The Second Coming

“Damn it, Josh, you can’t say things like that. You’ll get locked up in some mental institute,” his best friend said.

“It has to be true, John. There are too many coincidences,” Josh said, throwing his hands in the air. They were walking home from school, the first day of their senior year. There was a light breeze rustling the copious amount of notes in Josh’s hand. He ruffled through them, finding the first page and shoving it at the reluctant John.

“See, look. I made comparisons of our lives. They are the exact same.”

“Next you’ll start hearing voices too,” John muttered as he glanced at the bullet list scribbled on the back of Josh’s math syllabus. “You weren’t born in Bethlehem.”

“Yes, I was, Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, in the back of my parents' car. Their dog was there and everything, I’ve told you before,” Josh said, stopping at the crosswalk and looking for cars.

“Yeah, I remember,” John said, handing the paper back. Nothing on it was new to him. They were all points Josh had brought up before, but they couldn’t be more than just coincidence. He couldn’t be the Messiah. That stuff wasn’t real. Okay, maybe Jesus was a real person once, but he wasn’t, like, really God’s son, just some dude.

“I’m not crazy, you know,” Josh said quietly. They turned into his driveway and walked up the short path, stopping at the front door.

“I know you aren’t, but have you seen how they treat people who claim to be the reincarnation of Jesus? It never ends well.”

“If I can prove--”

“Josh, listen. I love you. You are my best friend, but I don’t want to see you wasting away your life in some loony bin. Even if you are Jesus returned to Earth, what are you going to do? Save humanity? I don’t think there are many people left who deserve it, honestly,” John said.

The front door swung open, and Josh’s mom, Marie, popped her head out. “Are you two coming in, or are you going to stand in the doorway all night? There are cookies on the table.”

“Your homemade chocolate chip cookies? Yes, please,”John said, making a beeline for the dining room.

“Josh, dear, your hair is getting so long. You really should let me cut it for you,” Marie told her son while she set glasses of milk in front of the boys.

“I told you, I prefer it this way,” Josh said, touching his hair protectively. Marie shrugged.

“If you’re sure. Jamie, come help me with dinner when you finish.”

“But Moooom, why can’t Josh do it?” whined Josh’s little brother.

“He has company. I don’t make you help when your friends are over.”

“But John’s always here,” Jamie grumbled, stomping into the kitchen.

“Let’s go outside,” Josh said after draining his milk. John agreed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He followed Josh through the living room and out the sliding door onto the back porch. A pool curved around one side, its waters glistening in the bright afternoon sun. Next to the pool was a picnic table and Josh headed there now, sitting on the tabletop with his feet on the bench. John perched next to him, watching his friend prod the hole in his jeans with a frown on his face. John sighed.

“You will not give this up, will you?”

“I can’t, man. Something is telling me there is a reason for all this.”

“God?”

Josh hit him.

“Sorry, sorry,” John said with a grin. It faded from his face as Josh glared at him. “Alright, if you’re serious. I’ll help you--”

Without warning, a small blur flashed between them. Josh, already sitting awkwardly on the table, fell backwards in surprise. John was paralyzed as a resounding crack echoed and an enormous splash drenched him.

“Josh?” he called, wiping the water from his eyes. Josh broke the surface, spitting water from his mouth.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, wading to the edge of the pool.

“I think a bird flew into the glass door,” John said, reaching out his hand and pulling Josh from the pool. At that moment, the door slid open and Joe, still in his work uniform, stood in the doorway.

“What was that sound? Josh, did you fall in the pool?”

“Yeah, a bird hit the door, it flew past my head...”

John stopped listening to Josh. There was a song filtering through from Marie’s stereo in the kitchen.

“... you’re the Son of God...”

“What kind of bird…?”

“...Son of God...”

“One of those dumb morning doves.”

“Hey, John. You alright?”

John shook his head. He had been staring at Josh as a thousand thoughts raced through his head at once.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” John said, but it was far from the truth.

###

“This is not good.”

“But you believe me now, right?”

“Yes, I guess I do,” John said, twirling in Josh’s desk chair and staring at the ceiling. “There is no way that all happened by coincidence.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Josh said, pacing his room.

“What are we going to do?”

Josh stopped and looked at John. He stopped spinning and returned the stare.

“Go to church?” Josh said with a shrug. John couldn’t help it. He cracked a smile, and a giggle rose in his throat. Josh smiled and smacked him.

“I’m being serious,” he said.

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just, you are the reincarnation of Jesus and you haven’t been to church once in your entire eighteen years,” John said, failing to keep his laughter under control. “Which church is the right one, anyway?”

Josh thought, tapping his finger on his chin. “Doesn’t the bible say something about this?”

“That’s a good idea. Do you have a bible?”

“No. Ugh, I’ll just google it,” Josh said, flopping on his bed and pulling out his phone. He typed away and John watched his eyes move rapidly across the screen and his smile faded.

“What does it say?”

Josh cleared his throat, “It says ‘When He returns, the righteous dead will be resurrected, and together with the righteous living, will be glorified and taken to heaven, but the unrighteous will die. The almost complete fulfillment of most lines of prophecy, together with the present condition of the world, indicates that Christ’s coming is imminent.’”

A silence descended on the small attic room. John stared at Josh and Josh stared at the ceiling, his phone on his chest.

###

When Sunday came, Josh went to church and John followed. They sidled in, walking awkwardly to a pew and sitting as far from everyone as they could manage. The church filled with all sorts, from old women in little hats to young boys in bow ties.

At ten o’clock, the pastor walked to his podium and gestured for the audience to rise. Josh and John jumped up, afraid to be left out. A hymn started and Josh looked at John with huge eyes.

“Just pretend,” John mouthed to Josh. He nodded and mumbled along, moving his mouth without making a sound. When they finished, the pastor gestured to sit again.

“Welcome friends, and welcome to the new faces I see today...”

John stopped listening. Instead, he watched the crowd. Most wore intense expressions, their eyes rapt on the priest. Because he hadn’t been paying attention, John started in surprise when he was handed a bowl of crackers. He passed it to Josh, who took one, ate it, and passed it on. A shot glass filled with grape juice came next, and lastly, a collection tin.

John stared at the floor, his eyes glazing in boredom, when Josh elbowed him. He looked up sharply and followed Josh’s nod with his eyes. A preacher was beginning a sermon, and the pastor had taken the collection tin behind a divider. He was hidden from most of the mass, but because he and Josh had sat in the very back corner, they could see around it. John squinted. It looked like the pastor was stuffing his pockets with money from the collection tin.

Suddenly Josh was standing. John made to grab him, hissing, “Josh, no!” But it was too late. Josh stalked up the aisle and people pointed. The preacher stumbled over his words and stuttered to a stop. Josh ripped the divider down and the priest came into view of the entire mass, one hand still in the collection tin. His face went white and sagged with fear.

The church was in an uproar. John needed to find Josh. He elbowed his way through the shouting people, searching for a sign of Josh’s conspicuous long brown hair. Finally he spotted him at the back of the church, shaking someone's hand.

John struggled against the crowd as they surged towards the thief. He made it just in time to hear the other man say, “...and who are you?”

“Me? I’m Josh, the Son of God.”

John took him by the arm and steered him out the door.

###

A week later, the pastor was dead. Josh sent John the link during AP English. He pulled his phone out under his desk and he clicked open the message, following the blue highlighted string of letters and numbers. A fatal heart attack. John glanced at Josh. He was tapping his pencil on the desk and shifting in his seat.

Another week went by and Josh sent a second link. Another person dead. This time it was the man who had grabbed the pastor and taken it upon himself to dole out the punishment. A car had hit him while biking.

“Shit,” John whispered, clicking his phone off and shutting his eyes.

Forty minutes later, the bell rang for the end of the school day. John grabbed his backpack and hurried out the door, racing for the hallway he always met Josh in. He wasn’t there. John fidgeted, waiting, but he never showed.

Someone ran past, shouting at his friends to follow. John’s brow furrowed. He followed them outside and stopped dead when he saw a group of people congregated in front of the building and heard sirens whirring in the distance.

“Oh no,” he breathed and raced over. He nudged his schoolmates aside. Someone was shouting.

“I can help her, trust me. I’m the Son of God returned! I can heal her.”

John burst through the crowd. The first thing he saw were two teachers holding Josh by the arms. He knelt, his head bent forward and his hair in his face. Blood covered his hands.

“Josh,” John whispered, and he looked up. There was something in his eyes, a look of desperation and pleading. John glanced at the ground. A girl lay there, he vaguely recognized from his sister's class. Blood pooled from a gash in her forehead while her friend tried to staunch it.

“What did you do, Josh?”

An ambulance and two cop cars pulled up and the students parted.

“What happened?” A burly cop asked.

“He attacked her,” a teacher said.

“No! I didn’t, I tried to help her, I can help her, I’m the Son of God returned,” Josh screamed as a second cop twisted his hands behind his back.

“Josh! No, he wouldn’t hurt anyone. I swear he’s telling the truth,” John yelled, struggling to get to his friend, but several hands held him back.

“You can’t take me. I’m the Son of God, the Son of God I tell you!”

“Josh!”

The cop wrestled Josh from the ground and into the back seat of a cruiser. John wrenched himself free and ran, his fingers barely grazing the door as it slammed shut. The car slid away smoothly and John hit the ground, tears on his cheeks.

This wasn’t over yet. John was back on his feet, racing to his car while calling the family lawyer, his father.

END