The Head of the Saint Read Online Free PDF Page A

this?”
    The boy gave a loud yell at the shock. His only reflex was to yank his trousers up quickly, pale and terrified.
    Samuel laughed out everything that he had kept inside him in all those recent serious days. He roared with laughter at how pathetic it was, this sight of a kid reading porn mags inside the head of a decapitated saint. He’d seen a lot in Juazeiro, but this was really too much.
    His name was Francisco, the boy told Samuel, and he was thirteen. He had discovered the hiding place a year earlier, more or less, and had been going in secret ever since. He got the magazines from the truck driver who stopped at the Candeia café, and the head of the saint was the only safe place to go with them.
    Unsteadily, Francisco stood up to leave, clearly still astonished by the discovery of Samuel in the saint’s head.
    “If you get me some food,” said Samuel, “I won’t tell anyone about your bad behavior.”
    “What are you, a bandit?”
    “Not yet, but I do want to kill people I hate.”
    “Are you running away from the police?”
    “Not yet.”
    “What are you doing here?”
    “I’ve come to find my Devil of a father, but as soon as I have I’ll be leaving right away. I’m only in here because of this wound to my leg. I won’t be living in your castle, you needn’t worry about that.”
    The boy looked at the wound with an expression of disgust. It was filled with pus, swollen and purple.
    “Is there a hospital here?” Samuel asked.
    “No, just a health center.”
    “And is there a doctor?”
    “Only Fridays.”
    “What day is today?”
    “Saturday.”
    Samuel thought for a moment.
    “Francisco, if you can take me to the health center on Friday, I’ll get some medicine. Then I can leave your head in peace. Both heads.”
    “When did you get here?”
    “A few days ago.”
    “And what have you been living on?”
    “Green guava. But I’ve eaten some leaves, too.”
    “What medicine do you need to put on that leg?”
    “Who knows? Rubbing alcohol?”
    “It’ll sting like hell.”
    “Do you know somewhere to get any?”
    “At home we’ve got ointment for cuts. I’ll bring some.”
    “If you want to bring a bit of food, I’ll eat anything. I’m scared I’ll die in here.”
    “That’s all we need, a dead body appearing inside the head of the saint. That’s sure to make anyone who’s still left in this place go completely nuts.”
    “The more you help me, the quicker I’ll get out of here. And I won’t tell anyone about your hiding place.”
    Francisco left. It didn’t take much for him to succumb to Samuel’s ridiculous blackmail.
    He returned later that same day, bringing the ointment that his mother used to treat boils. He sat there awhile to chat, as if he was trying to understand. Francisco’s curiosity seemed gradually to overtake his fear. He began to visit Samuel every day, bringing him food and water in secret. He didn’t have any rubbing alcohol, but he did find a bottle of alcohol—cachaça—to clean the pus, so that at least the wound would not get any worse.
    Going to the head of the saint every day was a huge risk for Francisco; it would almost be a crime in the eyes of the people of Candeia, for the town had been condemned to a slow death because of that hollow skull. But to Francisco, it was better to run the risk than to be turned in. If this kid told anybody about the magazines, he was done for. Besides, the outsider’s company had become good fun. Samuel liked to chat.

“Can you hear them, too?”
    “What?”
    “Those women, with all their praying in here.”
    “No one comes to pray in here. The people of Candeia hate this head.”
    “Why?”
    “It’s the curse of this town. What do you mean, all their praying?”
    “Since my first night here I’ve heard their voices asking the saint to help them find love. There’s one girl who only talks about someone called Dr. Adriano….”
    “And who is the girl?”
    “I don’t know her name. Her