The Bighead by Edward Lee Page B

parts fer over a
century. Then, a’corse, it were more’n livestock we started findin’
dead. It were local folks too, all on the north side’a town, toward
the ridge. Kath Shade, Vera Abbot, Vicki Slavik an’ her husband
Martin, shee-it, several more, cain’t remember ’em all. So’s we all
banded together ands went out onna shootin’ party, ’cos at that
time we still thought it must’a been a wolf or somethin’. ’Corse,
we knowed we was wrong once we saw it.”
    Jerrica lit another cigarette,
intrigued. “So other people saw The Bighead, not just
you?”
    “ Shore, plenty’a fellas.
Cain’t quite think ’zactly who off hand, but we’se saw it, all
right. ’N’fact it was me who saw it first, in the soy field eating
that poor deer’s insides. I chased The Bighead, I did, an’ the
other fellas caught up ta me, an’ we’se started firin’. I thinks we
hit it, but I’ll never be sure. The blasted thing run off through
the woods, an’ nobody ever saw it again. Next day we searched the
woods fer the body but couldn’t find nothin’.”
    Jerrica was trying hard to contain her
amusement. “And you’re saying that The Bighead murdered people,
townspeople?”
    “ Shore am,” the keep
affirmed. “Murdered ’em, et parts of ’em too. Mostly gals. See, The
Bighead liked gals even though he were only a kid.” The keep’s lips
turned up. “He kilt a few fellas too, but like I say, it were
mostly gals… blond-hairt gals at that.”
    “ I guess I better dye my
hair,” Jerrica laughed.
    “ Ain’t nothin’ ta make
sport of, missy,” the keep replied with no mirth at all. “‘Cos like
I just got done tellin’ ya. We ain’t pos-er-tive we kilt it.”
Another quick whiskey shot was poured, and swallowed neat. “So’s
who kin tell? The Bighead could still be out there somewhere. All
growed up now. An’ who’s ta say he won’t come back?”
     
    ««—»»
     
    “ Out rag eous!” Jerrica said, cutting the
Miata’s motor. “That old guy was a trip!”
    Charity got out, closed her door, then
they headed wearily for the front porch. “Most people around here
are like that. They love to tell tall tales.”
    “ The way he sounded, The
Bighead was real.”
    “ I hope you don’t believe
that.”
    Jerrica chuckled. “Of
course not! But what great material for my article—a local myth,
a monster-child! I
can’t wait to find out more about it, and everything else about
this town.”
    Just then they sky briefly alighted;
Jerrica glanced up. Vague lightning flashed on the horizon, bereft
of accommodating thunder. “That’s weird. A storm’s coming but the
sky is almost totally clear.”
    “ It’s just an electrical
storm,” Charity cited. “It happens all the time out here in the
summer. No rain or thunder, very few clouds. Just silent lightning.
It’s kind of spooky.”
    Spooky, hmmm. Well, after that story in the bar, Jerrica figured
anything would seem spooky. But she held her gaze a moment more to
the sky and watched a few more of the mute, distant flashes. I’ll have to remember to photograph that. It’d
make a great time-exposure.
    Only the parlor and
stairwell lights were on when they entered the boarding
house. Annie must be asleep, Jerrica surmised. The grandfather clock in the den
tolled twelve times as she closed the front door behind her, and
after that: silence.Jerrica nimbly mounted the steps while Charity
more or less trudged behind.
    “ You look exhausted,”
Jerrica said on the landing.
    “ I am. All those beers
finally caught up to me.”
    “ Well, get some sleep—”
Then Jerrica casually kissed Charity on the cheek. “I’ll see you in
the morning.”
    Charity smiled bleakly in her doorway.
“Good night.” Then her door clicked closed.
    Before Jerrica could move
on to her own bedroom, she noticed a light on under the door across
from hers. Who’s room is that? she wondered. Annie’s?
No, I think she said she sleeps downstairs. Goop’s, maybe. At