The Barbarian spoke to his black-robed friend. ‘Eliezer, Oh Prophet of Damascus, do you foresee anything good in our future?’ His words were eloquent. Despite the fact that he was a near-naked giant wearing a scrap of camel hide to protect his privates, Litvin was highly educated.
Eliezer lifted both arms towards the heavens and intoned, ‘Abram, true believer of the one –’ he mumbled a word that vaguely sounded like Adonai – ‘I’ve come to tell you that Sodom is doomed.’ Beneath the black hood, his eyes glazed. A drop of moisture slinked from his lips. ‘I have seen visions that give me no rest. Sodom is filled with debauchery that turns people into monsters as if born from some other place, far far away beyond the stars. Bordellos filled with madams and idolators, the slaying of innocents, the worship of chopped livers and pickled tongues. I tell you, these people are insane. They fight all night about Seth and Horus, and they hack each other to death and set themselves on fire.’
‘But,’ Lot interjected in a soft voice, ‘what have you come to prophesise to us? Aren’t all these things going on right now before our very eyes?’
‘Yes, but I have Litvin with me for a reason. You see –’ Eliezer trembled, then clutched his chest. He staggered and Lot eased him to a rock, where he sat and collected his wits.
Uncle Abe certainly had weird friends; but then again, thought Lot, what would you expect from a 99-year-old hell-raising idol-smashing camel-rodeo wino?
‘Listen,’ said Abe, ‘the Prophet Eliezer has been telling me for weeks that Adonai is going to wipe out Sodom with violent winds, hailstorms, fire blasts from the sky, sulphuric flames shooting from the earth, and if you thought the Ark flood was bad, there’s going to be a flood here, too, and it’s going to be a killer –’
Eliezer’s voice rose to a wail, ‘– hail and fire and sulphuric flames and floods! And the almighty Adonai will split the earth in quake after quake and consume every man, woman, and child, every insectoid and tentacled nail creature in Sodom! I have seen it, and it will be so. Tonight.”’ He sank back, as if exhausted, and shut his eyes. Prophesizing must be exhausting work, thought Lot.
‘Get my staff,’ said Uncle Abe. ‘Lot, you take Litvin and go to Sodom. Destroy whatever’s taken over the city, causing Adonai such headaches. I want you to kill it. Do you understand?’
‘Kill?’ said Lot. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Very,’ said Abe. ‘If there are a hundred innocent people in there, get them out before the place blows.’
‘And if there are only fifty?’
‘Well, get them out.’
Eliezer piped up. ‘You may not find even one innocent, ethical, moral person in all of Sodom.’
‘Not even a baby?’ asked Lot.
‘Even their babies are corrupt,’ said Eliezer.
Lot had his doubts, but he always did what Uncle Abe told him to do. So he let his wife know that he wouldn’t be home that night and he set off with Litvin down the hill towards Sodom. Lot had a few weapons on him. He had Uncle Abe’s staff as well as a slingshot and spear. Litvin the Barbarian had so many weapons strapped to his body that Lot didn’t bother to tally them. He knew that, in the end, all Litvin needed was his physical strength.
At the city gates, two guards stopped Lot and Litvin and asked to see identification tattoos. Lot was mesmerised by their faces, or rather, lack of faces. Litvin smashed a club into what passed for voice holes surrounded by red fur, and both guards went down, their shrieks fading into the general Sodomic racket. Tentacles flailed, then twitched, then stopped. Lot and Litvin stepped over fleshy tumours and tentacles splayed like tangled hair across the sand.
All was mayhem in Sodom. Naked people shouted obscenities and dashed from shop to shop. Vendors raced after them, demanding payment. Camels reared up and crushed people beneath their hooves. A herd of donkeys riding camels riding gigantic formless creatures zipped past Lot on slate-like rollers.
Lot didn’t know where to start the attack. How could they find whatever was causing the Sodomic calamities and stop it before tonight? It seemed impossible.
A half-female thing, part human and part rodent, threw herself at Litvin. Something jerked Lot’s arm and a weasel the size of a small child ran into the throng of merrymakers, and with it went Uncle Abe’s staff.
Lot was about to dash after the thief when Litvin tossed the human-rodent into a pile of scarves, paused, squinted, and said, ‘Lot, isn’t that your wife?’
‘Excuse me?’
Litvin pointed a finger with more muscles in it than Lot had in his right arm. ‘Over there, buying scarves, I think.’
Lot peered past the green men dotted with pock marks. Hair the colour of fire and eyes like almonds: his wife. She looped a shimmering scarf over her shoulders and swivelled, admiring the way the fabric clung to her curves.
What in the name of the nameless Almighty One was she doing here?
He shoved his way past the pock-marked creatures and grabbed his wife – she who had never been named by her parents, though Lot and Abram had often considered calling her Sheba or Edith. ‘What are you doing? Go back to the tent!’
She pouted. ‘I won’t. I slipped in after you, and I’m staying. Why should you have all the fun?’
‘You call this fun? Are you crazy?’
She took his hand and made him fondle the scarf draped over her chest. She was a handful, Lot had to admit, and this had been one reason he’d married her. There weren’t many feisty girls among the tent-dwellers. Because his wife had no given name, when they made love, Lot sometimes screamed Osiris, which would wake up Abe, and the old man would start screaming about idols and shaking his fists.
Was that a tentacle he saw growing on her neck? He moved closer and gently touched her. Yes, it was a small growth, as long as a fingernail and as wide as a vein. He pulled back, and clenched his fists. Then he ripped the alien scarf off his wife, spun her around, and shoved her toward the gates of Sodom. ‘Get out of here. I’m telling you, this place is going to blow! Go home!’
‘No!’ She struggled in his grasp, squirmed to get free, beat him with her fists. Crying now, begging to stay and watch the orgies over there, past the stalls of tref, the pig’s feet and cheesy meats and lamb cooked in mother’s milk.
Lot didn’t have time for his wife’s nonsense. He drew his spear. ‘Go! I won’t argue with thee, woman!’
She knew he meant business. He referred to her as ‘thee’ only when he was furious. She gasped, eyes wide, then ran into the crowd toward the city gates. Lot could only hope she would do as he said, go back to the tent where it was safe with Abram and protect their daughters.
Meanwhile, he had work to do with Litvin, who was battling several insectoids twice his height and four times his width. Lot drove his spear into one of the creatures, and blood the colour of the night sky spilled out. He grabbed the spear with both hands and yanked it from the thick hide, then drove it back into the creature, which squealed and spun black threads around Lot’s body, no doubt trying to pin his arms to his sides. Overhead, the sky shook. Beneath him, the ground trembled. He could feel it: time was running out.
Lot leapt into the air, raised both of his feet and slammed them into the creature where its many legs sprouted from its flabby midriff. The thing staggered back, midriff jiggling, and a keening rose around Lot as a multitude of things closed in on him, angry.
Litvin was hacking at the creatures with his weapons – Lot saw blades and saws and clubs of all dimensions – and he lifted one by the throat and threw it into a group of goat-humans wrestling in a pit of wet sand. The girls, as Lot assumed they were from their slinky garments, bleated and scrambled on all fours from the pit, back hooves slipping, front hooves wrenching them up.
Litvin’s creature landed with a loud thud and squealed. Geysers of wet sand erupted from the pit and doused dozens of goat-men waving money and hollering bets. Uncle Abe’s friend was right. Sodom was a hell hole.
But Lot didn’t have time to think past the simple c
onclusion that Eliezer was right, that even their babies were probably corrupt. His spear broke in the paws of a Sodomic male, and in that moment, Litvin the Barbarian raced head-first into the beast and slammed his skull into its rightmost arm. Two paws opened and six remained closed, but the two that opened dropped Lot’s broken spear. Litvin’s head was thicker than a boulder, and his aim was dead on.
As the Sodomites paused, apparently stunned that a mere human could fight them, Lot and Litvin dashed down the road and ducked behind a stall of fermented cactus fruits. They knocked the owner aside, and in a tangle of horns and nostrils and hair, the thing fell to the sand, clutching a fruit. Breathing heavily, Lot and Litvin pulled open a door behind the stall and slipped into a dark building made from hardened clay. The noise was less fierce inside, a relief.
‘What causes such madness?’ Litvin wiped the sweat from his eyes. ‘Where do you think those creatures come from?’
Lot considered. Of all the things in this world without names, the creatures of Sodom were the strangest. He’d always thought Uncle Abe was weird. He’d always wanted to leave the tribe and live in a big city, maybe Babylon. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Maybe Uncle Abe was the sane one, and maybe big city life wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
‘I don’t know where the Sodomites come from,’ he said. ‘Perhaps they come from afar, the other side of the sky or the depths of the ocean. Or perhaps they come when people worship idols. Perhaps Uncle Abe knows what he’s doing.’
At that moment, the door opened and slammed against the wall, and light shot through the darkness. Something reeking of overripe cactus fruits staggered inside, leaned over, and thrust twelve horns into the hallway.
‘The owner of the stall,’ whispered Lot.
Litvin gestured towards the rear of the building. Lot nodded, yes, and followed Litvin down the hall, clutching at mud walls caked in slime. The cactus owner grunted, and as Lot and Litvin rounded one corner and then another, Lot heard its horns raking the walls farther and farther behind them.
It was hard for Lot to see anything. He groped his way along the walls, continuing to follow Litvin. The Sodomic noise grew dimmer, and the air grew thick and rank with mould laced with the sting of salt. Mice skittered underfoot.
Suddenly, Litvin paused, holding both arms out to block Lot.
‘What is it?’ whispered Lot.
‘Stairs. They lead down. You game, or should I go alone?’
‘Well, I’m not going to stay here alone,’ said Lot. ‘So I guess I’m coming along.’
‘Then be careful.’
‘Obviously. Come on, let’s go, Shmuel, before that horned guy catches up.’
Litvin bristled. ‘Don’t ever call me that.’
‘Then don’t call me a wuss,’ said Lot.
Litvin’s given name was Shmuel Litvin ben Shlomo ben Shmuel ben Shneur ben Shmuel. Lot only used it when Litvin insulted his intelligence or physical prowess.
‘Fine. So I was worried about you. Big deal. Listen, we’re wasting time.’ Litvin gripped both sides of the staircase and started his descent.
They moved slowly, unable to see anything in the dark. Down, down they went, deeper and deeper beneath Sodom. Lot must have counted two hundreds stairs, maybe more, before they reached bottom and the stairs gave way to uneven floor.
The salty odour grew as the mould subsided. Their feet crunched over what felt like tiny rocks. Must be salt, thought Lot. The walls were coated with the stuff and rough beneath his fingers.
The passageway narrowed, and the ceiling shrank down, lower and lower. They were in a tunnel made entirely of salt. Lot got on his hands and knees, crawling behind Litvin.
Jagged salt formations jutted from the floor and walls, and cut into his flesh. What was a little blood, a tiny sting, a gash here and there? Lot had endured much worse. He crawled on, ignoring the pain.
Finally, light filtered into the tunnel from ahead and cast green whorls upon the salt, which sparkled everywhere with an eerie sheen. The tunnel opened into a cavern.
Litvin scrabbled to his feet and looked around him with a stunned expression. Lot stood, and he couldn’t help himself: he gasped.
On the cavern walls, green lanterns illuminated paintings of Sodomic creatures. The furniture was strange, nothing like city furniture, much less the boulders of Uncle Abe’s tribe. Built from salt and unknown glowing materials, the chairs were tiny, stood on eight legs, and were curved to hold what Lot could only think of as spheres, and in some cases, bizarre geometric shapes for which – no surprise here – Lot had no names. Miniature tables held metal cylinders and boxes made from bark-like material.
The ceiling, a domed lattice, was as high as the mountains where the goats grazed. Cables and metallic objects dangled from the lattice grids.
Litvin the Barbarian smashed his club into one of the tables, which splintered and broke. He then smashed a metal cylinder, which oozed purple across the salt floor. The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Litvin raced to a tunnel on the cavern’s left side and slipped into it. Lot followed and they squeezed through the tunnel, which twisted left then right then left again; and then dipped down, up, and now down again. An awful smell, like that of rotten eggs, filled the air. By the time they reached the tunnel’s end, Lot’s eyes burned with salt and his hair was encrusted with it, but he barely noticed. He was here to kill whatever had taken over Sodom. He was here on official business, that of Abe and Adonai.
He still didn’t know how they were going to do it. Litvin was good at hand-to-hand combat. He could slay dozens of Sodomites within minutes. But Litvin couldn’t take on thousands of them at once and shut down the city.
‘What do you think we should do?’ said Litvin.
Lot peered around the cavern, which was illuminated by torches and as big as Sodom itself. Like desert dunes, mounds of yellow rock stretched across the floor as far as Lot could see. Weird metal contraptions hulked along the walls like sleeping beasts, their limbs stretching into the ceiling and beyond.
Suddenly, Lot understood. A glimmer of comprehension, really, not the full meaning of the Sodomites, where they came from, who they were and what they wanted with humans. But he understood enough to know what he and Litvin had to do. ‘We’re looking at something not of this world,’ he said. ‘The wild and lascivious creatures of Sodom aren’t human. They’re of another time and place.’
‘Perhaps from the stars?’
‘Perhaps. I believe this yellow rock is what got them here, and these giant metal contraptions, they are clearly alien.’
He remembered Uncle Abe’s words: ‘If there are a hundred innocent people in there, get them out before the place blows.’
Before the place blows.
And the prophet Eliezer had insisted, ‘You may not find even one innocent, ethical, moral person in all of Sodom.’
Eliezer was never wrong. Never. And this time it was because there were no people in Sodom.
‘Shove the yellow rocks into the metal things,’ Lot said.
Litvin nodded, apparently guessing what Lot wanted to do. They were going to blow this joint straight to the heavens.
With Litvin’s muscles, it didn’t take long to fill twenty of the metal contraptions with rock. Then, racing through the cavern, Lot and Litvin snatched torches from the walls and threw them into the contraptions.
‘Run!’ yelled Lot.
But he didn’t need to tell Litvin to run, because the other man was already half-squeezed into the tunnel leading out.
Blue fire flamed behind them. The yellow rock melted into a blood-red ooze. Lot held his breath, as the rotten smell intensified in billows of blue smoke.
Chased by roiling malodorous smoke, they raced through the underground maze as quickly as they could. They slammed from the door into the streets of Sodom, smoke lacing the air, lashing the creatures like whips. All around them, the alien Sodomites shrieked with glee, ate tref tentacles, drank goat’s milk with lamb’s meat, and rolled to
gether in the sand. They were still making merry, oblivious to their impending doom.
Many minutes later, far outside the city and high on the mountain, Litvin stood with his feet wide apart and his hands on his waist. Lot sank to a boulder, panting.
And now a boom!
Lot looked up. Then he slowly rose, barely able to grasp what he was seeing.
Fireballs blasted from Sodom, sending mud buildings into the sky along with green flesh and fat. The beasts shrieked, this time in pain as their bodies exploded to bits. Blue smoke billowed high into the clouds, and then a tidal wave of blood-red liquid rose from the edge of the city and crashed down. As the wave hit the ground and as the buildings smashed down, a violent wind shook the mountain, and then the sky opened and hurled balls of ice upon the ruins of Sodom.
About halfway up the mountain, Lot’s wife staggered in blue smoke, dozens of alien scarves wrapped around her neck and body. She gestured wildly and screamed something that Lot couldn’t hear, then turned; and a blast of blue hit her and receded, rolling back down the hill.
His wife – his nameless wife – stood like a salt statue, but only for a moment, and then she crumbled to dust.
It couldn’t be, and why had she remained behind for so long? Why hadn’t she listened to Lot when he told her to hurry back to Abe’s tent? Why had she stayed for a pile of scarves? Or had she wanted more from life? Perhaps the allure of Sodom and its debauchery was too much for his poor tent-dwelling wife to resist. After all, Lot had always dreamed of finding himself and feeling free in Babylon or Ur.
Lot cried out, but Litvin grabbed his arm and wouldn’t let him run down the incline. ‘It’s too late,’ he said. ‘Let it be - there’s nothing you can do.’
And so it was, for the city of Sodom caved in, just sank into itself, it seemed, and a wash of water gurgled and then flooded the deep crater Sodom left behind. Quakes, floods, flames, hail, fire, smoke, the death of all aliens.
It was as Uncle Abe and Eliezer predicted.
This Adonai was powerful and not to be messed with.
By the pile of dust that had been his wife was the sign pointing to Ur. It creaked and wobbled, and as it fell, a blast of wind ripped off the Help Wanted ads, which disappeared into a cloud of alien smoke.
Jews vs Aliens Page 11