completing an MA in Creative Writing with Manchester Metropolitan University. He is currently a software developer and lives with his wife and two children in North Yorkshire.

Published by Salt Publishing Ltd

12 Norwich Road, Cromer, Norfolk NR27 0AX

All rights reserved

Copyright Michael Walters, 2019

The right of Michael Walters to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This book is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Salt Publishing.

Salt Publishing 2019

Created by Salt Publishing Ltd

This book is sold subject to the conditions that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publishers prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

ISBN 978-1-78463-163-5 electronic

for Gill

SUNDAY

Stefan: Track 1

S tefan felt a hand on his ankle. He took his headphones off.

You okay? his mother said. She had twisted her arm behind the car seat to reach him.

Yeah, he said. Tired.

Me too, sweetie. She paused, then said, Try not to kick the back of my seat. Okay?

Sorry.

She took her hand away and he put the headphones back on. He hadnt kicked her seat. Jesus. They had been driving for ever and outside his window there was still only the close wall of grey forest. The road had become dusty track an hour ago and there was no grid map to tell him how far there was to go. Every now and then the whole car jolted as his father found another pothole. His parents had bickered the whole way. It was a sort of hell. Any excitement at being out of the Areas was long gone.

The pillow was comfortable. That was something.

Another hand on his ankle, his father this time. He took his headphones off.

Whats up? Stefan said.

Youre doing good, his father said, glancing back at him. Its a long way.

Watch the road, Leo, his mother said.

Maya said: Cannot connect to grid.

I wish we hadnt brought her with us, his mother said. Did we have to bring her with us?

How can you say that? Stefan said. Shes family.

Shes annoying, his mother said. And useless.

Stefan said, Well, at least she doesnt kick the seat.

He put his headphones back on. There was no music playing he wanted the silence. Some perverse impulse made him lift one side of his headphones just enough to hear his parents hard, muffled voices, just like through his bedroom wall at home. It was torture, but a familiar one. He let the headphones fall back and closed his eyes.

Packing the car had been fun. His father was in good spirits and Stefan had gone with him to pick the car up. The car had come with its own AI unit, but Stefan wanted Maya, a piece of home. His father had sorted it. Once they were out of the Areas his mother had relaxed and for a few hours she was almost her old self again. Turning into the mountains, leaving the grid, his father had switched the car to manual and a wheel had popped up from the floor with a smooth, comical hiss, insinuating itself between his fathers legs. They had all laughed.

The tarmacked road had been wide enough for two cars, the forest still shy and some way off on either side of them. After a couple of miles, the tree trunks had sidled closer and closer until the road was single track and lined with thick firs that blocked all sunlight. Higher and higher, the road had taken them into mountain wilderness. The occasional abandoned stone cottage lay along the way, traces of some other way of life now gone. Then the luxury of concrete was behind them and the tyres began to crackle on branches and stones.

Another hand, on his calf this time. He opened his eyes. His mother. Now what had he done? He waited a second before taking his headphones off.

Hey, Stefan said.

Sorry, his mother said. Its a long journey. I didnt mean to snap at you.

Its fine.

It cant be far, his father said, not sounding at all sure.

Giving Stefan a quick smile, his mother turned to face front again. She pointed ahead. Leo, look.

That must be the top, his father said.

Maya said: Cannot connect to grid.

Stefan could see a speck of light. Did the other guys come this way?

They must have, his mother said.

His father looked up through the windscreen. Didnt they helicopter in? His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

Dont wind me up, his mother said.

Whats the girls name again? Stefan said. Fleur? He knew it was Fleur, but now they were almost there he wanted more information.

Yes, Fleur, his mother said.

Is it short for something? Like Florence?

That would be Flo, his father said. As in, go with the... She can be your study buddy.

And shes on the science track too, his mother said.

You can swap notes, his father said.

The light they were driving towards took an age to arrive. He continued to look between his parents shoulders at the cars white-yellow headlights on the brown dirt track. It was like an excruciatingly dull video game.