In the Image of Grace

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In the Image of Grace Page 6

by Charlotte Ann Schlobohm

“So how exactly do we factor into all of this and if everybody is worshipping her, where is she?”

  “I have the slightest fucking idea,” Clarissa said so naturally as if she had been swearing her whole life.

  “Clarissa,” Isabelle snapped her name.

  “Uh, oops,” was her response.

  “Never mind her swearing, what the hell is going on?” I asked perplexed.

  “Oh, and supposedly tomorrow night this guy The Giver of Grace is going to be there,” Clarissa threw in.

  “Where is there, we have to go, or somebody does. Oh my God, is our father involved? Are we the ones that she reproduced?” It was all so crazy. I shook my head. It was too much all at once. “He has to be involved because they had to, you know.”

  “I’m wondering,” Isabelle said pensively. “What if their field of expertise in genetic modification has to do with this? Maybe we’re genetically altered, so we’ll be in her image.”

  “Jesus,” was my reply.

  “Our eyes and hair color and everything may have been chosen so we can carry on whatever crap it is that they’re talking about,” Isabelle said grabbing her hair for emphasis.

  “This is starting to freak me out,” Clarissa cried.

  “I was freaked out the second you showed me that pamphlet,” I said in a melancholic tone.

  The three of us sat on Clarissa’s bed. We didn’t say anything for a bit. We were all lost in our own thoughts of what everything meant. It sounded like straight up science fiction.

  …………………………………….

  I couldn’t sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes I heard screaming. I think it was our mother. It was Grace Fernando screaming, trying to tell me something. Answers, we needed answers.

  Chapter Seven

  I saw Jeremy sitting behind the circulation desk. It seemed we were the only ones in there, maybe because it was Friday, but I ran straight across the library to him.

  “Why hello,” he said smiling at me.

  “Boy do I have some crazy stuff to tell you,” I said leaning forward on the counter with my forearms. I bent in close to him because if anybody else was in there I did not want them to hear what I was going to tell Jeremy.

  “Okay, it seems there is this cult and they worship my mother and Mr. Carl is involved and they’re having a gathering tonight and I have to go and I want you to come with me.”

  “What, are you serious?”

  “Yeah, Clarissa and Isabelle found this pamphlet on a telephone pole and we think Mr. Carl put it there on purpose so we would find it. Supposedly there is this guy they call the Giver of Grace and he was approached by someone from a different planet, they say Pluto and told him to find Grace and he did and she was supposed to reproduce because she has to carry on what the human race is supposed to be like and that is in these aliens image and it’s all a whole bunch of whacky stuff.”

  “This is like don’t drink the purple punch kinda shit. Are you serious?”

  I leaned in a little closer. “Yes.”

  “I’ll so go with you.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Hey, what lunch do you have?”

  “Fifth.”

  “Wanna go to lunch?”

  “Why yes, do you have fifth period lunch too?”

  “No,” he said with his grin spreading all the way across his face.

  ………………………………………….

  The two of us sat across from each other in a restaurant called The Taco Shack. I was feasting on a steak taco and Jeremy was eating a burrito that claimed to be as big as an adult male’s cranium. I will say it was rather large. The whole restaurant seemed to be sticky. The paper wrapper from my taco stuck to the table and when we got up to leave I could hear my jeans pull off the booth.

  “What about you?” I asked Jeremy as I was drinking my pop from a red paper cup that had to too much crushed ice and very little pop.

  “What about me?” He asked wiping his hands in a napkin.

  “Well, what’s your life like. I just know the basic information.”

  “I dunno.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “I mean what do you want to know? I can tell you I live with my mom and stepdad and I have an older brother away at college.”

  “That’s a good start. What’s your brother’s name?”

  “Eric.”

  “Okay,” I paused. You could tell he didn’t really like talking about his home life.

  “That’s it?”

  “Pretty much, I guess. I mean my mom just got married like two years ago n before that it was just the three of us, but Brett, my stepdad, you could tell he didn’t want teenagers around, especially since they didn’t belong to him. He already had a couple grown kids, so I guess he was all done with that and he’s an ass n I can’t stand him.”

  I nodded. “Well, just think you can go away to college also.”

  “We’ll see. He’s trying to convince my mom not to help out with paying for college because I want to major in audio production and he says if I major in that what’s the point of even going to college n my mom believes his crap.”

  “Oh,” I said. “That really stinks.”

  “Yep, it sure does. I already applied to where I want to go and got accepted and everything.”

  “Wow, good for you.”

  “Without my mom’s help I can’t afford to go.”

  “Oh, that sucks. What is your brother majoring in?”

  “Accounting, something which he approves of.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find a way to go.”

  He pushed around what was left of his burrito with his finger. “I feel like an idiot sitting here n talkin bout my trivial problems considering everything you’re going through.”

  “They’re not trivial problems.”

  “Yeah, they kinda are. Anything else ya wanna know?” Jeremy asked crumpling up his burrito wrapper.

  “Your last name is Italian?”

  “Yeah, but I’m just part Italian. I’m also Puerto Rican, Scottish, um,” he said pausing to think. “Oh, and Portuguese and Cherokee, oh, and a smidgeon Polish.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot.”

  “I’m what you call an American mutt.”

  “I guess I’m kind of muttish too then.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah, Filipino, Polish and German.”

  “That definitely qualifies,” Jeremy said flashing me a smile. “You know what, we should start a club at school for all the mutts cuz there’s the Italian Club, which I could technically join n there’s a whole bunch of Latino clubs, which I could also join and then whatever other clubs I would technically qualify for, but there’s not one for being a conglomeration of ethnicities, ya know. Would you join? You could be the President or something.”

  “Of course, but I would prefer to be treasurer,” I responded thinking how much I enjoyed his company.

  He looked up through his hair and smiled. “Tell me more about this cult thingy.”

  “Well, they’re gathering tonight because supposedly the time has come, for what exactly I’m not sure. What if she is there? I have to go and see. It all seems so preposterous to me.”

  “That’s because it is. These people got to be loonies.”

  “I’m so glad you’re coming because I don’t want to go alone and Isabelle and Clarissa aren’t coming with, so we won’t attract attention. I’m hoping just I alone won’t get recognized.”

  “We so have to get you a disguise,” he said with a big grin spreading across his face.

  “You smile a lot.”

  “Yeah, it’s some weird condition I got.”

  “No, I like it.”

  Jeremy smiled at me again.

  ……………………………………

  My disguise wasn’t really much of a disguise. I had on a baseball hat, ear muffs over that so my ears would stay warm and sunglasses we bought at the drug store. Jeremy said it was a
good look on me. The gathering was in an old warehouse on the south side near the university. On the inside there was a wooden stage up front with a projection screen behind it and a podium. The ceilings were tall and all the duct work was showing. The walls were painted a dark gray and little windows lined the top. It had a very cave like feeling. There were rows upon rows of folding chairs lined up, hundreds. The place was packed. Every seat was sat in and there was a huge swarm of people in the back. That was where we tried to blend in.

  Jeremy leaned in towards me. “I was expecting everybody to be wearing like long white robes or something,” he whispered.

  I scanned the warehouse and everybody looked surprisingly normal. There were teenagers and elderly women, middle aged balding men, guys with mow hawks, girls with boyfriends, husbands, wives, you name it and it seemed like they were there. Then there was Jeremy and I, trying our best to fit in. Jeremy stood next to me wearing what looked like grey workpants and a plaid jacket. His hair stuck out the bottom of a green beanie.

  Somebody then walked onto stage and everybody started clapping. I immediately recognized him. He was maybe in his early thirties, with a widow’s peak and black plastic framed glasses. He was wearing a guitar across him and had on one of those microphone head set things. Everybody stood up. They all seemed to know what to do. We seemed to be the only newbies.

  “Hello children,” he spoke giving a little wave.

  “Hello, Pastor Dave,” everybody responded in unison. It was the same pastor that was at Elizabeth’s funeral. Goosebumps crept over my whole body.

  “Thanks for coming to this special gathering. You will hear some exciting news this evening, but first let’s start with the Song of Grace.” He started strumming his guitar and singing. Everybody sang along. Jeremy and I tried to mouth the words.

  “It was intelligent design in the Xtials eyes,” Pastor Dave sang. His voice wasn’t half bad. “And in their image we were made. And they gave us Grace to carry on the human race and in her image they were made.”

  “They gave us Grace, they gave us Grace,” everybody sang. “And in her image the new children were made.”

  Jeremy looked at me like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He put his hand over his face and shook his head. Everybody else was swaying and singing. Some had their hands raised in the air; others held hands and some embraced in hugs. One woman with a very think long braid had one hand over her heart and the other in the air with her eyes closed. Then on the projection screen a picture of my mother slowly fizzled together. It looked like it could have been a picture from college or possibly high school. It looked exactly like me. A wave of emotion swept over me, it seemed to of contorted my whole body. My back stiffened, my eyes opened as wide as humanly possible and my hand shot up and grabbed the sleeve to Jeremy’s jacket. I could feel the material of it balled up in my fist. I felt sorrow, anguish, anger, bubbling up inside of me. There was my mother on display for everybody to see, for people who were so familiar with the image and yet there I was her daughter, seeing it for the first time. Her hair was parted in the middle and worn long and smooth just like mine, just like in her missing person photo. The light shined off of it, giving her hair a brilliance of its own. Her dark almond eyes had a glitter in them; a glitter I’m sure that was never present in mine. Her skin was flawless and porcelain white. It was so unfair I should have been familiar with that picture, not the hundreds of strangers in that warehouse. I wanted her so badly. I wanted to hug her, ask her how her day had been. I pulled at Jeremy’s coat. It was keeping me grounded.

  “Come here,” he whispered to me pulling me into his body. I dug my head into his shoulder. He ran his hand over my hair from the top of my head all the way to the bottom where it fell down my back.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered trying to hold back my tears.

  “You’re strong,” he whispered back. “Find answers for Elizabeth.”

  I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. I looked up at Jeremy. He was looking into my eyes and ran his thumb across my cheek. “You can do this,” he reassured me.

  When they were done signing everyone clapped and then Pastor Dave introduced Dr. Carl Williams. People cheered, a few whistled. He walked out wearing jeans with a thin black belt and a blue and white striped collared shirt tucked in. He was carrying a cordless microphone. He gave a wave. “Hello children,” he said.

  “Hello Dr. Williams,” everyone responded.

  “Tonight is a special evening, but before we get to anything too exciting I wanted to talk a little about why we’re all here,” he paused and bobbed his head a little. “We are here because the Xtials put us here.”

  “Yes, yes,” people cried out.

  “They cloned themselves and placed us on this Earth for a reason and that is to carry on their life, their likeness,” he walked to the left across the stage and stood at the edge. “People talk of intelligent design, but many skip out that it wasn’t God. They forget to say that an alien race put us on this planet. People talk of evolution, but that is not true. We did not evolve from anything. We were born from the Xtials.” He pointed up towards the sky.

  Many raised their hands in the air, they clapped, and said “Yes, yes” again.

  “But we started getting messy. We’ve gotten away from their image of perfection. We’ve let disease run wild. We’ve accepted people to look undesirable. We’ve gotten away from what the image of the Xtials is supposed to be. That’s why they sent us Grace. She is exactly what we are supposed to be.” He turned and looked at the picture of my mother up on the screen. “This is what the Xtials look like. They are a beautiful healthy people with no suffering from disease. They are Grace and we are her children.”

  An explosion of sound rang through the warehouse. People stomped their feet and clapped, hooted, hollered and cheered and screamed, “Yes, yes.”

  “Now,” Mr. Carl said walking back to the middle of the stage. “I will like to present our leader, The Giver of Grace.” He twirled his arm to his side and walked off the stage.

  Onto the stage walked a tall sturdy man. His hair was a dark brown with sprinkles of gray. A clean cut beard covered his face. Deep set wrinkles were at the corners of his eyes, lines of distinction as he called them. His lips were thin and tight and his teeth seemed fake, being way to white. He wore brown corduroys with a sweater vest. The uproar began again. My face was frozen in place. My eyes couldn’t even blink.

  I grabbed Jeremy’s arm again.

  “You okay?”

  I shook my head no.

  “Should we go?” He whispered.

  I shook my head no again, stood up on my tip toes and whispered the quietest I could into his ear. “That’s my father.”

  “Oh shit,” he responded.

  This can’t be true, this can’t be true, kept running through my head. My father was a cult leader, this so called Giver of Grace. How could he not have told us about any of it? How could he not allow us to talk about our mother and yet he had a whole cult dedicated to her? He was crazy. He had to be certifiably insane. It was the only explanation I could have thought of.

  “All right, all right,” he said slowly shaking his head back and forth. “Yes, yes.” He looked upwards, perhaps looking up to Pluto, with a big grin on his face showing all his fake white teeth. “Tonight is a big night, a big night.” He slowly sauntered up to the front of the stage and rested a foot up on a speaker box. “We are all here for one reason and that’s the Xtails.” He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes and moved his head around like he was listening to some soft sweet music.

  I heard some yes, yes’s from the crowd. A couple next to us closed their eyes too. I felt so sad looking at that young couple. They were college aged. The girl had her hair cut short, almost like a little boys, and was wearing red lipstick and the guy was short and stocky with large thick sideburns. They looked like they were a nice couple. Probably in the midst of their studies deciding what to do with the
rest of their lives and yet they were there getting their minds corrupted by my father, Mr. Carl and Pastor Dave. It was all so insane. They were filling all those people’s minds and hearts with a bunch of nonsense and it was making me very upset because it was all at my mother’s expense.

  My father scanned the audience. “Now we all know that new children were to come to carry on the image of Grace. The perfect image of what the Xtials are.” He looked up at the screen and shook his head up and down as if he approved. “Grace is exactly what we should be like, she has no disease. She has no genetic disorders. She is perfection in itself. This is what we strive for. We need to do away with so much human suffering we brought on ourselves. With the new children we can get back on track.”

  “Four new children were made in the image of Grace.”

  I felt like I was going to vomit. He was talking about my sisters and me. We were the ones that were supposed to carry on the ideal for the human race, or the Xtial race, or whatever hogwash he was spitting out. I leaned up against Jeremy for support. He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head. If he wasn’t holding me up I was pretty sure I would have passed out and fell to the ground.

  “This is fucking bizarre,” he whispered.

  On the screen the picture of my mother fizzled away and one of my sisters and I fizzled in. My heart dropped. I felt immediate sadness. It was the same picture from the newspaper that Elizabeth left in the bathroom the day she killed herself. I reached up and grabbed Jeremy’s hand and squeezed it. He kissed the top of my head. Elizabeth looked perfect, but you could see the sadness in her eyes. Her eyes were trying to tell us to save her.

  “The four new children in the image of Grace,” my dad said pointing up at the screen. He did not even say my children or acknowledge that he was our father. Everybody started clapping. I looked at the ground. I did not need anybody recognizing me. “At The Clonation Foundation these four beautiful children were made in the image of Grace using our cloning technology.”

  At first I did not believe what I heard. I heard Jeremy say “What,” to himself. My father had to be pulling a fast one on these people. It couldn’t be possibly true.

 

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