The Bighead

by Edward Lee

  He thoughts then again ’bout that big boomin’ Voice he’d heard, tellin’ him ta COME. Bighead weren’t one ta clearly see a whole lotta meanin’ in life but he figgurt it cain’t hurt ta foller the Voice like he been tolt. An’ that’s just what he been doin’! Walkin’ fer miles ever day, not knowin’ at all where he were goin’ but goin’ just the same. “The meanin’ of life’ll call ya someday, Bighead,” Grandpap’d tolt him shortly ’fore he died. “An’ ya gots ta foller that meanin’.”

  Just a bit’a heat lightnin’ crackled just above him, an’ The Bighead heard the Voice again.

  COME, it said.

  An’, well, Bighead were’a comin’, but he was gittin’ ta need to come in another way, ya know, an’ he were terrible hungry.

  An’ that’s when he saw that there li’l farmhouse…

  (II)

  “That’s a good girl, that’s my baby…”

  Ned cowered in the dark of his room, listening.

  “Ow, Daddy!” his sister fairly screamed. “It hurts!”

  “Aw, now, darlin’,” came their father’s voice. “What’cha gots ta learn is that some things in life’ll smart a little. Ain’t nothin’. You’ll’se git used ta it.”

  It happened most every night: Daddy’d come off the farm with the big green seed drill or the baler, and he’d sit and sip his shine till the moon came out. And that’s when it always happened.

  Ned was thirteen, Melissa was twelve. Their Mommy had died a few years back, some kind of cancer, the doctor told them. And ever since then, things just hadn’t been right.

  Young Ned knew they weren’t right, because he listened to the other kids at the middle school, and none of them ever talked about such things happening. So Ned kept quiet about it, didn’t want his friends to think his family wasn’t normal.

  But it just kept going on and on…

  Daddy’d always start with Melissa first. Ned never actually saw, but he could guess. “It’s Daddytime, Melissa,” Daddy’d always say. They could smell that awful shine on his breath. Ned would wait in his room till it was his time. He’d hear what went on, though, and sometimes Daddy’d get a right nasty—Ned could hear the sharp wet slaps! That would be Daddy cracking Melissa in the face when she whined or didn’t go along. Ned knew, because he got the same treatment too.

  “That’s it, sweetheart,” Daddy was saying now on the other side of the wall. “All I wants is ta git ready fer yer brother, that’s all.”

  She cried some more, like she was trying to swallow her sobs. Daddy made Melissa bleed most of the time, and that wasn’t surprising, because it made Ned bleed too.

  “Good girl. That’s Daddy’s good little girl. The smartin’s over, honey. Daddy’s all finished.”

  Oh, no, Ned thought. Because when Daddy said that, it meant it was Ned’s turn.

  Ned did the only proper thing he knew to do: he prayed to God. “‘Trust ye in the Lord forever,’“ Father Karpins would say every Sunday at church, before the church closed down. “‘Believe in God, and He will help thee.’“ Well, dammit, Ned did believe in God, and he prayed every night, but not once since mama died had God ever answered one of Ned’s prayers.

  The door clicked open. The hall light lanced into the room, landing on Ned’s face.

  “It’s Daddytime, son…”

  He’d long since stopped trying to fight it; Daddy hit him when he did. “You know what to do,” Daddy said.

  His thing was sticking out, kind of bobbing, as he stepped forward.

  “Be a good boy, now, and do good to yer Daddy.”

  Naked, shivering, Ned leaned forward. He didn’t want to do it, but, God!, he didn’t want to get hit. Daddy hit hard.

  “Good boy. That’s a good son…”

  Ned had it in his mouth now, just the way Daddy had showed him. It tasted sharp and kind of salty, and Ned knew that was because Daddy’d just taken out of his sisters babyhole. He could hear his sister crying in the other bedroom.

  “Good boy, that’s my son. A good boy always wants ta please his father.”

  Ned didn’t like it at all. After a while, Daddy’d push the back of Ned’s head and push his thing hard back against his throat, and sometimes Ned’d gag—he couldn’t help it.

  But that wasn’t the worst part…

  “Okay, son. You know what yer Daddy wants. Turn over an’ lay on yer belly. And spread them cheeks.”

  “Aw, Daddy! Please—”

  Smack!

  The crack of his Daddy’s open palm across his face stung like bees. A tear squeezed out of Ned’s eye. Please, God, he prayed. Don’t let it happen again!

  But Ned didn’t have much choice, did he? God, evidently, wasn’t home.

  He lay on the bed, on his belly, and he reached back and pulled apart his cheeks. Daddy moaned, looking down in the soft, warm darkness, and he spat right in Ned’s buttcrack.

  “Make yer Daddy feel good now, son. Like a good boy. This is what all good boys’re s’post ta do fer their daddies.”

  Ned winced. He could feel the end of Daddy’s thing rubbing up against his hole. Silent tears flowed from his eyes, drenching the bedsheets.

  And even though all of his prayers to God had been left unanswered, he prayed still:

  Please, God. I believe in Jesus and the Holy Ghost and Old Father Karpins, and I believe in You. Please, God. Help me an’ Melissa. I beg’a Ya. Please. Make it stop—

  Was there a quick thunking sound? It sounded like someone big had walked into the room. The end of Daddy’s thing was just about to push into Ned’s butthole when—

  Daddy went: Arrrrrrrgh!

  And the thing that Ned dreaded more than anything else…stopped.

  Daddy, suddenly, was off of him, and when Ned turned to see, he couldn’t see much on account of the room was so dark. But he saw a shadow there, a giant shadow, lifting Daddy up by his head.

  Then Daddy got thrown down onto the floor, and that big shadow was all over him. There was a fierce stink in the room, and an ugly thunking sound which Ned guessed were his Daddy’s feet kicking the floor.

  Then Daddy screamed…

  A chill bolted right up Ned’s spine. The door swung open further and Melissa rushed in—her little white nightgown had a red spot in the front—and she squealed when she looked down.

  “Melissa! Come here!” Ned shouted.

  His sister rushed to him and he put his arm around her to try to comfort her. It was so dark they couldn’t really see what was happening, but they knew it wasn’t good for Daddy, the way he was screaming there on the floor with that big shadow lying on top of him.

  Melissa blurted sobs. “Who—who is it?”

  “I think it’s God,” Ned said, tightening his grip about his sister’s shoulder. “I prayed ta God ta make it stop, and it did! That big shadder walked in an’ grabbed Daddy an’ it stopped!”

  “It’s—” Melissa swallowed another sob. “It’s…God?”

  “I—I don’ts know fer shore, but I thinks so.”

  The room rocked with Daddy’s screams. It was louder and sounded worse than the time the power-tedder pulled up that big rock in the field and fed it into the works. No, Daddy’s screams didn’t hardly sound human.

  But then they stopped, and then there were sounds like dry twigs snapping, but they could still see that big shadow lying on top of Daddy, humping like, and then there was a grunt and something like a sigh.

  Then another sound, something crunching, like walnuts maybe, and then a wet eating sound.

  And then the shadow stood up…

  It must’ve been eight foot tall, and its face stepped right into the moonlight beaming in from the window. And Ned and Melissa—they saw that face.

  “That ain’t God!” Melissa screamed.

  No, Ned reckoned, I guess it ain’t.

  “God don’t look like that! He’s a nice peaceful man sittin’ onna throne, ands he got long white hair’n a white beard!”

  But what they were looking at right the
n was a face nothing like what Melissa just said. The head looked bigger than a watermelon, and the eyes in the face…

  Ned nearly screamed.

  One eye was big as a grapefruit, and the other small as a grape. And the mouth… The mouth looked like a black hole full of broken glass.

  “It ain’t God, Ned!” his sister shrieked. “It’s the devil!”

  The devil? But that didn’t make any sense! Ned had prayed to God for help. Not the devil.

  “It’s the devil,” Melissa sobbed. “An’ he’s gonna do the same ta us that he just done ta Daddy!”

  But Ned couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t believe it. Naw, no way! God wouldn’t do something so mean like that, would He? Let the devil hump their heinies after saving them from Daddy doing the same? No! No way! Ned refused to believe God could be such a right son-of-a-bitch to let something like that happen!

  So he did what he always did. He prayed.

  Please, God. Me’n my sister, we ain’t done no one no wrong. And we’se know You wouldn’t let the devil do them things ta us. I thank Ya with all my heart fer savin’ me from Daddy, but now I’se prayin’ again, just like Father Karpins said ta. I’m prayin’ fer Ya ta make the devil go away.

  The devil drooled, staring at them, and that’s when young Ned took note of the size of his thing. It was huge, and—

  Aw, no!

  It was getting hard again.

  It’d kill them both, Ned could tell just by looking at the size of the thing. No way! he thought again. No way God’s gonna let this happen ta us!

  Melissa was gibbering. The devil’s shadow moved closer…

  Please, God! Ned prayed with his eyes squeezed shut. Please! Make the devil go away! I’m BEGGIN’ ya!

  And then that awful stink left the room. Melissa shuddered in his arm.

  When Ned opened his eyes back up, he saw that the devil had done just what he’d asked God for it to do.

  The devil had gone away.

  (III)

  Shee-it. They was just tots, they was! The Bighead stomped off away from the house, inta the darkness. He’d had hisself a fine nut up the father’s ass, an’ he’d busted open his noggin an’ et some fine brains, he did, an’ filled his belly like it needed ta be filled. An’ then he were hard again fast, too. But when he saw them there kids—shee-it!

  So’s little they was. Weren’t no point in fuckin’ ’em. Shee-it, big as The Bighead were, he problee couldn’t even git it in ’em. Best ta just leave.

  Yes sir. That’s what he felt were best ta do. ’Sides, he were feelin’ grateful, he were. Hadda good nut, got hisself a good bellyfull’a good hot brains. It were time ta move on now.

  ‘Cos if there were one thing The Bighead felt more strongly than anything, it were that he hadda move on. He hadda mission, he did. Didn’t know what it was, but he still had it.

  An’ above him just then, in that big black sky, more’a that weird silent lightnin’ flashed, an’ when it flashed, he heard that one familiar word in his head:

  COME.

  (IV)

  “It was outrageous!” Jerrica bragged at the parlor table. She sat next to Father Alexander, and opposite them were Charity and Aunt Annie. Annie had poured raspberry wine and set out a plate of funnelcakes and homemade molasses. Jerrica, more than half-drunk now, rambled onward, “These two guys, you should’ve seen them. Lowlife punks to the max. And when they started giving us a hard time, Father Alexander threw it right back in their faces! The bearded guy touched me, and when he did, it made my skin crawl. But a second later, the guy was flying across the bar! Father punched him right in the face!”

  Alexander tried not to show his smirk. Yeah, he’d kicked ass on a couple of guys that needed it, but now, after some thinking, he didn’t feel too cool about it. A line of Scripture kept occurring to him, from the Gospel of Matthew. ’All they that take the sword shall perish by the sword.’ And another, far more important: He who smite thee on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. Alexander, despite Jerrica’s celebration, spewed smoke in self-disgust. The guy grabbed her, he tried to rationalize. He touched her. For Christ sake, he squeezed her breast. I had to do something, didn’t I?

  But he wondered now, if God approved of what he’d done. Gee, why do I have this funny feeling that he didn’t?

  “That’s amazing, Father,” Charity said. “A priest, taking on local hoodlums.”

  “It was no big deal,” he tried to sluff it off. “Just one of those things. I probably should’ve tried to handle it better.”

  “Handle it better?” Jerrica questioned. “It was you or them. The law of the jungle, you know.”

  Alexander poised a smiled, nodded. Yeah, honey, but I’m a priest. I go by a different law…

  A minute pause gave him the opportunity to switch subjects. Thank God! He glanced over to Charity and her aunt. “So what did you two do today?”

  “Well, Father,” the wonderful old woman began, “I felt it was high time to take Charity to her mother’s grave. She was my sister—Sissy, I called her—as fine a woman as you’d ever meet. I just feel kinda bad, fer takin’ so long.”

  “Oh, Aunt Annie, please,” Charity heartfully objected. “There’s nothing to feel bad about!”

  Alexander interjected, with some Scripture. “Time means nothing,” he said. “‘Who can number the sand of the sea, and the drops of rain, and the days of eternity?’ ’That which hath been is now, and that which is to be hath already been.’“

  A tear came to Annie’s eye at the condolence.

  Yeah, Alexander considered, looking at her. When she was young, I’ll bet she turned enough heads to cause an epidemic of whiplash. A fine woman, and an attractive one, age regardless. Sometimes you could just tell, without ever even knowing someone. Charity’s aunt was good people.

  “Oh!” Jerrica exclaimed once more, after another sip of wine. “You’ll love this, Charity! Father and I were sitting in the bar—before those two punks put upon us—and guess what Father saw?”

  Charity peered quizzically. “I can’t imagine—”

  “Right there, carved into the wooden side of the both. Just like what we saw last night! BIGHEAD WAS HERE, someone wrote.”

  “Oh, God!” Charity dismissed.

  “Bighead?” Aunt Annie asked.

  “Oh, yeah. Some guy at the bar told us all about the local legend,” Jerrica was more than happy to recall, with the help of the cool dark wine. “It’s fascinating. I can’t wait to write about it in my article. A rural legend, a monster-child born in the woods, a cannibal!”

  “You best write about more important things,” Annie suggested. “Ain’t no call ta be insultin’ our community with such stuff.”

  Jerrica seemed to shrivel. “Oh, I’m sorry, Annie. I didn’t mean any harm. I just—”

  “Don’t worry about it, hon. It’s just my opinion. You wanna write about our land, it’s my reckonin’ that you won’t wanna add all that rubbish.”

  “Oh, I won’t, Annie, I promise,” Jerrica pleaded. Christ, she’s drunk, Alexander noted. The babbled on, “Really, I meant no offense. I wasn’t thinking—”

  “I think,” Alexander butt in, “that it’s been an interesting day, and it’s getting real late.” By now, they were all getting on each other’s nerves anyway. Best to close down now. He swigged the rest of his wine, stubbed out his ’rette in the turtle shell, and suggested, “Why don’t we all turn in and get some sleep?”

  “That’s a great idea, Father,” Charity agreed. Annie and Jerrica, reluctantly, agreed too.

  “I’ll see you all in the morning,” the priest bid. “And as far as Bighead goes, I don’t think we have to worry about him knocking on the door.”

  The women laughed in unison. But then—

  Rap-rap-rap!

  All heads turned in the parlor’s dim lamplight.

  Rap-rap-rap!

  Someone was knocking on the door.

  ««—»»

  A sudden warm breeze gusted int
o the house when Annie opened the front door. Who the hell could be calling at this hour? Alexander wondered. A tourist looking for a late room? Someone whose car broke down? The priest squinted, Charity and Jerrica standing right behind him. Twilight, and intermittent whiplashes of far-off lightning, turned the figure at the doorstep into a strobic silhouette. A tall figure, big, brawny…

  “Can I…help you?” Annie inquired, her eyes wide open. Her fingers curled about the door edge.

  But then Alexander noticed something flash on the figure’s chest, and behind him, in the circular drive, more lightning elucidated a shiny white car with a visibar, a gunrack, a crest on the door.

  A cop, the priest realized.

  “Sorry to disturb yawl, I know it’s a might late,” the man said. “I’m Sergeant Dorton Mullins, Virginia State Police.” The voice seemed canted in a typical drawl. Police came out as poe-leece.

  “Is anything wrong, Officer?” Charity spoke up, her own voice meekened not only by curiosity but also by something close to apprehension.

  “Well…” Dorton Mullins stalled, one hand on his hip. “Please know that it ain’t my intention to scare yawl, but what I wanna know is if any of ya seen any suspicious folks about, er I should say not folks but a man, a big man, like maybe peepin’ in windows, hangin’ about? A stranger walkin’ down the road? Anything like that?”

  They all replied in the negative, pausing themselves now at the unsettling inquiry. The priest’s eyes narrowed, while the women’s widened.