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Another rewrite. The only suggestion i got on this one before was that the preist didnt suffer enough. I hope this clears up that detail ;)
The old man the kids called Gramps stood, shaking, in an entryway, watching the front doors to the church. He squinted in the dark, ignoring the tiny drops of water that fell from the sky in a light, irregular rain. He was slightly hunched, and appeared to be in his eighties, although he was only sixty nine. He wore a black outfit, with a wide-brimmed hat. He was gaunt, with deep lines in his face, which hid behind a bushy grey moustache and beard. He occasionally coughed lightly into a handkerchief he clutched in his left hand, while he held a bible in the other.
After twenty minutes or so, a man emerged, dressed in priest’s vestments, and locked the front door. Gramps looked him over. Graying hair, a moustache, bright, light grey-blue eyes, appearing young for his age; yes, this was the man he was looking for.
“Father Mike?” he called out to the priest, stepping out of the shadows. “Yes?” replied the priest. “Hi... Um… I was wondering if you could help me with something…” Gramps spoke in a harsh, raspy voice.
“What do you need?” asked the priest.
“Could you come back here with me real quick? It will only take a moment, and I don’t want it out where people can hear.” The old man motioned to the alleyway between the church and the apartment building he was in front of.
The priest paused. He wanted nothing more than to get to his car and get home to his computer. “Perhaps this can wait until tomorrow? We do have confessionals if you need to confess.”
Gramps shook his head. “Sorry, father. I may not have until tomorrow. I have lung cancer, and my time is running short.”
Father Mike sighed. He nodded and waved the old man toward the alleyway. “What can I help you with, old timer?” he asked once they were in the shadows of the alleyway, hidden from the eyes of the street.
Gramps reached behind his Bible and held on to something hard. “Absolution.” He said hoarsely, and then swung a length of pipe at Father Mike’s head. A look of shock crossed the priest’s face, but Gramps did not waste time on explanations, or the possibility that the first blow hadn’t felled the clergyman. He hit him several more times, even once he was on the ground. Then Gramps began the arduous task of dragging the younger man back into the alley, to his truck.
Father Mike woke up several hours later, his head throbbing. He couldn’t move. His wrists and ankles were bound, and his chin stung when he tried to move his head. It felt like he had been wired to a chair.
Gramps stood out of sight in another room. He had been watching the priest the whole time, waiting for him to wake. He frowned when he thought about what he was going to do. Gramps had always been a cheery, good natured man. He had loved the Church, and the people who followed it. He had never felt the need to become a priest himself, but usually enjoyed their company.
What he loved most were the kids. They had been calling him “Gramps” since he was in his forties, when his hair had turned grey. He was the kind of man who gave out sweets and told stories to children, but without motive beyond making them smile. However, others, within the clergy, weren’t so honest. Gramps would never allow any of the children to be alone with him, so parents would not have to worry about them. When times had changed, and smoking had left vogue, gramps even quit that habit, at the request of parents who disapproved.
Unfortunately, cigarettes had done their damage years before, and now he was suffering the consequences. He had been diagnosed with lung cancer a year and a half ago. After a period of depression, he had decided to give his life a deeper meaning. One for the children he had loved his whole life.
Gramps had used some of his friends in the Church to track down a certain type of man. In recent years, many priests had gotten in trouble for doing inappropriate things with children. These days, most were getting their just desserts, going to jail for their crimes.
Gramps had tracked down a particularly bad case, one who had hurt many kids and had slipped through the cracks. Father Mike was a predator. The Church had recorded over two dozen complaints lodged against him from almost as many kids. He had performed vile, hideous acts against kids who had trusted him. To Gramps, there was nothing more repulsive and evil.
He had a plan for Father Mike.
Father Mike groaned at a sudden pain in his chin. He heard footsteps, and had made the mistake of trying to look in their direction. “Don’t try to turn your head.” came a raspy call. The footsteps came closer, until the speaker stepped in front of the priest.
“I will stand here so we can talk.”
“You! What do you want with me?” Mike shouted causing whatever was in his chin to dig in further.
Gramps smiled at him. “I told you, Absolution.”
Father Mike scoffed. “You want me to forgive your sins, and to do that you kidnapped me? No way in hell.”
Gramps laughed a little, which caused him to break into a small coughing fit. “Father, I believe we can come to a compromise, you and me.”
“How?”
Gramps help up one finger, as if to say “Wait”, and shuffled out of the room. He returned with a briefcase, which he sat down on a small wooden table in front of Father Mike, then sat in a chair. He opened the case, then licked his thumb and began rifling through its contents.
“I have a friend. He is a young man that I have known since he was a boy. He likes to refer to himself as a ‘geek’. He loves computers. I had him give me a hand with a project.”
Father Mike blinked some sweat out of his eyes. His neck and chin hurt terribly, and when he tried to move any of his limbs, the wire cut his wrists. “What kind of project?” he asked.
“Oh… research. Maybe weaving a little trap.” Gramps smiled and winked at the trapped priest. “But first things first. I will explain where we are and what is going on.” Gramps produced a piece of graph paper with some drawing on it, almost like blueprints. “I was a draftsman for a while, father. It was a good job. I learned some useful skills. This, is part of the project, it is what you are sitting in right now.”
Gramps showed the schematic to Father Mike. It showed a chair with what appeared to be a metal frame around it, and a cable pulley system. “I see you are confused. I’ll explain.” Gramps cleared his throat. “The chair you are in is attached to a frame by cables and pulleys. Each cable is attached to a rod tipped with a scalpel. As you move, they move, cutting you. The point of it is not to kill you, but to make sure I have your complete attention.”
Gramps grinned. “The reason you can’t move your head is a device buckled to your neck. Appropriately, it’s called a ‘Heretic’s Fork’. They were used during the inquisition. One tip is put in the chest, the other the chin. If you move too much, it will drive up into your mouth, and you won’t be able to talk, so I suggest you hold very still.”
“Why are you doing this?”
Gramps’ grin faded into a frown. “Father Mike… I have dedicated my life to children. I never held a job working with them, but I spent my every waking moment outside of work trying to make their world a happier place. I liked to tell them stories; I helped build my share of parks, and even helped with the church for kid’s activities.”
“But it has been hard for the past few decades to be that kind of man. Until you prove yourself, people won’t trust you with them. They are afraid, because people out there want to hurt their kids. Now, I never would be alone with any child. I have no reason to be, and it would only cause concern and suspicion.”
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