“You know, James Frank went into these woods about two weeks ago, and…”
“Yes, I know, Susan. He never came out. How many of these stories do you have, anyway?” Phil looked away and swallowed. As much as he tried to play the brave act, he did it more for his own sake than for Susan’s. There were dozens of such accounts of people entering the woods, for one reason or another. Among them all, though, one element remained the same: none of those people had ever been heard from again. Or so the stories went, anyway.
He took a step toward the edge of the woods, trying to wave his fear aside with one trembling hand.
“Most of that’s probably just made up stories anyway. I mean, did you ever know anyone named ‘James Frank,’ anyway?”
“Phil, he was in our class.”
He stopped. There was a tremble in Susan’s voice that Phil had never heard from her, even after two years of dating, except on the day her mother had died. It was more out of sorrow for James than out of fear of the wood, he knew, but that didn’t do a thing to quell the rapid beating of his heart, which seemed to have become lodged in his throat and was now threatening to burst its way out.
“Susan,” he began, but he had nothing to say – nothing to comfort her sorrow, nothing to calm his fear. “Susan, let’s just do this.”
He took another step toward the woods. Suddenly, he felt something cold graze his shoulder and he leapt forward, banging his head against a nearby tree trunk in the process. Scattered laughter arose from the crowd that had gathered to witness them entering the woods. What good would the bet be if no one was around to verify it?
“Jumpy, aren’t we?”
Susan leaned down and offered him a hand. Phil tried to laugh it off, quite unsuccessfully, and accepted.
“You really have to stop that,” he chuckled. “It doesn’t make us men look good when you girls out-brave us.”
She laughed, wrapping her arm around his shoulder.
“C’mon, scaredy-cat. Let’s go.”
He sighed.
“I guess I just can’t help it, huh? I mean, even if they are just rumors…”
“All we have to do is prove we can come back out, right? We’ll be in there for five minutes, tops. That’s not so bad, is it?”
“No, I guess not. And I could really use the money, anyway.”
“Well, that settles it, then. Let’s do this.”
He looked at her for a moment, then nodded.
“Yeah. Thanks a bunch, Suze.”
He kissed her briefly, then wrapped his own arm around her waist. Together, they entered the woods.
“Shouldn’t we be heading out by now, Suze?” After five minutes of walking without any sign of anything unusual, Phil had finally found his calm.
“Phil…” There was an edge to Susan’s voice, different from before. “I’ve been trying to do that for the past 3 minutes at least.” After five minutes of walking without any sign of an exit, Susan had finally lost her calm. “We’re going back exactly the way we came, right?” She paused for a moment, observing their surroundings. “Phil!” She pointed at a nearby tree. “See that giant knot? We’ve passed that tree already!”
“What?”
“Phil, we’re going in circles!” Tears came to her eyes, and she fell to her knees. Phil, determined not to miss an opportunity to be the man in their relationship, leaned down and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“It’s alright! So we’re a little lost. We didn’t come in that far, so it shouldn’t be that hard to find our way out, right? C’mon, Suze. Everything will be alright. I’m sure of it.”
“Phil…” she began, only to be suddenly interrupted by an oddly monotonous voice.
“Do you have Guardians?”
“What? Guardians?” Phil stood up and turned around. Behind them were two very oddly-dressed men; their clothes were unlike any Phil had ever seen. Their shirts were both sleeveless, flaring out at the bottom like a short skirt, and their pant legs were longer on the outside of the legs than on the inseam. Covering their eyes were large black goggles whose lenses seemed to glow with a faint purple tint. Their clothes were dirty and sloppily worn, and their hair and expressions gave the impression that they hadn’t slept in two or three days.
“What are Guardians?”
“You don’t know?” He turned and stared off into space. “Then you must be from beyond the trees.”
“Beyond the trees? You mean… you guys live… here?”
“You shouldn’t speak with them,” the second man spoke up. “They’re…” he glared at Phil, “Unclean.”
The first man lowered his head slightly. “Of course, Uncle.” He raised back up, gesturing toward Phil and Susan. “What should we do with these Heretics?”
“Heretics?! Who are you, the Spanish Inquisition?! I promise, we are both good, church-going–” Phil was answered only by a quick slap in the face from what appeared to be the elder – though that was a difficult comparison, as neither was cleanly shaven, and, as a result, both appeared at least ten years older than they must have been.
“You will speak when you are spoken to, heretic. Don’t insult us; your ‘church’ is heresy of its own accord.”
“What!?” This time, it was Susan who spoke, whirling around suddenly to face the strange men. The younger man swiftly shot her to the ground with a swift kick.
“Didn’t my uncle just tell you to be quiet? Learn your place, brat!”
The elder leaned down and grabbed Susan by her chin, scrunching up her face as spoke.
“What are your names, brat?”
She didn’t respond. He produced what appeared to be a wooden sword from his belt and held it threateningly above her.
“You still don’t know your place, do you, brat? When someone speaks to you, answer!”
“It’s Susan,” Phil stated. “She’s Susan, and I’m Phil.”
The man lowered the branch and released Susan’s face, standing and looking instead at Phil.
“You think you’re smart, huh, ‘Phil?’” he swung the weapon broadly and caught Phil on the hip. There was an audible crack as Phil’s hip gave way to the pressure, and he toppled to the ground with a loud cry of pain. “I didn’t ask you, I asked your little friend, here. Speak when you’re spoken to, Heretic.”
He turned, grabbing Susan’s elbow and motioning for the younger one to do the same with Phil.
“Come with me,” he commanded, jerking her off the ground.
“Why?” Susan asked, refusing to move.
“You’re Heretics,” he explained. “Sinners. Your people are all sinners. For your own good, we can’t let you go back beyond the trees. You must be cleansed of your sins, or you’ll be condemned to Eternal Helfire!”
“If you don’t let us go,” Susan began. “If you don’t let us go, I’ll scream! There are people waiting for us at the edge of the wood, and we’re not that far from there! They’ll come and–”
“Don’t worry, Susan. You’re quite far from the edge of the woods here. Your heretic culture can no longer prevent your cleansing; you can now travel the path of righteousness and become one with the Almighty. If your sins aren’t too heavy, the cleaning will be quick, and relatively painless. The pain you feel will simply be your sins exiting your body, clearing your mind and freeing your soul so that you may finally meet your Spiritual Guides and achieve Eternal Harmony! Remember that, for it is the only path to spiritual purity.”
He tightened his grip on Susan’s elbow and pulled her from her spot, draping her over his shoulder as he walked away. Behind him, the other man did the same with Phil. After a few minutes’ walking, they finally arrived at a large circle of trees. The elder man pushed a not on one of the trees, and the trunk slid open to reveal a small, circular room.
The two min stepped inside, and the door slid closed behind them. The elder man pressed a button, and the room slowly began to descend…
* * *
Julian Wensley sighed as he left the old church building.
“Cheer up, Julian,” Elizabeth Rose Morecott came running up behind him and rested a gloved hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll find it soon!”
“Yeah, maybe…” After nearly 20 years of devotion, offering, and spiritual seeking, Julian still didn’t have a guardian. He couldn’t remember having sinned – he did his best to follow the books of the church and the teachings of the Priests – but for some reason, his spiritual guide seemed to have deserted him completely. If he didn’t find it by his next birthday…
“I still haven’t found mine, either, you know.”
“Yes, but you’re still only 19. You’ve got almost two years left. I’ve only got a week.”
“Don’t worry! If you don’t find it on time, the Priests will take care of your sins for you, and then your Guardian will return!”
“Yeah, easy for you to say. You don’t have to be ‘cleansed.’ You don’t have to deal with being labeled a Sinner. I’ve seen the way the villagers treat Sinners.”
Elizabeth crossed to his other side, draping her other arm around his shoulder. “Would you rather die a sinner? It can’t be all that bad.”
“I’ve heard stories.” He stopped as a bird flew by overhead. “I can’t say anything.” He pointed at the bird, silhouetted against the dirt that made up the sky in the underground city of Ardenberg. “They might be listening.”
“They’re always listening.” Or so the Priests had taught them. The “Government,” the evil entity always out to take the lives and souls of mankind, was always watching, always listening – the birds, the trees, and even the rocks reported directly to It, and couldn’t be trusted with anything. Elizabeth followed the bird until it reached the central corridor and flew up to the next level. She looked back at Julian and smiled. “Don’t worry! I’m sure it’ll be OK.”
They passed by one of the many underground gardens of Ardenberg.
“Hold on a sec. We’re running out of potatoes at home, and I’m supposed to pick some up on my way back.”
He walked over to the garden and unearthed one of the ripe plants, removing all of its ripe potatoes before tossing it into a nearby mulcher. Next to this lay an open seed bag, from which Julian extracted a single potato seed, which he tenderly planted in the same spot the other plant had previously occupied, watering and fertilizing it as he did so. With the many advances made in gardening since the city’s foundation some 400 years ago, the plants would be ripe within a week and ready for harvesting.
He returned to Elizabeth and smiled half-heartedly.
“C’mon, Julian! Cheer up!”
“I am happy…”
“No, happy people don’t smile like that. Happy people smile like this, see?” She grinned brightly.
“How can I be happy when even God seems to be against me?”
Elizabeth’s bright face suddenly became serious.
“Julian, even if God himself turns against you, I will always be there for you.” She smiled once more. “Doesn’t that make you at least a little bit happy?”
Julian smiled a bit. Only a bit, but it was genuine.
“Yes. It does.”
“Then brighten up. Don’t be so gloomy – you’re not an adult yet.”
Finally, Julian managed a smile.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
By now, they had reached the central column of Ardenberg. From here, one would be able to reach any of the 51 levels of the city, numbered 0-50, with level 50 being the surface, by aero-lift, of which there were several hundred, arranged circularly around the central column. They came to the nearest unoccupied aero-lift and stepped aboard.
Julian and Elizabeth each pressed the button to take them to the level of their own house, and the aero-lift began to rise. Julian allowed himself, as he often liked to do, to be taken in by the almost mesmerizing view created by the thousands of brilliant lights that lit the central corridor. After a few moments, it stopped. Julian, who lived one level below Elizabeth, moved toward the exit, but stopped suddenly. They weren’t on his level yet. He waited for the doors to open and someone else to get on, but it didn’t happen.
Instead, the aero-lift simply began moving downward once more. A light came on next to a small speaker, and a voice began to sound.
“Attention: two people from beyond the trees have been caught trespassing on Level 50. They lack guardians, and the High Priest has recommended that they are to undergo Cleansing. All citizens must report to Level 0 immediately to pass judgment.”
The aero-lift came to a halt and the two stepped out. Why was it that every time someone was caught trespassing, everyone had to be there? Julian and Elizabeth weren’t even allowed to vote yet – only adults could do that – but all citizens had to be present. They walked through the doors of the massive church. Big enough to seat the entire city, and with the seats arranged in multiple levels that arced around one side of a small pulpit, it was still an amazing sight to behold, even after all these years. This main room alone was nearly 200 stories tall and as spacious as ten football stadiums. In front of each seat was a small projector, capable of producing a fully-holographic rendering of whoever stood behind the pulpit, as well as a small television screen to capture events that occurred in other areas of the room.
Julian and Elizabeth found a pair of empty seats and waited for the ceremony to begin. Once everyone in the city was there and accounted for, the High Priest emerged into the arena.
The High Priest was a tall but gangly man who would have been much better looking were it not for the deep sagging of his sleep-deprived eyes and the many stress-borne wrinkles that covered his face, the result of a man who lived with more spiritual guides than any normal human could ever hope to deal with. Truly, the fact that the man was still alive was proof enough of his amazing spiritual prowess just in itself. He was clad in the traditional garb of the Priesthood, with long white robes and twin sashes draped over his shoulders. Once he had reached the podium, he raised his arms and spoke, the microphone attached to his lapel carrying his voice into the furthest corners of the enormous building.
“Fellow Guarded Ones. We have once again found miscreants among us. These two were fount wandering the upper level of Ardenberg, and do not have Guardians. They are from beyond the trees, and have committed the sins of the World to such an extent that God himself has deserted them, and has denied them their Guardians. These two miscreants…”
Two guards came forth, escorting a young woman, around the same age as Elizabeth, and a boy of similar age who seemed to have something wrong with his hip.
“…must be brought to see the error of their ways. They have sinned, but, with our help, they can be made pure. We must cleanse them of their sins; this is the only possible choice.”
He paused and stepped back from the podium to allow the citizens time to discuss among themselves. Once enough time had passed, the High Priest stepped forward once more, raising his hands in the air to call for silence.
“The Council will now listen to your suggestions for cleansing.”
Of course, the Council of Priests, who ran everything, had already decided on the method of cleansing; this was merely a formality.
“Your Greatness, perhaps they should be made to read the good books. Perhaps they can atone for their own sins once they are made aware of them,” one man spoke.
“Your Greatness, that may be well, but perhaps they should also be given Priestly council. There they can confess their sins, and you, Oh Great One, being the closest of us to God, can bring their confession to Him and obtain His forgiveness,” a woman added from across the room. Julian felt himself sinking into his seat; this was going to take forever.
* * *
A barred door slammed behind them as Phil and Susan sank into the cold cots of the prison. He knew there were no dungeons in use anymore, but Phil couldn’t help wondering whether or not that was truly where they were. The doors were all arched, and the entire building was made of stone. Lining the walls were a number of torches that served as the only source of light, and many of the prisoners – all heretics, Phil assumed – were chained to the walls by their wrist.
“The Priests have determined that you will undergo primary cleansing by baptism.”
“Baptism?” Susan asked. “The people decided on reading the books and counseling!”
“The Priests do not answer to the people. It’s the other way around.”
“And do the people know this?”
“Should they?”
“Let it go, Susan,” Phil said. “Baptism isn’t that bad – they’ll just hold you under water for a few seconds and it’ll be over.”
“Perhaps that is the method of baptism in your heathen culture, but it works differently among God’s true servants. You will be held under the water for a full minute before you are allowed to breathe. You will then have 10 seconds before you are re-immersed. This will continue for three full days.”
Susan stood up. “That’s insane! Are you trying to kill us?!”
“We are not trying to kill you. That is God’s decision. This is the cleansing process – through pain, we are cleansed of our sins. If your sin requires it, you will be cleansed through death. That is the way of things.” The guard turned on one heel and began to walk away. "Your cleansing will begin at dawn. Give thanks; God is now ready to forgive your sinful lifestyle."
“Wait!” Phil cried, but his cries fell on deaf ears. The guard simply kept walking, and was soon out of sight completely.
Susan fell back on her cot, speechless. A thick, ominous silence set in, and it was several minutes before either one could find words to break it.
"They're... They're going to..." Susan couldn't bring herself to say it, but deep inside, she knew. They were going to be tortured. They were the prisoners of some age-old spiritual war, and something told her they wouldn't be going home any time soon.
She sighed. So this was where their little bet had gotten them. Susan had always hated gambling, and now she knew why: she had a bad tendency to lose. She rolled over to face the cold stone wall.
"We might as well get some sleep. This'll probably be our last chance for a while."
Not surprisingly, Phil didn't quite share Susan's optimistic point of view. He sat in a corner, huddled in a ball, silently sobbing to himself.
"How can you sleep? Susan, they're going to torture us! They're going to torture us until we accept their religion!" He abruptly stood up. "Instead of sleeping, we should be finding some way out of here!"
"There is no way out," Susan's responded blankly, her voice muffled by the make-shift pillow she had made with her jacket. "I looked earlier. The walls are solid, the door is locked. They act weird, but these people are smarter than they seem." She rolled over to face him. "Besides that, take a look outside."
Phil strode silently over to the door, gripping the bar as he strained to peer around the corner.
"I don't see anything."
"Look at the ceiling. There are cameras all over the place. And, I may be wrong, but I'm betting that those devices attached to the bottoms are stun guns and sleeping gas containers. And, judging by all of the other technologies we've seen, they're probably completely automated."
"Wow," Phil mused as he observed the motion of the cameras. "We've been captured by aliens."
"No, not aliens. These people are human, there's no doubt about that. But there's also no doubt that they're completely technologically superior to us."
"Then where did it all come from?"
"I don't know." Susan rolled back over. "But I think we've been captured by a city of geniuses."
Phil didn't respond, instead simply staring at one of the cameras while it carefully traced the movement of a large rat across the floor, while the other nearby cameras completely ignored it. It seemed a perfect system, all of the cameras working at maximum efficiency under a single, omnipresent mind.
"Get some sleep, Phil. Goodness knows you're going to need it."
Phil continued staring through the bars as the camera locked onto the rat, emitting a small blue band of electricity that caught the rat dead on. The rat stopped, convulsing for a moment before finally falling completely limp.
"Phil?"
"Yeah. Sleep."
He stared at the rat - dead, apparently - for only a few moments more before turning from the door and sauntering over to his bed, his hopes every bit as dead as that smoldering rat, which lay just outside captivity, yet not an inch closer to freedom.
* * *
Julian lay in bed, unable to sleep. Was he really a Sinner? There was less than a week before he was due to meet his Guardian – if he didn’t meet it by the time he came of age, it unequivocally was a sign that he had sinned. But when? He stared blankly at the ceiling, then rolled over and stared at an artist’s rendering of one of the High Priests seventeen Guardians.
The Guardian was tall with short brown hair and blue eyes, as well as a very obvious cleft in his chin. His clothing was more or less modern: a red shirt with a collar that flared out slightly at the bottom and a pair of blue cotton pants that stopped around mid-calf. On his feet was a pair of sandals that looked like they had been passed down from the founding priests of the Guarded Ones.
He rose from his bed and kneeled in front of the image, slapping his hands together and bowing deeply.
“Oh Great Lord of the Guardians,” he began, “I, Julian Wensley, present myself to thee, as I am, lowly and Un-Guarded.” He rose. “I would seek your counsel, Great Lord. Hast thou turned against me? Am I a Sinner? Please, Great Lord of the Guardians, hear my prayer! Send me my Guardian that he or she might guide me through my life, that I might someday escape the eyes of Satan and the Government and become one with thee!”
The Guardian in the picture simply stared blankly into space, refusing to respond. Julian sighed and rose, walking over to his bedside table and gently grasping a holographic family portrait that lay nearby.
“Perhaps he’s turned against me, after all.” He replaced the palm-sized hologram projector back on the table. “I’m sorry, Mom and Dad. Maybe I am a,” he gulped, “a sinner.”
Suddenly, a small light began flashing on the hologram projector. A few seconds later, Julian’s favorite song began playing from the base. He reached out and pressed a button, and his family disappeared to reveal a miniature Elizabeth with a very worried look on her face.
“Julian, I’ve been thinking, and I’m worried about you. What if you really are a sinner?”
Julian sighed, his heart sinking a few inches, somehow managing to lodge itself in his throat in the process. How that worked, Julian wasn’t exactly sure.
“You too, huh?” He looked away, afraid to keep eye contact with her. “I was afraid of that.”
“Listen, Julian, it’s not so bad.” Elizabeth tried to fake a smile, but, even at her reduced size, she didn’t have much success. “Just go talk to the High Priest. He knows everything – I’m sure he can help you out!”
“Elizabeth, I can’t talk to him!”
“Why not?”
“Because… because the High Priest doesn’t speak to Sinners like me.”
“Which is why you have to go now – while everyone still thinks you’re ok!”
“No, Elizabeth… I- I just can’t do it.”
Elizabeth shrunk, her eyes moving to the ground.
“Julian…”
They paused for a moment, neither one brave enough to attempt eye contact. It was Elizabeth who finally broke the silence once more.
“I’ll go with you.”
Julian’s eyes widened in surprise.
“What?”
“I’ll go with you! You won’t be afraid then, right?”
“Elizabeth… Why would you do that for me?”
She smiled.
“I told you once already: even if God himself turns against you, I will always be there for you.”
Julian simply stared at her for a moment, too shocked to speak. Finally, he nodded.
“All right, I’ll go. What do I have to lose, anyway?”
Elizabeth let out a yelp of joy.
“Great! I’ll meet you on Level 0 first thing in the morning!”
“Alright, see you then.” Julian reached for the off switch, but was interrupted by Elizabeth once more.
“Julian… I’m happy for you. Everything’s going to work out, after all.”
Julian nodded.
“Yeah.”
He flipped the switch, and Elizabeth disappeared, replaced once more by Julian’s family. He slid back into bed, his mind as clear as it had been in months, and drifted of to sleep.
* * *
Phil heaved as he was raised from the water, coughing up a good deal of it as he did so. He had barely taken five breaths before he was submerged once more, inhaling a little bit more water as he went under.
“How is the cleansing process going?”
Sir Thomas Kemp, Priest of the Third Order, looked up to see a white-robed man walking into the room.
“No progress yet.”
The man was Sir Walter Pratt, Priest of the First Order and supervisor for the cleansing of these two heretics.
“How long since the last check?”
“One hour.”
“Check him again.”
Kemp raised him from the water, giving him enough time to completely catch his breath before beginning to question him. Meanwhile, another Priest, Sir Edward Wellen of the Third order, did the same with the girl.
“Heretic Phil: how many people in this room?”
Phil looked around with bloodshot eyes, slowly counting the people in the room.
“Eight… there are,” he coughed, “eight people.”
“How many voices do you hear?”
“Only… yours and your friend’s. What is the point of all this? What does all of this have to do with–”
“Submerge them again,” Pratt interrupted. “They have not yet been cleansed.”
Kemp obeyed, shoving Phil’s head back into the water. Across the room, Wellen did the same.
“I will be back in one hour to observe another test,” Pratt remarked, then turned on a heel and stalked out of the room.
* * *
Julian stepped off of the aero-lift onto Level 0, nearly running over a broadly-grinning Elizabeth Morecott.
“Oh. Uh, hi Liz,” he stammered.
“Hello!” Elizabeth beamed. “Ready to go?”
Julian smiled. “Ready when you are. Let’s go.”
Elizabeth linked her arm around his and they began to walk toward the Church building. Once inside, they took a left and walked down a long hallway until they had reached the Office of the High Priest. Elizabeth extended a hand and knocked gently on the door, then smiled brightly at Julian.
“The High Priest will be here any moment now, and he’ll help you out, Julian!”
Julian nodded.
“Yeah. I feel like everything’s going to work out somehow.”
Before Elizabeth could respond, the door opened, revealing a very blank-faced secretary in a long skirt.
“I’m sorry, but the High Priest isn’t accepting visitors today.” She looked at Julian and Elizabeth’s beaming faces, did a double take, stared blankly at them for a moment, and spoke again. “The High Priest does not accept visits from those who are not at age, anyway.”
“Can you at least tell him we’re here?” Elizabeth asked. “Tell him it’s an emergency.”
“I’m sorry, but His Greatness isn’t in the office today. He’s personally assisting with the cleansing of our new guests.”
“I see. Well, we’ll come by tomorrow, then. Sorry to have bothered you.”
The secretary responded by simply closing the door in their faces.
“Elizabeth,” Julian began.
“Don’t worry. We’re going to see him today, whether he likes it or not. We’ll just have to find him in the cleansing chambers.”
“Elizabeth, we’re not allowed in there!”
“I know. Don’t worry; I thought this might happen, so I brought these along.” She opened her backpack to reveal a pair of white priest robes. “They belonged to my grandparents. Both of them were Priests. They ought to fit us alright. But we can’t change into them here.” She gestured behind her at the robotic cameras that were sweeping the hallway. “Follow me.”
He followed her back out of the church and back to the Central Corridor. There, they ducked into an open aero-lift. Elizabeth pushed a button, and the doors closed behind them as they started up.
“Change here. There are no cameras in the lifts, and we can go back down in another lift so that no one gets suspicious,” she explained.
“Right.”
They changed, then stepped off at the relatively un-inhabited industrial sector that was Level 47. When they were sure no one was around, they called another aero-lift and stepped aboard.
Back on Level 0, Priests Julian Wensley and Elizabeth Morecott, both of the Fourth Order of the Priesthood, stepped off of the aero-lift and began moving back toward the Church. Inside, Julian once again took up following Elizabeth as she led them through the complex corridors to an indoor aero-lift that would lead them to the cleansing chambers.
“Elizabeth… won’t we get in trouble when the High Priest finds out that we’re not really Priests?”
Elizabeth’s face twisted up into a thoughtful frown.
“You know, I hadn’t thought of that… you’re probably right, though. I doubt he’ll help you, at any rate.” There were no prisons in Ardenberg, so they couldn’t be thrown in jail, but it was a pretty sure thing that the High Priest wouldn’t help an imposter. Besides that, impersonating a Priest was a…
“Wait. Isn’t impersonating a Priest considered a sin?” Julian questioned.
Elizabeth thought for a moment.
“Yes, I think you’re right, it might be.”
“Then how is this getting us anywhere?! Isn’t this the exact opposite of what we’re trying to do?!”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yeah, that seems about right.”
“Then we need to get out of here! Maybe we can cleanse ourselves through reading and prayer, like the adults do when they sin, and not worry about it! If they catch us…”
Just then, the doors to the aero-lift shot open, and Julian forgot what he was saying. All around the cleansing room, people – many of whom Julian had never seen – were strapped to one contraption or another, being pulled or cut or otherwise tortured. Everyone who was able to do so was screaming, either from pain or mental anguish, as the various devices did their jobs.
Throughout the room, a number of white-robed figures moved about, activating, deactivating, or adjusting the devices; one of them was busily removing a lifeless body from one of the machines. Blood spattered the ground as the body came loose, revealing a bed of small needles that slowly retreated back into the machine to make way for the next user.
"Julian..." Elizabeth gasped. Julian turned and began to head back into the aero-lift, then stopped abruptly.
"The lift's gone," he explained.
"What?"
"Someone's coming."
They stared at each other for a moment before Elizabeth finally grabbed Julian by the shirt sleeve, dragging him further into the room.
"We've got to get out of here," she explained.
"Wait! We'll be caught!"
"And what if that's the High Priest coming down?"
Julian didn't respond. She was right, of course. They wound their way through the multitude of torture devices and white-robed Priests, heading for a large door on the other side of the room. They had almost made it, when Julian felt a tight grip on his left shoulder.
"Where are you going?" a grim voice came from behind him. Julian turned slightly, only enough to make out the face of Sir Walter Pratt, a well-known Priest of the First Order, only one step below the High Priest himself.
“Uh…” Julian stammered. “We were…”
“We were asked to help clean that machine,” Elizabeth chimed in, gesturing at the recently vacated device in the corner of the room. She somehow managed to keep her voice as flat and emotionless as a normal adult, though Julian couldn’t imagine how. “They said they needed some help getting the blood out of the cracks.”
“Well, never mind that, Miss…”
“Redman. Marion Redman, Fourth Order.”
The Priest was silent for a moment, and Julian’s heart threatened to break through his ribcage.
“Right,” he said at last. “Miss Redman. Funny, but I don’t seem to remember you…”
Julian’s heart skipped a beat. He knew he’d had a bad feeling about this whole situation.
“Well, no matter.” The Priest continued. “Don’t worry about the machine. They’ve got plenty of hands over there. They just like to give the dirty work to the new people. You’re needed.”
“O-oh.” Julian managed to get out. “Y-yeah.”
“Just remember, your orders all come from me down here. Don’t listen to anyone else. And don’t be so nervous; there’s no reason to be afraid of me, as long as you’re not sinners.”
That last part sent a chill down Julian’s spine.
“Where do you need us, Your Greatness?”
“No need for formalities!” Suddenly, the Priest sounded angry – a rare sign of emotion. Of course, being an adult, and particularly one of the upper-echelon Priesthood, those sort of random outbursts were to be expected. He quickly mellowed out, continuing in a voice one would almost label “sadness.” “We need you to relieve Sirs Wellen and Kemp, both of the Third Order, from their duties in the far end of the room.”
He gestured toward a small pool of water in which stood two priests, their hands seemingly holding something – or someone – under the waist-deep water. After a few moments, they brought up a young man and woman, who immediately began spastically sputtering water.
“The cleansing of these two heretics has been progressing for 14 hours with no rest. Sirs Wellen and Kemp have been overworked, and I would like you to relieve them.”
Julian squinted his eyes and took a closer look. He only got a short glimpse before they were shoved under the water again, but a short glimpse was all he needed. Those were, indeed, the two who had been brought under trial the day before. But hadn’t they been sentenced to reading and counseling? So much for trusting the Priesthood. Then again, Julian had been suspecting as much since they had entered this room.
“What we need you to do,” the Priest interrupted his thoughts, “is to continue the baptism of these two. You two can handle that, correct?”
“Baptism…” Elizabeth thought aloud. “How, exactly, does that work again?”
The Priest shot her a confused look for a moment, then nodded, as if suddenly understanding.
“Of course, you’re new here, aren’t you? First, you need to hold them under the water for a full minute. When the time is up, raise them up for ten seconds, then lower them again. Check for Guardians every hour. It’s just like the Books say: through Baptism, one is brought closer to his Guardian. The Guardian, it’s… it’s like your Spiritual Guide. You know… it takes you to heaven. You have one: you go to heaven. You don’t: you spend eternity with the Government. They’re like your parents; they take care of you. T-they watch over you. They tell you what you need to know. Anyway, that’s baptism.”
Julian was used to the rambling of adults by now, but that didn’t mean it made any more sense to him. Still, he thought he had the basic idea. He nodded politely.
“Got it.”
He started to walk toward the pool, but the Priest held him back.
“And you… your name was…”
“Er… That’s…”
“Walter Jenny, Fourth Order,” Elizabeth cut in. “He doesn’t talk much.”
The Priest looked at Julian suspiciously, but released his grip nonetheless.
“Right. Welcome to the Priesthood, Sirs Jenny and Redman.”
The Priest sent them on their way, then hurried out of the room.
“He’s in a bit of a hurry, isn’t he?” Julian commented.
“It did seem that way,” Elizabeth responded. “We shouldn’t talk much, though. Let’s just get this over with.”
Julian nodded, and they headed off grimly toward the pool.
* * *
Phil coughed up blood as he was raised from the water. It wasn’t the first time over the past 14 or so hours that he had done so, either; indeed, he was fairly certain that the water was beginning to become discolored from all the blood he and Susan had coughed up. He tried his best to catch his breath over the next ten seconds, then braced himself to be submerged again. This time, though, it didn’t happen. Were they really going to let him go?
He reached up and rubbed his blood-shot eyes, then craned his neck around to see behind him. Judging by the two white-robed figures approaching from the opposite end of the “cleansing chamber,” it was just time for a shift change. Phil tried to sigh, but only succeeded in coughing up more blood.
“Priest Pratt asked us to relieve you,” a voice said from somewhere in the distance, though Phil couldn’t quite tell where. Everything sounded muffled and distant from the water in his ears.
“Sure,” another voice replied. He felt the Priest’s iron grip loosen, and suddenly fell forward into the water, too weakened to support his own weight. A muffled splash indicated that Susan had done the same. A few moments later, he felt another hand grip him around his chest, gently lifting him back up.
“Don’t worry,” a voice whispered. “We’re going to get you out of here. Just play along a little longer.”
Phil didn’t have the energy to respond, but managed a slight nod to signify that he had heard. He braced himself as he was once again shoved under the water, reluctantly accepting the new Priest’s words. Though his head told him this was just another layer of torture, his heart was thrilled to have even the smallest glimpse of hope to fall back on.
He held his breath, slowly counting out the seconds.
…27, 28, 29, 30…
Suddenly, he felt air hit his face. He took in a giant breath. Were these guys for real?
He breathed for a counted 9 seconds, took another breath, and prepared himself to hit water. Once again, it didn’t come. Another 10 seconds passed.
“Get ready,” the voice whispered again. He took another breath, and hit water. Another thirty seconds, and he was breathing again.
This went on for another hour or so, but it went by quickly, comparatively. Each time he was raised from the water, the voice – he still couldn’t tell if it was male or female, though he was hearing it substantially more clearly now – spoke reassuring thoughts in his ear. Finally, it happened. Though, what “it” was, Phil wasn’t quite sure. All he knew was that he was suddenly out of the water and riding piggyback up a long, winding staircase.
“How long is this going to take?” Julian whispered. “We need to be out of here by now!”
They’d been “cleansing” the two outsiders for nearly an hour now, waiting for some distraction to open an escape rout for them, but none seemed to be presenting itself.
“Shh! I’ll tell you when it’s time. Just wait a few more minutes.”
Julian sighed. At this rate, they were next in line for “baptism,” once their current victims finally died. He released his pressure on the stranger’s head, allowing him to breathe again, looking around cautiously as he did so. It was only a matter of time before some wandering eyes caught on to their little scheme.
“How are you holding up?” he asked softly.
“I’ve been better,” the boy whispered, “but I think I can hold out a bit longer.”
“Alright. Just a few more minutes, and we’ll be out of here.”
He lowered the stranger again, submerging him once more into the blood-tainted water. He’d been telling him that since they started this charade, and he was starting to think that the mental torture he was most likely inflicting was worse than the physical one. By now, even Julian was beginning to think an opportunity for escape would never come.
Just as he thought that, however, a shout came from the other side of the room.
“Success!”
The Priests were a bustle of flat-toned voices, all abandoning their posts to go and greet their new “brother.” Julian’s eyes shot to Elizabeth, who gave a subtle nod.
“It’s time.”
They reached into the water, each grabbing a body by the waist and hoisting them onto their backs.
“Hold on tight!” Elizabeth yelled.
They streaked across the room and through the door on the opposite end. “Up!” Elizabeth commanded, and they took a right, heading up a winding, torch-lit staircase that they only hoped would lead to freedom.
Once they were certain that they were out of earshot from the room below, they stopped.
“Are you two okay to walk?” Elizabeth asked.
“I think so,” the girl replied.
“How about you?” she asked, gesturing to the boy on Julian’s back.
“Yeah,” he responded, “I’m okay.”
Elizabeth and Julian gently let the strangers to their feet.
“I’m Elizabeth,” Elizabeth stated, “and this is Julian.”
“Phil,” the boy replied, “and this is my girlfriend, Susan.”
“Nice to meet you,” Susan said courtly.
“No time for formalities,” Julian said. “Let’s just go.”
The others nodded in reply, and they began running up the stairs.
“Try to be as quiet as possible,” Elizabeth said. “It won’t be long before they realize what’s happened, and they’ll be looking for us. Now, the cameras are motion sensitive, so, when we get out of this stairwell, there won’t be much use, but we want to stay hidden as long as we can.”
“Right,” the boy – Phil, was it? – responded. “No sense giving ourselves away before we have to.”
Julian glanced nervously at Elizabeth.
“You do have a plan to get us out of here, don’t you?”
“Not particularly,” she responded. “We’ll just have to play it by ear.”
“Great.” Julian sighed. Oh, well. At least they were out of sight, for now. “Ok, we’ll figure something out. But what do we do when we do get out of here? We’re sinners now. As soon as they realize we’re gone, they’re going to check the cameras, confirm our identities, and send the whole city at us. There’s no escaping our fate.”
“There is one way,” Phil cut in. Julian stopped, intrigued. Phil didn’t say anything.
“Care to tell us what that one way is?” Elizabeth demanded.
“Well, first you’d have to get out of the city.”
“We’ve already established that.” Julian remarked.
“Once you get topside, if you can find your way out of the woods, there’s a city just outside, less than a mile from here. It’s full of people like us, people your Priests would call “sinners;” if we can get there, I’m sure we can find some help for you; we can even get enough people and weapons to come back for the rest of those poor souls.”
“An entire city of people like you?” Julian asked, wide-eyed. “And not a single one of them with a Guardian?”
“That’s right,” Susan put in. “Not a single one. These ‘Guardians’ your Priests are talking about are a sham. Who started this hokey religion, anyway?”
“The first High Priest, Sir Ambrose Bullstrode,” Elizabeth explained. “His Guardian revealed himself to him and instructed him to build the First Church of the Guarded Ones – the very building in which we now stand. He rallied the people, and unified them under the name of the Almighty.”
“And the people just believed it?” Phil asked. “They just believed that this guy had seen some Guardian, and that if they worked hard enough, they would see them, too?”
“Well,” Julian said, “most of them could already see their guardians, and had been talking to them for a long time. It was confusing; many people thought our city was possessed by demons, until Sir Bullstrode revealed the truth. Even now, some Guardians deny that that’s what they are, but the people see them anyway, and they know the truth, so it doesn’t bother them.”
“And yet, not a single person in our city – or anywhere else in the world, as far as I’m aware – has seen these Guardians.” Susan glared at Elizabeth. “Are you saying that every righteous person in the world lives in this city? Are you saying that torturing people is righteous?! Where I come from, we call people like your Priests ‘crazy,’ not righteous.”
“Hmm…” Elizabeth thought aloud. “Well, there’s no doubt about the fact that the people of our town have Guardians; or, at least, they truly believe they do. They see and hear people that the rest of us can’t. And no two people can see the other’s guardian.” She sighed. “But, you’re right: something’s not adding up. Everything I’ve ever been taught is falling apart right before my eyes.”
She started back up the stairs.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe there are no Guardians, after all.”
* * *
Sir Walter Pratt cursed as he finished flipping through the recent Priest Induction Records.
“Marion Redman and Walter Jenny – they’re both fakes! Neither one is listed in the records!”
“I told you, didn’t I?” a voice sounded from across the room. “You were standing there, talking to them, and I told you they were fakes. Why didn’t you listen to me?”
Pratt bowed before the short, red-haired girl who sat in the far corner, casting a condescending glare his way.
“I’m sorry, Guardian. I knew you were right, but without proof, I couldn’t do anything about it. They should still be down there; I’ll take care of this immediately.”
“No,” another voice came from behind him. “They already left.”
“Then where should I go?” he asked.
The second guardian, a young man in his late teens with dark, seemingly violet-tinted hair worn at shoulder length, crossed the room to stand behind the first.
“They took the stairs. In fact, they’re headed this way as we speak.”
“Yes, Guardian. I will meet them at once.”
“What will you do?” came a third voice. Pratt turned toward the doorway. There, a middle-aged woman with long brown hair and a short skirt stood, leaning against the doorframe with one hand on her hip.
“What would you have me do, Guardian?” he asked.
“They are sinners,” she responded nonchalantly. “They are impersonating Priests; they must be cleansed.”
“What method would you have me use, Guardian?”
The Guardian turned, gazing thoughtfully down the hall, almost as if waiting for the imposters’ arrival.
“A sin of this magnitude,” she explained, “requires the most brutal cleansing.” She turned her head back toward Pratt. “They must endure the ultimate punishment.”
Pratt’s eyes widened momentarily; the ultimate punishment was reserved for only the most heavy sins, and was so brutal that even Pratt, who had been overseeing the cleansing process for fifteen years now, cringed at the thought of it.
He regained his composure very quickly, bowing as low as he could before the Guardian in the doorway.
“I understand,” he said. “It shall be done, as you command.”
The Guardian nodded.
“Good.” She turned and walked through the doorway, leaving Pratt groveling on the floor.
“And, Walter,” she called back as she walked, “if you don’t catch them… well, someone will be receiving this punishment. Do I make myself clear?”
Pratt coughed in surprise. He knew what she meant, of course: she meant him.
He bowed even lower.
“Perfectly, Guardian.”
He rose, gathering up his files and returning them to their drawers.
“By the way,” the Guardian called once more. “They’re here.”
* * *
“Hello. How may I help you today?” Marshal Conners greeted the group of youngsters as the walked in the door with a cheery smile. Unfortunately, that smile wasn’t returned; rather, the group of teenagers all seemed to carry an air of nervousness about them.
“Yes, we’d like to file a missing person report,” a young man spoke.
“What is the name, and how long has he or she been missing?”
“There are two of them,” he responded. “Phil Collins and Susan White. They’ve been missing for about 27 hours now.”
“Alright.” He took out a pad of paper. “Can you give me a brief description of each of them? Let’s start with Phil… Collins did you say?”
“Yes. C-o-l-l-i-n-s. Collins. He’s about five foot, uh, seven. When he disappeared, he was wearing blue jeans, a blue shirt with a horizontal stripe across it, and a red jacket with a hood. He has brown hair, about an inch long.”
“Any distinguishing features?”
“None that I can think of.”
“Alright. And Susan? Her last name was…”
“White. She’s a little taller than Phil, around five-nine. She has brown hair, about three inches below her shoulders. When she disappeared, she was also wearing blue jeans, with a pink tank-top and a black jacket.”
“Where were they last seen?”
“They went into the woods… It was... sort of our fault.” He looked toward the ground, obviously upset at what he and the others had done.
“How so?”
“It was a bet. We were going to give them 100 Euros each if they went in. They were only supposed to go straight in and straight out.” He began shuffling his foot on the ground nervously. “We waited almost an hour, and they never showed up. We’ve been calling their houses, but no one’s seen them all day.”
“Please find them, officer!” a young woman cried out.
“We’ll do our best. Don’t worry,” he smiled, “I’m sure they’ll turn up sooner or later.”
The officer opened a drawer in his desk and removed a small stack of papers, handing them to the boy who had given the descriptions.
“I need you to fill out these forms, then give them back to me. As soon as you’re finished, I’ll submit them, and we’ll have a search party mobilized immediately.”
“Thanks,” the boy said meekly. He sat down and began writing. When he finished, he handed the papers back.
“Alright, everything looks to be in order,” the officer said as he shuffled through the papers. He looked up, smiling once more.
“Run along home now. We’ll call you as soon as we find anything.”
The boy nodded.
“Okay. Please find them…”
The boy turned and walked out. Officer Conners stood from his desk, throwing the papers in the nearby waste basket.
“What was that?” another officer, July Winters, asked.
“Another couple of kids lost in the woods.”
“Again? Good luck finding them.”
“Don’t even bother. There are dozens of these cases every year, and we’ve never found a single one of them. We’ve given up trying by now.”
“But should you really get those kids’ hopes up like that? That seems really cruel.”
“We can’t just say no, can we? We have to keep public image. If word ever got out that we were doing this, we’d face any number of law suits, and the city just can’t afford to pay off that many grieving families. Besides, at least this way they have hope. Without that, what do any of us have?”
“I suppose you’re right. It just doesn’t seem right that we give up so easily. Surely we can do something…”
“No,” Conners sighed. “The last time we sent a search party into the woods, it never came home. We lost communication as soon as they entered, too. All we’d accomplish by looking for them would be to lose more good, hard-working men.”
Winters sighed.
“I guess it can’t be helped, then.”
“Nope.” Conners grabbed a doughnut and a cup of coffee from a nearby counter, then returned to his desk.
For a moment, Conners thought he heard someone crying. He looked up, but there was no one there. He shrugged.
Must have been the wind.
* * *
“Ah, Your Greatness!” Elizabeth stammered. “These sinners were just–”
“Don’t give me that, ‘Marion,’” he sneered. “You are both imposters, sinners of the highest level, and are hereby placed on charges of impersonating the Priesthood. If you come along quietly, we will begin cleansing you. There’s still a chance you can be saved from your sins before you die.”
“Really?” Julian commented. “And how, exactly, does torture ‘cleanse’ a person?!”
“Have you not read your scriptures, ‘Walter?’ Through pain we are made clean; through suffering, we are brought to guidance; through death, we become one with the Almighty.”
“I’m sorry,” Julian shook his head, “but I cannot believe that! I don’t believe that a God who loves his children could ask for that sort of penance! It just doesn’t make sense!”
“What makes sense to the Guardians and to God does not have to make sense to us. If the Guardians demand my life, I will gladly give it; if they demand your suffering to make you clean, then it should not be any burden. You should be happy to suffer for the sake of your Lords.”
“Believe what you will,” Julian snapped, “but let me do the same!”
With that, Julian lunged himself forward, bashing his shoulder into the Priest and toppling him to the ground.
“This way!” Elizabeth yelled, running down a nearby hallway. Julian and the others dashed off, catching up with her and following her down a series of twists and turns in an effort to lose their pursuer, who had by now regained his footing and was chasing after them, no more than ten meters behind.
“Why do you run? It’s your own salvation we’re speaking of!” the Priest yelled after them. “Do you want to spend eternity in Hellfire for this? That’s absurd!”
“Just keep running!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
They took another series of turns, confusing their path as much as possible. The place was like a maze, which worked well to both their advantage and their disadvantage. On the one hand, it was going to be easy to lose this priest as long as they kept a good enough lead on him. On the other hand, finding their way topside from here would likely take them longer than any of them would like to be down here; long enough for the Priests to mobilize themselves, and, ultimately, to catch them.
Julian looked behind him as they ran, noticing that the distance between themselves and the pursuing Priest seemed to be steadily growing as they ran. Unfortunately, the priest was still there. Elizabeth led them through a series of turns in quick succession, but the Priest somehow managed to keep up with their movements.
Suddenly, Julian had an idea.
“Elizabeth, there are four of us,” he panted, “and there’s only one of him. I’m going to drop back and distract him, you four go on ahead.”
“Julian!” Elizabeth scolded. “We came down here for you in the first place! You think I’m going to just let you throw yourself away like that?”
“Listen. I can take this guy. You guys make it topside, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Julian,” Susan cut in, “what makes you think that you can take him? He’s at least twice your age.”
“So?” Julian asked. “Just trust me on this one. I know what I’m doing.”
“Julian, I don’t–”
“I’ve made up my mind. I’m doing this, whether you like it or not.” He stopped and turned to face the coming Priest. “Keep going! I’ll meet you topside!”
Elizabeth and the others stopped, staring back at him.
“Go!” he screamed. Elizabeth nodded solemnly, then ran on ahead, dragging the others behind her. Julian looked back toward the Priest and took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever was to come.
He prepared himself for death.
* * *
“They’re not going to do anything.” the youngest of the group, Ashley Simmons, stated solemnly as she turned into the alley, fighting back tears. At the end of the alley, Joe Baker, who had personally spoken to the officer at the desk, nodded solemnly.
“I expected as much…” He sighed. “I suppose we have to take things into our own hands.” He glanced toward the short red-headed boy leaning against the corner of the alley. “You know what to do, Chris.”
The boy nodded. “I’ll have to pull some strings, but I’ll have the equipment ready by the morning.”
Joe nodded in return. “Alright then.” He glanced around the group. “Everyone knows what we’re getting into. There’s a chance some or all of us may not be coming home – in fact, I’d count on that being the case. If any of you want out, speak up.” No one spoke. “Alright then… we’ll meet at the east exit to the city at seven tomorrow morning. Everyone knows what to bring?”
Reassuring nods came from all present. “Good.” He heaved a solemn, resigned sigh. “Until then, everyone rest. We need to be at our best tomorrow.” He rose from his seat on a nearby dumpster and began to walk away, speaking without turning his head. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
He turned the corner, and was gone.
No comments:
Post a Comment