Lamb: the Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal

walked along for a while without saying anything, but when he looked back at Joshua I could see tears streaking his cheeks. “If Thomas Two goes away, then I’ll be alone.”
    “You won’t be alone. You’ll have me.”
    “Not for long. You don’t have long with us.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “Thomas Two told me.”
    “We won’t tell the others quite yet, all right, Thomas?”
    “Not if you don’t want me to. But you won’t cure me, will you? You won’t make Thomas Two go away?”
    “No,” Joshua said. “We may both need an extra friend soon.” He patted Thomas on the shoulder, then turned to walk on ahead to catch up with Matthew.
    “Well, don’t step on him!” Thomas shouted.
    “Sorry,” said Joshua.
    I looked at Maggie. “Did you hear that?”
    She nodded. “You can’t let it happen, Biff. He doesn’t seem to care about his own life, but I do, and you do, and if you let harm come to him I’ll never forgive you.”
    “But Maggie, everyone is supposed to be forgiven.”
    “Not you. Not if something happens to Josh.”
    “So be it. So, hey, once Joshua heals your brother, you want to go do something, get some pomegranate juice, or a falafel, or get married or something?”
    She stopped in her tracks, so I stopped too. “Are you ever paying attention to anything that goes on around you?”
    “I’m sorry, I was overcome by faith there for a moment. What did you say?”

    When we got to Bethany, Martha was waiting for us in the street in front of Simon’s house. She went right to Joshua and he held out his arms to embrace her, but when she got to him she pushed him away. “My brother is dead,” she said. “Where were you?”
    “I came as soon as I heard.”
    Maggie went to Martha and held her as they both cried. The rest of us stood around feeling awkward. The two old blind guys, Crustus and Abel, whom Joshua had once healed, came over from across the street.
    “Dead, dead and buried four days,” said Crustus. “He turned a sort of chartreuse at the end.”
    “Emerald, it was emerald, not chartreuse,” said Abel.
    “My friend Simon truly sleeps, then,” Joshua said.
    Thomas came up and put his hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “No, master, he’s dead. Thomas Two thinks it may have been a hairball. Simon was a leopard, you know?”
    I couldn’t stand it. “He was a LEPER, you idiot! Not a leopard.”
    “Well, he IS dead!” shouted Thomas back. “Not sleeping.”
    “Joshua was being figurative, he knows he’s dead.”
    “Do you guys think you could be just a little more insensitive?” said Matthew, pointing to the weeping sisters.
    “Look, tax collector, when I want your two shekels I’ll ask—”
    “Where is he?” Joshua asked, his voice booming over the sobs and protests.
    Martha pushed out of her sister’s embrace and looked at Joshua. “He bought a tomb in Kidron,” said Martha.
    “Take me there, I need to wake my friend.”
    “Dead,” said Thomas. “Dead, dead, dead.”
    There was a sparkle of hope amid the tears in Martha’s eyes. “Wake him?”
    “Dead as a doornail. Dead as Moses. Mmmph…” Matthew clamped his hand over Thomas’s mouth, which saved me having to render the twin unconscious with a brick.
    “You believe that Simon will rise from the dead, don’t you?” asked Joshua.
    “In the end, when the kingdom comes, and everyone is raised, yes, I believe.”
    “Do you believe I am who I say I am?”
    “Of course.”
    “Then show me where my friend lies sleeping.”
    Martha moved like a sleepwalker, her exhaustion and grief driven back just enough for her to lead us up the road to the Mount of Olives and down into the Kidron Valley. Maggie had been deeply shaken by the news of her brother’s death as well, so Thomas and Matthew helped her along while I walked with Joshua.
    “Four days dead, Josh. Four days. Divine Spark or not, the flesh is empty.”
    “Simon will walk again if he is but bone,” said Joshua.
    “Okey-dokey. But this has never been one of your better miracles.”
    When we got to the tomb there was a tall, thin, aristocratic man sitting outside eating a fig. He was clean-shaven and his gray hair was cut short like a Roman’s. If he hadn’t worn the two-striped tunic of a Jew I would have thought him a Roman citizen.
    “I thought you would come here,” he said. He knelt before Joshua. “Rabbi, I’m Joseph of Arimathea. I sent word through your disciple Matthew that I wanted to meet with you. How may I