Fire from Heaven

By Arlan Gerig

I sit up gasping, drenched in sweat. For the third time this week, I’ve awoken from nightmares of our city on fire. People screaming, houses exploding.

Each nightmare ends the same way—with blackened bodies staring at me from their smoldering graves.

I leave our bed to stare out the window with my oil lamp, peering into the early dawn.

“Tamar, come back to bed,” my lover calls.

I take a deep breath and shudder. I’m safer on the second story, away from the thieves, rapists, and murderers. Violence is a regular occurrence in Sodom, but a woman shouldn’t need a hidden dagger for protection whenever she goes out.

I stare at Lot’s house across the street. The riot last night was unbelievable. After Lot had invited two strangers into his house, all the men of the city had surrounded his property and demanded that he release the strangers to their sick, violent cravings. Lot refused.

Before the mob could mutilate Lot, the strangers pulled him into the house. The rioters went blind, stumbling around in confusion. Only gods could do that! The mob dispersed in the resulting melee—after a sizable number died from stabbings.

Now, in the dim light of morning, the lamps are lit in Lot’s window. His door opens and the gods exit, pulling out Lot, his wife, and their two daughters.

“You must hurry,” the first god says. “Take your family and flee to the mountains, or you’ll be caught in Sodom’s destruction.”

My body tenses. This sounds too much like my nightmares.

Lot peers into the street. “My house is here,” he murmurs.

The second god grips a wooden staff. “Their wickedness is an abomination. Last night should have convinced you there’s no other way.”

“You’d destroy the whole city?”

“All the men of the city were here last night. They tried to rape and murder us. They’ve rejected love, truth, and righteousness. Come.”

My hands shake. “Lot,” I call. “Will your gods really destroy Sodom?”

Their eyes all dart up and I shiver. I feel so weak before these strong, resolute gods.

“There’s only one true God,” the one holding the staff says. “We are his messengers. He has decreed Sodom’s destruction because of its evil.”

Pain is etched on Lot’s face. “Tamar, we’ve both talked about leaving Sodom, but talking is easier than doing, isn’t it? Come, leave the city with us.”

My fingers grasp the stone windowsill. “I… I can’t. My lover lives…”

My voice trails off. Am I willing to stay if it means dying with my loved ones?

The first messenger grasps Lot’s arm. “Test your heart, Tamar, but time is short.”

They depart. In the absence of the oil lamps, shadows darken the street.

It’s all so strange, and my head’s spinning. Could there be only one god? Sodom has many gods. Gods of war, land, sea, sun, and air, all fighting for dominance.

Fighting. Always fighting, never peace. The bodies in the street attest to that. I swallow. I left my husband to escape the bloodshed of Gomorrah, but Sodom is no better. Lot’s the only decent man I’ve met. If Lot’s god cares about him and will also rescue me from this corruption, how can I remain here?

I run to the bed and shake my lover. “Get up. We need to leave.”

He groans and yawns. “It’s too early. The market doesn’t open until the sun reaches the hilltops. Come back and sleep.”

The warm, soft sheets tempt me to forget this panic and these frenzied delusions.  Maybe it’s not me. Maybe Lot is the delusional one.

Yet the messengers were urgent. What if one god could destroy the city? It would be foolish to neglect their warnings and my nightmares. After all, I can always return if they’re wrong.

I ruffle my lover’s hair and remember—he had joined the mob at Lot’s house. My stomach is queasy, and I pull my hand back.

“I’m leaving.” I grab an extra cloak, my water skin, then slip out the door and down the familiar stone steps.

I step over a dead man covered in blood and jog along the empty streets. Lot and his family have disappeared. Am I too late? My fists clench, and I bolt past the city gates to the path leading up the mountain.

The climb is steep. I stop halfway to catch my breath, sweating from the risen sun and exertion. I peer at the city. Sodom looks very small up here, as does Gomorrah farther off. I gulp from my water skin and sit on a rock to rest.

Fire a hundred times brighter than the sun fills the sky. It coalesces into a large ball of flame and roars onto Sodom. The deafening blast shakes the ground and consumes everything.

I shield my eyes from the light and heat, choking on thick smoke and burning sulfur. When I look back, black fog fills the sky. Sodom is now a burning crater, and Gomorrah fares no better. The fireball consumed everything.

I tremble uncontrollably. My lover, husband, family, and friends are gone. They’re all gone.

I sob and wail until the sun peeks through the acrid smoke and dying flames. It’s mocking me. Sodom and Gomorrah are destroyed, and it rises and sets as it has always done since the beginning of time.

But it also offers hope. I’m still alive. The mountain is still green. Trees still have leaves. Birds and squirrels emerge in the grim stillness.

I wipe away my tears, cough from the smoke, and stand. Heaving my water skin over my shoulder, I trudge along the dirt path to the other side of the mountain.

Perhaps Lot went this way. There are green grasses and thriving farms in the valley. The cattle bellow, and their pungent scent drifts on the breeze. I can’t easily forget what I’ve lost, but I’m determined to make a better future.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Arlan Gerig has stories published in Havok, Every Day Fiction, and the Animal Kingdom anthology. Arlan recently fulfilled a goal: a Bahamas mission trip to help Haitian refugees. When he’s not reading a great book, writing flash fiction, or bringing wizard apprentice Gwynfar to life in a YA fantasy novel, Arlan enjoys walking his two pit mixes around his Ohio neighborhood.

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