The Doomsday Papers Page 3

I looked nervously at Timothy. I was not lifting my dress with him in there. No way.

  “I'll be in the house when you’re finished.”

  He understood and he left us alone. I sat down on the edge of the chair.

  I was nervous when Jude knelt in front of me. No one had touched me under my dress since I was a baby. He looked up at me and smiled.

  “Trust me.”

  “If anyone finds out, I will be whipped. I will never find a husband.” I protested.

  “Men aren't exactly knocking down your door, Dumani. Don't stress yourself about finding a husband. Worry about staying alive.”

  He lifted the hem of my dress up over my knees. His words hurt. It is the worst thing that could happen to a woman in our church. Not being chosen as a wife, even a sixth or seventh wife is worse than being sent home in disgrace. I am already twenty-three. An old maid. If a man was going to offer for me he would've done so six years ago. Most women in my church have two or three children at my age. Not me. Not even close. Jude picked glass out of my fleshy knees without comment. With gentle hands, he cleaned my wounds and wrapped them with bandages. Afterward, I had tears falling down my face. I will never have anyone to love me.

  “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

  I shook my head no. He tilted my chin to look at him. I cried harder.

  “What is it, Dumani?” I don't respond.

  “Look at me. How long have we been friends? Talk to me.”

  “I’m fat.” I said in defeat. “My family hates me. They don't talk to me. They don't even look at me. I’m worthless and a burden to Father because no one wants me.

  “They are assholes for saying those things to you.” He wasn’t surprised. I nodded my head yes, they were. “It isn’t you, Duma. You are being punished for something you had no control over. You can’t change who you are.”

  “I want to lose weight. I really do. I get sad and... and food makes me feel better. I can't help it.”

  Judea Hamilton did the worst thing ever. He hugged me. If I was a prettier girl the church would make him marry me. Not me, not Duma. They would blame me. I would be accused of tempting him into doing the devil’s business with me. I would never do that. Jude is my only friend. I don’t want him to go to hell.

  “They are mean and very wrong, Duma. You are the kindest, sweetest, and funniest girl I know. You are not fat. You’re cuddly.”

  He tickled my ribs. I giggled. My giggles erupted into laughter. He laughed too. The wicked boy.

  “You are such a liar, Judea Hamilton.”

  He let me go. I didn't want him to. His hug felt really, really, good. It felt so good that I knew why it was a sin when it was over. It could lead to other things. Like baby making. Saints do not have sexual relations for pleasure. Lustful thoughts and acts are sinful. The joining of bodies is for making children. Not for pleasure.

  “Let's get you home. It’s late.”

  Jude didn't bother saying goodbye to his cousin before he let himself out. In the truck, I settled on the seat despite the sting. Jude turned on Marvin Gaye. “I Heard It through the Grapevine” blared from his fancy stereo. Did the good Reverend really think he listened to gospel music? I hummed along. He smiled at me. The truck stopped near our gate. I got out without saying anything. Neither of us knew it would be the last time we spoke to one another before death came knocking.

  “Dumani?” He stopped me.

  “Yes?” I turned around.

  “Nothing, forget it. Go on inside.”

  It was the best night of my life and the beginning of the end.

  Chapter Three

  The local reports started coming in. The good Reverend was sick and so was everyone in his household. My first thoughts were of Judea. I didn't want him to die. My little brother Esau was the first one to cough in our house. He was moved to a cot in the barn. Because I was still being punished for refusing God’s blessing and lived above the barn anyway, I was volunteered to care for him. I knew it was because there was no husband to miss me when I died with him. Little Esau had stuff coming out of him from both ends. The smell. Dear God, the stench alone was enough to gag me. He wasted away quickly but his death was not easy. His fever raged no matter how much fever reducer I gave him or how much cold water I bathed him in. No one came to see him or to say goodbye when I told them he was fading. I was not allowed in the house so I yelled from the yard.

  After two days, my eleven-year-old sister Dianne was put out on the porch screaming for her mother and begging to be let back in. The same afternoon, they put my brothers Peter and Moses outside. They died one right after the other and usually within three days of becoming sick. I held them all in their last moments when they begged for their mothers. Father and his wives sent their sick children to the barn to die. Then, one day, the first wife was shoved outside kicking and screaming for my father. Titus and Father fought with fists when he wanted to take care of her himself. She was his mother and he wanted to be with her. He stayed in the house after Father pulled a gun on him. I bathed the first wife’s clammy face and poured droplets of cool water between her greased lips. It helped with the cracking and bleeding. She cried pitifully as the end neared. The dying woman said the ficklest thing.

  “The one I treated the worst is the only one here for me now.” She squeezed my hand weakly. She held my hand a lot in her last hours. “Thank you.” Then, she smiled at me and died.

  After the sickness ran through our place only four of us were left. Me, Father, Mother, and Titus. We bleached everything and I wasn’t allowed inside until Father was satisfied I wasn't sick. He aged twenty years in two weeks. That’s when he turned the old radio back on. There was still no signal. Father was mad with worry. He spent a lot of time in his bedroom drinking. Titus had to know how Jude fared. When he told me he was going to the Hamilton’s place to see who made it, I didn’t stop him. I didn’t warn him of the dangers or tell him not to go. I gave him my pistol and a bottle of water. I wanted to know too. Titus snuck out later that night. I waited nervously for word. I was worried about them both. My brother was gone for so long that I didn't think he was coming back. I was putting together a pack to go after him when he finally climbed in over the window sill. I would have cried in relief if it wasn’t a sin. I was so worried that I hugged my brother in welcome. Someone climbs in the window behind him. My airway closed. My heart finally stopped.

  “Judea!” I forgot my place and I hugged him too. I was so happy to see him that I risked a caning and I cried. I held on too long. I couldn’t let go. He was alive. He squeezed me tighter than anyone ever had in my life. Jude held on too long with me. He was worried about us.

  “Have you received word of Hannah and her mother?” Jude sounded grim as he asked about his future wife. I could still feel his arms squeezing me after he let go. I was in heaven inside of hell. Jude was alive.

  “No, and Father is desperate. He’s talking about going to Texas after them. The old man has lost his fucking mind. That bitch is a freak and he wants her back.”

  “He can't leave. It would be suicide. Unnecessary travel is banned. Public transportation is done for and all flights have been grounded forever because the airports were looted. I hear the roads are blocked with abandoned cars and dead bodies. There are scavengers killing people for food out there, or less. If the sickness doesn't get him, the scavengers will.”

  “He doesn't care. You know how he feels about his third wife. Not even the fear of death will keep him from going after her. What’s worse is he’s taking us with him.”

  “Who is us? How many of you are left?”

  “Just me, Duma, and her mother. He says the three of us can make it on horseback well-armed.”

  “That’s crazy! Why would he put her in that kind of danger? The church will need women when this is all over with.” Jude looked disgusted. His dark eyes swung to me and mine looked down at the ground.

  “Like I said, anything for Carol and Hannah.” Titus snorted.

  �
�They might already be dead. That is an impossible journey. You will never make it.”

  “I got a shovel to my belly for suggesting that very thing. He says Duma is the best shot in the house and we need her. Father made her nurse our sick as punishment for resisting the good Reverend’s blessing.”

  “He did what?”

  I could feel Jude’s midnight eyes on me. I could hear the anger in his voice.

  “He made her nurse our sick.”

  “And what did you do?” Jude demanded. Titus blushed with embarrassment.

  “What could I do?”

  “Take up for your sister, you coward. She didn’t get sick, did she?”

  “No, she held the little ones when they cried and came out fine.”

  “I was sick for the worst week of my life but I made it. I am the only one.”

  No wonder he looked so weak and felt so thin.

  “You can't let him take her Titus. The road is no place for Duma. The old man isn’t thinking rationally. He can’t take her out there.”

  “Father damn near lost his entire family, Jude. Losing his mind is the least of his problems right now. I figure if I am there I can keep an eye on her. Duma isn’t fragile like the others. She can fight as good as we can and she's smart. To be honest, I’ll feel safer with her along myself.”

  Jude looked ready to explode on my brother. His face was red and his fists were hard balls. Titus was afraid of dying. Why wouldn't he be? I was afraid too. I didn’t want to leave. Father was dragging us on a suicide mission to save people that we don't even like.

  “I never knew how weak you were, Titus Dare. Your sister has bigger balls than you do. You are nothing but a sniveling girl.”

  “Not everyone is meant to be the brave outlaw, Judea. I am not the spoiled preacher’s son who can drink, smoke, and fuck his father’s new wife!”

  “What does that have to do with anything? We are the same age and now she's dead, so it doesn't even matter! Did I tell anyone when you humped Temperance behind the silo?”

  “Titus, you didn't! Tell me that it isn't true!” I yell at him. My stomach threatened to empty itself all over the three of us. Titus shuffled nervously unable to look me in the eye.

  “It was one time. No one was supposed to know about it. I was fifteen years old!”

  “She’s our cousin! It is forbidden!” I was faint. My girdle felt tighter than it normally did. It was cutting off what little breath I could take.

  “I wasn't her first and it's not like I’m the only man in the church who did it.” He said defensively.

  “I haven't. I never fucked a family member. Father’s new wife is from Montana and no kin to me.” Jude was quick to say.

  “Because you are so perfect, right Jude? You are a real Saint, aren't you?”

  “Hell no. A Saint would offer to go along with you to Texas. A Saint would go after his wife. Well, fuck her. I am staying right here where I have all the food, water, and clean air that I can handle. It’ll be snowing soon and the roads will be blocked off for six months at least. By then, most of the population will be dead and hopefully the sickness with it.”

  “You talk all of this shit about not taking care of my women and you are turning your back on Hannah? She is your future wife and my sister!”

  “A wife that I never asked for! I don't want her! She was forced on me! I figured being the prettiest one she is probably still a virgin. Shadrach was saving Hannah for my father in exchange for a pretty, new wife. I did her a favor.” Jude hissed angrily.

  Father would give his left testicle for a new wife. He would’ve traded all his daughters for a virgin.

  “I think the commoners are right. Our people are perverse. Maybe it’s why I never fit in. Maybe I never will.” I said quietly. They looked at me like I said a swear word.

  “Don't be stupid, Duma. Where will you go? You won't make it out there alone.” Titus said laughing.

  “Who said anything about leaving? I am alone anyway so it will be no different. At least out there I won't be around a man who pokes his own family.”

  “Duma, what language. It isn't attractive. Especially coming from a girl who looks like you.”

  “Dumani, don't listen to him.” Jude tried to sugar it down. “He’s an asshole.”

  There was no sugaring it down. Titus cut me deep in front of Jude. I was speechless. I was ashamed. So, I ran away from them to seek out my room over the barn.

  “Duma! Come back!” Titus called after me. I kept going. It was Jude who came to me later that night before he went home. He said what he always said. You are not ugly. I should kick your brother’s ass. I hate this fucking barn. Then he left.

  Three days later, we mounted Father’s best horses before dawn. We were armed to the teeth and ready for war. My heart was racing. I’d never been beyond the borders of our town. I was afraid, but I was more excited than anything. As we rode away from the locked gate Father’s nastiest guard dogs paced back and forth on the other side in front of my sobbing mother. Father spent the night with her because he had no choice but when he kissed her goodbye the next morning and whispered into her ear, he did. Two killers loped beside us as we rode away. I wasn't coming back with them. I felt it in my gut like a sword. That would be the last time that I saw my home. It looks like the penitentiary from the outside. I was escaping my prison. I was leaving behind my love.

  We trotted down the highway at an easy gallop. We got maybe five miles when we heard riders approaching. Some of the men from our church were in a hurry to catch up. Jude was leading them on the good Reverend’s prized quarter horse. He approaches my father. I read his lips, the good Reverend is dead. Judea looks good on his horse. A horse no one was allowed within ten feet of when the Reverend was alive. They had three extra mounts with them. We brought two. He didn't say anything as they fell in with us. Neither did we. I felt relief all over my body. They upped our chances of survival by a hundred percent. Saints were prepared for doomsday. Guns, knives, swords, hand to hand combat, we were ready. I expected to see lots of horrible things after we left the north country. I expected to see roads clogged with abandoned cars with bodies still inside of them. I expected to see bloated corpses laying on the pavement. I expected to see a zombie movie. I was pleasantly disappointed. The roads were deserted. Not a car or person in sight. We stopped at noon that first day to rest the horses and let them graze on the tall grass in someone’s field. I sat off to the side while the men huddled over a map discussing the best routes to take. Women are not included in men’s conversations.

  “Duma! Bring water over here and a few sandwiches.” Father snapped. I hopped up as fast as I could.

  “Yes, Father!”

  I did his bidding head down and as quiet as a cloud before returning to my seat in the shade. It was hot. They were the last of the warm days in the north. Indian summer. It would take us eighty days to get to Texas and that wasn't counting any trouble that might come up. Our goal was to travel at least thirty miles a day. It doesn't sound like much but it beats walking. I don't know why they didn't drive. We would have been in Syracuse by then.

  “Duma! Water the horses and rub them down!” Father yelled.

  “Yes, Father!”

  It was no pleasure trip. I rubbed down all eleven horses and led them to drink. When I finally finished, I was sweating profusely. I barely got my canteen to my lips when Father called.

  “Time to ride out!” My heart fell. “We are making good time and I want to reach Tupper Lake by nightfall!”

  I mounted the first wife's horse and I rode behind the men. Not because I was slow, because it is a rule. A woman cannot ride side by side with a man. Not even her own husband. If there is only one horse, she walks. We rode without speaking. They said everything they needed to say at the last stop. I wondered why the three men were riding with us. I found out later they had women in the Texas church. Women pledged to marry them next year. With everyone dead, they needed those wives as bad as ever. That night, we cam
ped beside the lake under a clear sky.

  “Duma! Make coffee and tend to the horses.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  I am used to taking orders. I did as I was told and passed out the last of the sandwiches. None of the men acknowledge me. I sneak a sideways glance at Jude and he is staring off at something that isn't there. He’s lost in thought. I brush the horses and lead them to the lake to drink. I drink the cold water myself and wait for them to take their fill.

  “How are you doing?” A voice whispers. It's Jude and he’s eating one of my sandwiches.

  “You can't be here, Judea. Go away.” I look around nervously.

  “Be quiet or they might hear you. They are praying for their women and don't even know I left.” He says lazily.

  “I am fine, now go.”

  “You’ve been working pretty hard and you didn't eat anything today, Dumani.”

  “Look at me. Do you think I’m going to starve to death because I skipped lunch? Go away, I’m busy.”

  “You skipped supper too. It isn't about you starving to death. It’s about you falling out of your saddle from lack of energy.”

  His skin looked blue in the moonlight. His jet-black hair was falling into his face. Town girl’s fawned over Jude. I worshipped him. Because of him and his internet connection, I was tainted with outside influences and flooded with sinful feelings.

  “I’ll be fine.” I insisted.

  “Are you starving yourself to be skinny?”

  “Why, that is the dumbest thing I ever heard—”

  He shoved the rest of his sandwich into my open mouth and walked away. A sandwich he had in his own mouth not two seconds before. I ate it slowly. Father set a grueling pace on his quest for his third wife. It wasn't until we got closer to crossing Interstate 80 that I was finally touched by the disaster. That’s when the stench of death reached us. We came across people from time to time. Not people, emaciated shells of what they used to be. I will never forget the emptiness I saw in their eyes or the defeat they wore on their slumped shoulders. They were sad little groups of rag tags hiking out of the big east coast cities. Most of them hid from us as we rode by, some begged for scraps, a few begged to come with us. When a handful of bold men blocked our path with their bodies, Father and the men trampled right over them with their big horses.