Carver Pike - Scalp

The bullet struck the gas can dead center, and the can exploded, catching every teenager and animal in its vicinity on fire. The infected students screamed, and a God-awful sound followed. Those tiny head lice screeched. They wailed as they were consumed by the flames.

Hal and Grant sat in the rear of Clementine’s truck, weapons ready, waiting on the chance to shoot anything that moved. The road out to Stonewall Forge was a long, dirt-covered path for the most part. Dust clouds swarmed the truck, making it nearly impossible to see. Hal was exhausted. He had to wipe the dirt from his eyes and blink constantly to keep them open.

So far, they’d encountered nothing. The woods were eerily quiet. Only the drone of the truck engine broke the silence.

Hal hated facing the rear of the truck. He wanted to turn around and face the front but knew if he lost his balance, he’d end up on the forest floor with a broken leg or worse.

“Does this seem dumb to you?” he finally said aloud.

Grant shrugged. “What do you mean?”

“The bad guys will be up there.”

“Bad guys? These are parasitic head lice, man.”

“You know what I mean. If we’re pointed to the rear, we ain’t gonna be able to shoot the things Clementine passes.”

Grant nodded, seeming to finally understand what Hal meant.

“But unless we’re going to ask her to drive in reverse,” Hal added, “I guess there ain’t much more we can do about it.”

This left him feeling like an asshole, presenting problems with no potential solutions. He realized he’d probably only voiced his frustration out of a need to bring some life into the situation. Or, quite possibly, to ease his nerves. Sitting in silence was enough to drive him mad.

“You could always lay over the cab of the truck,” Grant joked.

“Or you could!”

“With her driving, we’d get bucked right off!”

Both men were laughing when the first sign of trouble hit. Clementine slowed down and yelled through the window back at them, “There’s something on the road up ahead.”

“Run it over!” Grant yelled.

“And fuck up my truck?” Clementine asked. “If you boys want to walk the rest of the way there, I’ll go ahead and run it over.”

“Nah,” Hal replied, “don’t you be fuckin’ up this truck. Not yet.”

He turned and stood slowly. Grant did the same so that both men were looking out at the road over the roof of the cab. Hal squinted his eyes and could barely make out a shadowy figure sitting in the center of the road. It was wide, short, and had no interest in moving out of their way.

“Is it a person?” Grant asked, pointing his gun at it.

“Don’t look like any person I’ve ever seen,” Hal replied.

He supposed it could’ve been a small man sitting naked on the ground if he were curled up in a ball and looking away from them.

Clementine stopped the truck.

Hal didn’t like this.

They were out here in the open now, trees to both sides, in total darkness. The forest was too quiet. None of the usual insect sounds brought the night to life. Hal didn’t like sitting here one bit. Every second that passed seemed to bring the trees and all the blackness behind it closer to them.

Hal slapped the roof with an open palm and called out, “Drive closer to it. If you have to, run that sumbitch over.”

Clementine inched forward, and the thing in the road didn’t budge.

From Hal’s estimate, they were only about halfway to the Stonewall Forge campus. If Clementine gunned it and swerved right, it was possible they’d be able to drive around it, but it would be awfully close. Trees hugged both sides of the road. The risk of swiping one was too great.

“Hey!” Hal yelled at the thing in the road. “Get the fuck outta the way!”

If he wasn’t worried about waking up everything in the forest, he would have told Clementine to lean on her horn.

She moved the truck closer. The thing in the road twitched a few times and then it unraveled and stood upright. A huge man wearing a bear-skin coat stood up, and as he did, the front of his body came into view. He stood over six feet tall and was completely naked beneath his fur.

His mouth was twisted in a toothy, wicked grin.

One eye looked toward the sky. The other was missing from its socket altogether and dangled down over his cheek with what looked like fleshy yarn.

At his stomach was a giant gash that seeped blood. The wound pulsated with his heartbeat and crimson fluid pumped out with each jerk of his chest.

His flaccid cock dangled and seemed to dance with the same rhythm while one hand went to his scalp and scratched. The other reached out to them with one finger raised as if to say, “Hang on a minute. Wait for it.”

“He ain’t right,” Grant whispered.

“Clementine, drive around him,” Sally called out from the passenger seat.

Hal didn’t want to go around him. He didn’t want to get close to him at all.

The man in the middle of the road grumbled and opened his mouth wide. The sound coming from his throat rivaled that of the truck’s engine. Hal could imagine the guy’s throat ripping with the sound, his flesh stretching and tearing as he pushed that God-awful noise past his lips.

“Clementine, you drive around him,” Grant recommended. “Sally, you slide toward the center of the seat. Stay away from the window in case this fella gets grabby.”

“Just shoot him, Grant!” Sally replied.

Grant looked to Hal for an answer.

Hal shrugged. “It’s what we came out here for, ain’t it?”

Grant agreed with him and then leaned down to speak through the window into the cab. “We’re gonna shoot him. As soon as he falls, you barrel right over him.”

“You got it,” Clementine said.

It occurred to Hal that there was no concern for what they were about to do. None as far as killing the poor bastard went. If there was any worry at all, it was for the wellbeing of the truck and its passengers. Of course, their safety was the most important thing, but for the first time since this all started, Hal wondered if this would be considered murder. At some point, if the government sorted this out and came up with a cure that brought everyone back to normal, would he and this ragtag mob be guilty of slaughtering these things ?

He doubted it. That would be absurd.

His thoughts were interrupted by Clementine yelling, “Well, if you’re fixin’ to do it, do it!”

Hal aimed his rifle sight at the crazy man’s forehead, and as he did, the man lurched forward, causing Hal to hold off on his shot and re-aim.

“He’s coming right at us!” Sally yelled.

“Shh,” Grant warned them.

“Shh? You’re about to shoot a rifle,” Clementine reminded him.

Hal wished they’d all shut up. He readjusted his aim and pulled the trigger. A jet of red mist popped out of the back of the man’s head, and he crumpled to the ground. If there had been birds in the trees, they would have taken flight, but nothing living was in the nearby vicinity. Any soul not already hijacked by these creatures had long since fled the scene. Still, the boom echoed off the trees and caused Hal to wince.

For at least a full ten seconds, nobody moved.

They only listened to the crack of the rifle repeat itself. The wind blew and ruffled the trees. Branches waved at Hal as he waited.

Was anything going to come at them? He expected to hear the growling of monsters, the stomping of feet, or at least heavy panting headed their way. Yet, there was nothing.

There’s nothing because everything in these woods is probably at Stonewall Forge by now.

He remembered visiting the campus and seeing the kids walk the halls, headed toward meetings, or going to lunch, whatever they had going on that day. Those children, barely teenagers, should have chosen some other weekend to come visit. A week ago would have been fine. Perhaps a month from now and this would all be over, but this was bad timing all around.