The Complex
“Terri calls, “where did you go?”“I’m right here, Mom.”The six-year old stomps out of the truck, obviously enjoying the sound his feet make on the long metal ramp extending from its rear. Terri wonders what he’s pretending to be this time. The Hulk, perhaps? Or maybe a Stormtrooper from Star Wars? Mom logic says that it has to be a character who stomps.Caleb carries a cardboard box. Printed on the side of the box in black magic marker with the particular, painstaking scrawl of a six-year old still learning to write, is ‘CALEBS ROOM.’ He hauls it through the open apartment door just as Randy comes back outside. Grinning, Randy ruffles Caleb’s hair.“You’re pretty strong, little man.”“I know,” Caleb says, not bothering to stop, and—Terri notes—also not bothering to look up at Randy. “I got my powers from a gamma-irradiated arc reactor. Now I’m Iron Hulk.”Well, Terri thinks. Now I know who he’s pretending to be.A police siren shatters the moment. It is followed by a second one, coming from... a different direction, judging by the sound.“Sounds like a busy evening,”MoreLess
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