Carver Pike - Scalp

She could hear one of his stupid sports shows playing in the living room. He could watch ESPN all day and all night. He tried reliving his youth by watching through blurred vision as muscular studs ran down a football field, smashed a baseball into the stands, and dribbled a ball down a court. At first, she’d felt sorry for him. He’d been great at sports when they were younger, but then he hurt his back in a logging accident.

He resented her and the kids for having to stick around town and take care of them. Annie knew that, but she also knew he’d be lost without them.

Annie found herself in the midst of a mental argument that never happened in real life. She did this often. She imagined herself walking out the door and yelling at him from the front porch.

Jeb! Don’t you go out there and start fiddling with that lawnmower again.

It ain’t the lawnmower I’m fiddling with, woman!

I know it ain’t. Why don’t you come in here and fiddle with me?

Maybe I don’t want to.

Well, why not?

Because I don’t find you attractive no more! That’s why.

I fucking hate you, Jeb!

The feeling is mutual.

The argument never occurred in real life, but that didn’t matter. Annie smashed both fists into the bowl, mashing the meat into mush with her knuckles, pretending it was her husband’s face in there. She sneered as she looked out the window and saw he was no longer in the yard.

“That’s it,” she said aloud, turning on the sink and washing the goo off her hands.

“What’s it , Mama?” little Jessica asked.

“You just watch your videos and be quiet,” she hissed at her daughter before drying her hands on a towel, throwing it onto the countertop, and storming out the side door that led to the backyard.

She moved slowly down the porch steps until she stood on the patch of dirt at the bottom. The yard was quiet. Inside the house, she could hear the sound of an announcer breaking down the latest basketball game, but out here where Annie stood, all was silent. She focused her attention on the shed, but it appeared the light was off in there. No trace of illumination seeped out the bottom of the door like it normally did when her husband was in there. This made her even angrier. She imagined him in there watching porn by the dim phone screen.

“Jeb!” she yelled. “Jeb, get in here and spend time with the kids while I get this meatloaf into the oven!”

Her husband didn’t answer. No light flicked on inside the shed. No door creaked open.

“Jeb!” she yelled.

Nothing.

“Jeb!” she tried once more.

“What is it, woman?” came the voice of her husband, so sudden and so loud it caused her to jump with fear. She turned to see Jeb standing in the doorway, looking out at her.

“You…” she started, “you… I thought you was out there in the shed.”

“You can’t hear the TV in the living room?” he asked. “I’m in there watching my damn show while you’re out here hollering my name.”

“But I saw you—”

Jeb was behind her, standing in the doorframe, when the silhouette of a man moved through the darkness from behind her husband’s pickup truck. This man walked funny, hunched over slightly, stalking toward her.

“Jeb,” she said, her voice barely coming out.

Her husband wouldn’t be able to see the man from where he stood.

“I’m going back to watch my show,” Jeb said. “I thought you needed me or something.”

“Jeb,” she squeaked out as she backed toward the porch steps.

The man coming toward her growled. He wore dark, camouflaged hunting clothes. As he moved into the porchlight, she saw he had a long scar on one side of his face, and his forehead was all scratched up. His face was covered in dried blood that looked to have dripped down from the top of his head.

“Jeb!” she screamed.

She heard her husband burst through the screen door and come pounding down the steps.

“What the fuck?” he yelled. “Buddy, you best—”

Annie stared in fear as the stranger’s hair shifted, moved, like it was shivering. A strange, almost cracking sound emitted from it like when a windshield spiderwebs and begins to shatter. He reached for her with his arms outstretched and his mouth dripping drool. Bloodshot eyes grew wide with hunger, and her shock turned into horror.

Her scream caught in her throat and then erupted all at once in a sound so loud it made her ears ring. Annie panicked, stepped backward, and tripped on a water hose left screwed into the faucet.

Why isn’t Jeb saving me?

It was the last thought she had as the grotesque man in the yard rushed at her and leaped on her. His mouth drove into her shoulder, and she thought he was going to rip a chunk of her throat off, but he didn’t. She would have preferred it to the reality.

His head drew close to hers, so close she could hear his groans, and he bit down on her shoulder. It wasn’t the bite that sent blinding hot pain through her body. Something else happened. She didn’t understand it at first. She never fully did. The skittering sound coming from the man’s hair grew louder.

Then a hundred tiny razorblades dove onto her head, sifted through her hair follicles, and nicked at her scalp. Each blade sawed back and forth, cutting through her skin. She reached to her head, trying to stop them, desperately needing to grab hold of whatever was chewing through her scalp, but there were so many.

One of her fingernails pierced her skin, and she dug at that spot, feeling like if she could only remove her scalp, she could rid herself of the pain. Blood pooled at her fingertips, and she kept digging, even as her nails broke and her skin peeled back.

Annie’s head could have been doused in gasoline and set ablaze and she wouldn’t have been in such agony.

She screamed through it all.

Jeb jumped into the fray, trying to come to her rescue, and then she heard him scream and knew whatever was happening to her had reached him too.

My kids!

All her thoughts went to her children and how vulnerable they were.

“Mama? Papa?” little Jessica asked from up on the porch, and Annie knew she’d be dead soon too.

“Bangladesh!” It was the first country that started with a “B” to enter her mind.

“Canada,” Robbie Boyd said in his usual laid back, calm voice. The game didn’t stress him out in the slightest. It seemed nothing did. Life was easy for this kid. Into his phone, he recorded a message to one of his many girlfriends. His tone was pleasant, sweet, and he seemed sincere even though Nitsy was sure he was full of it. “Baby, it’s only for a few days and then I promise I’ll pick you up and take you out.”

He made her stomach turn. Robbie was everything she thought was wrong with the world. A world she’d vowed to appreciate much more now that she’d beat the beast as her mom called it.

Natasha “Nitsy” Porter tried to be positive. She really did, but Robbie irked her. The way he always took the easiest route. So many countries began with the letter “C” and he, true to his lazy ways, would choose Canada. Why Canada? Because it was the first thing to come to his mind and that was how Robbie was built. Go with the path of least resistance. Don’t stress.

How about Cambodia, Cameroon, or even Chad? Why is he even on this trip?

Nitsy screamed her frustrations out on the inside while smiling and trying hard to focus on the other students’ answers on the bus. She heard Dominican Republic, Egypt, and French Guiana.

There we go. French Guiana. That’s a boy who deserves to be here.

The kid who’d impressed her was tanned, had a high-top fade, and wore glasses. His T-shirt read: I paused my game for this. That made her laugh. Unlike Robbie, this kid clearly deserved to be here. After all, he’d paused his game for this.