Carver Pike - Scalp

If Carl had been around longer, he’d planned on bringing him into the business, mostly to help him run things in the farm while he was out handling most of the logistics. A ladybug farm required acquiring the bugs, which he did from a few spots in the country, bringing them here to the farm, and then finding buyers. All without drawing law enforcement. That was the best thing about Clydesville. The cops here were local. They lived in the same neighborhoods as the residents. They were friends. They didn’t pry unless they had good reason to. The state cops were a different matter.

The moans, grunts, and growls of the creatures, or hosts as he now thought of them, were loud from down below. They were still banging on the front door and the walls. They’d tear their way in eventually.

What is their plan?

What were they hoping to do? Andre had seen enough old Sci-Fi movies to know aliens often came to earth in search of things their planet lacked like water and oxygen. Maybe cows or anuses to probe. But these fuckers, if they were even aliens, seemed to want nothing more than to drive everybody mad. What was the point of that?

He thought back to the moment he shot the deer, and he couldn’t help feeling that was the start of it all. Before then, everything seemed normal. He’d gone on about his day the same way he had every other. Sure, he’d taken a few swigs of the sauce, which he wasn’t proud about since he’d vowed to kick the habit, but things were pretty good. With the farm going strong, he stood to make a substantial income.

Now, this shit.

“All right, you loud pricks! Keep it down! We’ll be gettin’ to you shortly.”

He teased them, but in reality, he wanted them to be as loud as they could be, so they’d attract more of their kind. Stepping to the edge of the roof, he looked down the mountain and saw the shopping center parking lot was now empty. He could see the majority of the road from here and he didn’t notice any of them walking, which meant most of them were already here or close.

“Good. Come on, you fuckers. Come to the dinner bell.”

Speaking of the bell, it was time to get the siren going again.

At the roof’s edge, Andre squatted down and cranked the handle. The blast was so loud it damn near deafened him. He knew he should have worn earplugs, but he’d forgotten them. After all, he’d been busy killing fuckin’ zombies for cryin’ out loud.

Hosts. They’re human. Remember that. They’re only hosts for these lousy pieces of shit.

With his ears ringing, Andre backed up while still in the seated position.

His ass bumped into something. His elbow felt it too, and it was furry. The siren was so loud he barely heard the skittering of what was clinging to the animal’s pelt, but it came to him loud enough to make his teeth clatter.

Something was behind him.

Something infected.

Andre was unarmed except for the knife at his belt. He hadn’t felt the need to carry his gun up here. He was supposed to be alone, at a higher elevation, where these things couldn’t get him.

From his peripheral vision, he spotted the nearby tree, and he knew. Whatever it was, it had climbed up onto the roof using that tree. Before he’d taunted them, they would have had no reason to come up to the roof, but he’d been a dumbass, and because of that, he was as good as dead.

He knew he was a goner, but at least he might have time to warn the others.

“Hal!” he yelled.

But as soon as that one word left his mouth, he felt the shower of blades hit his scalp. Like broken glass falling from fifty feet up, the tiny sharp pieces bit into him hard and his entire head felt like it was on fire. Bullets hit his skull, or at least that’s how it felt to him. For a second, he remembered the pain that had come with his leg being shot up in the war, and he thought, It feels like that… all over my head.

Then the ringing set in, the high-pitched scream that ran through his cranium and settled somewhere in his brain. He thought his eardrums might explode. Like a syringe had been shoved through one temple and out the other, his mind felt as if it had been skewered. Andre’s eyes watered and an odd numbness came over him.

With his last ounce of sanity, Andre pulled out his knife and shoved it through the throat of the mountain lion crouched behind him.

He tried to speak again, but his voice caught in his throat. He wasn’t in control anymore, but the searing coals atop his head kept burning. Like his head had been dipped in acid, the pain was excruciating. And his fingers tearing through his flesh didn’t help.

“Hal!”

“Did you hear that?” Sally asked.

Nitsy had been sitting next to Robbie on the floor. He squeezed her hand from time to time to assure her she wasn’t alone, but other than that, they sat in silence. Silence meaning they didn’t speak much between them, because silence definitely wasn’t in the building. The things outside wouldn’t stop banging on the door and walls. Phyllis and Bradley sat across from her, both with their hands over their ears.

She was so tired, and her eyelids kept bouncing like miniature basketballs. Even though she was terrified, her body was forcing her to sleep. Thomas seemed to have no problem resting. He was even drooling. Seeing him out cold only fueled her desire to sleep. Nitsy’s eyes were dancing lazily when she heard the cry for Hal. She pulled free from Robbie and stood up.

“I heard it,” she said.

She stepped toward the tent and peered through it to the other side. The hatch at the top of the ladder was still open.

“It sounded like Andre,” she added, “yelling for Hal.”

“The siren’s going strong,” Hal replied, “what could be the problem?”

“Maybe he needs your help with something,” Sally suggested.

Nitsy felt a cold chill down her back. That wasn’t how it sounded at all. She thought it sounded more like a painful cry or screaming for help. Not the kind of help Sally was talking about. He didn’t need somebody to hand him a wrench so he could tighten a bolt. Something bad had happened to him.

When Hal moved toward the tent, Nitsy put a hand on his arm. “Wait. Don’t go.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“I think something’s wrong.”

“Wrong how? This whole situation’s wrong.”

“I mean wrong with Andre. When he yelled your name… it sounded like he was scared.”

Hal thought about it for a second. “I don’t imagine Andre being scared of much.”

“Exactly.”

“Want me to go with you?” Grant asked.

Hal nodded. “Might be a good idea. We don’t know what’s up there.”

Sally covered her ears with her hands. “I wish he’d kept that damn siren off.”

The siren was so loud. It set Nitsy’s nerves on edge. Between that and the insistent pounding coming from outside the building, she thought she was going to lose her mind. She didn’t know much about structures like this, but she couldn’t imagine it would withstand much more force. The door was going to come off the hinges soon. She thought she heard debris falling on the inside of the building, like the doorframe might be giving in.

“Sally,” she said. “Look.”

Sally glanced over at the door and shrugged.

“It sounds like it’s crumbling,” Nitsy informed her. “I don’t think we have much time.”

“Grant?” Sally said.

By the time Nitsy looked back at the men, they were already inside the tent, making their way to the other side.

“They’ll be back soon,” Sally said.

Nitsy hoped she was right. She and Robbie both watched with the pads of their fingers touching the transparent material of the tent. Hal and Grant moved slowly past the bugs, careful not to squash any. There were so many. For a second, Nitsy was reminded of that game in school where her teacher filled the jar with jellybeans, and everyone had to guess how many were in there. The person who guessed closest to the correct number won the entire jar. She never got close. As she counted a few of the ladybugs and tried to come up with an estimate of how many were in there, she realized it was a waste of time. She would be wrong. She would guess nowhere close to the correct number.