Living Dead- Scalping

  Two screams pealed louder than gunfire. One was Magdalena, insane with grief and confusion, who crawled around Ignacio and onto asphalt that tore blood from her knees. The second was right next to Greer: Jemisha, Mama Shaw, with dual handfuls of Jemisha’s braids now, had begun a scalping. Jemisha’s hair extensions were already shredded; Mama Shaw chewed the puffs like cud. The skin at Jemisha’s hairline had begun to rip as neatly as if along a perforated line, revealing red-orange subcutaneous fat.

  Jemisha quit her ineffectual backward punches, grabbed a dome rung with one hand, and reached the other toward Greer.

  “Help,” gasped this woman who had never, ever asked for help.

  Greer wanted only to sprint up the road and take Mr. Villard’s advice, but Jemisha’s hand was so close, shaking so badly. Greer could hear the cloth-like tearing of her forehead and see runners of blood painting vertical lines down her face, past her bulging, terrified eyes. Greer pounced, latching on to Jemisha’s hand with an arm wrestler’s grip. She wrapped her other hand around Jemisha’s wrist and braced her foot, still clad in a flip-flop, against a bar. She pulled. Jemisha pulled. But Mama Shaw was eating her way up Jemisha’s head, the braids disappearing down the old woman’s throat like feeding tubes.

  Despite the gunfire still cracking around her, Greer slid feetfirst into the dome and began stomping Mama Shaw in the face. The woman’s nose, ruptured from Sam Hell’s boot, tore off with a plop of cartilage, leaving behind an empty, scrotal bag of skin. Greer kept going, her flip-flops flying free, her bare heels pistoning until Mama Shaw’s face felt pulpy. She didn’t stop until Miss Jemisha was crouched beside her, finally free.

- The Living Dead, chapter: Altogether Different Beasts