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 practically right next to the store that had a very narrow sidewalk. Simon rubbed up next the worn cobbled curb that slightly jostled the car. The store owner could be seen, walking towards the back of the store as the 3 men pulled down their dark masks, pumped their shot guns 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 and slouched in the front seat just to be slightly out of site.
Gun fire broke out almost immediately, as if the jeweler had been expecting them. The would be jewel thieves' opened fire at the 1st 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, but not before one of the thieves got off 1 important mortal shot, enough for him to escape and enough for his victim to breath his last breath.
Simon, flinching through the gun fire had opened the car door as the one surviving thief leaped from the store with his very life; he fell just short of Simon's get away 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 laying on the wet pavement, taking his last gasp of life, his hand was reaching out for Simon to save?
Simon hit the gas propelling the 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 and he was far beyond brining the car straight to avoid the cement pylons blocking some re-routed gas lines.
He hit the pylons with such force, it split his car wide open as 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 had been in the hospital for weeks to heal his injuries mostly going in and out of consciences due to the bad concussion. Surprising 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" he asked
His lawyer, clearing this throat, leaned in close to him and said, the "Rhine" his breath made his nose hairs curl, he pulled back and covered his hand over his nose and mouth and muttered to his attorney again.
"What is The Rhine?" Simon muttered 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 or the dark gray van closed with a metallic BOOM! Simon flinched yet again. Simon, shrugging back into his seat, 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 of the van.
Musting up a few courageous words, Simon began to ask, "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" 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 stare at or rather look at, the strange shackles, the out reached hand or 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 hand shake, Siegfried leaned back once again into the darkness, "Oh, yes, Simon Roberts the botched jewelry heist get away driver, yes, dreadful event that whole matter, how is it you survived the whole thing?" Siegfried wiping some more drool coming from his scarred lips.
Simon, still peering into what light is present at the weird device on Siegfried's wrists. Trying to contain himself, but visibly not hearing the question "Um, not to be rude, but what is that gear thing on your shackles?"
Siegfried leaning 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." Laughing under his breath.
Simon moving back a bit to better focus the device, he moved his glasses a bit further down his nose to focus on the cuffs. He peers through a light beam that is coming from the front bared window, but the drivers of the van open their doors and shout 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 wisk 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 quit some time" Simon, just exhausted from the days events just mumbled "Where is this place
were going?" Siegfried, in a chuckle "It is not where, but what?" Simon just fell asleep as the rhythm of the tires drowned out any other audible noise. After a seemingly long hours drive, Simon is awaken by the change in the rythmatic
rumble of pavement to the crunching of loose gravel below the tires, groggy he drifts 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 "Schwazwald" which was a phrase meaning "Black Forrest" but Simon was not familiar nor did it register as his eyes lids fell drowsily closed.
A few moments later as it seemed, Simon is awakened by some ever increasing bumps and jumps in the road or was it a road any more. The hatch barred window had slide open from the turbulent driving so Simon could peer out to what seemed a great structure that looked as though it was 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 4am, 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 the slight brake squeal.
"Atchung!" the guards shouted through the open barred window, Simon glanced over at the way of Siegfried who had a fowl stench of 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 as it sounded like it was collapsing on to itself.
Simon jumping 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 of 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 regaining its form, Simon's eyes had
obviously been playing tricks on him in the early hours of the mountains dawn.
The fog seemed to stretch into the back of the van as the guards opened the rear doors. To eve
ryone's surprise the shackles laid o the floor, with toughs of black hair entangled in them as Siegfried leaped forward at the guards tackling on to the ground as he lunged forward but still his ankles where shackled tightly into his skin, with burps of blood oozing from them, it had looked as if they imbedded themselves into the skin and the gears on these too where making a clicking noise as he lunged.
Siegfried whined "They twist into my bone, release me!"
The guards quickly rose to their feet as they pushed back almost into fear as they pulled forth their lugers an obvious antique weapon but seemed to serve them well. Their leather black gloves made the wringing, tightening sound as the gripped their pistols for dear life, but the look in their eyes was fear, clear unwavering fear. But with them both armed at the gates of the prison with snipers in sight in the raised turrets, Siegfried shackled tightly by his ankles to the van, what was there to fear?
Simon just glanced down at the loose shackles that once where on this old man's wrists, he 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 draw bridge to help assist in Father-time's re-introduction to Stalag Rhinehoth some had pistols drawn, more others had rifles all aiming at Siegfried's head all where shouting "Zur?ckkommen!, Zur?ckkommen!! ", repeating the phrase as loosely Simon could translate as "Get back!" Simon still sitting watching the whole spectacle unfold, just sat back in his chair and turned his head for he knew what would come next?.
The guards got control of Fathertime, he sat back in his seat, the guards moved in quickly to remove his chocking leg shackles that had imbedded themselves underneath his skin. With an un-human howl not made by any known creature, the shackles where 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 a rabid dog. Simon finally turned to view where the bloody shackles laid? "there is so much blood, from 1 man, from an older man how is that possible?" Simon gasps 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 more time spent 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 be grown in a few hours later.
Klaus glared at Simon and said "are you waiting for a special invitation inmate?!" Simon froze, 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, since 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 whit replied "Thank youuu?" but you could hear the strain in his voice.
Klaus, laughed at the site of this feeble man.
As Simon turned, the fog seemed to lift showing the long fall from an apparent moat but as he starred deep through the mist, it was not a moat at all, but rather a cavernous fall so far it was hard to see the bottom. As Simon tried to stare upwards a light mist falling made him squint and hard for him to see the top of the prison that was more shaped like a castle than a prison and behind that he could see the long stretching mountains filled with snow covered pines. As breath taking as it was, no time to sight see, he was being shoved forward by the guards towards the draw bridge that had been lowered for them.
The drawbridge was old wrought iron with dark heavy timber flanks, weathered but almost hardened like steel. There where so many iron strips in it, it was more metal than wood, it looked centuries old. The iron links that lowered the draw bridge where 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 capstan's that raised the bridge. It took 8 guards in total to raise the bridge, 4 per capstan on either side of the massive door that was the bridge to the outside world.
Simon wondered how that 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 8 large men to winch up the door, probably 10 prisoners, a lot harder to get 10 prisoners up there without being shot rather than some electric button!"
Simon trying to reach his head to sooth the smack, Simon thought "Had Klaus read his mind or is that what everyone thinks?"
As the crossed the Threshold to Rhinehoth it was apparent this was not ordinary prison, the court yard was antique, cobble stoned, weathered, dark and grey. The watch towers where blocks of granite carved with various demons, dragons and the such. Each eye of the creatures where the look out windows where the guards peered through with their rifles. Every so often you could see the laser sights stream across the floor of the court yard just enough to let you know, they where up there, watching, staring, studying.
Klaus stopped him some where in the middle of the yard as the drawbridge came slamming shut. Simon 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 our of a door across the yard as a large black horse, looking to be bellowing steam from its nostrils approach them. It was saddled and massive, every muscle could been seen rippling as it cantered toward 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 horses 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 H?ftling!"
Simon thought H?ftling was German for gentleman or something, but he knew it was nothing more romantic that "Prisoner" he looked further around as Klaus guided him with his pointing hands, showing each of the guard's towers, machine gun turrets and the flickering of the laser sights on the ground and walls as the guards routinely projected.
Simon just 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 manors, 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 some where off in the distant. He felt cold and could feel the cold enter his chest as he took a deep breath. His eyes began to focus and 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 as a man imprisoned for life, the man is annually beaten, 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 his imprisoned reality. He tried to stand upright but struggled from laying 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 looke
d to contain some sort of soup, green, almost a florescent green. He held himself back from gagging as it seemed a rat had drowned in it, something he had not seen at eye level crouched on the floor.
He turned his head to the opposite side of his cell. It appeared he has a bed on the floor, a mattress, pancake flat, that 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.
A hole in the cobbled floor was used as his toilet. 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, he is cold, but not freezing despite the open barred window, he has to stand on his toes to see out of the window but he notices that it seems to be mid morning but the back of the prison casts out the sun, not to mention the constant cloud cover at the altitude they where at, his lungs felt the thinness of the air. Simon can see the lights on the hill showing each individual cell, almost painting a picture of each cell as you can see the inhabitant's shadows alive with animation. A few cells, it was apparent prisoners where pacing in despair, though he can see only see the shadows.
Simon falls back to flats of his feet as he hears the guards coming down the hall, his
cell opens, the large iron door had a small window letting in some cross lighting to just illuminate his room from darkness, it opened to expose him to his new outside world. He stands softly hoping not to be beaten any more.
"Kommen," 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 that 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 looked as though it was coming from torches mounted to the walls, the smell of kerosene was also present as well as a vial putrid smell. He could hear other prisoners suffering from each door he walked past, their moans went right through him. Some where making sounds of deep gut wrenching vomiting as he could hear volumes of the liquid hit the floor.