The Yuge Wall of Jina: It's Fully Loaded (The Face Palm Chronicles Book 2)

by Jaid Black

  “Well you’ve now lived to hear it all, Angus.” I looked him over—and saw him for what he truly was. “How old are you anyway?” My forehead crinkled. “In a country where men are lucky to reach age fifty, you’re nearing a hundred. Give or take a decade. How’s that possible?”

  Angus’ mottled face told me all I needed to know. Once again, Snow had been right. I truly was the brainwashed one. Men like me did all the hard work in Trumpgolia, while men who’d done nothing more than win the birth lottery reaped all that work’s benefits. The realization sent my world spinning, but I was careful not to betray a single emotion.

  “Our newly brides already ended the filibuster of their own choosing,” I informed Angus and Paul Davis Ryan IV. The expressions on their faces would have made me smile were I the type to do such. “You’re too late. Our newly brides are now our newly wives.”

  “And I must say it was worth the wait,” Gowdy chimed in. His dreamy sigh was that of a man in love. “Hillary’s probably pregnant with a little Gowdy as I speak.”

  “I-I don’t believe you,” my namesake’s namesake stammered out. “I want to hear it from the commie libtards!”

  “Umm… excuse me,” Gowdy corrected. “Our newly wives is socialmust demercats.”

  I grunted. “Socialist democrats,” I corrected.

  “That too,” Gowdy said. “Now here’s the deal, Mr. Pretty Boy…”

  Angus and Paul Davis Ryan IV gawked at Gowdy. I, on the other hand, had to conceal the beginnings of a smile.

  “Ain’t no man—especially no richy—so much as looking at our wives much less speaking to ‘em.” Gowdy sliced his hand through the air. “That there is the position I have prevaricated upon y’all. Now, unless y’alls here to challenge us to a patriot’s fight to the death then it’s time to leave.”

  Pence nodded. I folded my arms across my chest.

  “I do not partake in barbaric blood sport,” Paul Davis Ryan IV sniffed. “However, I do partake in lawsuits. Expect my legal team to tear you to pieces! I don’t care if these marriages have been consummated. No lowly military grunt will have a better looking wife than the one I’ll be divorcing as soon as Snowflake is handed over to me.”

  A tic started to work in my cheek. Angus—a damn preacher!—failed to speak up and argue that the sanctity of marriage was not for the courts to intervene in. Needless to say, it was the final straw. I was already wound tighter than a drum; now it was all I could do to keep from killing both of the frauds where they stood.

  “Court sounds good too,” I said softly. Even I could hear the underlying menace in my tone. “I guess you forgot Gowdy here is Trumpgolia’s number one witch-hunter. I love watching him work. It’s a thing of fuckin’ beauty.”

  “I appreciate that,” Gowdy said. He cracked his knuckles. “I love workin’ the crowd up.”

  “He’s that Gowdy?” I heard Paul Davis Ryan IV mutter to Angus.

  “I fear so,” Angus whispered back.

  My patience officially reached its limits. “You’re boring me,” I told Pretty Boy IV. “Three choices and only three choices exist for you. One, challenge me to a patriot’s fight to the death. Two, challenge Gowdy in court. Or three, get the fuck out of here and never come back.” My jaw clenched. “Make your choice and do it quickly.”

  Paul Davis Ryan IV stared at me with unmistakable hatred. “I’m leaving—for now. But you haven’t heard the last from me.” He smiled without humor. “Oh and another thing?”

  I quirked one uninterested eyebrow.

  “Expect to say goodbye to this house first thing in the morning.” He chuckled. “We’ll see how long your wives wish to remain married to you after they’ve lived in the caves for a day or two. Hell, an hour should suffice!”

  I glanced at Angus. “We’ve been discharged from the military then, Judas?”

  “Now I say!” Angus sputtered. “I ain’t no Judas! I’m a God fearing man who follows the rules of Trumpgolia. Y’all three wouldn’t have been discharged had you followed the rules as well.”

  There was no misinterpreting my utter disdain for the man I’d once trusted. “I know what you did,” I murmured.

  The professor-preacher was visibly shaken. He’d been caught off guard. Good.

  “We’ll be gone by week’s end,” I said. “Not tomorrow… week’s end.”

  “You’ll be gone tomorrow!” Paul Davis Ryan IV swore. Clearly, he’d never been told no in his life.

  “Week’s end,” I repeated. I arched one eyebrow. “Unless you’d like my wife to get on TV and tell all of Trumpgolia how she picked the caves over your slimy ass.”

  I returned his stare of promised retribution with one of my own. The stand-off didn’t last long.

  “Fine,” Pretty Boy IV ground out. “Week’s end. Angus? Let’s go.”

  Chapter 12: She Said

  One Night Later

  “I don’t know about this,” Gowdy whispered. “We might be best off in the caves.”

  “I’m not living in a damn cave!” Hillary hissed back.

  “What if I make for a bad commie libtard?”

  “Socialist democrat!”

  “See!” Gowdy put a hand to his forehead. “I’m already a bad commie libtard.”

  As the six of us stood in the thick of the forest just outside of Ivankaville, I couldn’t help but grin as I watched Hills try to reassure Gowdy.

  “You offered to let me leave without you so I’d be okay,” Hillary whispered.

  “I didn’t want to—”

  “—But you did.” She smiled. “And that’s when I knew I could never leave you behind.”

  Gowdy hesitated, but listened.

  “Yes, this’ll be a big change for you. Yes, it will probably confuse you. But only at first. You’ll get used to our ways. And,” she said pointedly, “you deserve to experience true freedom and a long, healthy life.”

  “You ain’t gonna try to leave me?”

  Hillary sighed. “I wouldn’t have brought you just to leave you!”

  I looked up at Paul Ryan. I could easily surmise he was experiencing emotions similar to Gowdy’s. “Same,” I murmured. “I wouldn’t have brought you just to leave you.”

  Paul Ryan stared down at me for a long moment, his gaze searching my face. Finally, he inclined his head. “I just don’t want to be an embarrassment to you.”

  With that face and body? Hell, forget the superficial…

  “It’s easy to defend the only status quo we’ve ever known,” I said seriously. “That holds true for all of us—not just for you, Gowdy, and Pence.” I wasn’t overstating the case. True intelligence was a hallmark of accepting ‘what is’ only after you’d questioned all possibilities and still found your way of life defendable. “You’re brave and courageous in a way I’ve never seen before. I mean that.”

  I could have sworn I saw the beginnings of a blush on Paul Ryan’s face, but my eyes could only adjust so much to nighttime conditions. We were too close to the wall for even the moon to peek through and provide some light.

  “Embarrassment isn’t possible,” I promised. “Any man willing to fight to the death over me is a definite keeper.” I grinned, hoping to lighten the mood. His semi-smile not only confirmed I’d achieved my goal, but somehow it also made me feel better. I realized the metaphorical journey ahead of us would be long, but Paul Ryan was up to the task. “You’ll be the talk of NSA when that information gets out.”

  “And I’ll make sure it gets out,” Warren chimed in.

  My eyebrows rose. “She’s an award-winning journalist for the New York Times. I have a feeling she’ll soon be a Pulitzer-winning journalist for said media.”

  “What does that even mean?” Pence whispered.

  “I’ll explain it later,” Warren told him. “Like once we’re on the other side of this damn wall and officially safe from those Trumpgolian monsters.”

  I took a deep breath as I peered through the opening in the Yuge Wall of Jina. There it was… the exact spo
t I’d been taken from. Once upon a time I thought that grassy knoll was where my life had ended. Through a strange twist of fate, I now saw it as where my life began.

  Unbelievable as it was, Paul Ryan was turning out to be the yin to my yang—or vice versa; I recognized the strength in that. We were similar in all the ways that mattered, like honesty, loyalty, and the like. Our differences were equally notable, yet somehow they worked together well. I wasn’t quite ready to admit I felt an esoteric emotion like love for him, but I suspected even that would happen on the sooner side of things.

  “Let’s do this,” I said in hushed tones, turning back to Paul Ryan. “Put down your weapons and check your pockets to make sure you haven’t forgotten any of them.” I frowned at his hesitation. “I get it—it’s like being naked to you—but I don’t want you sizzled right in front of me.”

  He semi-grinned. “How come you always know what I’m thinking?”

  “Yin and yang.”

  “Huh?”

  “She’ll explain it later.” This from both Warren and Hillary.

  The sound of dogs barking in the distance allowed for no further vacillations. “They’re catching up,” I whispered. “Please trust me, Paul Ryan. Please.”

  He stared at me for a moment, then inclined his head. “I do trust you.”

  It took a full thirty seconds for the men to drop all their weapons. Who knew they had so many on them? I saw Hillary pat down Gowdy, frowning when she found a knife.

  “This could sizzle you!” she chided.

  “A knife?”

  “Yes!”

  Paul Ryan and Pence sighed. Roughly ten more knives hit the ground. I would have gawked, but the sound of barking dogs was growing uncomfortably closer.

  “Is everyone weaponless?” I asked in a hurried whisper.

  Three yesses followed.

  My heart began to race. “Let’s do this,” I breathed out. “Welcome to a new and I daresay far superior life.”

  Paul Ryan grabbed my hand. “I’m ready.” He blew out a breath. “I dunno what the hell is gonna happen, but I’m ready.”

  Our gang of six made its way through the wall and past the invisible shield. The shield might not have been perceptible to the naked eye, but it sent a mild tingling sensation through our bodies as we crossed beyond it.

  The dogs could bark all they wanted. We were officially home and victoriously safe.

  “Umm, Snow…?” Hillary peeped.

  “Yeah?”

  “Look at the wall.”

  I turned on my heel, as did Paul Ryan, in time to watch the hole seemingly close itself off. I gaped at Hillary. If she couldn’t explain it, I damn sure couldn’t.

  Lights flicked on, bathing the night sky in a dreamy golden hue. I turned around and saw several scientists and—was that the president of NSA?!—watching us.

  “Thank God,” President Mueller breathed out. “I thought the six of you would never shut up! Another minute and you could have been dogfood.”

  “You knew we were coming?” I asked.

  “I promised your parents I’d find a way and so I did.” She pointed to a place above the wall. “Invisible drone hunters. Our scientists made them to pinpoint your location and retrieve you,” the president explained. “They picked up the scent of your DNA—as well as six additional, unidentified DNAs—about two hours ago. Long story short, you’re safe. Short story long, our drones must have malfunctioned because I see only three people whose DNA isn’t yet registered in the NSA database.”

  I wrinkled my nose at that. “There’s definitely only three Cro-MAGAnon males with us.”

  One of the scientists whispered something into the president’s ear. She smiled and nodded. Hillary, Warren, and I shared a confused look.

  “Apparently the drones were not malfunctioning,” President Mueller informed us.

  “Oh my God.” Warren looked ready to faint. “I knew it! These guys are too big and muscular to be human.” She grabbed her own throat. “Each of them are two men fused together, aren’t they? Oh my God!”

  My gaze flew to Paul Ryan. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’m going with the machines malfunctioned.”

  The president’s soft chuckle gained all of our attention.

  “I’m a mutant?” Gowdy asked. “A bigly mutant?”

  The president waved away his worry. “No, dear. You’re a normal male.”

  “Well,” Hillary, Warren, and I said simultaneously. “Normal…”

  Hillary smiled at Gowdy. “Relatively speaking, honey.”

  “I don’t quite get what you mean,” Gowdy said.

  Hillary patted his hand. “It’s all good.”

  “If the machines didn’t malfunction then where are the three DNA thingies?” Paul Ryan asked the president.

  “Inside Snow, Hillary, and Warren.”

  A familiar garbled sound quickly emanated from Warren’s throat. “The disease-ridden land of Trumpgolia turned us into mutants,” she said, swaying on her feet. Pence reached out to steady her. “We’re going to grow two heads.”

  I gasped. Hillary looked like she might succumb to a fainting spell herself. Paul Ryan reached out to steady me at the same time Gowdy reached for Hillary.

  “It ain’t nothing, my sexy hot chocolate.” Gowdy gave one emphatic nod. “I will still get wood looking at both your heads.”

  Hillary burst into tears. “Oh my God!”

  “What is everyone going on about?” President Mueller said, frowning. Her no-nonsense attitude reminded me of Paul Ryan. “All three of you have embryos inside of you, for the love of science!” Her sharp words were in contrast to her bemused expression. “You’re all pregnant. One day pregnant to be exact.”

  Paul Ryan, Gowdy, and Pence roared out their jubilation. They cheered, hooted, and hollered. Pence even did a handstand.

  All I could do was gawk. My mouth worked up and down but no words came out. Luckily, Warren hadn’t passed out yet. “We’re inoculated!” she shouted. “We can’t be pregnant so we’re definitely growing two heads!”

  “Are the three males accompanying you inoculated?” the leader asked in a matronizing tone.

  We women had the good grace to blush before answering in unison. “No.”

  Okay so we’d forgotten that part. After everything we’d been through, however, I was in no mood to be judged. “You have no idea what kind of stuff we saw in Trumpgolia so don’t assaunge us!” I sniffed. “There’s all kinds of mutated shit over the wall.”

  President Mueller visibly shuddered. “Point taken.” She hesitated as an apparently intriguing realization dawned on her. “Your brain scans will prove interesting,” she murmured. Her expression, that of someone mentally working through various scenarios, lingered for a long pause.

  “Umm, Madam President?” I softly inquired. “No offense, but we’re tired, hungry, traumatized, and want to go home.”

  She blinked. Clearing her throat, she returned to the matter at hand. “Yes, of course. We can deal with the particulars later. Besides, I know three sets of Normal American parents who are about to receive the best news of their lives!”

  The men finally calmed down enough about their impending fatherhoods to rejoin the conversation. I could feel Paul Ryan’s steady heartbeat against my back. I knew he was excited about our fertilized egg. I could also tell by his massive boner against my backside that he was eager to celebrate.

  “Welcome home, citizens,” President Mueller said to Hillary, Warren, and me. Her expression was soft and genuine. “You have been missed.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We appreciate your affirmation.”

  “There’s no place like home!”

  President Mueller inclined her head. “Indeed.” She at last looked at our men. Her gaze raked them over from head to toe. “I take it we have three male refugees to welcome as well?”

  “Husbands,” Hillary corrected. “They are our husbands.”

  The leader smiled. “Excellent,” Pr
esident Mueller remarked, lighting up a medicinal bong. Hillary, Warren, and I all but drooled as we watched her inhale, hold, and exhale. “I fucking hate virtual paperwork.”

  About The Author

  Jaid Black is a USA Today bestselling author of adult fiction. She has been featured in every major news outlet from The Los Angeles Times and Publisher's Weekly to Forbes, Salon, and Time magazine. Additionally, she also writes nonfiction under her birth name, Tina Engler. Visit jaidblack.com to view her entire catalog.