In the Image of Grace (21 page)

“Where is he taking us?” Clarissa asked with her
mouth drawn in a frown.

“Maybe it’s finally the press conference they were
talking about,” Isabelle surmised chewing on the tip to her pointer
finger.

“Didn’t they do that already? Isn’t that how
everybody knows?” Clarissa asked running her hand over the smooth,
black leather seats.

“I think that was just a press release, where they
tell the media, but not in person,” Isabelle explained switching
finger tips to chew on, now focusing on her middle finger.

“Is that where we’re going then, to a press
conference,” Clarissa inquired. “If I’ve known I would have fixed
my hair nicer or something.”

Isabelle shook her head. “We don’t know where we are
going, okay,” Isabelle affirmed irritated with our sister.

Clarissa looked at Isabelle and me. “You two should
fix your hair also. At least brush it.”

I reached up and ran my hand over my hair. She was
right. I probably did look like a wreck.

“Yeah, you,” Clarissa quipped to me reaching into her
school bag pulling out a purple hair brush. I took it from her and
ran it through my hair.

“This is no time to be thinking about how we look,”
Isabelle snapped. “We’re going to be exploited. Does that matter to
either of you?”

“Excuse me,” I snapped back at Isabelle. “I was told
I shouldn’t be alive today and Jeremy got in a fight and was sent
home and I hit some guy in the head with a book, I think I’m
entitled to brush my hair!”

Isabelle held up her hands. “Geesh, sorry, didn’t
know. Jeremy got in a fight.”

“Yes,” I murmured looking out the window for any clue
to where we might be going. We were heading for the expressway, so
we were probably going across town. I had a feeling to the south
side.

“Is he okay?” Isabelle asked.

“Yeah, he’ll live. It was two on one, wasn’t really
fair. I’m just worried about how much trouble he’ll get into. His
stepdad seems like a real jerk.” I looked out the tinted window and
watched the city go by.

“Somebody said you shouldn’t be alive, why?” Clarissa
asked.

“Have you paid attention to the news or newspapers at
all Clarissa?” Isabelle asked.

Clarissa shrugged in response.

“People are saying we’re against God’s way, we’re not
natural. We shouldn’t have been made in the first place. Our mere
existence really upsets a lot of people.” Isabelle looked at her
fingers.

“Oh,” Clarissa responded.

The rest of the car ride we were all caught up in our
own thoughts again. I kept thinking about how Isabelle seemed
rather on edge and more assertive than usual, but who was to blame
her. I seemed to have forgotten that I wasn’t the only one impacted
by the whole situation. I also had two sisters to worry about.

I was right. We were headed to the south side, the
warehouse where I first found out the truth. Isabelle was also
right. We were being taken to be exploited. We did a slow drive by
in front of the building. Floods of people waited out front. There
was a stand that some were crowded around where tee-shirts were
being sold. Others held signs like the ones I saw outside our house
and school. The signs were all positive ones, so it must have just
been members of The Children of Grace out there. I noticed a couple
of the people wearing the tee-shirts they had bought. On the top
they said, “The New children,” and below the words were mine,
Isabelle’s and Clarissa’s heads. It looked like they were cut out
of some other picture because we had no necks or bodies just our
heads floating there and the picture it was taken from must have
been a recent one because Clarissa had her hair in her high
ponytail. It all seemed very creepy to me. I couldn’t believe that
our father, Mr. Carl and that Pastor Dave had all those people
convinced that we really were made in the image of
extra-terrestrials. They had no idea that it was all a scam.

As our car pulled up people rushed into the street,
the car was engulfed by the flood. Curious bodies clung to the side
and pressed their faces up against the windows. They were screaming
things like; “We believe in you” and “You girls are our future” and
some were screaming, “We love you.” The car slowly inched forward
through the madness. We reached a small alley. The car turned down
it and pulled up in front of a small metal back door. The car
stopped, but before we got out a path was created to the door for
us by a bunch of large bald men all dressed in black. They stood on
either side acting as a damn against the flood that was rushing
towards them.

The car door opened. The three of us sat there
looking at each other. A habit we seemed to of started. We looked
at each other for reassurance it seemed before we embarked on
something new or unsure. I sure didn’t want to go out in that
madness. Within seconds Mr. Carl’s head appeared in the open door.
“Get out girls,” he said in a fake sweet voice. “It’s okay.”

I went out first. My sisters followed. People were
screaming like we were celebrities. Mr. Carl ushered us through the
door. We entered into a long cream colored hallway made of
cinderblocks.

“This way,” Mr. Carl said waving over his
shoulder.

We cautiously followed him down the hall. About
halfway down Mr. Carl opened a wooden door and waved us in with his
hand.

“Just have a seat and wait here,” he said once we
were all in the room.

The room was small with a few plastic chairs and a
square folding table.

“Can you at least tell us what this is about?” I
asked as he was about to leave and close the door on us.

Mr. Carl pinched the bridge of his nose and looked at
us.

“I won’t move until you tell us,” I said sitting down
onto one of the plastic chairs, folding my arms over my chest.

Mr. Carl let out a deep breath. “You’re being
introduced to the members of The Children of Grace.”

“Do we have a choice in the matter?” I asked already
knowing that we didn’t.

“No,” he responded. “I’ll be back when they’re ready
for you.”

After Mr. Carl left we sat there for quite a while. I
went and shook the door handle, but it was locked and there was no
other way out.

“It’s not like we’d get far if we tried to escape,”
Isabelle huffed with her eyebrows drawn down with her mouth in a
scowl.

“True,” I agreed sitting back down. I looked over at
Clarissa who sat across from me. She was fussing around with her
hair.

“You look perfectly fine,” I assured her.

“I just don’t know what to do,” she whined wrapping
her rubber band around her ponytail.

“Remember, we are the image of perfection,” Isabelle
jeered sarcastically. “All those people aren’t going to care what
your hair looks like. To them you’re already perfect.”

“I’m going to call Jeremy,” I mumbled pulling out my
phone. “See how he’s doing.” I dialed his number and listened to
his phone ring, after a few times he picked it up.

“Hey,” he chirped with happiness in his voice.

“Hello. Did you get in trouble?”

“Like I said Brett was madder over having to pick me
up then he was me getting into a fight. My mom’s not home yet, so
we’ll see what she has to say when she gets home. How you
doin?”

“We are sitting in a warehouse waiting so all the
cult children can get a look at us.”

“Serious?”

“Yeah and it’s real creepy. There were people waiting
outside wearing tee-shirts with our faces on them.”

“Wow.”

I looked up and Isabelle was standing near the door.
She glanced over at me. “I think someone is coming.”

“I’ll call you back later Jeremy. I have to go.”

“Okay.”

As soon as I hung up my phone and slipped it back
into my pocket the door opened and Mr. Carl reappeared. “Follow me
girls,” he asserted.

The three of us followed him down the hall to where
there was an opening. I could hear that everybody in there was
singing the
Song of Grace
. When they finished there was
cheering and then I heard Reginald’s voice. He started talking
about his visit from the Xtials and how Grace was back on the home
planet and that the new children of Grace were the future of the
world. Clarissa nervously bounced on her heels. Isabelle chewed on
her finger and I darted my eyes all around still secretly hoping
somehow we could make a run for it, but the only two ways out were
down the hall to outside where I’m sure there were still pools of
people waiting or through the opening that led into the main part
of the warehouse, where everybody waited to see us for
themselves.

“They are the image of perfection,” I heard Reginald
say. “They are a scientific breakthrough and will save the human
race. These children will make the world a better place. They are
the new children of Grace.”

We could hear the crowd going wild.

Mr. Carl looked at us. “That’s our cue.”

We followed him through the open doorway that led
into the warehouse. All I could really see was straight ahead
because some curtains hanging from the side of the stage obstructed
the view, but what I could see made my stomach a little queasy.
There was people smashed together vying for space just so they
could see mine and my sister’s face, the face of our mother, the
face of Grace. I could see the strip of people against the wall.
They were cheering and holding their hands up in the air. I think
some of them were even crying.

Did those people honestly believe all of the crap
that was being fed to them? It saddened me that Reginald’s, or The
Giver of Grace as they knew him, words and fake promises was what
those people had to cling to.

Mr. Carl led us around the curtain and up a couple
steps onto the wood stage where we stood off to the side to begin.
With our positioning on stage I was able to see the enormity of it
all. First off, the stage was a little fancier than it was the last
time I saw it. Before it looked like plywood just nailed together,
but when I saw it then it looked like it was done in the newest of
hardwoods and there was permanent lighting installed at the foot of
the stage and as I mentioned before there were curtains, but they
looked like they were made of some sort of luxurious silky velvety
type of fabrics and were a rich plum color.

In the center of the stage Reginald stood with his
big fake smile and a microphone. Pastor Dave stood next to him
strapped with a guitar. I looked past the stage at the sea of
people that were crammed into the warehouse. It was standing room
only. All the chairs were gone. It looked like the audience for a
concert, not for us. There was a lot more people than last time. It
looked like a whole lot of new members. All the eyes in the sea
were focused on us standing off to the side. They didn’t even
glance at Reginald. People were pointing, covering their mouths,
clapping, cheering and screaming. Some were wiping away tears and
others closed their eyes and mouthed things to themselves. Others
had their hands raised in the air praying to Grace, our Grace, our
mother, and supposedly their savior. And the three of us stood
there lined up how we use to line up for every picture when we were
little, we were just missing one, and Mr. Carl stood proudly next
to us with a big stupid grin on his face.

Reginald turned in our direction and held out his
hand. “The new Children of Grace,” he exclaimed.

I didn’t know if it was possible, but the crowd grew
louder, more shrieking and cheering. Mr. Carl urged us to walk
towards Reginald. We were frozen in place. Mr. Carl then lightly
put his hands on my shoulders guiding me across stage and then went
back for my sisters and did the same. We stood there motionless
while people cheered for us. I tried not to look at the crowd. It
was sickening. I looked up above the them where hanging from the
rafters were three large long banners, each with a face of me or my
sisters with our names above the picture, and in the very back of
the place there seemed to have been a couple of booths. One said
member information and the other said donations.

It seemed we were expected to say nothing. There
weren’t any TV cameras or photographers or flashes going off. We
were there just so people could stare at us. Reginald somehow
calmed the crowd after about five minutes of just screaming and
staring. He was about to dismiss us off the stage. I then got the
urge to say something. I swallowed down whatever it was that my
stomach was trying to thrust up my esophagus. I walked over to
Reginald and held out my hand for the microphone. My whole head was
burning hot and I was trying to still not look at the crowd, the
whole situation sickening. Reginald hesitated. He didn’t want to
hand me the microphone. Then the crowd started shouting, “We want
to hear her voice,” and, “Let her speak.” Reginald took a deep
breath and handed it to me.

I started out cautiously with my wording. I looked at
my feet and said, “Hello everybody.” You would have thought I just
said the most amazing thing ever. The way people were screaming I
was for certain somebody was going to have a heart attack. I then
turned towards Clarissa and Isabelle. Clarissa was trying to
preoccupy herself by spinning her ponytail around her finger and
Isabelle was still chewing on her finger. “My sisters,” I said. The
two of them looked up at me with huge wide eyes. Isabelle didn’t
look very stable. She kind of rocked back and forth. Mr. Carl
walked next to her and put his hand on her shoulder before she
could pass out. The crowd screamed and cheered for Clarissa and
Isabelle.

I then took a deep breath and really went for what I
wanted to say. I knew I was going to have to be fast before
somebody stopped me. “I just wanted to say something real quick,” I
started out. “You all know this man,” I said pointing over at
Reginald, “as The Giver of Grace, right, but I just want to let you
know that he is a fraud. There are no aliens. We were not meant to
carry on the human race. The Children of Grace is a scam. Don’t
believe anything he has to say. If you need to belie…….” I felt a
firm hand on my shoulder and a burning and stinging sensation in my
neck and then everything went black.