The Bighead (45 page)

Alexander turned, outraged.
“No! Don’t tell me she’s dead! She
can’t
be dead!”

“
Relax, Mario Andretti.
She’s not dead. She’s not even seriously injured. Just a little
conk on the head. She’ll come to in a few minutes.”

“
Well, Christ—er, pardon
me, Lord—I should at least get her out of the car—”

“
Forget it,” Jesus
repeated. The Son of God finished his Yoo Hoo and pitched the
bottle into the woods. “She was wearing her seatbelt, you
weren’t.
Comprende?
”

“
Huh?”

“
Still don’t savvy. That’s
how it usually works.” Jesus frustratedly pushed his long hair
back. “You had a heart attack. You wrecked the car. You
died.”

Alexander’s expression went agape.
“I—”

“
You’re dead, man—you
bought the farm. But, shit, what did you expect? All that booze,
all those cigarettes for all those years. Still don’t believe Me?
Take a peek.”

In slow dread, the priest gazed back
into the car, this time looking past Charity. And there, in the
driver’s seat, he saw…himself.

Neck broken. A little blood
on his forehead. But—
Jesus isn’t jiving
me. That’s my body in there. I’m dead.

Yes. Here he was, Father Thomas
Alexander, standing in the middle of Route 23 just as the blushing
sun rose, and he was looking at his own dead body.

Jesus was taking the pack of
cigarettes off Alexander’s body. “Too bad about her, though, huh?”
He said.

Alexander flinched. “What do You mean?
You just got done telling me she’s not hurt.”

“
Oh, she’s not
hurt,
but she’s sure as
shit
pregnant.
”

“
That’s impossible!” the
priest countered Jesus. “That thing last night couldn’t
possibly
have raped her.
It would’ve torn her up; its genitals were
huge.
”

“
The Bighead,” Jesus
explained, lighting up a Lucky, “was Charity’s brother. You didn’t
know that, did you?”

“
Her…
brother?
”

“
That’s right, chief, and,
yeah, he had a giant dick, just like his daddy. But you know
what
she
had? A
big pussy.”

Somehow, hearing Jesus
Christ make such colloquial references to sexual anatomy rubbed him
the wrong way. But—
What’s He talking
about?

“
Come here,” his Lord
beckoned with a finger. He opened the passenger door, parted
Charity’s legs, and pulled up her skirt. She was pantiless beneath.
Jesus pointed. “See? You ever seen a pussy that big in your
life?”

Alexander stared from the street.
Christ was right; Charity vaginal inlet was immense…

“
She was the only woman on
earth who could take all of The Bighead’s cock. Stands to reason.
Being brother and sister, they both have the same reproductive
genes.”

Alexander continued to
stare.

“
Devil’s
genes. So,” Jesus rubbed his hands together.
“Chalk up another one for us.”

“
What do You…” The priest’s
words shimmied. “What do You mean?”

But by then he thought he already
knew.

Jesus grinned, cigarette in mouth.
“Took you awhile to figure it out, huh? I’m surprised.”

Alexander’s voice raddled. “You
motherfucker,” he said to Jesus Christ the Righteous. “You lying
piece of shit…”

“
Hey, look, it’s just my
job. I do my job, you do yours. Thing is, I do mine better.” And
with that, the masquerade began to corrode, the great pointed horns
already beginning to surface from the imposture’s forehead. “Come
on, man. Jesus doesn’t walk around the earth. He lost that gig two
thousand years ago. But me? Shit, I can do anything I fucking want.
Blame Eve.”

The Morning Star,
came the thought like a hinge keening in his
head.
Lucifer—
The
priest began, “Get thee behind me—”

The horned figure frowned. “Aw, give
it a rest, man. Homey don’t play that tune. Ya fucked up,
Tom.”

“
I do not deserve to go to
hell!” Alexander bellowed.

“
There you go, right there.
The first thing you think of is yourself. You blew it. Not enough
brownie points. Shit, man. Lust, greed, avarice, profanity,
indulgence—God don’t want ya, Tom, and I can’t say that I blame
him. But that’s fine. Another tenant for
my
boarding house.”

“
FUCK YOU!”

The Devil smiled, flicked a forked
tongue. “Time for you to go, Tom. And they’re all waiting to see
you: all those slopes you killed in The Nam, the old lady, Dicky,
Tritt Balls Conner, not to mention Jerrica, your squeeze. Give ’em
all my regards.”

The road jolted, then split wide open.
Flames wafted from the rent as Alexander teetered on the
edge.

“
But I arranged a very
special escort for you, buddy,” Satan added. “They’ll be giving you
the twenty-five-cent tour personally.”

Screaming, Alexander was dragged down
into the pit, feverish hands pulling at his ankles.

“
Oh, and Tom?” the Devil
finished, grinning down. “Thanks for the Lucky’s.”

Down, down. The split hardtop of Route
23 resealed like a wound healing. The priest squirmed, his blood
already boiling as his slacks, shirt, and collar were expeditiously
torn off. Svelt, taloned hands nimbly pawwed his buttocks and
crotch, kneading, then molesting in feverish glee.

The nuns rejoiced, cackling over their
claim.

««—»»

Charity regained consciousness several
moments later.

The priest was dead.

She unfastened her seatbelt and got
out, looked up at the blooming, pink sky, breathed deep.

She felt so confused, but it was only
now that she realized what she must do…

It was providence. She could never
return to the world; she wasn’t meant to. Like a snake shedding
skin, it was time to slough off her old life and walk happily into
the face of her new one.

She was pregnant now, and happy. And
she knew what she must do. In all actuality, there’d never been a
choice.

COME, COME,
her father’s Voice had told her so many times. But
now it was saying something else…

GO. GO.

And go she would. She would be a
sprite in the woods. She would be the joyous wildwoman, dressed in
skins and living on berries and roots. She would give birth to her
twins and raise them in the wild…

To start a new race.

Yes! Providence!

GO.

Charity dropped her
sundress in the middle of the road. The morning light painted her
flesh in a new beauty. Her heart
sang.
And even now, she could feel
the precious korms of seed and eggs stirring in her
womb.

GO, MY LOVELY DAUGHTER.

Charity walked off the road, stepped
gently over some brambles, and disappeared into the woods without a
sound.