Lot shook his head. “No. God provides guidance. He rewards the good and punishes the wicked. He doesn’t magically wave His hand and turn the sinner into a pious man. If that were His desire, He would have done so already and there’d be no wickedness in this land. The fact there is, is proof that God is judging us when we face Him on our deathbeds. He wants men to look after themselves, to make the right decisions, the good decisions, and to take their own actions against those who would do evil. I believe all men can easily be led astray, especially when they have no example to follow, like here in Sodom. I think you’d be hard-pressed to find fifty good men, pure of heart, among the denizens of this city.” He grunted. “In fact, I think you’d be hard-pressed to find ten.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Oh, it’s not all that bad. I know there’s one good soul in this house. Surely there are more within a city so large.”

  He smiled weakly at her. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it? My own wife believes that surely there are ten good people within this city as if that’s a good thing. Just ten. There should be thousands. The majority of people here should be good, yet here we are talking about ten.”

  She withdrew her hand, offended. “And would you include me in that ten?”

  “Of course. But when we die and are judged worthy, will we spend eternity together, alone, with none of our neighbors to share it with?”

  “This is so depressing. Why must we talk of this every day?”

  “Because it’s important, but you’re right, enough of such talk. We must discuss business affairs for a moment. Canaan was in today asking when the vase he commissioned would be ready.”

  Idit smiled and rose. “I finished it earlier today. I merely need to fire it. Do you want to see it?”

  “Of course, you know how much pleasure it brings me to see the fruits of my wife’s artistic labors.”

  She headed into her workshop at the back of their small home and reappeared, rolling the vase on its bottom lip, the earthenware vessel he had crafted for her to paint a large one about shoulder height on a full-grown man. She put it by the fire, the dancing flames revealing her intricate artwork. They sold earthenware goods. It was a family business inherited from his wife’s family, handed down for generations. Bowls, pitchers, carafes, vases, urns, anything that could be made and fired in a kiln were on offer.

  It was a respectable profession that barely provided for their family, but things had taken a turn for the better since they began offering custom work that went beyond form and function. His wife was a brilliant artist, and it was one of the things that had attracted him to her. Anybody who could create things so beautiful had to have a kind soul. Her work was in high demand and was improving their station with each commission, but as he gazed upon the artwork, his chest tightened, his stomach churned, and his jaw dropped.

  “What villainy is this?”

  Her eyes shot wide. “What, you don’t like it?”

  “Like it? It disgusts me!” He slowly circled the vase so he could see the entire creation filled with debauchery. Men and women writhing in passion and pain, the details graphic, intimate, with nothing left to the imagination. “How could you paint something like this?”

  She shrugged. “That was the job. He described exactly what he wanted, so I created what he wanted. You don’t like it?”

  “Of course I don’t like it. This is exactly what I’ve been talking about! This glorifies the sin that consumes Sodom.”

  She sat back down, folding her arms. “You knew what the commission was, yet you took it. He said he wanted to immortalize a party at his home.”

  Lot threw his hand at the vase. “He never said anything about this!”

  “Not to you, but when I took the commission, I spoke with him about the party. He described an orgy that had taken place at his home the week before. He even gave me the names of those who were there so that their faces could be immortalized along with his.”

  Lot leaned closer to the vase, peering at the images and gasped as he recognized several of the faces as senior members of the community, as fellow businessmen. He slowly rounded the handmade creation when bile filled his mouth at two faces he recognized. “What is this?” he whispered.

  His wife moved forward to see what he was looking at and chuckled. “I thought it would be funny. I can change it if you want.”

  “Funny? You think putting our faces on this as if we participated in such debauchery is funny?”

  She shrugged. “Well, it’s the fact that we never would that makes it funny. Besides, no one would recognize us.”

  He grabbed the vase and lifted it over his head then hurled it at the fireplace. It shattered and Idit cried out as she sprang forward.

  “What have you done?”

  “What have I done? How can you ask that? You know how I feel about such things!”

  Her jaw clenched as she shot daggers at him. “You realize how much work I put into that? You realize how much he’s paying for that? That could have fed this family for a month, but now because of your ridiculous puritanical beliefs, we have to either cancel the commission and risk our reputation, or I have to redo all this, which means I can’t work on the next commission. You need to get control of yourself! This obsession of yours is hurting our family. It’s hurting your daughters.”

  He glanced over at the girls, now sitting upright in their bed, tears in their eyes at the rare sight of their parents fighting. He pointed at them. “I do this for them.”

  His wife spat. “No, you do it for yourself. I love you, husband, but sometimes you have to accept that there’s nothing you can do about those around you, and learn to live with that reality.” She walked away. “I’m going to bed. If you know what’s good for you, don’t touch me.”

  He opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself and instead stared at the flames and the shards of what remained of the vase, his wife’s lecherous artwork taunting him. She was right. It was a commission. He should have known what kind of party it was they were asked to immortalize.

  And he wasn’t certain why he was so enraged by it. Perhaps it was because it was incredibly graphic and had come out of the mind of his beautiful wife. Many of the things depicted, they had never done themselves, and it made him wonder if she had done them with someone else? Had Canaan described them in detail to her? Had those descriptions excited her? Had she put their own faces among those twisted in ecstasy because she wanted to be part of such an event, because she was bored with him, or because she wanted to do such things with him?

  Whatever it was, it made him see her in a different light. Was she just as sinful as those he railed against? Was his own home tainted? He couldn’t be sure, he could never be, but there was one thing he was certain about. There was no time to waste, because if the sins of Sodom had broken through these four walls, God’s wrath couldn’t be far behind.

  3 |

  St. Paul’s University

  St. Paul, Maryland

  Present Day

  Tommy Granger thanked God every day that Dean Gregory Milton of St. Paul’s University had given him a second chance at life. He had made some bad choices as a teenager, his hacking abilities renowned in dark circles, culminating in him breaking into the Department of Defense. He had boasted of his success and was quickly arrested.

  Apparently, you couldn’t trust hackers to keep a secret.

  But now he had a new lease on life, thanks in no small part to the man he was about to see. He tapped on Archaeology Professor James Acton’s office door, excited though nervous. He had done something he wasn’t sure he should have, and was about to ask permission after the fact.

  “Come in.”

  Tommy opened the door and poked his head in. “Do you have a minute?”

  Acton beckoned him inside. “Of course, as long as it’s not more paperwork.”

  Tommy stepped in and closed the door behind him, eying the stacks of paper on the professor’s desk. “Haven’t you guys heard of electronic forms?”

  Acton grunted. “This is the Archaeology Department. We do everything old school.”

  “You do realize that doing things electronically is quicker? All this paperwork you’re complaining about could probably be completed in half the time.”

  “Perhaps, but a thousand years from now, when your descendants are digging up this office, and there’s no paper to find”—Acton picked up a page in front of him and shook it—“how will they ever know what the food budget was for the Peru dig last quarter?”

  Tommy chuckled and sat in a chair in front of Acton’s desk. “You’re right. Knowledge like that could change the course of history.”

  “Exactly. I’m saving mankind’s future.” Acton leaned back. “So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?”

  Tommy shifted, slightly uncomfortable. “It’s about Professor Palmer’s brother.”

  Acton’s eyebrows rose. “Charles? What about him?”

  “Well, it’s coming up on the tenth anniversary of his death.”

  Acton’s head slowly bobbed. “Yes, I suppose it is. What of it?”

  “Well, I saw this thing on Insta where someone put together a montage on the anniversary of their father’s death. It was photos, video clips, images of newspaper articles, all set to music. Mai thought it was very moving and I have to admit, so did I, and it got both of us wondering if Laura would appreciate something done about her brother. I know she never really talks about him, at least not in front of us, so I wasn’t sure if it would just stir up bad memories.”

  Acton scratched at three days’ growth, the paperwork obviously consuming him for some time. “She doesn’t talk about him much, that’s true, but when she does, it’s always with a smile. I think she’d be touched. You’re right, it might bring back bad memories, but I think she’d appreciate the gesture regardless. I would suggest, however, whatever montage you put together celebrates his life and doesn’t mention his death.”

  “Of course,” agreed Tommy. “I’d never put anything in about what happened in Jordan.” He paused. “What did happen in Jordan?”

  Acton frowned. “A horrible accident. They had excavated into the side of a ridge and one of the support beams gave way and the entire ridge collapsed on him. They believe he was killed instantly.”

  “Believe?”

  “Well, it was too unstable to go in and retrieve the body, and when they called for help from the Jordanians, they immediately shut down the dig, revoked the license, and expelled Laura and all the non-Jordanians.”

  Tommy’s stomach churned. “You mean they never recovered the body?”

  “No. I know it’s always bothered her that she was never able to give her brother a proper burial.”

  “But I thought they had the funeral? Didn’t that old Austrian guy say he had been there?”

  “Well, there was a funeral, but there was no body to bury.”

  Tommy folded his arms. “Maybe I shouldn’t do this.”

  Acton disagreed. “No, I think you should. I think it’s a good idea. And it has been ten years. I think she’d appreciate it, especially something tastefully done that celebrates his life. He accomplished so much in such a short time, more than most people could ever dream of in a lifetime. He was brilliant. To think what he might have accomplished if he had lived another thirty or forty years. He could have changed the world.” He sighed, staring off into the distance. “I would kill to know what he was working on when he died.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Laura said he was working on some project that had him extremely excited, something that could change the world, but he refused to talk about it to her. It was why he sold his company so that he could devote his time to whatever this project was, but he died before he could finish it.”

  Tommy’s curiosity was piqued and he made a note to look into Palmer’s background. “Fascinating,” he murmured.

  Acton regarded him. “What?”

  “Nothing, just that there are so many of humanity’s greatest minds that have died far before their time. It makes me wonder how far ahead we could be if the great minds of our society had lived out full lives.”

  “It does make you wonder,” agreed Acton. He leaned forward. “So, how are you going to put this montage together?”

  “I was thinking of doing something a little different. Typically, people are taking family photos and whatnot, but I figured she’s seen all that, and of course, I’d have to ask her for it or have you root around in her things to find the photos. I’m just going to run my little software program that I wrote to crawl the web and look for his face. It’ll pull any photos that friends or family have posted, newspaper articles, everything.”

  “How long would that take?”

  Tommy shrugged. “Well, in theory, forever, but I’ll confess I’ve had it running now for weeks, and because of who he was, it’s coming up with all kinds of great stuff. He was a bit of a celebrity, so there are cool shots of him at charity functions, caught on the street, spotted in restaurants, things that she’s probably never seen.”

  Acton placed his elbows on his desk, clasping his hands in front of him. “That sounds exciting, actually.”

  “I think it’s going to be awesome. I just wanted to make sure you thought it was okay before I started filtering through things and putting it together.” Tommy paused. “How long do you think I should make it?”

  Acton shrugged. “Not too long. I find that’s the problem quite often these days. People put together something that’s good and then they think more must be better. No more than five minutes.”

  Tommy frowned. “I could probably put together something hours long with what I found already.”

  “Like I said, more is not necessarily better. But here’s what I would do. Put together the highlight reel, set it to a song, like I said about five minutes long, then give her the rest of the images on a memory stick so that she can go through them when she feels like it.”

  Tommy liked the idea. “Sounds good to me.” He gestured at the stacks of paper. “Are you sure you don’t want me to print off all the photos instead?”

  Acton flipped him the bird. “Get out of here, wiseass. I’ve got work to do.”

  Tommy chuckled then rose. “Can we bring it by tomorrow night?”

  “Sure. Why don’t you two come over for dinner? I’ll barbecue. We’ll have a few brewskies and then you can spring your surprise on her.”

  Tommy paused at the door. “Spring sounds so negative. How about we go with share?”

  Acton laughed. “You’re right. Let’s go with share.” He flicked his fingers toward the door. “Now get out of here. I really do have work to do.”

  Tommy left and closed the door behind him, feeling much better about the surprise he had been working on for weeks. He couldn’t wait to show Laura what he came up with, but he also couldn’t wait to do a deep dive into her brother’s background and maybe discover just what was this secret project he was working on before he died.

  4 |

  Lot’s Shop

  Sodom

  1649 BC

  “I apologize for the delay. It’s entirely my fault. I was admiring my wife’s work when it slipped out of my hands and shattered on the floor.”

  Canaan frowned at Lot. “I never thought you were clumsy, Lot. Could it be that the subject matter shocked you?”

  Lot’s cheeks flushed and he shifted his feet.

  “You’ve always been a bit of a prude.” Canaan regarded him as if making a decision on just how outraged he should be. He suddenly smiled. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll forgive you, and you can keep the commission on one condition.”

  Lot tensed, certain he wouldn’t like any condition placed upon him by a man such as Canaan, a brothel owner who had made his fortune off the fronts and backs of women.

  “I’m having a party next week. You’ve seen what they’re like if your wife’s reputation as an artist is merited. You’re a good-looking fellow and your wife is stunning. I want you two to be my guests.”

  Lot swallowed the painful lump in his throat, jealousy consuming him at the thought of his wife at one of these parties, handed around like some plaything, her body writhing in ecstasy, the mother of his children moaning with pleasure. Bile filled his mouth and his fists clenched. “I’m afraid we’ll have to politely decline.”

  “I’ll double the commission.”

  Lot refused.

  “I’ll triple it.”

  Lot’s eyes widened. It would be the largest by far they had ever been paid for a single work of art. It would secure their entire season, assuring his family generous meals until the next harvest. He closed his eyes and they burned.

  Then he said something he couldn’t believe. “We’ll attend, but we won’t be participating.” He flinched as a hand cupped his nether region and squeezed.

  “Oh, my friend, you’ll be participating in things you never imagined.” The hand was removed. “And trust me when I say, you might not participate, but your wife definitely will, if her reaction to my description of the last party is any indication.” Canaan laughed and patted Lot on the cheek. “Who knows, my friend? You might just discover you have another side that you never knew was there. Come and find out. Join us and I’ll pay you triple.” He leaned closer. “And truly join us, and I’ll pay you five times what I was going to.”

  Canaan departed, leaving Lot’s heart pounding. He rushed forward and barred the door then receded into the rear of his shop, his entire body trembling. He hadn’t said yes, but he hadn’t said no. And the amount of money on offer was huge, but the cost was simply too high. He thought back to the image his wife had painted. It depicted men with women, men with each other, and women with each other. The faces he recognized weren’t with their partners. It was a free for all of lust and gluttony, and what horrified him the most was that he could see his wife in the midst of such a thing reveling in the pleasures. And as he imagined it, his jealousy turned to rage and shame, for a small part of him desperately wanted to experience what it must be like to just once let himself go.

 

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