Carver Pike - Scalp

“Right there,” Grant said as he, Sally, and Hal crouched behind a parked Buick.

Hal could see the sign even though the lights were off. It read: Clementine’s Cannons. It was the local gun store. The only place in town to get a gun legally.

“The street looks empty,” Hal said. “I think we can make a run for it. Try our best to stay out of the streetlights until we reach the door.”

Grant nodded. “If she ain’t in there, then what?”

“Can’t break the window,” Sally warned them. “You’d bring every one of those things down on us.”

“Is there a back door?” Hal asked.

“I don’t know, man. I don’t hang out there.”

Hal was starting to dislike this guy. It was clear he was a jealous man and didn’t like him talking to Sally. Hal had known Sally for years. He got a lot of his pre-work meals from The Diner. Sure, she was a good-looking woman, but he wasn’t searching for a lover or a spouse. He liked being by his lonesome. So, Grant could kiss his ass.

“You don’t have to be an asshole about it,” Hal said, never the one to let someone talk trash and get away with it.

“You think I’m being an asshole? I’m just sayin’ I don’t know the ins and outs of Clementine’s Cannons.”

“How about we try the front door before y’all get to arguing,” Sally recommended.

She didn’t wait for the boys to agree or disagree. It was clear she didn’t need their approval. She stayed low as she rushed to the gun store’s door. She jiggled the handle as the two men raced to catch up with her. The door was locked.

Sally knocked on the door. Hal wished she’d do it more softly. If even one of those things heard her, they’d all come running.

When simply knocking on the door didn’t work, Sally pounded, and as Hal was about to tell her to stop, a face appeared on the other side of the glass. Clementine was a plus-size woman with hair that had been box dyed at home so many times it now was the color of sweet tea and was as dry and brittle as could be. She used to attend the meetings with Hal and had even flirted with him a bit.

Since her husband’s death, she’d been running the gun store all on her own and lived in a small room at the back of the building. Hal knew this because she’d once offered for him to come over after a meeting and share TV dinners with her. Of course, he turned down the invitation.

“Sally?” Clementine asked from the other side of the door. “Grant? Hal?”

“Open up,” Hal said, “before we get attacked out here.”

“What if you’re not really you?” she asked.

“Look at my hair,” Sally said, leaning her head forward until it touched the glass.

“What the hell does your hair have to do with anything?” the shop owner shot back. “I don’t give a damn about your hairstyle. You might wanna eat me.”

“I don’t want to eat you,” Sally said, “I promise. Now, open up.”

“They get in your hair,” Hal informed her. “They’re little bugs that get in your hair—”

“And change you into a zombie,” Grant added.

“Really? In your goddamn hair?” Clementine asked.

“We really need to get in there, babe,” Sally said. “I don’t want to die out here on the street.”

“Or get your hair taken I suppose,” Clementine said as she stood up and unlocked the door.

“They don’t take your hair,” Grant mumbled.

Hal had a sudden image of these things ripping the hair off of people and wearing it as their own, like some kind of fashionable parasite.

Once inside, Grant was the first to speak up about the guns. “I know we just got here and all, but we really need some guns and ammo.”

Clementine rolled her eyes. “I figured as much. Ain’t like y’all come around to visit when you don’t want something.”

“You ever swing by the diner when you ain’t hungry?” Sally asked.

Clementine had to think about that for a second. “No, I suppose I don’t.”

“Well, there we go,” Sally replied.

Clementine chuckled under her breath and said, “You sure done grown up to be a real spitfire. I told your mama you would.” She paused and watched as the two men loaded up with weapons. “So… they get in your hair? That’s really messed up.”

“It’s awful,” Sally said. “And it happens so fast. They took over the entire diner in no time at all.”

“What kind of monster goes after your hair?” the older woman asked. “Well, head lice are a bitch, so it don’t surprise me something that goes after your hair is as well.”

“They are like head lice,” Sally agreed.

“I wonder if, you know that stuff they sell at Walmart… that uh… permethrin!” Clementine shouted and then remembered the situation they were in and lowered her voice. “That’s it. It kills lice, right? I wonder if we sprayed that stuff on all them things if that would make ‘em go away.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Hal said under his breath. He was not going to get close enough to these things to spray head lice ointment on them. Then what? Was he supposed to sit beside each one with that tiny comb and try to scrape them out of their hair? It was a dumb idea.

“Now, wait a minute,” Grant said. “It’s not really the worst idea. I mean it could work, right?”

“I don’t think so, Grant,” Sally said.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Clementine said.

“Only because you thought of it,” Hal replied. “Come on. It’s not a good idea.”

“I say we try it,” Grant said.

“I say you try it,” Hal shot back.

He’d already gotten so sick of Grant and his smart ass comments. As far as he knew, this guy created furniture for a living. He wished he’d build himself a chair, sit in it, and stay in it. Sally did not need to be getting within spray bottle distance of these things. The whole idea was reckless.

Thirty minutes later, after loading supplies, weapons, and ammo into the back of Clementine’s pickup parked at the back of her shop, they pulled up in front of Walmart and parked at the curb. Hal hated the idea. Sally seemed to be on his side, but the other two were convinced this would work. Without a real plan of his own, other than to drive around shooting people in their heads, he didn’t have much of a say in the matter.

Clementine and Sally sat in the front of the truck with Hal and Grant in the bed. As soon as the truck came to a halt, Grant hopped out and headed toward the store’s doors. The lights were on inside, which was a good sign, Hal supposed, but that also meant the things could have been attracted to the light. He wondered how many of them were in there.

Sally stopped on the sidewalk and waited for Hal. Grant and Clementine were hopped up on adrenaline, ready to run through the door.

“What’s the plan?” Hal asked.

Grant held his shotgun up and said, “What do you mean? We go in to get the head lice shit and we blast anybody who gets in the way.”

“Any body ?” Hal asked.

“You know,” Clementine stepped in, “any of those zombies.”

“Are you going in, Hal?” Sally asked.

He glanced at the parking lot and saw none of the bastards running toward them. From where he stood, he could see the other side of the street where he’d wrecked his truck earlier this evening. He knew some of those things had to be out here roaming about, looking for their next victim.

“I suppose we’re better off staying together than splitting up,” Hal said.

Grant nodded. Clementine threw an arm around Sally’s shoulder and pulled her toward the door. Hal followed with a pistol tucked in his belt and a rifle in his hand.