Reverend Greene knew he was the Prophet. The savior of the Righteous. Everyone in Gulfport believed that, and he drove home the idea in his daily sermons. The community never questioned his leadership. If the people of Gulfport found out there were other refuges, they might decide they didn’t have to rely on the reverend for their salvation, that his ideas weren’t the Lord’s revelations. I can’t let that happen.
The lawyer finished his story. Greene studied them in silence, then leaned forward with a huge smile on his face. “Dear brothers and sister! You’re like the prodigal son. You have walked through the valley of the shadows to the land of milk and honey, where the lamb and the lion lie down together. Henceforth the Christian Republic of Gulfport shall be your home.”
“We greatly appreciate that, Reverend,” said the lawyer, relieved. “Of course, we’re willing to help out in any way we can. If there’s anything we can do…”
“Yes, my son, I do have a huge favor to ask of you.”
“What is that?”
“I must ask you to not tell your story to anyone. Not a soul. Have you told anyone?”
“Captain Birley knows.” The lawyer thought for a moment, then continued. “Now that you mention it, none of the other officers asked any questions.”
Well done, Birley, Reverend Greene thought. You certainly know how to keep your men in line. Now I see why that damn Swede was so anxious to stick around.
“Well,” Greene continued, taking a moment to think up an excuse. “That’s good. I need you to keep the secret for one simple reason. If the good and pious people of Gulfport found out that there are needy people on the other side of the world, they’d insist on undertaking an expedition to rescue everyone from darkness and sin.”
“I understand,” said the lawyer. A warning bell went off in his head.
Experienced in detecting lies and half-truths, Greene noticed the nervous glances the three exchanged. They were hiding something. I don’t want to know a thing about Tanereefay or whatever the hell that place is called. They were on the run when they met up with the Ithaca. Something had spooked them.
“The good people of Gulfport would gladly risk their lives to undertake such a trip. That’s the kind of faithful followers of Christ they are.” The reverend opened his arms, as if embracing that multitude. “But I must watch over my flock. I can’t allow them to launch a suicide mission to bring all those people to the safety of Gulfport. So I ask for your silence. You understand, don’t you?”
“Of course, Reverend,” the lawyer quickly assured him. “Our lips are sealed.”
“But people have the right to know there are other survivors around the world!” the girl protested. “If they don’t know, they’re like prisoners in this city! All those people, those ‘helots,’ are entitled to decide if they want to live elsewhere, someplace they’re not treated like criminals!”
“Lucia, this isn’t the time for that,” the lawyer cut her off. “The reverend asked us a favor, just one favor in return for his hospitality. I think we owe him that.”
Lucia opened her mouth to add something. Seeing the lawyer’s stern look, she stopped, pressed her lips in a tense line, and stroked the cat so hard he yowled in protest.
“My dear child,” interrupted Greene, in a pious voice. “Let me tell you a story. Long ago, there was a Greek city named Sparta. Certainly they were wicked idolaters who worshiped false gods of clay, far from the Light of our Lord, yet it was an admirable society in many ways. The Spartans were surrounded by enemies who wanted them dead at any cost, as it is with us today. To survive, they created a caste called ‘helots’ who cultivated their fields, tended their cattle, and provided all material goods, thus allowing the Spartans to devote their time to defending their walls. And so it is here. That is precisely why we have our helots.”
“Who decides if a person is a helot or not?” Lucia asked in a small voice.
“The Lord God, of course,” Greene said, genuinely surprised. “Adam and Eve were white. So were the Apostles, Moses, and all the prophets in the Bible. God decided that. The other races are either mongrels, like those Mexicans, or the fruits of sin, like the Negros who bear the mark of that sin on their skin. They live under our holy protection so they can atone for their wicked ways.”
Lucia made a colossal effort to bite her tongue as Prit shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Only the lawyer kept a passive look on his face, not betraying the slightest emotion.
“Reverend,” the lawyer said in an even voice. “Where we come from, that way of thinking would be frowned upon. Please understand—”
“No!” Greene cut in, slapping his hand on the table. “There’s nothing to understand! Because of mankind’s negligence, tolerance, and hedonism, God has punished the human race! For years I warned that this would happen, but no one listened! Everyone ignored me! Do you understand? Then it was too late! I was right! I am the Prophet!” Greene was on his feet and waving his arms wildly as he spoke, his eyes feverish. His tie had come loose and he spewed tiny flecks of spit. “God has unleashed His fury because we’ve lived side by side with queers, Communists, blacks, Indians, and Latinos! Until we get back on the righteous path, there will be no Second Coming! If you don’t accept this truth, there’s no room in Gulfport for you!”
Greene slumped in his chair, panting. He poured a glass of water with a trembling hand. Drops of water spilled on his chest as he drank.
“Well? What’s your answer? What side of the Wall are you on?
“We…” the Ukrainian began.
“We accept your hospitality and your rules, Reverend Greene,” the lawyer broke in. “We promise to be good citizens of Gulfport.”
“But this is—” Lucia started to say. The lawyer’s eyes told her to shut up.
“Is she your wife?” asked the reverend.
“She’s my girlfriend, but I don’t see what—”
“Keep her on a tight leash, my friend. ‘Let the woman learn in silence with all subjection. Suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence.’ Timothy 2, 11–12.” Reverend Greene recited from memory, caressing his Bible. “The Lord tells us where a women’s place is. They are mothers and wives, but their brains are clearly not made for thinking.”
“Don’t worry, Reverend. She’ll learn to control her tongue,” said the lawyer, giving Lucia another look. Red-faced with anger and humiliation, the girl looked down and stroked the cat.
“In that case, I think we’re done. Mrs. Compton will tell you where your new home is. There’s plenty of space in Gulfport. When you see where you’re living, you’ll be—”
The door flew open. What now? This meeting isn’t going the way I’d hoped.
Malachi Grapes stood in the doorway, looking nervous and shifting uneasily from side to side as if he needed to take a piss.
“What’s the matter, Malachi?” Greene asked, extremely annoyed. Everyone knew not to interrupt the reverend except in an extreme emergency.
“There’s problems with the helots from the Ithaca, Reverend. A Mexican group refuses to accept their payment. They’re arguing about something, but I have no idea what they’re saying. They don’t speak English, just that Spanish shit.” Grapes put his hand over his mouth.
“Excuse my language, Reverend.”