Disclaimer: I don't own the Hills Have Eyes (2006 remake).
When Pluto and Lizard showed up on her doorstep one night, Pluto cradling a baby in his arms and grinning toothlessly at it, Big Mama's heart nearly stopped. The baby was the spitting image of her Anne, with her shock of fine dark hair and her dark expressive eyes set in a rounded baby face.
"What's her name?" Big Mama asked as she took the baby from Pluto. The baby blinked sleepy eyes up at her.
Lizard shrugged angrily, and for the first time Big Mama noticed the rivulets of dried blood that had seeped into his pants from a circular wound in his thigh.
"What happened to your leg?" Big Mama motioned with her elbow, hands preoccupied with the baby, who had started to fuss.
"Bitch mother." Lizard offered in way of an explanation, jabbing in the baby's direction with a blood-soaked finger.
"I'll call her Anne," Big Mama decided, cooing under her breath and wiggling her finger experimentally in front of the baby's face. She gurgled in uncertainty, but still made a snatch at her hand with chubby fists.
"Jupiter says to keep her here." Lizard went on, ignoring Big Mama's baby talk. "He says keep children in house. Where Ruby?"
"Ruby's in back, putting Mercury and Venus to bed."
Lizard nodded in approval, before leading Pluto away towards Big Brain's house.
Big Mama went into the adjoining bedroom (hers and Jupiter's), knelt at the foot of the bed and cooed at Catherine, tickling her toes until the baby gave a hiccup of reluctant laughter. Mercury peeked his head around the doorframe, his grey skin darkened in the darkness of the house. He smiled shyly at her, and Big Mama felt herself recoil, a feeling that was quickly replaced with guilt. There was something about staring at this perfect, non-deformed baby that that reminded her how strange they – all of them, including herself – were. She took in her son's grey skin, rippled by old scars and sunburns from long ago and stood up.
"Hi baby," she greeted. Mercury, who had started to become scared by his mother's silence, rushed to her arms in relief. "Mama," he whimpered. "Venus won't share the blankets!"
Big Mama sighed – her daughter never shared anything unless she was told to. She let Mercury lead her impatiently out of the room, away from the perfect baby gurgling on her covers. Big Mama spared Catherine a glance: the baby was squirming uncomfortably, and her motherly instincts took in everything – the bed was too high off the floor, the edges of her armoire were sharp, her perfume (mostly used for show) was in easily-breakable bottles…Big Mama turned away.
That was not her child, and right now her own children needed her.
After she put Venus and Mercury back to bed (with the sharp order to share the covers), Big Mama busied herself around the house, flitting nervously from one menial task to the next.
The sparse kitchen curtains didn't need to be straightened, and rearranging Venus' Lincoln Logs in straight, orderly rows was unnecessary but all Big Mama was doing was avoiding her bedroom, avoiding going into that room and seeing Anne, alive and fussing on her blankets. Big Mama eventually fell asleep in her chair in front of the television, her wig on the table beside her.
She did not stir when Ruby tiptoed down the hall, pressed a soft kiss to her mother's cheek and slipped out the door towards the mine.
When Big Mama woke in the cool, quiet dawn, thoughts of the baby in the next room did not even cross her mind. Ruby's bed was empty, neatly made and cool to the touch – she had been gone for a while. Between waking Venus and Mercury and feeding them, she contacted both Jupiter and Lizard. Lizard, who sounded like he had slept approximately two hours and eaten nothing, informed her sharply that no, he hadn't seen Ruby since late last night and "could you git off the damn channel Mama" because Goggle wasn't responding to their calls.
Jupiter, she was told, was going back to monitor what was left of the family and Lizard was returning to the village.
Twenty minutes later, in a conversation with a harried Jupiter, Big Mama risked asking, "Where's the baby's mama?"
There was a surprised pause. "Dead." Jupiter replied simply.
"Where's the father?" she asked again.
"Don't know. Still alive, I think."
She listened to his instructions on staying in the house with only one ear, risking a glance at her bedroom. The baby was crying now, kicking around on the bed and rolling over.
"I want to keep the baby." She blurted out in the middle of his sentence.
Jupiter paused again. "We'll talk later Mama," he muttered. Big Mama felt her face heat up. It was selfish of her to think of things like that when her daughter was missing and her husband's carefully laid plans were ending up in ruins.
"Sorry." she whispered into the walkie-talkie and was rewarded with one of Jupiter's booming chuckles.
"Bye-bye, Angel Skull." he told her before switching off his walkie-talkie. Looking back, Big Mama found it fitting that those were the last words he ever said to her.
At 6:30am Big Mama smoothed sunscreen from the half-empty bottle over baby Catherine's little limbs. At 6:45am, she told Venus to check on the baby every ten minutes and share her Lincoln Logs, told Mercury to stay out of the sun, and made the walk over to Big Brain's house.
At 7:00am she helped Big Brain bring his spoonful of breakfast to his mouth. Big Brain hated the fact that his brother's wife had to come help him eat and was always sullen and short with Big Mama – which was fine, as Big Mama didn't like talking to him either.
Today when she walked into her brother-in-law's house, there was a body propped up at the dining room table amidst the vacantly grinning mannequins. The house smelt like burnt flesh and just walking past the threshold made her gag. Adding to the grotesqueness of the situation was the American flag crudely shoved into the skull.
The only person Big Mama could think capable of such an act was Lizard, and with that thought she shuddered and turned from the morbid display.
Big Brain giggled from his place in the wheelchair. "They'll get what they deserve," he wheezed cryptically as Big Mama made her way over to him. "They always get what they deserve."
In no mood for one of his hateful, breathless speeches, Big Mama raised her eyebrows. "Just like we got what we deserved?"
Big Brain's eyes flashed and she fell silent.
They didn't speak for the rest of the hour, as Big Mama spooned instant oatmeal into her brother-in-law's mouth.
As Big Mama got up to leave, Big Brain made a weak grab for her arm. For a minute he looked so young and helpless that she actually pitied him, sitting alone in this dusty house with nothing but his walkie-talkie and the silhouettes of mannequins to keep him company.
Big Brain withdrew his hand just as quickly, but the meaning was clear – it was a grudging thanks, and Big Mama, looking back again, wondered why everyone on that day had the synonymous feeling that something bad was going to happen, and were acting on it. It was the first time Big Brain had ever done anything like that and all Big Mama could do was clasp his hand wordlessly and then leave.
Walking back to the house, she passed Cyst on the way to the storehouse. They exchanged glances briefly before going their separate ways (two days later Big Mama would pick over her memories of that day and agonize over the final words said to her family members – to Big Brain it was a reassuring hand squeeze, and to Cyst it was nothing but a smile).
Big Mama returned to her house, checked on the baby, and settled heavily into her rocking chair – her bones felt dusty, coated by that thick orangey powder that covered practically everything. It blew in through open windows, it irritated the sunburnt skin on Lizard's arms, and it caught in Ruby's tangled locks.
Big Mama felt old – old and dusty. Sometimes her joints groaned when she walked or sat down, sometimes she had to rest just from trekking to and from Big Brain's house. She wondered how she would survive now, now that she was no longer young and spry. Most of her family were lean and tough, had been battered by wind and sun for so long that they now resembled cured leather. Big Mama was soft and white and pasty. She would not survive long in the desert like this.
Big Mama glanced at her wig and decided, suddenly and with clarity that she would never wear the awful thing again. She would burn it the moment this was all done.
It was too bad, really; Jupiter had gone to all that trouble, and she never wore it anyways.
She gingerly picked up the mannequin head it was perched on, and began playing with a few stray strands. Examining it carefully, she then picked up her brush and started combing the synthetic strands back into their place. No sense sending it off not looking it's best, right?
(Big Mama looked back and found it strange that she was treating this wig like a person when at that very moment a bespectacled man was peering into her window at his baby girl)
It took her a few minutes to realize there was somebody behind her in the hallway. She very nearly turned around, but managed to keep still. The man with the spectacles, just noticing her as well, scooted back behind the doorframe out of her line of vision, taking care to act inconspicuous.
Did he think she was stupid? He was breathing so loudly she was surprised Cyst two doors over hadn't heard. Out of the corner of her eye she studied him as he came back into view – though he was holding the bat with tightly clenched fists, the eyes behind his glasses were large with fright, and his face was pale. Big Mama waited until he sidled out of her vision before getting out of her chair, intent on stopping him when she heard Anne gurgle and the man abruptly shush her. Big Mama felt faint. Although the man was clearly scared out of his mind, he wouldn't hesitate to strike her if she tried to stop him from taking the baby.
Mind racing, Big Mama dropped back down into her rocking chair as she heard the man's hesitant footfalls.
He had Anne cradled in his arms.
At that moment, something Big Mama could not describe welled up in her stomach, pushing at her esophagus, and swallowing her previous fear.
She pushed herself up from her chair and went around to the other hallway. On one of the hall tables was a white ceramic vase with a large fake red daisy in it. It looked horribly out of place against Big Mama's white-washed walls. She had always hated it.
The next few moments were a blur. The man rounded the corner, his gait quicker now that he was past the doorframe. The baby was still in his arms, making no sound. Big Mama had never moved so quickly as she did when she brought the vase up over her head and smashed it across the man's skull. He crumpled heavily and the baby began to scream.
Big Mama scooped her up and rocked her back in forth.
"It's all right, baby," she croaked, her voice cracking with fear.
"Mama's here, and everything's gonna be all right."
"Stay in house." That's what Lizard had growled to her as she watched him drag the man's unconscious body across the threshold of her house and down towards Big Brain's place. He had taken the baby away too, to God knows where. Big Mama felt worry mixed with relief, the image of little Anne pushed to the back of her mind. She had her own children to worry about. Briefly, she caught Lizard's eye and they exchanged glances – Lizard's, as always, was guarded but underneath was unsettling panic. Never had their "prey" come this close to their domain.
Venus chattered to her jovially about the man who had come to play with them as Big Mama went around the house, throwing open the trapdoor in the living room for an emergency exit, and latching the window screens shut. The man had been taken care of, but there could be more. Lizard said that two others had survived their ill-timed attack.
Jupiter had not radioed in for a while and Goggle still wasn't responding.
Mercury squinted at her in the gloom of the house. "Mama, why close windows?" he asked. Big Mama scooped him up and held him against her chest. Thump-thump went his little heart in his little ribcage.
Anne's heart had been smaller.
"There's some bad people out there, baby." She told him, smoothing down his dark hair. "It's not safe."
Mercury nestled into her bosom. "When will it be safe?"
Big Mama stared at her bedroom (It looked so lonely without a baby or a husband)
"Don't know," she heard herself say. "Soon, I hope."
I heard somebody say,
The war ended today,
But everybody knows it's goin' still.
