Rhinehoth
By Brian E. Niskala
Smashwords Edition Copyright © 2011 by Brian E. Niskala
Smashwords Edition License Notes
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Centuries ago a great castle was built in the mountains of Germany’s Black Forest. Its ancient guardians still thrive in its walls forever protecting its dark secrets, holding captive an enemy that threatens their very existence. Foretold is a story of an ancient warrior that is to return to the castle to free the captive Vampire Prince.
Simon Roberts was a petty thief who fled England to escape Scotland Yard after a series of unsuccessful jewelry store heists. He was recruited to do a job in Germany where he was to simply drive the getaway car while providing a look out. He thought this was going to be an easy job and a way to break into the German crime scene. But things go terribly wrong and he ended up being the only survivor of the botched heist. Simon is quickly sentenced to a prison called Rhinehoth. This is where Germany sent the worst of the worst, surely not a place for a petty thief such as himself.
Rhinehoth is a great German castle that was converted in the late 1930s to a Stalag for war criminals of World War II. The converted prison’s modern day inhabitants are relentlessly tortured, starved and sleep deprived. This contributes to the prisoners’ delusional visions that help hide the truth and keeps Rhinehoth’s secrets. Their captors are the army of Werewolves who have survived the centuries off the very flesh and blood of Germany’s worst forgotten criminals.
Simon, imprisoned becomes plagued with visions from his subconscious ancient past with confusion of his modern day consciousness. He discovers through his visions that he is the ancient warrior, Guthrie who has come to free the Vampire Prince and all the captives while saving the world from a dark plan of biblical proportions that has been orchestrated over the centuries!
A Special Thank you to the following:
Editor:
Andrea Róbert
Cover Artist:
Michael McAlick
Cover Design:
Brian E. Niskala & Prabhu Dorairag
Layout Artist:
Srinivasa Raja Iyengar
The following especially helped in my research for Literary Agents, Publishers and everything else I needed help with during the process of my insanity/writing.
Research Assistants:
Jacquelene Sena
Thelma Nuguid
Neelu Sree
Archana Ravindran
Thank you to my family who has supported every crazy book idea, invention or idea.
To my Wife, Cynthia, for being my partner in everything, mother of our 4 children, Kyle, Brandon, Emily and Olivia and supporting me no matter how crazy she thinks I am.
Table of Contents
Chapter 2: Welcome to Stalag Rhinehoth
Chapter 7: Back in the Infirmary
Chapter 8: Lost my Hat, Manchester United
Chapter 10: Dreams of the Past
Chapter 12: The Journey Begins
Chapter 15: Down Into the Bowls of Hell
Chapter 18: Dawn of a New Moon
Chapter 1
Court
‘The defendant is found guilty!’ As the gavel fell with a load BANG, filling the court room, the defendant flinched at the sound as he tried to hold his heartfelt sorrow back. He slouched down and as the curve of his back met the chair, the gavel seemingly in slow motion, hit the judge’s desk one more time.
Simon Roberts from Manchester, England was just found guilty by association of murder. He drove the getaway car for a band of hoods that tried knocking off a jeweler on the East side of Berlin.
But what Simon was not aware of was that his small band of brothers picked the wrong jeweler to rob from. The jeweler was well-armed with a ferocious temper - a seemingly small detail that was left out of the planning.
Simon sat motionless as he slipped away from the moment to the night that ended him in court.
Simon slowly drove the car up to the front of the jewelry store. The cobbled road was almost right next to the store with only a very narrow mist covered sidewalk in between. Simon rubbed up next to the worn cobbled curb that slightly jostled the car. The store owner could be seen walking towards the back of the store as the three men pulled down their dark masks, pumped their shotguns and left the car. Simon, with no mask just a sweat-stained Manchester United ball cap that he pulled down to help cover his eyes, slouched in the front seat just to be slightly out of sight.
Gunfire broke out almost immediately as if the jeweler had been expecting them. The would-be jewel thieves opened fire at the first sign of the jeweler’s rage as he reached for his gun, but it was too late for all of them.
The three thieves each got mortally wounded in the crossfire. One of them did get off an important shot that mortally wounded his victim, who breathed his last breath. Simon, flinching through the gunfire, opened the car door as the one surviving thief leaped from the store with his very life; he fell just short of Simon’s getaway car.
Simon could hear the distinct, loudening sound of the Berlin Police coming closer. He blinked, wiped his face with his bare but sweating hand and dropped the car in Drive as he saw his last remaining brother lying on the wet pavement, taking his last gasp of life, with his hand reaching out for Simon to save…
As Simon hit the gas propelling car forward, the open car door slammed shut from the motion. A light mist that had fallen made it impossible for him to keep the car in control and he swerved to avoid a blinking construction sign, but it was too late, he was far beyond bringing the car straight to avoid the cement pylons blocking some re- routed gas lines.
He hit the pylons with such force that it split his car wide open and he was hurled out, making a large thud as he hit the pavement like a raw piece of meat. His head came to rest on the cobbled curb with a bone-crushing crunch.
He was in hospital for weeks to heal his injuries, mostly going in and out of consciousness due to the bad concussion. Surprisingly he had only a small fracture to his head considering the force of the impact amongst his other bruises and bumps from the violent ejection.
Simon blinked back into reality. He leaned toward his lawyer, a seedy-looking man who obvious as a State appointed attorney looked as though he had forgot his razor and a bar of soap for that matter.
‘Where am I to go now?’ Simon asked.
His lawyer, clearing this throat, leaned in close to him and said: ‘The Rhine.’ His breath made his nose hairs curl. Simon pulled back and covered his hand over his nose and mouth and muttered to his attorney again.
‘What is The Rhine?’ Simon inquired, still covering his nose. The dirty attorney just leaded back and showed his gnarled teeth so bad it almost appeared a worm crawled between each molar. Simon would find out soon enough.
The back door of the dark gray van closed with a metallic BOOM! Simon flinched yet again. Shrugging back into his seat, he tried not to look around, but his curiosity was getting the best of him as he looked to see who else was with him. He saw a dark figure, wheezing as if having a terrible cold. Simon looked harder, trying to gain focus of the peering figure from the darkness of the rear cabin. Mustering up a few courageous words, Simon asked, ‘Who else is in here?’ His voice quivered.
Gnarling in his own saliva, the voice began to speak: ‘They call me Father Time’ as he leaned forward into the dim light, wiping some of the saliva that was dripping from a scar in his lip. The man hesitated; he paused for a moment as to recognize Simon.
‘Siegfried, as named by my birth parents, Siegfried Uhrmacher. At your service.’ he said ironically as he stuck out his hand. It was in shackles, but oddly with some sort of other mechanism that looked mechanically geared and clumsy.
Simon was not sure what to do, he was trying not to stare but found his eyes dwelling on the strange shackles with the outreached hand and the scar where saliva seemed to drip out of.
‘Oh, yes, my name is Simon, Simon Roberts.’ Simon hesitated, wanting to add ‘as my birth parents named me’ but felt it would be off-color, considering the events both were going through, not to mention there was no room for humor in their predicament.
After a brief handshake Siegfried leaned back into the darkness once again: ‘Oh, yes, Simon Roberts, the botched jewelry heist getaway driver, yes. Dreadful event that whole matter, how is it you survived the whole thing?’ he asked, wiping some more drool coming from his scarred lips.
Simon was still peering into what light was present at the weird device on Siegfried’s wrists. Trying to contain himself, but visibly not hearing the question, he asked: ‘Um, not to be rude, but what is that gear thing on your shackles?’
Siegfried leaned forward, with his shackles almost right into Simon’s face. ‘Well you see I am a bit of an escape artist, so they have devised this little toy to help deter me from trying anything’ he answered, laughing under his breath.
Simon, moving back a bit to better focus the device, moved his glasses a bit further down his nose. As he peered through a light beam that was coming from the front barred window, the driver opened the van doors and shouted into the back.
‘Achtung, fasten your seatbelts sweeties!’
With that the van lunged forward and the small barred window that gave light was slammed shut as the sheet metal slide slid across, almost sounding like a razor cutting through paper.
Simon tried to peer for any whisk of light to better see, but it was hopeless. Siegfried had already slipped back into his seat, gnarling at his saliva drip, and Simon, he too just kind of faded into his seated position.
Siegfried began to speak, ‘Well, time for some sleep Sir Simon, the last good sleep you will have for quite some time.’
Simon, exhausted from the day’s events just mumbled ‘Where is this place we’re going?’
Siegfried, in a chuckle, answered: ‘It is not where, but what…’
Simon fell asleep as the rhythm of the tires drowned out any other audible noise.
After a seemingly long hours drive, he was awakened by the change in the rhythmic rumble of pavement to the crunching of loose gravel below the tires. Groggy he drifted back to sleep with the faint sound of Siegfried sucking in his drool from his scarred lip. He thought he heard one of the guard drivers say ‘Schwartzwald’ which was a phrase meaning ‘Black Forest’ but Simon was not familiar, nor did he register as his eyes’ lids fell drowsily closed.
A few moments later as it seemed, Simon was awakened by some ever increasing bumps and jumps in the road or was it a road any more. The hatch barred window slid open from the turbulent driving, so Simon could peer out to a great structure, which looked as though it had been built out of the side of the mountain. The half moon glow hung over the structure on the clearest of nights, yet a low-lying fog seemed to form in the headlights of the van. As he leaned more forward, peering into the driver compartment, he could see the clock showing it was well after 4 AM. They had been driving for hours all night long. The van began to slow to a stop with the pavement crisply cracking underneath its wheels and a slight brake squeal.
‘Achtung!’ the guards shouted through the open barred window. Simon glanced over at the way of Siegfried, who had a foul stench of a wet dog. He could hear him snicker and his shackles sounded as if they hit the floor, just as the weird geared mechanism made a whizzing noise: it sounded like it was collapsing on to itself.
Simon jumped back, trying to make out the silhouette in the darkness - was there a large dog in the van with them, had he missed something, did they pick it up on the way? Hit a dog on the way putting the injured body in with them, how could he have missed that. Was he drugged??
‘Siegfried!?’ Simon shouted.
‘Calm down Simon, it is I’ Siegfried’s drooling, gnarling voice said. ‘All is well.’
The silhouette seemed to fade in the darkness only to regain its form; Simon’s eyes had obviously been playing tricks on him in the early hours of the mountain’s dawn.
The fog stretched into the back of the van as the guards opened the rear doors. To everyone’s surprise the shackles were lying on the floor, with toughs of black hair entangled in them. Siegfried leaped forward as the guards were tackling him on to the ground and as he lunged forward, still his ankles were shackled tightly into his skin with burps of blood oozing from them. It looked as if they had imbedded themselves into the skin and the gears on them were making a clicking noise as he lunged.
Siegfried whined: ‘They twist into my bone, release me!’
The guards quickly rose to their feet, and then pushed back almost in fear. They pulled forth their lugers -an obvious antique weapon that seemed to serve them well. Their black leather gloves made a wringing, tightening sound as they gripped their pistols for dear life, but the look in their eyes was fear, clear, unwavering fear. But with both of them armed at the gates of the prison and with the snipers in sight in the raised turrets and Siegfried being shackled tightly to the van, what was there to fear?
Simon glanced down at the loose shackles that once were on this old man’s wrists and thought ‘Where and how did he get out of those things? And where did those black hairs come from?’
More guards came from the now lowering drawbridge to help assist in Father Time’s re-introduction to Stalag Rhinehoth. Some had pistols drawn, others had rifles, all aiming at Siegfried’s head. All were shouting ‘Komm Zurück!, Komm Zurück!’, repeating the phrase as loosely Simon could translate as ‘Get back!’ Simon, watching the whole spectacle unfold, just sat back in his chair and turned his head. For he knew what would come next…
As the guards got control of Father Time, Simon sat back in his seat. The guards moved in quickly to remove his choking leg shackles that had imbedded themselves underneath his skin. With an inhuman howl not made by any known creature, the shackles were pried free from his body. Simon flinched the whole time, gripping his eyes closed as the sounds of pain and anguish poured from his road trip mate’s throat.
Siegfried was pulled from the van with nooses thrown around his neck and body with long batons used by dog catchers to keep their distance from rabid dogs. Simon finally turned to view where the bloody shackles lay… ‘There is so much blood, from one man, from an older man how is that possible?’ Simon gasped as he tried talking to one of the guards.
The guard only sneered at Simon and replied ‘He is no normal man’. But the guard was quickly slapped by Klaus Wache, a huge man with a slightly curved upper back from having spent more time pumping iron on his upper body than his lower. He had a dark beard that seemed thick and no matter how often he shaved it would grow back a few hours later.
He glared at Simon and asked ‘Are you waiting for a special invitation inmate?!’ Simon froze as Klaus stared at him with almost red eyes: ‘GET OUT!’ Simon stumbled to stand, but ended up falling out of the back of the van. He had been sitting so long the blood had rushed out of his head to his lower extremities to try to function his legs.
Klaus bent over with his massive hands and grabbed Simon by the head, pulling his body in the erect upright position. Simon, in his British wit, replied: ‘Thank youuu…’ but you could hear the strain in his voice. Klaus laughed at the sight of this feeble man.
As Simon turned the fog seemed to lift, showing the long fall from an apparent moat. But as he stared deep through the mist, he could see that it was not a moat at all, but rather a cave fall so far it was hard to see the bottom. As Simon tried to look upwards a light mist made him squint and hard for him to see the top of the prison, which was more shaped like a castle and behind it he could see the long stretching mountains filled with snow covered pines. As breathtaking as it was, no time to sightsee, he was shoved forward by the guards towards the drawbridge that had been lowered for them.
The drawbridge was old wrought iron with dark heavy timber flanks, weathered, but almost hardened like steel. There were so many iron strips in it, it was more metal than wood, and looked centuries old. The iron links that lowered the drawbridge were massive; the chains lead themselves up into the mouths of Griffins whose wings stretched across the massive door. The guards looked up to nod at the guards who worked the capstans, which raised the bridge. It took eight guards in total to raise the bridge, four per capstan on either side of the massive door that was the bridge to the outside world.
Simon wondered how come it was manual rather than an electric winch or hydraulic piston. Just then, Klaus smacked him in the back of the head with his leather gloves, ‘You see, it takes eight large men to winch up the door, probably ten prisoners. It’s a lot harder to get ten prisoners up there without being shot than pushing some electric button!’
Simon, trying to reach his head to soothe the smack, thought ‘Had Klaus read his mind or is that what everyone thinks?’
As they crossed the threshold to Rhinehoth it was apparent this was no ordinary prison. The courtyard was antique, cobblestoned, weathered, dark and grey. The watchtowers were blocks of granite carved with various demons, dragons and the such. Each eye of the creatures was the lookout window where the guards peered through with their rifles. Every so often you could see the laser sights stream across the floor of the courtyard just enough to let you know they were up there, watching, staring, studying.
Klaus stopped Simon somewhere in the middle of the yard as the drawbridge came slamming shut. He looked over his shoulder to see the massive door create a whirling mist of the rain falling down on them. A fog began to roll out of a door across the yard as a large black horse, looking to be bellowing steam from its nostrils, approached them. It was saddled and massive, every muscle could be seen rippling as it cantered towards them. Simon flinched yet again as it became ever so close. Klaus reached out and gripped its reigns. Patting the horse on the nose, Klaus rubbed it, reached in his pocket and pulled out a cube of sugar to feed to him. ‘This is Arnie,’ he rubbed the horse’s nose ‘He is the best horse here. He is one of many, we keep them to patrol the rough forest. Not that you will escape Häftling!’
Simon thought “Häftling” was German for gentleman or something, but he knew it was nothing more romantic than “Prisoner ”. He looked further around as Klaus guided him with his pointing hands, showing each of the guards’ towers, machine gun turrets and the flickering of the laser sights on the ground and walls as the guards routinely projected.
Simon looked down at his feet in submission knowing there would be no way out. But what of his newly befriended van mate, Siegfried, who was escorted in ahead of them? There was no sign of him, surely he had escaped, there was hope! But Klaus took a swing with his Billy club to the back of Simon’s legs, THUD!
‘Oh where’s my manners, welcome to Stalag Rhinehoth!’
Simon was dragged on his knees to a dark corner of the yard where he entered a door with an abrupt slam. His welcome beating had begun.
Chapter 2
Welcome to Stalag Rhinehoth
Simon awoke a few days later to a dripping sound coming from somewhere off in the distance. He felt cold and as he took a deep breath he could feel the cold enter his chest. His eyes began to focus and as he peered around with his still weary eyes, he saw a rat in the corner gnawing at a stale piece of bread that may have been his breakfast, but he was not sure, maybe the rat was his breakfast for all he knew.
He pushed himself to his feet, weak from the beatings a day or two ago. His hands and knees had dried blood from something he could not remember and his cell reminded him of something from a book he had often read as a boy: The Count of Monte Cristo. A book, he will soon want to forget as it starts off with a man imprisoned for life, a man that is annually beaten and starved to a bag of bones. He eventually escapes more than a decade later but his family and friends have forgotten all about him. Simon could not bear the thought of one year, let alone a decade or even life for that matter. A book he once enjoyed reading with his imagination is now his imprisoned reality.
He tried to stand upright but struggled from lying on the floor unconscious for a few days. His back was bruised, he was hungry and weak. He looked down at a plate and bowl next to where the bread was taken from by his rodent visitor. The bowl was shallow but looked to contain some sort of soup, green, almost fluorescent green. He held himself back from gagging, as it seemed a rat had drowned in it. Something he did not see at eye level crouched on the floor.
He turned his head to the opposite side of his cell. It appeared he had a bed, a mattress, pancake flat, which molded to the contours of the floor. It appeared to have a stained shroud of all the men who had slept there before. He knew why he had probably unconsciously chosen to sleep on the stone floor.
His toilet was a hole in the cobbled floor. Water ran from the open window down a groove cut from years of wear. The flow of water ran right into his toilet, an obvious modern convenience of turn of the century plumbing. The water in the toilet looked deep and muddy. It certainly was not mud from its smell. A window let in stale air from the jagged hills and spiked peaks of the mountain range behind the prison.
Oddly enough being winter, Simon was cold, but not freezing despite the open barred window. He had to stand on his toes to see out of the window and he noticed that it seemed to be mid-morning, but the back of the prison cast out the sun, not to mention the constant cloud cover at the altitude they were at. His lungs felt the thinness of the air. Simon could see the lights on the hill showing each individual cell, almost painting a picture of each cell as he could see the inhabitant’s shadows alive with animation. In a few cells, apparently, prisoners were pacing in despair, though he could see only see the shadows.
Simon fell back to the flats of his feet as he heard the guards coming down the hall. His cell opened. The large iron door had a small window that let in some cross lighting enough to illuminate his room from darkness, which suddenly opened to expose him to his new outside world. He stood softly, hoping not to be beaten any more.
‘Komm,’ Klaus motioned with his hands for him to come out. Simon obeyed skittishly flinching, anticipating more pain. Out in the hall, it was unimaginably bright considering it looked to be on one of the lower levels, as far as he could tell from looking outside through his small barred window. He squinted from the brightness. He was not hand-cuffed or shackled as he expected, but just walking down the hall that seemed too dim as he walked. He was confused because the light first seemed to come from old light fixtures and now it looked as though it was coming from torches mounted on the walls, the smell of kerosene was also present as well as a vial putrid smell. He could hear other prisoners suffering behind the doors he walked past, their moans went right through him. He heard sounds of deep gut wrenching vomiting as he could hear volumes of the liquid hit the floor.
One of the guards had asked Simon repeatedly, ‘Genieβt du dein Frühstück?’
Simon just shrugged not knowing what the man was asking. Klaus barked: ‘He is asking ‘Genieβt du dein Frühstück?’ Did you enjoy your breakfast?” Klaus laughed wholeheartedly with his men joining in on the humor as they heard another man vomit near the door. The liquid ran out hitting Simon’s bare feet. The small wave had washed several bugs with it, sticky to his feet. His shoes had been removed letting his bare feet hit the cold cobbled stone hall and now soaked in someone’s stomach bile.
Corpses of rodents lined the edges of the hall. Simon was trying to take care in each of his steps, as well as dragging them to scrap the liquid and bugs off his feet. Klaus became impatient at his pace and shoved him ever so politely!
After they had walked a bit, they came to a freight lift which had an electric light in it, but the fixture was as old as he was. The lift moved quickly upwards, which caught both the guards and Simon a bit surprised, but Klaus seemed at home with it. As the lift rose he could see the different floors as they passed through a wire port hole cut into the lift’s door. Simon could see floor after floor of cells, men washing floors, guards on patrol, it seemed almost endless as the hallways and floors whizzed by.
The lift came to an abrupt stop and as the scissor-like doors opened from middle in opposite directions, he saw something that startled him. A creature, but a lovely creature, it was a young woman, very beautiful, thin but toned as he could tell from the skirt she was wearing. She was professionally dressed but had that late night call girl look about her, just a bit rough and used around the edges.
She quickly put her hand out, the blue veins showed up against her pale skin as well as the supple lines of her bones through her fingers. Her nails were painted a high gloss red, blood red that shimmered in the light. Simon made no attempt at a handshake.
She withdrew her hand, slowly rubbing a few of her fingers together to cover up the gesture.
She began to speak ‘Hello, I am Doctor Heulen, the Kommandant’s daughter, I mean Warden, as you Brits may be more accustomed to.’
Simon looked at her, he felt he had seen her somewhere before, she felt it too, but where? In her eyes he seemed to lose himself, they were pale blue, more of an iced blue, with slits for pupils, almost catlike.
‘Doctor?’ is all Simon could mutter. Taken aback by his stares at her eyes and the uncomfortable feeling of somehow knowing him, she pulled her hand back quickly. ‘It is a birth defect’ she said as she tried to conceal her eyes.
Simon, still staring deeply into her wondering eyes, repeated: ‘Birth defect?’ He slowly exhaled and then caught himself. ‘Oh, yes, birth def…umm so sorry, you’re just stunning, too stunning to be in a place like this’ Simon replied, letting go of his situation and letting some British charm shine out.
She got a girlish grin on her face and quickly changed the subject back ‘Yes, I am a Doctor of Physiology, I study and try to help some of the inmates here.’ Her eyes seemed to wonder off yet again ‘Well, let’s go this way to meet my father.’
She signaled to the guards with a hand motion like you would tell a dog to stay. Only Klaus accompanied them down the hall to a well-lit reception area, where there were muffins, croissants and what looked like to be brewing tea!
‘Is that tea?’ Simon asked sniffing in the air. ‘Yes, indeed. We will pour you a cup before we enter the office’. Motioning with her hand the location of the Kommandant’s office, her long lines caught the light that almost glowed off her pale skin. Simon grasped one of the tea cups like he had never had tea yet this year, he cupped it, smelled it and almost looked as if he were going to make love to the cup itself, he grabbed a croissant and followed the seductive Doctor in to see her father.
Simon was shown a chair pulled out just a bit by Klaus as he sat to his delight. At hands reach were some more sugar cubes that Simon fumbled to grab to sweeten the tea just a bit more.
While the Kommandant was finishing up on a phone call he was smoking a large cigar which seemed to fog up his glasses. Behind him was an antique wired fan, moving ever so slowly. It made an annoying rubbing metallic sound as if one of the fins rode against its wired cage wanting to get out. The fan was moving air just enough to whisk the smoke from the cigar in the direction of Simon and company.
As the Kommandant hung the phone he stood upright, which startled the skittish Simon and he spilled a bit of tea on his lap. He began to wipe it off as he stared to his left where the Doctor sat, grinning at his slight mishap. He noticed a beauty mark on her thigh that had become visible with her sitting as her skirt naturally rose up a bit. The mark seemed oddly familiar. The Kommandant looked as if he was going to put his hand out in gentlemanly greeting. Simon placed his tea on the table next to him as the Kommandant made his introduction. Simon was still caught in a stare of Maxine’s beauty mark.
Clearing his throat, he started to speak: ‘Ummma, I am Kommandant Adolf Heulen, you have met my daughter Maxine… and Klaus, captain of the guards’ Adolf motioned with his hands in presentation. Simon began to stand as he took the queue as his time to shake hands. Klaus dove his large hand into Simon’s shoulder to re- mount him on his chair.
Simon glanced over at Klaus who was still standing, ‘Yes we have met’. Simon began to rub his shoulder where Klaus’s massive hand had landed. He also began to rub his jaw where Klaus had landed a love tap on one of the initial welcome beatings.
Adolf chuckled quickly, ‘Yes, Klaus does get quite a reaction’. He cleared his throat quickly and then started again ‘Well, quick history and then onto your situation… Stalag Rhinehoth, as named by Hitler in World War II, it was a war prison for all the high officials that Hitler wanted to go away, spies that were caught and just not suitable for general population at the other Stalags throughout Germany, Poland and the such.’ He paused for a moment to take a quick hit of his cigar. ‘We always liked the feel of the name Stalag, so we kept it named as such. This is a castle on the edge of the Black Forest, it is full of legend, full of all sorts of ghost stories, but no question, you will serve your time here with no hope of escape.’
Simon interrupted quickly, ‘Father Time did.’
Klaus moved in to slap Simon as Simon flinched at his bravery for muttering what he did.
Adolf just replied, ‘Yes, dearest Siegfried, you see, he was Captain of the guards years ago, but went mad one night. A lot of prisoners and guards for that matter went dead. Shame, he was like a brother to me.’ Adolf was looking off at a photo on a nearby shelf.
‘Make no mistake, you will not do the same. Siegfried is what we like to call… unique…’ clearing his throat once more. ‘We make many upgrades here, especially security. That is our main concern, more for your safety’, he ended with a grin.
Simon, politely interrupting, asked ‘Our safety?’
‘Yes, your safety, you see the mountains are a desperate place, many dangers lay beyond these walls, believe me, you’re safer in these walls.’ Adolf began to sit down.
‘Well this leads me to another question I have not been able to ask… Why am I here?’
Adolf, with a bit of a grin developing on his face, replied ‘This is a maximum security prison; you have been convicted of your crimes.’
‘Yes, but you see, I did not harm anyone, I just drove the getaway car.’
Adolf smirked, took a long inhale of his cigar, the smoke of which was making Simon ill from the smell and constant smoke trail going his way. ‘Well you see, in Germany, someone has to pay for the crime, you were the only accomplice left. A good hardworking citizen died, Germans want justice, someone always pays. Besides, you did cause harm, you were the one to bring the men who caused the harm, which makes you just as guilty.’
‘But I am not a murderer.’
Adolf looked at his daughter, ‘Well, we will see exactly what you’re capable of, for now, Simon Roberts, we bid you good day and we will show you your new quarters’ Adolf motioned to Klaus to take him away.
Klaus led Simon, who was still in shock of where he was and the blanket of vague information of why he was in with maximum security prisoners in the middle of the Black Forest, miles away from any civilization.
Klaus always walked behind the prisoners and had some of his other guards lead the way down the maze of halls and corridors. It seemed easy to get lost in the maze, since all the stone walls were weathered from time with no defining marks. There was a peculiar large amount of lit torches down some halls, while other halls were lit with crude electric lighting. Simon recalled as they walked that they continually upgraded the prison, but with kerosene-lit torches what exactly were they constantly upgrading?
After walking for several minutes they reached the main part of the prison. It was visible that this was more modern than the cell he had spent a few days in. It was as modern as probably Alcatraz was in those old movies, and though the bars that held the prisoners were freshly painted dark grey, the walls were still old as the mountains that surrounded them. The cells looked tight and cramped; each looked to have an old rust stained sink and the toilets had no seat, but at least it was not in the floor. The ceiling looked to have stalactites growing with a damp musty smell and you could feel the cold coming out of each of the cells.
Klaus spoke a number in German to the guards in front, who shouted back and stopped at a cell that was lit with a light in the center of the room. It had a window like the others, also with a back view of the prison. His sink, like the others he had seen, was dripping with a rust mark from where the water dripped. As he noticed a bit of steam coming from the back wall by the toilet, Klaus pointed and laughed ‘You have a heater!’ He pushed Simon into the cell and slammed the door shut. Klaus went to walk away but stopped and turned, ‘Please forgive my manners’ he said in his thick German accent, ‘Welcome to Stalag Rhinehoth!’
Simon crouched down to sit on his bed. It was a bunk bed, but the top looked as though it doubled as a dresser for blankets and his prison uniforms. Oddly enough, there was his slightly worn hat that was from his favorite team, Manchester United, a football team from his hometown. He quickly put it on for a comfort of home and wondered who had put it there. He lay down, pulling the blanket over his body as he just wanted to go to sleep again and maybe wake from this nightmare.
Simon was awakened by a bell he heard ringing, an alarm clock he thought. He thought he smelled a faint smell of cinnamon bread and saw the outline of his mother, using her apron as a pot holder as she removed the freshly baked bread from the oven. His eyes regained focus onto a cold, aged stone wall. The reality quickly hit him. He looked out of his cell, upside down, while lying in bed and saw it was 6 PM, dinner time. As he stared at the clock, an upside down figure appeared. Simon right sided the image by standing up out of bed to be greeted by a fellow cell block mate. He was a small man who sharply introduced himself, ‘Guten Abend.’
Simon quickly interrupted, ‘I do not speak German, do you speak English?’
The man quickly changed tone as he was shoved by a passing prisoner and he stumbled into Simon’s cell. ‘Uua hummm,’ the man cleared his throat ‘Englishman? In here?’ Puzzled, he scratched his head and began again, ‘I am Maus, or Mouse in your English tongue. Quite puzzled, an English man in our German hell, quite puzzling.’
Simon suspected a hint of English accent, ‘Are you from here?’ he asked Mouse, who chuckled.
‘No, I am German, quite certain of that, but I studied at Oxford.’
Simon was now really puzzled, ‘How did you end up here?’ Catching himself, ‘Where are my manners, I am Simon Roberts from Manchester’ he said, extending his hand.
Mouse took it in a firm handshake for the small stature of his man: ‘Delighted to meet you. As for the first question, I love women probably a bit too much, as they can’t stand my passion. One of them had a husband that followed me home and I, fearless in fight, prevailed.’
Simon looked at him from head to toe.
Mouse shrugged: ‘He tripped, fell down the stairs and broke his neck… I let him stay there the night before I reported… how was I supposed to know he was a member of parliament?’ he explained with a sheepish grin. ‘I am innocent!’
Simon looked at him, still kind of puzzled at the whole moment of the meeting. ‘I am innocent as well’ he muttered, looking back into his cell at maybe another glimpse of the mirage of his mother. Mouse took him by the arm, ‘Come, we cannot be late for we shall not eat!’
They both wandered into the hall of cells almost the last ones in line, which is a good thing at times as not to be shoved back to the end of the line by the harder inmates.
‘Hey Mouse, do you know where they had me the past few days?’
Mouse replied with a bit of a grin: ‘Oh that was our welcome center.’ Simon was not grinning.
Upon arriving to the dining hall, it opened up into a vast hall, long tables split into sections, which divided the room into four equal parts, large enough to hold all the inmates at one time. It looked to be a converted grand ballroom with opera-like balconies, from which the guards had lookout stations with their rifles aimed, and laser sights off to give the inmates some calming moments in which to dine. As they were in line, he could see some of the guards in a separate line getting what looked to be black pudding, a favorite of Simon’s. He tapped Mouse on the shoulder and asked him: ‘Hey, how do we get some of that black pudding?’
Mouse, looking very annoyed, replied ‘You don’t want any of that… Shhh! Not a word more!’ Mouse was making calm down gestures with his hands trying to distract Simon from staring. It was too late, they had been spotted.
Klaus was in the guards’ line on his side of the dining hall; he had a plate full of the black pudding in links. The links were fat and dark. Klaus took the string of sausages, gripped it around his hand, dropped his plate in line and made his way towards Mouse and Simon.
Mouse, interjecting: ‘Klaus, er ist neu!’ Mouse was trying to shield Simon, but he was too small to even slow Klaus down, ‘Klaus, he is new! Please spare him! Lass ihn in Ruhe!’
But it was too late. Klaus dragged Simon by the neck to the floor on his side, pulling him over the food service coolers and heaters, knocking down flatware and dishes in the process. Klaus’s massive biceps was ripping through his shirt as he held Simon down on the floor and dangled the links of sausages over his mouth yelling ‘Iss auf! Iss auf! Eat you British dog, EAT!!’
The smell was not like Simon had smelt before, it was sweeter than what he had eaten. The dark drips wrung out from Klaus’ grip, dripped down onto Simon’s lips, making him gag, for it was not the familiar taste he had hoped for.
Simon’s hands were gripping Klaus around his neck, but he let go hoping Klaus would let his grip go. But he did not. As soon as Simon felt his vision begin to fade, he heard a woman’s voice yelling from a nearby balcony.
‘Stop Klaus! Sofort! Jetzt ist aber Schluss!’ a female voice beckoned.
Klaus stopped and let Simon go as he gasped for breath. Mouse ran back to his aid. Dr. Heulen jumped over a railing to a nearby stairwell, a good jump for a doctor in heels. She ran down the stairs to the aid of Simon. Klaus’s finger marks could still be seen on Simon’s neck. Dr. Heulen looked up at Klaus who looked as if he was putting his tail between his legs as she shouted at him after a quick exam. ‘Dummer Hund!’ she barked out at Klaus, meaning Stupid Dog.
Klaus in his shame looked around the dining hall at everyone staring and shouted:
‘Zurück zu essen!’ ‘Back to eating!’
Mouse and Dr. Heulen tried to get Simon to his feet, who was staggering. The Doctor told Mouse to take him to the infirmary.
Several days had gone by and Simon was still in the infirmary with a bandaged neck and an almost crushed larynx. His throat was sore and had trouble speaking. Mouse came to visit him briefly with a plate of snacks of sweet dried dates. Obviously they were smuggled in somehow.
‘I borrowed these from the kitchen, I don’t think they will miss a few…’
Simon motioned that he was trying to speak. ‘Thank y o u.’ he struggled.
‘No worries, get better soon.’ Mouse patted him on the chest and left the dates in Simon’s open hand. Simon just looked at them, wondering if he would be able to chew them and then swallow. He was drinking some thick meaty cocktail that the orderlies had been mixing and blending. They tasted awful, but he did feel like he was getting better.
Simon’s bed was soft, clean and blue, very blue with some white linen, and the room had freshly painted white walls, very, VERY bright. Simon squinted as he looked up towards the lights and rolled over to his right where he saw an occupant he did not recall seeing earlier.
The stranger began to speak, ‘Hi, I am Michael,’ his hand outreached to shake Simon’s.
‘I’m Simon, Simon Roberts’ with his had also extended to meet Michael’s in a friendly handshake.
‘I see you have met Klaus,’ said Simon with a smirk on his face.
Swallowing hard, ‘Yeah, he is something else. He is an ogre.’ Michael answered less than softly.
‘What is this place?’ Simon inquired.
‘Hölle, Hell my friend, Hell.’
Simon stared deep into his eyes, ‘I have never heard of such a place, I studied about World War II quite a bit and never remember reading this place.’
Michael looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching. Dr. Heulen was in eyes sight, but not close enough to hear. There was also an orderly, but he looked too busy doing some sort of inventory and the other patients seemed far enough away not to hear.
‘Simon, let me tell you a story… Rhinehoth was once ruled by a Bavarian Prince who desperately wanted to be King of Austria and Bavaria.’ Michael paused for a moment to glance around the room once more. ‘He kept a secret coven of witches from the Black Forest, practiced in sorcery, the occult, looking for immortality. Some said he even made a pact with Lucifer himself. He built an army of werewolves as his soldiers to overtake the countryside and then the cities. But when the witches betrayed him, the werewolves rose up against him, imprisoning him in his castle for eternity… he is still alive in the dungeons of this very castle!’
Simon looked at him with a feeble smile. ‘So this is Rhinehoth?’
Michael, with a quick glance over his shoulder: ‘Yes.’ He looked so serious Simon just began to laugh.
Simon was still laughing, ‘Michael I think your morphine drip is going a bit too fast.’
Michael, still in a serious state, looked at the ever so slow drip of his IV and began to laugh at how outlandish he must seem telling of the dark secrets that the castle held; especially to a foreigner. He would learn soon enough on his own.
Michael looked at him square in the eye, not a smile on his face. Simon froze dead in his laugh.
Michael began to speak: ‘Do you play checkers?’ Both men broke out in laughter as Michael swung around pulling the night stand close for a game of checkers.
They played checkers and then chess until late in the evening. The sun could be seen setting in a towering picture window, one of the few that were not barred from top to bottom. The reason was the infirmary overlooked the center court yard, though in this tower it was high enough that looking straight out you could not see the wrought iron gate that covered the drawbridge or the guards walking to and fro the still towering walls over the court. The sun’s beams seamed to pierce through the window and onto a cross on the other side of the room, illuminating it as the gold color shimmered on the floor and walls.
‘Wow, what a view’ Simon gasped as he placed his Queen in front of his King.
‘Checkmate.’
‘What a view,’ Michael laughed as he pushed over his piece. The sun dipped behind the mountains and they could see the last beam of dusk disappear as the near full moon cast its own beams across the majestic mountains.
‘The sun hardly ever shines around these mountains. It is a rare sight indeed. Enjoy it; you may not see the sun for a while!’
They heard wolves off in the distance howling at the brightly lit moon, but the howls seemed to grow ever so close. The howling was becoming louder as it almost appeared to be inside the inner walls.
‘Why does everything seem so dark in this place?’ Simon asked as he turned to the surprise presence of Dr. Heulen.
‘Dark, Simon?’
‘Umm, yeah. Hi Maxine.’ Simon replied in surprise.
‘Maxine?’ Dr Heulen replied.
‘Oh, pardon me, I mean Dr. Heulen.’ For the brief moment he forgot his place as he momentarily lost himself in her eyes.
‘Here, take this.’ She handed him a small container with a few pills. ‘They will help you sleep tonight, you return to your cell tomorrow.’
Simon did as he was told, then took a sip from the glass of the water she held. He swallowed hard; he could feel the pills stick to his bruised throat like chalk. It burned and put him in excruciating pain.
He dropped the glass to grasp his throat to help ease and subdue the torture of the slow falling pills as the glass fell and shattered onto the floor. He quickly tried to grab the bigger pieces but cut his index finger. As the blood began to drip on the floor the Doctor quickly darted her hand to catch the blood drip in mid air. She grabbed his hand and began to suck his finger as the blood ran down his hand; she stopped herself and began to lick down his finger to his hand. She folded his hand tightly.
‘Forgive me.’ She shielded her eyes from his.
Michael looked at Simon with an almost thumbs up high five, but Simon found this embarrassing behavior more than strange. Michael just found it erotic.
‘Oh, that’s ok’ Simon replied to her gesture. ‘Clumsy me’ he added as he drew his hand back.
An orderly came over about as quick as the glass hit the floor to sweep up the mess. Meanwhile Dr. Heulen quickly stood up and retreated to her office churning her hands of any blood that was on them. Oddly, the orderly looked Simon square in the eyes as he swept the mess on the floor perfectly, without even a glance down.
He finally spoke to Simon. ‘Mind your clumsiness, accidents can kill you around here.’ His eyes were glowing almost bright green, maybe the moonlight coming through the window?
Simon swallowed with a gulp and Michael just tucked himself into his bed.
Simon crawled under his covers too as the pills began to take affect quickly. He looked over at the orderly walking away; his image was sideways from Simon’s position so it seemed eerie as he continued to walk, and his steps seemed to fast forward every couple of steps. The whole time the orderly was looking at Simon over his shoulder, watching him drift to sleep.
That night Simon dreamed deep, dark dreams of dread, he saw himself running the long torch lit halls, trying to catch his breath as large beads of sweat fell as he ran. He saw a light ahead that he was desperately running to, it was the cross in the infirmary lit by the moonlight, and he ran faster and faster to get to it. His blue scrubs that he wore as pajamas in the infirmary were soaked dark with sweat, sticking to him, making it even harder for him to run in the restricted fashion. He saw shadows of dogs running down the hall at him, large mountain wolves snapping as they ran, with their green eyes piercing the darkness.
Simon ran faster as the end of the hall seemed to lie out of his reach. He stretched his arms out to grab the end of the hall that seemed never to come. The images flashed as the image of Maxine seemed to appear to him, she lay naked under the cross trying to cover herself in animal skins that were black as the mountains at night time, with thick tuffs of fur. She covered herself, but moved back and forth in ecstasy as she crossed her legs, feeling the fur between her soft, supple skin. Her breasts spilled out from behind the fur as she reached out calling his name: ‘Simon, come to me…’
Suddenly he awoke with a gasp, he was still in the infirmary but it was late, he looked at the clock that said 3:03 AM. How is it he woke with the medicine that was supposed to make him sleep throughout the night till morning? He got up and walked to the bathroom. He flushed the toilet and washed his face in the basin. He rubbed the sweat off the back of his neck, then looked up in the mirror to see the image of a nude Maxine covered in blood outreaching to him. Blood was running down her body and off her outreached arms, so much blood it looked as if a stream of blood was just flowing down from her long flowing hair, with each strain acting like a straw to carry the thick red fluid of blood. He yelled out and yet awoke again! A dream within a dream. What kind of drugs were they giving him? What kind of place was he in?
Chapter 3
Wash Those Floors
The following morning Simon was discharged from the infirmary. When he signed a few papers he looked up at the massive cross and noticed that there was a thin stream of water running right down the middle to the bottom and the water collected into what looked like a basin for holy water, where you would bless yourself before entering a church. The stone basin ran over as it was full all the time. It spilled down to the floor where strange, built-in drain slits were. The water drained in the slits disappearing from sight. It sounded as though the water was falling forever into a vast chamber. In the middle of the large cross there was something missing, it looked to be another cross, smaller but right in the center of the cross beams.
The orderly signed him out without looking up; he knew Simon’s eyes were fixated on the large ornament.
‘This room used to be a large prayer and study room, overlooking the courtyard. Hitler had it changed to this hospital. Vandals after the war stole the artifact from the cross.’
‘Artifact?’ Simon spoke and wondered.
Just then, Dr. Heulen came from around the corner and the orderly shrugged back in his chair and pointed to one more line for Simon to sign. Simon was still caught in his glance at the gold cross.
‘Magnificent isn’t it?’ she asked him.
‘Yes, something else, I’m just wondering why vandals would take a small piece of it rather than the whole thing?’ Simon looked down, signed the paper and glanced up at her.
She was wearing long leather boots that ran up to her knees just as her skirt started and her Doctor’s white lab jacket did a bad job covering up. Not what you would expect a Doctor to be wearing around a prison full of men, but then again she was no average Doctor or woman for that matter. She gazed at him for an uncomfortable second.
‘Come, let me show you something…’ She took him by the sleeve and brought him
around the corner. As they turned the corner he looked down a vast hall that led to what looked like a huge library. Looking to his right he saw the hall led into a magnificent church with stunning artifacts of ancient times, statues of each station of the cross depicting Christ’s journey to Calvary, leading to a gigantic mural of Christ at the crucifixion. Above, angels hovered as Mary knelt sobbing at the bottom of the cross.
Awestruck, ‘Incredible!’ Simon’s eyes were wide open to take the whole thing in.
‘Yes, this was the main part of the cathedral the Prince built. Funny though, he practiced in the dark arts’ Dr Heulen said as she walked toward the front of the church, knelt as she blessed herself.
Simon followed her and knelt beside her at a pew. ‘How is it that this is still here after all this time and the world does not know it even exists.’
She looked at him: ‘It is known, but forgotten. Many evils have taken place here, it is best that way. Forgotten.’
Just then a priest came from behind the altar. ‘Oh, hello Maxine, I see you have a new friend.’ He priest walked up to the pew and introduced himself just as he quickly turned to kneel and bless himself in front of the Crucifixion.
‘I am Father Nicholas Lupus’ he said, putting his hand out. Simon looked at his hand, it looked rough as a carpenter’s with thick dirty nails. Simon shook it but slowly and cautiously.
Father Nicholas looked down at his hands as he rubbed a few fingers together.
‘Yes, we all do a little work in maintaining this magnificent palace.’
‘Isn’t that what the prisoners are for?’ Simon asked as he looked at him. Father Nicholas laughed hesitantly, looking for a quick response.
‘My son, mine is a labor of love. I take great pride knowing our savior was a humble carpenter who worked with his hands. It feels good to work to maintain these masterpieces; it helps bring me closer to God.’ He quickly looked at Maxine and then back at Simon. You could feel the connection that Father Nicholas and Maxine had together, something more than appropriate.
‘Well I think it is time we go’ Dr Heulen said to Simon as she blessed herself one more time and led Simon out of the church to the hall.
‘Is there work duty on this floor?’ Simon asked her, looking down the hallway at the library they were quickly approaching.
‘Yes, actually we need someone to maintain and clean all the marble floors.’
‘I would be interested in that, how could I get that work?’
‘I will talk to Klaus and see, but you need a few more days rest and take your medication.’
‘Medication?’ Simon thought to himself, he let his mind wonder for a bit. It was clear that the medicine had given him such vivid hallucinations, but then again, the vision of his mother was so real and he had not been taking anything then. His mind wondered and his eyes became fixated at the sight of the Doctor’s long leather clad legs peeking from behind her lab coat as she walked. Her boots made that distinct snap, echoing sound as she took each carefully placed step.