The Bighead (35 page)

Ands right then’n there, they throwed
that big cracker fella right off the edge’a the bluff. A coupla
seconds passed, then—

twang!

—
the rope sprung, drew real
taut, then—

snap!

It broke, ands when it broke, there
were no doubt that it did so on account’a the fella’s cock’n balls
snappin’ off his body, wheres-upon he fell smack-dab onta them
shaller rocks in the river a hunnert feet below.

Balls wiped his hands, noddin’. “What
ya think, Dicky? Ya thinks we done a good’nuff job on that
fella?”

Dicky reeled up the rope an’—shore
enough—there were the fella’s cock’n balls still stuck ta the
strap-wrench. “Ya shore strapped ’er down tight, Balls,” he
commented.

“‘
Corse I did.
Reals
tight. Ands ya kin
see I dids it so tight it didn’t pop out.”

“
But what we gonna do with
it now?”

Balls cackled. He grabbed the
strap-wrench outa Dicky’s hands an’ yanked them there dick’n balls
right out.

“
Feed the fish, that’s what
we’se gonna do.”

Then he throwed them severed
geni-ter-als over the bluff where they ’ventually splashed inta the
Boone River.

—
| — | —

SEVENTEEN

(I)

“
I’m going to the abbey
now,” Alexander said in the foyer. “You wanna go with
me?”

Jerrica’s eyes cast down. “No,
I—”

“
Come on. I could use your
help.”

“
No, I shouldn’t,
I—”

The priest made a face. “Look, I said
I was sorry about yesterday. We can talk about it, and I promise
not to be an asshole this time. Come on. Don’t be a
candyass.”

Even Jerrica had to smile. “All
right.”

But it
wasn’t
all right, was it?
I’m a drug addict.
Father
Alexander knew, and now, somehow, so did Goop.

First thing was first. She had to talk
to Goop.

“
I mean, I’ll go, but not
right now,” she said. “I know how to get there; I’ll come in my own
car a little later, okay?”

“
All right,” the priest
conceded. “I guess you need some time to work on your
article.”

The very words made her
struggle not to shrivel into herself.
Who
am I kidding?
She’d barely worked at all on
her article, and that was the reason she’d come here in the first
place.
Too busy fucking Goop and snorting
coke and falling in love with a goddamn priest who’s probably
twenty years older than me…

“
Anyway,” the priest went
on. “I’ll see you a little later then.” He gently touched her
shoulder. “‘Bye.”

She gulped, watched him walk out the
front door. Then she peeked through the front door’s sidelight
window and saw him pull off in the white Mercedes.

She felt nervous, agitated.
She walked back into the house and up the stairs, then, her mind
rising with each step. Something in her psyche cringed; she had the
new dope in the pocket of her shorts, but she refused to
acknowledge it. She
must
try, she
had
to try!

Only some things weren’t so
easy.

In fact,
nothing
was…

Her hand came away from her
pocket.
I’ll talk to Goop, get things
straightened out. Apologize for the things I said last
night—

But Goop…wasn’t there.

His bedroom door stood open, but Goop
wasn’t inside. Earlier, though, she’d looked around the house, to
see if he was working on the trim or in the yard. But—

No Goop.

And his truck was still out
front.

Where is he?

She stood in the middle of his room,
dumbfounded. It was a spartan room—no surprise, as Goop was a
simple person. Just a bed, a dresser, a chair, a small desk that
looked untouched. And—

The closet,
she saw.

Ordinarily there’d be no
big deal about a closet in a handyman’s room, but
this
closet…

“
What the
hell
is
that?
” she muttered
aloud.

The closet door stood open,
yes, but
within
the closet—

She inched forward,
peering.

There seemed to be
another
door.

Or, not so much a door but a panel out
of place, as though the closet’s back wall were actually an
exit.

Jerrica stood still a moment, blinked,
then walked in.

(II)

Charity slept late, and as usual, she
had essentially the same dream that she’d been having since she
arrived at the boarding house. Men fucking her, their faces
suddenly collapsing in disappointment, then getting up and leaving.
One hard cock after another, stroking into her vagina a few times,
then wilting, then pulling out. She lay there like a hot starfish,
looking tearily up as each of them left without a word.

Always the same, always the
same…

When she awoke, the slats of sunlight
from the blinds seemed to rake her eyes. But she still felt
distant, wobbly. She wasn’t sure if she was actually awake or
not…

Am I awake?
she wondered.

A voice pounded in her
head.

COME, it said, or seemed
to.

Am I awake?

COME.

No, no.

Charity leaned up, rubbed her
face.

Of course. It must have been a
dream.

(III)

A…passageway…

Yes, that’s exactly what it
was. Behind that open door in Goop’s clothes closet was a
passageway.

Curiosity killed the
cat,
Jerrica surmised, but she went ahead
anyway. The first leg of the passage was pitch-dark, but then she
turned and saw…

Dots.

Bright white dots of light, like
spires, like lances poking out into the darkness.

Holes,
she realized.

She soft-footed up to the first hole,
put her eye to it, and saw—

Charity’s room…

Goop
was
a goddamn peeping tom! Jerrica
was gazing right in now, and
looking
at Charity as she leaned up
in bed, rubbing her eyes. The next hole of light was even more
tell-tale—

My room!

So that was how Goop knew
about Jerrica’s cocaine-use.
He was
looking in at me the whole time. God knows what else he
saw!

All the other rooms were empty, she
knew—no tenants, save for Father Alexander’s room, and he wasn’t
even in now; she knew because she’d just seen him drive off for the
abbey. She walked a bit further, though, and found…

A ladder.

Right there, at the end of the
passage, a ladder descended. She could barely see but she could see
enough, for all of the spiring holes of light.

A ladder. Leading
down.

She placed her sandaled feet, began to
descend, until she found yet another passageway on what was no
doubt the first floor. One hole showed her the kitchen, another the
den, and yet another—

Annie’s room…

And there she was: Annie.

At first, what Jerrica saw
shocked her to the extent of disbelief.
My…God. What is she doing?

Annie sat naked on the edge of her
bed; another shock to Jerrica was how attractive the woman had
remained for her years. Tan arms and legs, trim, large round
breasts that hadn’t sagged much at all, with nipples as dark and
pert as Jerrica’s own.

But it was what Annie was doing that
shocked Jerrica most.

She’s…burning
herself…

Tears flowed down the old woman’s
face. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she quietly wept, applying the
flame of her cigarette lighter to the inside of her thigh. “Oh,
Geraldine, I’m so sorry…”

Geraldine?
Jerrica wondered.

But then she winced.

“
Not enough, I know!” Annie
whispered her next exclamation. “Nothing can ever give me
forgiveness…”

Then—as Jerrica nearly shrieked behind
the wall, Annie pinched her right nipple between thumb and index
finger, distended it—

“
Forgive me…”

—
and then raised the
lighter’s flame to the dark-pink tip.

Jerrica’s teeth clacked shut at the
sight. The lighter’s flame remained on the nipple-end for what
seemed a full minute. Eventually the pain sent Annie reeling back
on the bed.

What is she doing! Why!
Why!

It was sick. It was
demented. The woman was
cooking
her own nipple. Jerrica couldn’t imagine the pain.
And now, as she looked closer, she could see that the old woman had
been doing this for some time: both nipples were nothing but scar
tissue.

But the nipples weren’t the only
things she was burning…

“
Not enough,” Annie
whispered with a tear-drenched face. “I could never punish myself
enough for what I did…”

And next—

No, no, no!

—
the old woman stood up,
parted her legs—

NO!

—
grit her teeth, bared her
furred sex with her fingers, and squeezed her eyes closed as she
held the flame of the lighter to her—

FOR GOD’S SAKE,
NO!

—
clitoris.

(IV)

The heat inside the abbey
socked him in the face like a flying brick.
Christ,
Alexander thought. So much
for the crossbreeze through the windows he’d broken open. Less than
an hour after showering and changing into clean blacks, he felt
enslimed with sweat. But he strode on, down the vacant main hall,
his footsteps echoing. One hand hung free. The other hung heavily
as it gasped the sledgehammer. He passed the admin office, recently
unsealed, and proceeded to the end.

The stairwell to the
basement.

Whatever’s behind that
goddamn wall, I’m gonna find out what it is,
he avowed.

He lit several alcohol
lamps, waited for his eyes to adjust. The long brick wall
downstairs extended on. The bricks looked ancient they were so
faded, save for the newer segment he’d seen the other day.
Yeah,
he realized.
There’s a room behind this, and someone bricked
it up.

But why? To seal more records as
they’d done upstairs? Not likely. Even in the poor artificial
light, this brickwork was obviously much older but much better set.
The brick job on the admin office had been half-assed; Alexander
had busted through that stuff in a few minutes. And, again, he
couldn’t help but notice the strike-marks already there. Inch-deep
gouges, eye level or so. The implication couldn’t be
dispelled.

Someone, long ago, had already tried
to break through these bricks.

I ain’t no fuckin’
muscleman,
the priest told himself,
but I’m sure as shit gonna bust through this
wall…

He readied himself. As he raised the
hammer, though, he inadvertently glanced aside, to the far end of
the stuffy corridor, and what he saw was this:

(V)

“
God
damn
it’s hot!”

Jerrica parked her red Miata in front
of the abbey. Father Alexander’s car sat parked to the side, like a
waiting pet.

The abbey loomed before
her.

So strange. Jerrica stared
abstractedly, lighting a cigarette. The abbey’s cedar-shingled roof
and old log walls seemed so out of place against the brick front.
The odd bell-tower, without a bell. The gunslit windows.

All stuck back here in the
boondocks…

She tried to shake off the
infernal heat as she disembarked from the car. It was summer now,
sure, and it was supposed to be hot. But
this
hot?
It
must be close to a hundred degrees!
she
guessed. She felt icky already, her scant clothing adhered to her.
The vermillion halter had become a cotton sponge, soaking her
perspiration, making the material cling to her breasts like second
skin.

Something kept fighting to regain her
attention, a fist pounding on a door. She knew what it was.
Annie.

Jerrica shivered recounting
the image. But what could she say?
Nothing,
she realized. What, admit
that she’d been peeping at the old woman through a hole in the
wall? Get Goop fired? No, she couldn’t do that.
Geraldine,
she remembered. The name
Annie had been speaking during her self-punishment. But why had she
been punishing herself in the first place? And who was
Geraldine?
She’d never mentioned that name
before
.