Story Part II

“That one’s a brave one, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” Pratt smiled at the dark-haired Guardian who walked along beside him. “Our first catch of the day.”
“You’re not going any farther!” the young man screamed, his hand raised toward the Priest. “I’m not going to let you hurt anyone else!”
“Detain him,” the Guardian instructed.
“As you wish.”
“What?” the young man asked, dropping his hand to his side. “You’re just going to stop, just like that?”
“No,” Pratt responded. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
Pratt opened up his robes, revealing underneath a small wooden club, much like that which the topside guards carried around in order to ward off the evils of the government into which they had so bravely plunged themselves, true martyrs toward cleansing the entire human race, even those who had been condemned to eternal suffering in the land of the Government, of its sinful nature. He drew the club from its position as he advanced slowly toward the boy.
“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t kill you,” he stated as he drew closer, “but the Guardians have demanded that you be given the ultimate punishment.”
“Yeah? You’ll have to catch me first!” The young man ran off, darting down a hallway exactly opposite the one his friends had gone into.
“Sinners always run,” the Guardian warned.
“Yes, I know,” Pratt sighed as he took off after him. He followed the boy down another short series of turns before finally catching him at a dead end, where a single door awaited them.
“It’s over, boy.” Pratt stated as he strode down the hall toward him. “It was a valiant effort, but the Guardians, in their infinite mercy, have chosen to permit you passage into the afterlife, after all. Count yourself lucky; to have committed so great a sin and still been granted such, you must have found favor with the Guardians.”
The boy pressed his back to the door, looking as though he believed being closer to the door was a step toward passing through solid matter as he grasped desperately for the release switch. His face fell as he finally hit the switch, only to find that the door was locked, and wouldn’t open. He stared wide-eyed toward Pratt, stammering incomprehensibly as he tried in vain to find words.
“Come now, fear not, for the Guardians have shown mercy! You should be on your hands and knees begging forgiveness rather than stammering and trying to further your own sin by escaping.” He shrugged. “Though I suppose I can find some merit in your fears – after all, with sins as grave as those you’ve committed today, even death is unlikely to cleanse you – most likely you’ll end up as those other two we happened upon earlier today, forced to live a second life in the land of the Government, beyond the trees, where Satan himself resides, eternally lost and ignorant until God sees fit to return you to our holy city, where you will finally be able to come one with Him. In that light, I suppose your suffering does seem quite unbearable – but consider the alternative. You could be sent to the land of the government immediately, forced to suffer the punishment there of another lifetime that could be made lesser by the cleansing process.”
By now, Pratt had almost reached the boy. From behind, the familiar voice of his Guardian called out to him: “He’s going to run.”
As if on queue, the boy dashed forward, throwing himself to Pratt’s left to avoid the club in his hands. Spinning around quickly in the opposite direction, Pratt met the boy’s movement head-on with the side of the club. The boy fell to the ground, unconscious, blood slowly beginning to seep from the wide gash that now graced his forehead.
“One down,” Pratt remarked. “Three to go.” He pulled a small device from within his pocket and held it to his mouth, softly uttering orders to the Priest Guard on the other end. He didn’t have time to catch the others himself, but they would most certainly not be getting away.
Once the Guard had acknowledged his orders, Pratt bent to the ground, hoisting the limp body over his shoulder as he made his way through the winding catacombs and back toward the dungeon.