The Beginning (Jessica Christ Book 1)

by H. Claire Taylor

  After a half-hour of the rough roads, he made it to the nice, paved highway and headed west toward New Mexico. The smooth ride allowed him to finally take a deep breath as the events of the past ten months started to sink in. There was no denying it had been an entertaining ten months.

  Nothing good is made to last.

  He sighed and turned his mind to his future. No point in dwelling on the past. The past had become irrelevant at midnight. But there was usually a silver lining he could find, another opportunity awaiting him. Maybe he could be happy in Carlsbad. The people there would believe anything, really. New Mexicans were even more gullible than Utahans or Texans. Come to think of it, he should have started there rather than putzing around in other states. Just like Texas, Utah had been an honest mixup, really. Anyone could have mistaken that cloud for the image of our Lord Savior on the cross next to a giant bunny. It took a man of real foresight to snap a photo of it, like Jimmy had, and a man of true conviction to start a small church around it, like Jimmy also had.

  Fool me once …

  But in New Mexico, he wouldn’t have to wait for another supposed sign from God. No, in New Mexico, he could be his own sign from God. He could learn from his mistakes and quickly build up another church that would have a more robust congregation than the one in Elbow and be generally less flammable than the one in Hatch.

  Third time’s the charm, anyway.

  He’d have to think of a new name. People would be looking for John. They might still be looking for Oscar, too. Maybe he should just go all in and use his real name. Hank knew him as Jimmy from their younger days, and Hank, being a few apples short of a bunch, would likely call him Jimmy no matter what.

  He looked at his reflection in the rearview mirror. Once he shaved off the thick facial hair, he’d be almost unrecognizable. That was good. He never looked as wise when he was clean shaven, but he was much handsomer, which was equally as effective for recruitment, even if it required a different approach.

  His eyes moved back to the lonely stretch of road just in time to see something large sitting right in the middle of the double yellow lines. Jimmy’s reflexes made an executive decision that the object was far too large to simply run over, so he swerved to avoid hitting it, veering off the pavement and into a ditch that hardly counted as a shoulder. His airbag deployed as the front of his truck nosedived into the trench and stopped abruptly. The impact left his ears ringing, but outside of that, he was surrounded by silence. What the hell was that on the road?

  He swatted the rapidly deflating airbag out of his way, did a quick mental sweep of his body to make sure there were no serious injuries, then grabbed his shotgun from behind the seat and crawled out of the truck. Kicked-up dirt swirled in his headlights as he peered out at the dark road to try to spot the animal that had caused this crash. Assuming it wasn’t a human being, it’d be a good gift to bring Hank out in Carlsbad when he showed up looking for a place to stay. Maybe it was a deer. That could make for some good sausage. But no, he’d hit deer with his truck before without much more than a little blood, a minor dent in his hood, and a few scratches to the paint as damage. He doubted his reflexes would have told him to swerve if it was just a deer.

  As he squinted through the darkness, he heard a booming voice to his right.

  “JIMMY.”

  He whirled around toward the scrub brush on the side of the road with his gun aimed ahead, only to find a huge hog staring back at him. Ah, that made more sense. Damn, that was a huge hog. Had he ever seen one so large, even in this part of the country? He was glad he’d swerved, even if it did leave him in a bit of a pickle with his truck.

  He knew he should just unload into the beast right away—these things were real assholes if you gave them a chance—but he could’ve sworn he’d just heard the hog say his name.

  No. That was crazy. He brought the shotgun up to eye level, aiming it at the hog’s skull.

  But the beast didn’t charge. Instead, its mouth moved as it spoke. “JIMMY DEAN.”

  “What … the fuck?” Before Jimmy could say anything else, the hog turned and trotted off into the brush. Well, he couldn’t just shoot a hog who spoke his name—his real one, nonetheless—his curiosity wouldn’t let him.

  Within his mind a schism developed that made him hesitate. On the one hand, this was a strange occurrence that should be looked into further. On the other hand, this was probably what a psychotic break felt like.

  But he followed the hog into the brush anyway.

  The farther away from the lights of his car he went, the more his eyes were able to adjust to the darkness, allowing him to better track the movement of the hog. He came upon a small rocky clearing in the landscape and in the middle of it stood the feral animal, staring right at him. He considered the merits of just shooting the damn thing, drinking away the memory, and being done with it, but no. He’d see this thing out a bit more before doing anything too rash.

  “JIMMY,” the hog spoke again in a voice that was booming and rich without being loud. Its mouth moved like a pig’s would, but somehow it was able to create a human voice. “I AM GOD.”

  Jimmy wasn’t expecting that, although he probably should’ve been. “The hell You say?”

  “DID I STUTTER?”

  Well shit. “Uh, no. I just … what do You want?”

  “IS THAT HOW YOU TALK TO THE LORD?”

  “I guess so. Sorry. I just didn’t expect this.”

  “SAYS THE MAN WHO STARTED A CHURCH BECAUSE HE THOUGHT I SPOKE TO HIM THROUGH CLOUDS.”

  Jimmy frowned and scratched his head. “Ah okay. Well, just so I’m clear on this, bunnies aren’t reincarnated centurions?”

  “NOPE.”

  “Well, damn.”

  The hog snorted and flapped its tail. “JIMMY, I HAVE AN IMPORTANT MISSION FOR YOU.”

  Jimmy held his breath as the reality finally hit him that he was truly in the presence of the Lord. He snapped to attention and tried not to screw things up too badly.

  “TONIGHT MY SECOND CHILD IS BEING BORN. I NEED YOU TO FIND THE MOTHER AND LET HER KNOW THAT SHE IS GIVING BIRTH TO THE CHILD OF GOD.”

  “Whatever you say, God. But why me?”

  “BECAUSE YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WITHIN FIFTY MILES OF THE NATIVITY WHO’S NARCISSISTIC ENOUGH TO BELIEVE THAT GOD IS TALKING TO YOU THROUGH A HOG.”

  Hm. That was almost a compliment from God Himself, so Jimmy would take it.

  “WILL YOU DO THIS?”

  “Do I have a choice?” The question was much more profound than he’d intended.

  “YOU ALWAYS HAVE A CHOICE. BUT YOUR OPTIONS ARE EITHER RELAY THE MESSAGE OR BE SMITED.”

  “Okay, then. I choose the first option. Tell me what to do.”

  The hog said nothing more as it walked toward Jimmy, passed him, then headed back toward the truck. Not wanting to accidentally agitate God, Jimmy refrained from asking any more questions as he turned and followed.

  When he arrived back at the truck, he almost couldn’t believe what he saw. His vehicle was no longer in the ditch but was instead idling softly on the road, its hazards flashing steadily. Jimmy’s shock quickly transitioned into paranoia, and he leveled his shotgun perpendicular to his hip and squinted into the dark in every direction, looking for whoever had moved his car.

  “IT’S A MIRACLE, STUPID.”

  He turned to look at the hog. “Huh?”

  “A MIRACLE. YOUR CAR IS HEALED. NOW OPEN THE DOOR AND GIVE ME A LIFT UP, WILL YOU?”

  Jimmy ran to open the passenger’s side door of his truck as God waited patiently next to it. He looked back and forth from the hog to the seat before pursing his lips, scooting the seat back as far as it would go, and hoping that was enough room between the dashboard and the back of the scoop seat. Then he moved to the side to allow God room to climb in, but quickly realized the limitations of the swine body and wondered if he was supposed to help.

  He took a quick step forward. “Do You need, um, should I … ?”

  “U
H YEAH.”

  “So wait. You can move a truck out of a ditch, but You can’t get Yourself into the seat of said truck?”

  “YES.”

  Jimmy scratched his hairline with the barrel of the shotgun. “Now that just doesn’t make sense.”

  “I WORK IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS. AND THIS IS THE FIRST HOG I’VE EVER WORN. NOW ARE YOU DONE QUESTIONING THE LORD, OR SHOULD I STRETCH MY SMITING MUSCLE?”

  Jimmy held up his hand defensively as he leaned the shotgun against the tire. “No need. Forgive me, O Lord.” Then he inhaled deeply and squatted down to grab the hog, unsure how successful he would actually be in lifting what was easily a three-hundred pound animal.

  He tried to wrap his arms around the hog’s middle, but the thing was just too damn round. Maybe if he could just scoop it up from underneath …

  When he slid his arms underneath God’s belly, he cringed as his hand brushed against the hog’s penis.

  “WATCH IT.”

  Jimmy quickly stood again to reassess his strategy. “I’m trying! I’ve never lifted a hog or a god before.”

  “THERE IS NO GOD BUT ME.”

  Responding to that seemed like a bad idea, so instead Jimmy focused on the task at hand. He used the shoulder of his cotton shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow and then squatted again and managed to lift the front half of the animal so that the hooves were on the seat. Next, he reached down to the back half, this time more mindful of the genitals. With a grunt, Jimmy hoisted up the hog’s rear, his thighs straining against the heavy load.

  But finally, the hog was in the passenger’s seat. Jimmy took a deep breath and tried not to think too hard about any of this as he slammed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. He hopped in, tossed the shotgun into the backseat, and took another deep breath but couldn’t quite bring himself to look to his right as he asked, “Okay, where to?”

  “MOORETOWN.”

  Jimmy had heard of it before but never been there, mostly because there was never a reason to go. From what he knew of the place, people did their best to leave Mooretown rather than travel to it. He looked over at the hog and felt a sudden obligation to buckle it up, so he leaned over, reached across and grabbed the seatbelt. Being in such close proximity to an animal that he usually tried his best to avoid left him incredibly uneasy. He wasn’t sure if the fact that the hog was inhabited by God made him more or less anxious, or really what he should be feeling right now. On the one hand, he was in the presence of God, but on the other, God had a weird pig penis that Jimmy had accidentally touched …

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” God asked as Jimmy clumsily pulled the seatbelt around Him.

  “I’m trying to be responsible!”

  “MAYBE YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND THAT I’M GOD. I WON’T DIE IN A CAR ACCIDENT.”

  Shit, shit, shit! Jimmy’s nerves were fraying big time—it’d already been a long night, and all he wanted to do was be safe and sound in Carlsbad with a beer in one hand and maybe some good vintage porn in the other.

  But instead he buckled himself up and put the Tacoma into drive. God Hog gave booming directions and Jimmy followed them, wondering if the world actually had ended at midnight and this was the afterlife.

  Mooretown was about an hour’s drive away, and Jimmy knew that this might be the only chance he ever got to speak with God one-on-one. No pressure, though. Unfortunately, all the burning questions he’d formulated over the course of his life were obliterated by the more immediate ones that he’d never anticipated asking, like Why me? and How are you moving the hog’s lips like that? and Why a hog? and Couldn’t you make the hog smell a little better? But all those questions seemed imprudent, even with his judgment as befuddled as it was.

  So instead, he asked one that seemed least rude. “Will I ever make it to Carlsbad?”

  “OH, I’M SORRY, DID YOU THINK I WAS SOME CHEAP FORTUNE TELLER?”

  “No, I just—”

  “YOU WILL NEVER MAKE IT TO CARLSBAD. YOU WILL NEVER LEAVE TEXAS AGAIN.”

  “Shit.”

  “SHIT INDEED.”

  Something about a curse word coming from the Lord’s mouth sent icy shivers down Jimmy’s spine. He almost didn’t have the courage to keep speaking. Almost. “So that dream. That wasn’t a message from you?”

  The hog snorted and it almost sounded like a laugh. “NO. THAT WAS NOT ME.” Then after a short pause. “THAT WAS JESUS.”

  “Jesus? But wait, I thought You, like, were Jesus and vice versa.”

  “THAT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE. JESUS IS MY CHILD. HOW COULD I BE HIM? THAT’S CREEPY.”

  Jimmy shrugged. “Yeah, I always thought so, too.” He glanced over at God, momentarily forgetting that a hog would be there, felt a small jolt of panic when he saw it, and then quickly returned his eyes to the road.

  “JESUS LIKES TO VISIT PEOPLE IN THEIR DREAMS. HE’S ALL INTO THAT. I DON’T UNDERSTAND IT. BUT CHILDREN ARE THEIR OWN PEOPLE, YOU KNOW?”

  “Uh, not really. I don’t have any—” but then he remembered who he was talking to. Was that a pang of guilt he felt in his gut or the early stages of a good smiting?

  He needed to change the subject. “So, what do I say when I get there?”

  “YOU’LL KNOW. DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT.”

  “Don’t worry about— I’m supposed to tell a woman giving birth that God is her baby daddy, and You don’t want me to worry about how that’ll go over?”

  “I EXPECT SHE’LL BE RELIEVED TO KNOW WHO THE FATHER IS.”

  This was not the merciful God that Jimmy had always believed in. This was not even the wrathful God that Jimmy had worried might exist. This was just unhelpful God. Maybe even lackadaisical God.

  “What if she doesn’t listen?”

  “ENOUGH QUESTIONS. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO MAKE A HOG’S VOCAL CORDS MOVE LIKE THIS?”

  Jimmy did not. “One more question.”

  The hog farted. “JUST ONE MORE.”

  “Could You make a rock that even You can’t lift?”

  “OOO I COULD JUST SMITE YOU. WE’RE DONE HERE. LEFT AT THE LIGHT.”

  Jimmy was pretty sure God wouldn’t smite him before he’d completed his mission, but he decided to shut up anyway. God wanting to smite him was dangerous enough.

  Mooretown had just one stoplight, and at this hour, that stoplight was flashing red in all directions as Jimmy took the left God commanded and pulled into a small subdivision of doublewides.

  Burglar lights flicked on from the front of each dark house as the truck drove by one lot after another.

  “THERE.” God grunted and lifted a hoof, pointing at the only house on the row with a soft glow emanating from behind the window blinds.

  As they pulled up into the driveway, Jimmy could already hear the coarse screams and low moans wafting out from inside the doublewide. Having never stuck around long enough to see the birth of any of his children, he wasn’t sure what to expect once he was actually inside, witnessing the miracle.

  “HURRY.”

  Jimmy sighed, undid his seatbelt, and jumped out of the truck, walking purposefully over to the front door, trying not to think too hard about what he might say, because there was no point. He had to do this, no matter how badly he botched it and made a fool of himself.

  After knocking hard on the front door, while waiting for a response, Jimmy noticed a carved wooden sign in the shape of a rainbow and puffy clouds hanging next to the door. McCloud Family was painted along the rainbow, the colors faded by time.

  The door swung open, and a squat woman who looked to be either a haggard thirty-something or a baby-faced fifty-something eyed him up and down. “You better not be a salesman.”

  He could hear the yelling continuing somewhere behind the woman, much louder now that the door was open, but he still couldn’t see the actual source of the hollering. “Uh, no, I’m not a salesman.”

  “You the daddy?” She eyed him disapprovingly. “I’d hoped for someone richer.”

  “No, I’m not the daddy.�
�

  “Then what the fucking shit do you want?! Can’t you hear my daughter’s having a baby inside?”

  Jimmy shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. “That’s why I’m here, actually. I have a message from God about that baby.”

  The woman rolled her eyes so hard her head rolled back as well, and she blew a raspberry before slamming the door in his face.

  Jimmy stood stunned for a moment before turning to look back at the truck. God was still sitting in the front seat, staring at him. He watched as the hog blew on the windshield to fog it, then with its hoof wrote “SMITE” backwards, so that Jimmy could read it forward. Okay. He got the message.

  He knocked again.

  More forceful, this time!

  The string of profanities continued flowing from inside the home and seemed to suck Jimmy into them like a seductive incantation so that he jumped when the door finally opened again inches from his face.

  The gruff woman stood with a shotgun leveled at Jimmy’s chest, and the air bolted out of his lungs in a whoosh.

  “We don’t call 9-1-1 here, mister, so you best have a good reason to knock again once I sent you along.”

  “I’ve come here—” His throat went dry. He swallowed and tried again, this time louder, more certain. “I’m here on a mission from God. He sent me to deliver news about the girl’s baby.”

  “Oh God sent you, did He?” The woman cackled. “Well send Him my best when you see Him face-to-face in about five seconds.”

  Because God really was about a five-second walk away from the doorstep—something only Jimmy of course knew—the implication of her words didn’t hit him right away.

  But then, “Oh, you’re going to shoot me.”

  “Mama!” came the voice from the living room. “Let him in! Fuckin’ shit shit shit shit!”

  The gruff woman turned back toward the house. “You got enough to be dealing with without some jackhole coming in here telling you that God got you pregnant!”