Carver Pike - Scalp

Thomas was standing next to the dining room table when Moses came back. The dog walked into the house and stood by the door, staring up at Thomas the way he always did when he was expecting a treat.

“Moses?” Thomas asked.

The dog was filthy like it’d had a hell of a night. Its tongue lolled out and its eyes were bloodshot. It was the animal version of Pa, only the dog wasn’t thrashing around and chasing after him the way his father had the night before.

“Moses,” Thomas repeated. “You okay, boy?”

He knew the dog wasn’t but standing there in silence didn’t seem right. Moses didn’t respond, but something on its fur did. Thomas realized each time he spoke, Moses’s fur twitched. It shifted. Moved as if its fur were a forest full of birds about to take flight. Thomas had spent many of his days up on the roof watching birds and wishing he could hit the sky and never come back. He knew a dog’s fur should never move that way.

When he backed up a few steps, the dog didn’t follow. He retreated slowly, quietly, making every effort not to spook the dog. This strategy seemed to work. Moses didn’t budge. He stood by the door, his chest heaving with heavy breath, and his tongue twitched every few seconds. It was the fur holding Thomas’s attention. It reminded Thomas of snakes now, the hair slithering and searching, trying to locate him.

If he could reach the bathroom, he could lock himself inside and use the window to climb out and directly onto the roof. He’d done it before. With his boot in the window frame, he could launch himself up. Moses could never follow him up there.

Closing his eyes for only a second, he fought with the realization he’d be back up there, starving and dying of thirst, safe from whatever was happening below but suffering the elements. He needed food and water. Realizing he’d have to deal with the immediate threat first, he decided it was better on the roof.

He continued to move back slowly, and he was getting closer to the bathroom door when his boot touched a floor panel that always squeaked. The sound might as well have been a scream because Moses turned his head toward him, and as he did, his fur shifted that way too.

With only one bark to serve as a warning, Moses leaped onto the table and bolted toward Thomas.

Thomas turned, ran, and dove into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him. The dog hit the door so hard Thomas thought it would explode inward. It cracked but didn’t shatter, but Moses wasn’t about to give up. Whatever had driven the dog mad wanted inside the room, and Thomas knew each strike against the wooden entryway was one closer to the dog reaching him.

The boy climbed through the window and was halfway through the frame when he noticed the other animals in the woods surrounding the house.

They watched.

They waited.

They listened.

Moses continued to ram the door behind him. Thomas ignored the other animals and reached for the roof. His hands gripped the gutter, and it threatened to come apart in his hands. He’d never had to make this climb in such a hurry. The flimsy metal bent in his hand and broke apart.

A piece of the gutter clattered against the ground, its tinny material making a hollow clack as it struck the dirt.

It was like a gun blast to start the race. The animals in the woods shot forward.

Thomas had no time to look at them, but he could hear their paws pummeling the forest floor, pitter-pattering as they scurried toward the house, hellbent on reaching their prey.

Him.

Thomas dug into the roof and hoisted his body up and over the lip at the side of the house. His body rolled across the flat surface as what might have been a wolf leaped and snapped its jaw only a foot away from his leg. Remembering the sight of the dog’s fur, he dragged himself farther from the edge, making sure nothing could leap high enough to reach him.

That had been earlier in the day, and he’d lain there on that roof for hours, wondering what would kill him first. Would it be the hunger and thirst? Or would he become desperate enough to leave his hiding spot and venture down into the house again only to be attacked by one of the rabid beasts?

He’d decided on the hunger and thirst because nothing was going to make him leave this roof.

That was until he heard the gunshot. Then another and another. It sounded like it was coming from Stonewall Forge, or at least from that direction. Someone was fighting back, and that gave him a moment of bravery, long enough to crawl to the edge of the roof and look down to see if the animals were still surrounding his house.

It was pitch black out there, but he knew they were gone. He could see the tree line bathed in soft blue moonlight, and there was nothing out there. He fell forward onto his chest and let his arm dangle over the edge of the roof.

With a quick jerk, he pulled his arm away, remembering the wolf that had leaped at him and the fury with which Moses had bounded over the dining room table. Like the time he got to go out on his uncle’s boat down in Fort Lauderdale, and he let his hand dangle off the edge until his uncle warned him sharks can jump, he thought twice about being so daring.

Then he thought about the pretty girl he’d seen the other day at Stonewall. She’d had beautiful red hair, long and flowing, and skin so pale it reminded him of Snow White , one of the few VHS tapes Ma still owned.

Ma and Pa. They’re gone now. You’re all alone.

He didn’t have to be alone though. Thomas knew he could go to Stonewall Forge and rescue those other kids. He wasn’t sure how he’d do it, but he could. He could show that pretty girl how manly he was.

Thomas sat up and breathed in the forest air. He wasn’t afraid of animals. He never had been. He’d gotten bitten by a copperhead once and barely flinched. Leaning over the edge of the house once more, he saw Pa’s truck in the driveway. It was still loaded with all their work equipment. Once inside that old rusty truck, Thomas wouldn’t be afraid of anything.

Carefully, he climbed down from the roof and peeked through the bathroom window. It was empty.

“Moses,” he called out, to make sure the dog wasn’t around.

All was silent. No sound of the dog’s paws racing through the house to take a giant chunk out of his neck. No sound at all.

“Moses,” he called once more.

When he was certain the dog was gone, he climbed through the bathroom window and into the house. The bathroom door was completely destroyed. The dog had chewed its way through the wood. Blood and saliva were all over the floor along with random clutter the dog had knocked over as it searched for the boy.

Thomas took his time moving through the house, always ready to run for that bathroom window if need be.

Nothing attacked him. All the animals had run toward the gunshots.

It wasn’t until Thomas entered his parents’ bedroom that he was struck with the realization he’d never see them again. They were both gone. They’d left the house and were out there somewhere searching for other people to infect. They were like zombies.

Pa was an asshole a lot of the time and Ma was much too overbearing, but they were his parents, and they were gone.

Thomas shook himself out of his stupor. He’d have plenty of time to think about his parents later. Right now, he needed to find Pa’s shotgun, which was always under his bed, and get to that campus. Once he’d retrieved the gun and the box of shells from the nightstand, he ran to the truck, took the keys out of the visor, and fired up the engine.

Scrambling to roll up the windows, Thomas sat in the driveway for a few seconds and waited. The headlights shined over the trees and he thought any second a giant crowd of animals might come rushing at him. Then he thought about the bats that often swooped down over his house. What if they could be infected? He could fight off land creatures, but what if the ones in the sky came after him?