Carver Pike - Scalp

“How do you suppose it works?” Sally asked.

Nobody answered. Hal shrugged his shoulders.

“I mean,” she continued, “if those things jump to somebody’s head and then they jump off, wouldn’t they take the infection with them?”

“I suppose some stay behind,” Hal said, “or there wouldn’t be any to jump on somebody else.”

“Lice lay lots of eggs,” Clementine said.

“My daughter got them once,” Hal said. “Or twice. Twice, I think. Those damn things wouldn’t come out. Thank God her mama took care of it.”

Nobody replied to that. Everyone in Clydesville knew everyone else’s story and plenty had heard about what happened to Hal’s little girl. It was a damn shame. Grant didn’t know how he could survive after something like that. A daughter and a wife taken from him? That had to be hell.

Grant thought back to the way Hal stood there in the Walmart greeting card aisle, watching one of those things rush at him, completely unmoving. Hal didn’t even budge. Maybe the man had a death wish.

Keep Sally away from him. She don’t need to be near anybody wishing to die.

“So, you think they’re laying eggs,” Sally said softly. “Makes sense I guess.”

It didn’t matter if it made sense or not. None of them would ever get close enough to find out without turning into one of the creatures themselves. Grant wondered if there were scientists somewhere in a lab tinkering with these tiny but so deadly creatures. Were they picking at them with scalpels? Had some of them escaped and started this whole thing?

There wasn’t a lab for many miles. He supposed it was possible researchers at West Virginia University could be involved, but he doubted it. Once again, his mind went to the government. Hal thought they were aliens. Could be. He supposed they could have come crashing down on some shooting star or small meteor. He couldn’t remember one hitting the area.

“God, that thing is burnin’,” Hal said.

The movie theater was roaring. Flames licked at the night air. No fire department was coming to its rescue and if anyone was trapped inside, they were dead by now.

“They done got the police station,” Grant said, “the hospital, the movie theater, the damn bingo hall. There ain’t nothin’ left to destroy.”

Hal whipped his head to the left. “Shit. The kids.”

“What kids?” Clementine asked.

“There is somethin’ left to burn,” Hal said. “Stonewall Forge is packed with teenagers for some kind of conference.”

“Grant,” Sally said.

“Oh, hell,” Grant replied. “You’ve got to be kiddin’ me. They had to come this weekend.”

“Come on,” Hal said as he headed back to the bed of the truck, “if there was ever a reason for the four of us to make it this far, it’s this. We gotta save those kids.”

He was right. Nobody said a word as they piled back into the truck. Grant and Hal worked together loading all the weapons. They had a rescue mission ahead of them.

“What do you think, Mr. Andre?” Phyllis asked, as the stern, lumberjack of a man peered out the cafeteria window and watched the line of unmoving animals. Nitsy glanced over his shoulder and saw one of the motion lights pop on outside. Beneath it, an infected student wandered aimlessly, searching for its next victim. The animals stared straight ahead, their eyeballs reflecting the lamp’s light, giving their pupils an amber glow.

Andre turned toward Phyllis and said, “Just Andre, please. I ain’t ever been a mister.”

“Sorry,” Phyllis replied.

“They’re still watching us, not moving.”

“I think they’re listening,” Robbie said.

Andre turned toward him and waited to hear more.

“We bumped into a bunch of them outside,” Nitsy said. “When we were still, it almost seemed like they couldn’t see us. The moment we made a noise, they came running.”

“They hear us,” Andre said to himself. “Listen, I want to get y’all out of here. I have a bit of a plan. Something I’ve been cooking up since my cousin Carl turned into one of them things. Since my truck flipped and I—”

“You’re the guy that park ranger was looking for,” Nitsy said. “Remember, Phyllis?”

Phyllis nodded.

“What park ranger?” Andre asked.

Nitsy shrugged. “I don’t know. He was here asking Mr. Hayes about you. Said a guy flipped his truck and went missing. He was asking if anyone had seen you.”

“I… I didn’t know anybody was lookin’ for me. I went to see if my wife was okay, but she… the whole trailer park… it was gone. I thought maybe they’d been relocated or somethin’.”

“Or something,” Bradley said.

Everyone remained silent for a moment. Andre stared at the floor for at least a full minute before tearing his eyes away and going back to the window.

“They’re still not moving,” he said.

Thomas was starving. He’d just sat down to eat a bowl of Ma’s chili when Moses went silent. That in itself was weird. The dog never stopped barking unless someone went out and shot whatever animal was giving him hell. Pa was out there smoking, but Thomas hadn’t heard his father’s shotgun. It was strange, but not alarming, so he’d raised his spoon and smiled in anticipation of the big bite of Ma’s best making its way into his belly. He’d worked hard all day and couldn’t wait to dig in.

That was when Pa crashed through the door. He was different. His eyes were bloodshot, and drool ran down his mouth. He swung out with his hands frantically, like he desperately needed to grab hold of something. Pa’s fingers found a handful of Ma’s hair, and Thomas fell out of his seat and landed on the floor in time to see something leap from his father’s head onto his mother’s.

Then she changed too.

His first instinct had been to protect his mom. Thomas grabbed the fireplace poker with every intention of swinging it at his dad, but then Ma howled, raked fingernails at her scalp, and Thomas knew he needed to get out of the house before whatever was happening to them reached him too.

Using the pile of firewood alongside the house as a step stool, Thomas climbed up onto the roof, like he did so many other nights when Pa took to drinking and showed his angry side. It was his private place to lie beneath the stars and wonder what it would be like to run away with the kids who often came to Stonewall Forge for the many conferences held there. He often thought about what life would be like in other places like Florida, California, or even Hawaii.

This time, he lay there because he had no other choice. He was afraid to climb down. With his ear to the tin roof, he heard his parents thrashing around in the house below. Moses was gone. At least he thought he was. He hadn’t seen the dog since earlier that evening.

Even when he heard his parents leave the house and wander out into the woods, he remained on that roof. He stayed there all through the next day, baking beneath the slivers of sun that pushed through the forest ceiling. He imagined himself looking like a zebra now, striped with sunburn and the pale skin that avoided the rays.

By the time Thomas was brave enough to leave the roof, the chili was dry, crusted over, and covered with flies. Ma had prepared broccoli too, as she claimed a growing boy always needed a green vegetable with supper. Every day. No exceptions. Nothing reeked like old broccoli. It was one of the reasons he hated the stuff. It tasted fine, but he couldn’t help thinking his insides would stink like the garbage always did when he took it out the day after eating it.

His stomach growled with hunger, but he gagged from the stench.