The Doomsday Papers

by JanJan Untamed

  “Why would I lie to you? I am not the liar here.”

  “You shouldn’t be speaking to me this way.”

  “I shouldn’t be speaking to you at all after the foulness you’ve done. You went to that woman after you were with me. You called me a whore. I wonder if the traitor was a traitor at all. I wonder if he really was rescuing me from a cult?”

  Judea is speechless and I am out of fight. He wipes the quiet tears falling from his eyes. I let mine fall with them. The trip home will give him time to see the error in his ways and help him decide where his loyalties are. I won’t spend the rest of my days cowering and serving lazy men. I am not a slave. I am Duma Dare, a sinner.

  “Rescuing you? That bastard stole you. He kidnapped you and held you prisoner in a dungeon.”

  “It wasn’t as bad as all that. The worst part was being away from you. Now, I see it was useless worrying and blind adoration.”

  “You are defending him and repeating his words? It’s not blind adoration. We are married. I was always searching for you, Duma. I wasn’t going to stop until I found you.”

  “Thank you for your concern. Are we finished here?”

  “No, we aren’t finished and you are sleeping with me. You aren’t sleeping in the barn. I’ll sleep outside and you can sleep in the house.”

  “And where will your wives be sleeping?”

  “Duma, they will sleep in their rooms. Francesca can’t sleep out here in her condition and Jenni is allergic to most of everything. Let them stay. I’ll go.”

  It is another slap to my face. Sleeping outside was always good enough for me. Because I am Duma and I don’t need special treatment. I am absolutely pissed. He is so thoughtful of them. He knows them so well.

  “Titus!” I call into the house.

  “We are still talking, wife.”

  “Titus Dare!”

  “Jeez, I’m coming. You two had better not be fighting again. What is it?”

  “I’m sleeping in the barn until we leave.”

  “Okay, cool. I’ll help you set it up.”

  “It’s not cool, Titus. It’s a bad idea and dangerous for her to be out there alone.”

  “We’re surrounded by two hundred men, Jude. I think she’ll be okay.”

  “I don’t want her sleeping in the fucking barn, Titus.”

  “Let her sleep where she wants. She doesn’t want to be around you. Give her the space that you take for yourself.”

  “I won’t be able to sleep with you out there. I’ll worry about you.”

  “I’ll holler if I need you. If you will excuse me.”

  “Are we going to part ways like this?”

  “You did this. I would’ve done anything for you, Judea Hamilton. I laid down everything for you and your church. My dignity, my life, and my body. You chose to lay down for everyone else.”

  “How many times are you going to call me a whore?”

  “As many as I want.” I tell him.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Me and my brother set me up in a corner of the empty barn. It was used to store machinery instead of livestock. We put up an old bed we find. I put an old table beside it to hold the lamp and a chair to hold the bucket of clean water. I make the bed in clean sheets and sit down.

  “Are you sure you want to sleep out here?” Titus asks looking around the dark space. It could be scary to a common woman because of all the shadowy places where danger can hide. The unfamiliar sounds old buildings make when everything around them is still could be considered creepy.

  “I’m sure. It’s just like old times.” I say cheerfully. He frowns. The shadowy places and the sounds are things I’m used to from sleeping in our own barn. It’s three times the size of this one and smells like a barn.

  “Well, I’ll leave you alone then. Are you sure it isn’t too warm? It’s hot tonight.”

  “I’m fine. I have a book I took from the shelf in the living room.” I say looking at the cover. “Stephen King.”

  “Enjoy.”

  It’s warm as ever but it isn’t too bad after I strip down to my slip. My son is sleeping soundly in the house with his father where it’s cool. I wonder if he’s kissing those women? I wonder if he’s fucking them? Are they talking or hugging? Did he tell them I am sleeping in the barn because I don’t like them?

  “I wish you would reconsider.”

  “Goodnight, Judea.”

  “Dumani, let me stay out here with you.”

  “You have a free night to screw your wives without interference. I don’t care anymore.”

  “My dick is the last thing on my mind. I hurt you. I know I did. I want you to forgive me even though I don’t deserve it. This is driving me nuts right now. I can’t think straight.”

  I don’t even look up. Judea is used to having his way after I gave it to him for so long. When have I ever told him no? I don’t want to. I want things to be good between us. He’s on the side of the enemy now. I know him. He wants to plead his case and apologize some more. Maybe make love to me to bring me back around. This can’t be fixed with a good fuck. He created this monster and now it’s up to him to deal with me. I want nothing to do with his family. That’s not what I want for myself.

  “Goodnight, Judea. Leave the doors open on your way out.”

  He walks away pissed. Judea is spoiled and selfish. Let him be angry. It’s his defense mechanism. It will wear off and he’ll be forced to reevaluate the situation. His empathy will kick in and it’s going to hurt. He needs to hurt for a while. I lay on my back and read in the dim light. I get so drawn into the story that I don’t hear the footsteps until the man is upon me.

  “The baby’s hungry.”

  I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. What time is it? Closer to morning than night. I can feel it in the weariness in my body and the heaviness of my eyes. I’ve been reading for a while. I free my breast and take my fussy baby. I feed him with my heart half-full.

  “Dumani, I’m sorry.”

  “Go away, Judea. How will you saying you’re sorry fix this? It doesn’t and I want you to stop saying it because you are a liar and you don’t mean it.”

  “I do mean it. I love you and I want to work things out. Please, come back inside. I miss you.”

  I miss him too but like the traitor told me, if you don’t stand up for what you believe in, you will fall for anything. He told me I can be a free thinker and still be a good wife. I didn’t believe him. How can an ungodly woman who turns away from her church and her way of life be good to anyone except the devil? Because people are meant to be different, he said. We are all meant to think our own thoughts and live our own dreams. Our role in the church is to live out whatever dreams the men lay out for us. It’s usually their own dreams and their own fantasies. When I see photos and videos of common women with their comfortable clothes and laughing faces, it makes me feel like I’m missing out on something. I pushed the thoughts away because I want to be useful. I want to be loved. To be loved in the church, you must not only submit, but succumb. My back and legs will forever carry the evidence of the churches love for me.

  Something else the traitor said rings out right now. He told me, love isn’t supposed hurt and he didn’t give a shit what the church said. I prayed for his blasphemous soul that night. A man should never raise his hand to woman, Duma. Not until he has no other choice. The traitor always said things like that. He sounded weak. Like a poet. Men in the church show their love by working hard and keeping meat on the table. They cultivate the land and make everything out of nothing. They teach us to fight, and hunt, and shoot, and climb. They teach us how to thrive. That is why we revere our men and try to make life as comfortable as possible for them. They didn’t tempt us with flowery words or said anything of love. Those maniacs wouldn’t have a church if not for the wombs of their women, the traitor said. Don’t you deserve the same treatment you give to the men?

  We tend the children and the gardens and the livestock. We keep the house run
ning and everyone fed and alive. We lay down our bodies and our freewill to them and what did I get? Lashed for laughing in church and nabbing the last of the apple pie. A pie that I baked from scratch with apples I picked in the orchard. Or, cursed for finishing the leftover stew. A stew made from vegetables and herbs that I grew. It was thick with tender venison that was downed with my arrow and butchered with my hands. I was everything they asked me to be. It was never good enough. The emptiness I felt inside that made me set aside a dozen cookies for myself had nothing to do with my stomach. My skinny family saw me overeating. They never saw what I was feeding. All they saw was my size. They never cared about my pain. I feel like the people I would die for never gave a damn about me. It’s a bad feeling for a child to grow up with it. Food made me feel good. It tasted good and it felt good eating it. It was the only thing good in my life. Besides Judea. Now, I don’t even know him anymore. I lost everything that I ever wanted. Even my name. I’m a commoner’s spawn.

  “You’re so quiet. I would rather hear you calling me names and telling me how disgusted you are than not saying anything at all.”

  I change my son to the other breast before I finally look up at his father. He’s not taking this very well either. His calm demeaner doesn’t make it to his eyes. I know Judea. I’ve been with him for almost a decade. I know everything about him and he’s doing some soul searching. He’s thinking things that are taking him outside of his comfortable place. He is thinking things that could get him into trouble with not only the church, but God himself. This is something he has to go through on his own the way I did. I was terrified. That’s why I ran away with the traitor. There is no turning back for me. I should be thanking Judea for taking those wives. They are what triggered this rebellion. They shut down the machine.

  “Why didn’t you wait for me, Judea? You know me. As long as my heart was beating, I was coming back to you. I never wanted anything the way I wanted you.”

  “Wanted? As in, not anymore?” He runs his hand through his hair.

  “You were the reason the sun rose for me in the morning. You were the reason I wanted to take my next breath. You, Judea. When I walked back here with a bullet hole in me and your twenty-five-pound son strapped to my back, I expected to be welcomed by the man I left. Not this stranger.”

  “I wasn’t there for you the way I should have been. I’ll make it up to you. I made you feel unwanted. I didn’t mean to push you out. Not you. Not my Dumani.”

  “You want them more that you care about hurting me.”

  “That isn’t true. I was hurting when you were gone. I got weak and they were there. They were more than willing. They were begging. Jenni begged me again today. I kissed her and stuck two fingers inside of her and I touched her until she came. I was turned on. I can’t lie. So, I fucked her and pushed her down onto her knees and finished in her mouth. It lasted all of ten minutes and the rest of the time we talked. I felt like shit afterward.”

  I swallow his truth past my sadness.

  “I let the stranger kiss me and I enjoyed it.” I say to hurt him. He grows deathly quiet for a long minute as he digests my words. He’s having trouble swallowing too.

  “Are you telling me this to make me angry?” Judea stands up. “Was there more than a kiss, Dumani? Did you sleep with him?”

  “I would tell you if I did. Why wouldn’t I? It’s not like you are in any position to cast stones. He saw my face when he kissed me goodbye. He isn’t who you think he is.”

  “Who is he?”

  “His name is Gavin Antonov and he’s my friend.”

  “He stole you.”

  “Stole, kidnapped, it was a small price to pay if it will help fight the sickness. He treated me better than you do.”

  Judea’s jaw tics and he runs his hands through his shoulder length hair again. I touched a nerve.

  “Dumani, he should’ve told you that speaking your mind doesn’t mean you say every little thing that comes to mind.”

  “Why not? Isn’t that freethinking? The traitor told me there is a constitution that protects my right to do so. It is a real law.”

  “You don’t fucking tell your husband that another man treats you better than he does. You just fucking don’t do it. Especially when the husband is as jealous as I am. Damn it, Duma. Do you love him?”

  The notion stuns me. Love him? The traitor? I can’t love him. Can I? I think about his warm laugh and easy smile. I think about the way his mischievous blue eyes twinkle with merriment when he asks me how I liked a particularly graphic movie. I would blush and hide my smile behind my scarf. I imagine he saw right through me.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? That isn’t a no. You pushed me out too.”

  “You are good at blaming me, Judea. The traitor said it’s what people do when they want you to feel bad for something that isn’t your fault. It’s mind control. I didn’t take Gavin seriously until I came back here and you proved everything he said to be true. He wasn’t saying those things to hurt me or disrespect the church. He said it because he cares about me. If you want to continue with this orgy, you will have to do it without me. I won’t be a part of it.”

  “Duma, it won’t be an orgy. I’m going to make things better for you. I promise. Give me a chance to show you. It won’t happen overnight but we can do it. I’ll retire the wives to the guesthouse and we’ll live together as husband and wife. We can work this out.”

  “I don’t trust you. Having them close will make it easier for you to sneak out for a quick poke when I’m unaware. Is fucking them a part of your dedication to the betterment of women and children?” I pat the baby on his back until he burps. I kiss his curling hair, lay him on the bed, and stand up too.

  “They asked to stay. I’m not forcing them to. They want to go home with us.”

  “They want to be with you. They are your wives and the mothers of your children. Why wouldn’t they want to stay with you.”

  “It’s their decision.”

  “This is my decision. Good night, Judea.” He’s missing it. He will never get it. I am finished with this conversation. I lay down beside my son and pick up my banned book. He pauses like he wants to say something.

  “We’ll talk more tomorrow.” He leans his beautiful dark head over our son and kisses him. I don’t stop him when he does the same to me.

  “Think of this as their turn.” I say tightly. He shakes his head sadly.

  “I love you, Dumani.”

  I watch him go with tears in my eyes. I hate being away from him. I hate the way we are right now. He used to be so different. Now, he wants to be his father and he doesn’t even know it. I put the book over my face and cry. What am I going to do? Why did I have to change? Change hurts. A person can’t grow without change. The book is lifted from my face and set aside. I don’t care if he sees me crying.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Go away, Judea.”

  “No, I’m staying. Shoot me if you want to. But, I’m staying with you.”

  He pulls off his boots and settles on the bed behind me. I don’t know how long I cry or when I finally fall asleep. I hold onto my son and his father holds onto us. I hope that one day we will be a real family. I hope he loves me enough to want it too. The next day, Judea goes out of his way to be nice to me and I go out of my way to avoid him. I tie Judi to my back the way the traitor showed me. He learned when he was volunteering at clinics in Africa. This is how they carry babies. I wander too far from the house and shoot rattle snakes with my bow for fun. I catch two trout in a stream with a line and hook from my bag. I make a spit out of sticks and roast them over a small fire for my dinner. I kneel beside the fire with Judi sleeping on my back. I stare into the crackling orange flames thinking about my life. It’s so peaceful out here and quiet. It’s lonely and the air is cooling. Nocturnal predators are coming out to feed. There is no drama and no wives. I make myself at home. I don’t feel loved right now. I’m lonely without love. He says he loves me
more than anything, even the church. Lately, my feelings are second or third on his list of priorities.

  “I can’t let you stay out here all night, Dumani.” I heard him coming.

  “I can take care of myself, Reverend.” I turn my back on him.

  “You can take care of a hundred people.” He turns me around. “It’s not the point.”

  Judea traded his gas mask for his Stetson. His face is a shadow under the brim. His too-long hair is damp and the tantalizing smell of his clean skin is shaking my reserve. I want to touch it and kiss it and lick my tongue over it until he moans my name. Damn, he looks good in that hat. Too good. I want to shoot him. I’m a sinner through and through. He’s wearing his favorite jeans and the silver belt buckle he won when he and Titus snuck off to ride in a rodeo somewhere. He’s very proud of it and so am I. No one in the church knows what it means. They think it’s a nice belt buckle.

  “Take the baby back.” I tell him. And, leave me alone.

  “I intend to. I’m taking my wife with me.”

  “I’m not your wife. I divorced you.” He ignore me.

  “You can’t spend the night in the desert alone. I’ll take the baby back to Titus and we can stay out here—”

  I stand up and kick dirt on the fire. What a waste of good fish. I turn away from him to start my hike back. I saw the hurt in his eyes before I turned away. This is the house that he built. He has no one to blame but himself.

  “Stop.” He grabs my arm. I swing around to confront him.

  “What?”

  “Give me Judea.”

  He carries the baby and I carry around the sadness that I take everywhere. I wish I could speak to the traitor one more time. I would thank him for his hospitality and tell him that he was right. I would ask him questions. So many questions. I would ask him about everything because I know he will tell me the truth. He will tell me what I need to know and not what he wants me to know. I had questions when I was with him. My silence and cold treatment was his punishment for keeping me away from my husband. I stumble and Jude’s quick hand saves me from a nasty fall. He locks his arm around my waist. I am too shaken to remove it. I hear the neigh of horses in the distance and Jude whistles sharply. It’s Titus and Belle.