Featured Article » Fiction

Hell Fighters

Written by Wood Hughes

I: The Mission

The monastery of Subiaco: Home of the Order of St. Benedict.

"Brother Johann? The Fathers are ready."

Brother Johann closed the small book he was studying and rose, straightening his black robe. While he had been aware of the gathering of Abbots, he had no idea why the assembled Abbots of the Order of St. Benedict in the region had summoned him to their chambers. He followed Brother Mark into the meeting hall, which was carved out of the living rock cliff that the Monastery was built out of. As he entered, he recognized the five Abbots and Arch Abbots. Each represented congregations of Benedictine monasteries from Rome in the south to the Bursfeld Union in Germany and had traveled to Subiaco to consult on the current crisis facing the Faithful. Also seated at the table was Dean Bernard, of his home Monastery of Fulda.

"Thank you for coming, Brother," Cardinal Subiaco, the host for this congregation, began. "Please be seated. The Order has been blessed by the wonderful work you've done in the six years since the Lord called you here to tend to our archives and the St. Scholastica Library. However, Dean Bernard has brought us most disturbing news from Johann Bernhard, Abbot Prince of Fulda. We thought it may very well provide a most important calling for you and your skills."

Cardinal Subiaco nodded to Dean Bernard, who began, "It's wonderful to see you again, Brother. It's been too long since we've broken bread in Franconia. Johann, have you been following the news from our home?"

Brother Johann pressed his glasses back into place and squinted. "Not really, Bernard. I have noted in some of the recent reports the reversals in the campaigns to re-establish the Holy Church in the area. Of course I am aware that the Monastery at Fulda itself is now under control of the Swedes."

"Not quite the Swedes, at least not directly." Dean Bernard pulled out a small book and passed it over to Brother Johann.

The book was of a construction that Johann had not seen before. It was of cloth, worn but smooth, wrapped around some sort of hard material. The backing had silver printing in what Johann assumed was English. It read: Western Civilization. He turned the book in his hands and felt the smoothness of the edges of the pages between their covers, and noticed a slight gleam that he had not noticed on the thousands of books he had handled in his life.

Pressing his glasses back into position, Johann then carefully opened the front cover and felt the glossy paper of which the book was printed. Casting a quick glance of disbelief at Dean Bernard, he thumbed through the book. Then such an incredible sight met his eyes that his mouth fell open and he instinctively crossed himself.

There on the page was an engraving unlike anything he had ever imagined. The colors were so vivid and the engraving was so fine that he thought momentarily that the people pictured there would begin to move at any moment. Johann had seen the finest illuminations that the Order of Saint Benedict had collected in the nine centuries since its founding, but nothing to rival this!

As he turned the pages, Johann noted illustrations, engravings, and actual paintings of people, places, and the most incredible artifacts that he could imagine. Even the clothing on those in the engravings changed from the familiar to more and more bizarre as he flipped rapidly through this incredible book.

"Dean Bernard, where did this come from? It is... most unusual."

"Most unusual indeed, Brother. It came from a city in the Saale River Valley. While filing away your monastic reports, have you come across any references to a 'Grantville'?"

"As you may recall," Johann responded in a puzzled tone, "I was born in the Saale River Valley just west of Schwarza. I recall no village or town by such a name."

"That is our problem, Brother," Arch Abbott Monte Cassino, who represented the monasteries of the Congregation of St. Justina of Padua, broke in as he leaned forward. "Until some months ago, there was no Grantville in the Saale River Valley, or anywhere else in God's Creation. It appeared there, full blown, along with people and inventions and artifacts which no one has ever seen before."

Glancing over to Bernard and nodding an apology, Arch Abbot Monte Cassino continued, "Forgive me for breaking in on your explanation, Dean Bernard. But the urgency of the matter requires a more direct sharing of information with Brother Johann.

"Brother, this Grantville has become the ruling power in Thuringia and an ally of the Swede. It, not the Swede, now controls vast reaches of Franconia and has managed to put the forces of Tilly in panicked retreat.

"They claim to be from a future almost four centuries ahead of our time. They claim to have no idea how or why they were brought here to the current time and place. The book you hold in your hands is evidence of the incredible things that their merchants and tinkerers can do with the most exotic machines. These devices mystify the most knowledgeable alchemists and scientists that the Church has consulted.

"Even more puzzling, although they have made a devil's pact with the Swede Gustavus Adolphus, they seem to be perfectly content to allow followers of the True Faith to practice our religious beliefs. They attempt to make no regulation based on their leaders' faith and beliefs.

"Dean Bernard has brought it to our attention that our brothers in Christ, the Society of Jesus, have managed to place observers right in the middle of Grantville. This was done openly, with no apparent repercussions or persecutions of these emissaries. There even seems to be a Roman Catholic Church with its own congregation and parish priest, also from this amazing future.

"Brother Johann," Arch Abbot Monte Cassino asked, "would you please read the passage marked in the book you hold?"

Johann again looked down at the marvelous relic in his hands and noticed for the first time a cloth ribbon protruding slightly from the edge. Opening to the marked page, he saw a passage marked with what must have been a quill pen.

Johann was horrified at the desecration of such perfection. Still he began, "The confiscation of Catholic religious property following the Treaty of Westphalia (1648) had been for the benefit of Protestant rulers alone. More than a hundred monasteries and countless pious foundations disappeared at this time. By the middle of the eighteenth century a new movement devoted to the destruction of monastic institutions swept over those German portions of the Holy Roman Empire, which had remained loyal to the Catholic Faith. The supernatural character of the religious life was totally ignored; abbeys and convents were permitted to exist only after giving proof of their material utility."

"That's enough, Brother." Arch Abbot Monte Cassino paused and looked around the table. "For nine centuries the Order has brought education, civilization and the Good News of our Lord's Passion to the peoples of Europe and the world. Now we find ourselves still strong in the Faith, but weakened. Only three centuries ago, our Order numbered over thirty seven thousand monasteries. If this book is to be trusted, by the end of this century, we will be able to count only five thousand. Our lands in Germany are under Protestant control. Bursfeld itself is under Lutheran control. The Hessians have looted the great library at Fulda. And now, the Lord has brought to us a clear vision of how The Adversary will triumph over our best efforts unless we open our eyes to whatever it is He is trying to show us.

"We are in a crisis, Brother," Arch Abbot Monte Cassino continued. "Your brothers in Christ, here assembled, believe that the Lord has brought this test to us for a reason. After much prayer and discussion, we believe that Grantville was placed near Fulda at the time of its greatest challenge just so we could learn what lessons our Order may have passed along to this future generation, represented by Grantville. Thus we hope to have a light cast on the path the Lord intends for us to walk during this time of death and destruction.

"You, Brother Johann, are from the very valley in which Grantville is now located. You worked and prayed and studied for decades in the Library of Fulda. You brought such a rationality to the organization of the books and journals and other papers there that your methods have been adopted by not only our monasteries," Arch Abbot Monte Cassino gestured to the other Abbots around the table as he continued, "but by Benedictine monasteries throughout Europe. You were called here to help rediscover the knowledge that our Lord has revealed to our brothers that has been stored here since our founding.

"'Listen, My Son, to the precepts of the Master, and lend the ears of your heart.' These are the words of our beloved Saint Benedict and this is the calling which we believe that God has chosen for you."

All the Abbots and Dean Bernard stood and clasped their hands as if beginning a prayer. "Brother Johann, we, the Fathers assembled, humbly request that you make a pilgrimage to this place Grantville, not to spread the Word, but to listen and learn. We fervently pray that the Lord reveal His purpose to you, thereby to the future of the Order and how we may continue to serve the souls of humanity by His Grace."

II: The Journey

Johann had spent the night in his cell praying for guidance on how to prepare for this great adventure that God had ordained for him. When the first rays of light broke through his small window, he ended his communion with the Lord, crossed himself, and walked to his library.

Like the fruit that tempted Eve, the book lay on the table where he'd left it the previous night. The stories it held! Up to the current time, it seemed to be accurate or at least convincing that there might be truths contained that he had not been exposed to. But then it continued, page after page of horrible, mind numbing events and wars. But most amazing of all, the ideas!

Thinkers, some just born, some not to be born for centuries, illuminate this future with such intriguing ideas and the results of those ideas. Some of those ideas were on a par with Aristotle, some on a par with Lucifer, but all contained promise and all contained traps.

Johann picked up the Western Civilization book and wandered over and laid it next to the Lattanzio Sublacense. That was the first book written, typeset, and printed in this very monastery by Brothers and fellow Germans Sweynheim and Pannartz. They had brought the first printing press to Italy in 1464. That very press still stood in another room in the monastery. He was staring at what he had always considered the holy art of printing, on one hand one hundred sixty-seven years in the past, on the other three hundred sixty-seven years in the future. He glanced up and saw the cabinet in which he had stored one of the only manuscripts of St. Augustine himself, the De Civitate Dei.

"Blessed St. Augustine," he prayed, "please show me whether this Grantville is indeed a City of God or a City of the Devil."

It took several more days before he was satisfied that he had learned all that his mind could absorb from this book of one future and began his preparations. As a Benedictine monk, Johann led a very simple life. Leaving behind material possessions was not a problem. Brother Julio was ready to take over his responsibilities in the library. Johann devoted his remaining time to meeting with individual monks. He prayed with them singly or in small groups and then began his trip to his almost forgotten homeland.

During the weeks it took for him to walk across the Alps, Johann had sufficient time to realize that this was truly a journey into the future and the past.

Grantville, of course, represented the future. But Thuringia... memories of his childhood in Thuringia, seemingly lost in the decades since he had been away, kept coming up at every turn. He remembered skipping rocks off the small pools formed in the meanders of the Schwarza River and chasing rabbits in the meadows of his father's estate. He smiled as he recalled the rich smells of the pastries his mother could bake in that beautiful, giant, solidly built German house that protected his family and in winter, the family livestock.

It had been years since he learned that his sisters Gretchen and Inga had died of the plague. They were the last of his family, other than himself, to survive the horrible devastation of "The Thirty Years War," as the book had named it.

Johann shivered and pulled his black robes closer and adjusted his pack. It wasn't just the chill of the mountain air in this northern clime that caused that particular shiver. "I wonder if Herr von Schoenfeld is still alive?" he murmured.

When Johann had been a boy, it was von Schoenfeld who had introduced him to the joy of books. They held wonderful tales, vistas and horizons that he could never have even imagined. Books had opened a door that had led Johann inevitably to the great library in the Abby of Fulda, the greatest library in southern Germany.

There it was Brother Georg who showed him how to preserve those precious manuscripts in such a way as to make them last. It was Brother Georg who showed him the beauty of the order of knowledge that exists in a library, and from that in the teachings of God as revealed by St. Benedict.

And when Brother Georg was promoted to the Church Triumphant some years later, Johann knelt before Abbot Johann Friedrich von Schwalbach and accepted his vows, converting from the Lutheran heresy to the monastic life of St. Benedict.

III: The Arrival

After several days of following the road down the Elbe River Valley towards where the Saale River joined its flow, Johann began hearing a peculiar sound. At first he thought it might be his imagination, the soft "potato, potato, potato" sound, but soon he noticed it changing to a low rumbling roar in the distance. Occasionally he heard a high-pitched whirring sound that he could not identify either. Crossing himself, once again he offered up his silent prayer for protection and took care to keep within sight any convenient hiding spot along his path.

At the next bend in the road, he saw the source of his concern. There, in the middle of the road was a machine, yellow with a large box affixed to one end and what looked like an arm attached to the other. In the center sat a man in dress something like what Johann had seen in the incredible engravings in the book. Black smoke blew from the chimney of the roaring machine as the person on top did something with some levers. The arm moved!

There was a large scoop at the end. The arm and scoop took a bite out of the ground beneath, picked it up and tossed it to one side. Then it repeated the action.

Johann was so amazed at this, that he was startled by the high-pitched whine, which suddenly started up to the left of the yellow machine. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose in order to improve his vision and squinted. He finally located a man standing by a felled tree holding something that was tearing a hole out of the timber. After watching the actions of this small crew of men and their machines for a time, he decided that if he was to ever reach Grantville, he must get past this challenge.

Johann walked carefully toward the men and their machines. Another one of them noticed him and, putting down his device, picked up something that resembled a musket but was much shorter. In bad German, he yelled, "Advance and be recognized! Keep your hands in clear sight! Hurry!"

Johann raised his arms to waist height and turned his palms up in what he hoped the stranger would view as a supplicating manner, and continued his approach.

"I come to find Grantville," Johann said when he was within range of normal speech. "Would you rather speak in English or German?"

The stranger was now joined by a couple of his fellows. "Hell, Jimmy," said one of them. "This guy talks better English than you do."

"What's your business, traveler?" asked the one named Jimmy. "What brings you to the United States?"

A moment's confusion slowed Johann's response. He had read of this United States, but it was clearly on the North American continent at least one hundred forty years in the future. No matter, he quickly decided. "I am Brother Johann of the monastic Order of St. Benedict. I come to see Grantville and find God's purpose in bringing it here."

The one that challenged him brought his short musket to his side and laughed, "Well, Padre, as soon as you figure that out, be sure to let me know. I've been trying to figure that one out since we got here!"

The men welcomed Johann and offered him water from a bright orange container. They shared their food as they talked about themselves and their home. They referred to this pause as something called a "smoke break." It must have referred to the machines being turned off, because the smoke had stopped while they broke.

Johann was more interested in the men than the devices they took so much for granted. There was a genuine air of openness and confidence in even the least of the crew members. That was combined with a certain sense of danger should some nebulous opponent ever cross their path.

After finishing his first smoke break, Johann got directions from the crew. He picked up his pack and blessed them to be safe in their work. Every man bent his head and one even made the sign of the cross as Johann finished his blessing. The road, from that point, became noticeably more level. It had a layer of crushed rock which had been packed in some way. Where washes had been there were now metal pipes to allow the water flow to go under the roadbed.

For the next several days, Brother Johann continued to pass the familiar sights of villagers going about their proper work. Farmers in the fields gathered what, to Johann, seemed to be large harvests of their respective crops. Also the occasional machine would pass Johann. They were operated by more of these "up-timers," or "Americans," as they called themselves.

Finally he reached the last leg of his journey. Johann turned up the "American road" along the north shore of the Schwarza River. As he walked along the improved road, he passed more and more large American construction sites on and near the riverbank. Amazingly, it seemed that Grantville must be very close to his family estate.

When he came upon several houses within sight of the road, he realized that he recognized them. One, just off the road, had a cairn of rocks in the field in front of it. There was a sign which read:

"WE DON'T KNOW WHO THESE MURDERING RAPING BASTARDS ARE THAT WE PUT HERE. DON'T MUCH CARE EITHER. IF THERE ARE ANY MORE OF YOU OUT THERE, BE WARNED. THIS AREA IS NOW UNDER THE PROTECTION OF THE UMWA. IF YOU TRY TO HARM OR ROB ANYBODY WE WILL KILL YOU. THERE WILL BE NO FURTHER WARNING. WE WILL NOT NEGOTIATE. WE WILL NOT ARREST YOU.

YOU WILL SIMPLY BE DEAD.

WE GUARANTEE IT.

GO AHEAD. TRY US."

It had been a neighbor's home. Johann clearly remembered the young boy he had played and grown up with. While he couldn't quite remember the name, he remembered the boy always liked to work with his hands, while Johann preferred to keep his hands on books.

Then it struck him. He turned and realized that the American road dove into a cut in the ground just beyond this neighbor's home. How could this be!

Johann dropped to his knees, as the personal price of this mission suddenly became crystal clear him. This was the very land that had been seized from the Abbey of Fulda during the early days of the Protestant Reformation. It was the same land that then had been awarded to one of Johann's ancestors for service to his rulers. This very land had been taken by God to advance His will.

Grantville was largely on his very own family land! What a divine irony. Johann's older siblings and their families were dead. Johann himself had taken a vow of poverty and renounced his claim to the land and its income. Thus God was free to do as He willed, and He obviously had.

Johann ran his hand through his graying but still blond hair. He now saw that his entire life had been laid out so that this very event could take place. Like most who study the Bible, Johann had at times wondered what Moses must have felt like when he saw the bush that burned but was not consumed or what the bystanders at the grave of Lazarus had experienced when he walked alive from the grave. Now, for the first time, he really, truly knew.

He passed through the cut and stepped on the soft dark grey rock surface of the road beyond. Johann looked around in what now seemed a state of continuing amazement at the slightly curved earthen wall that stretched out from him in opposite directions. It seemed to form a clear delineation between what was then and what was now.

Steep hills rose and fell on both sides as he continued into what the American road crew had referred to as the "Ring of Fire." He passed small houses and buildings set back off the dark grey road. He also passed less traveled, but similarly constructed roads, which made their way to their appointed destinations. Johann began to notice a smell. He had been in many cities and villages in his life and recognized the smell of soot from the wood used to cook and to warm the inhabitants. He had been into the smithies and hammer mills where iron was worked over coal fires with its unique gritty, sulfur, and metallic smell. Even though this was stronger than he had been exposed to before, there was something different about the smell of this town he was walking into.

There was not the smell of ammonia from the human waste that was a common part of city life to his experience. Not that German or Italian cities were the depositories of human waste that brother monks related from their experiences in England, but so many outhouses and waste collection vehicles naturally left their perfume as part of the background smell of a city.

More and more people passed him on the road. Some of them were dressed in that strange new garb of Americans; most were dressed in the normal clothing that he was accustomed to. Then some wore with mixtures of normal garb and either a cap with a bill on it or light, tight shirts with drawings or messages printed on them. There was an increasing diversity of vehicles as well. Mostly there were horse drawn wagons jockeying for position in the flow of traffic. But, occasionally, vehicles like Johann had seen in the book at the monastery passed with a soft rumble from under their metal surfaces.

No one seemed fearful. At most, the inhabitants appeared anxious to get to wherever they were going. Nor did he notice any beggars on the corners. Corners that he noticed were not made of cut stone, but of some kind of molded rock material that looked as though it had been poured in a molten state, and had frozen in place.

On his right as he walked up one hill, he noticed a tall, solidly built man stretching on the front porch of a neatly kept white cottage. The man looked very sharply at him, and then, as if making some kind of studied judgment, smiled and waved.

Johann smiled back and shifting his pack, waved, finishing with the sign of the cross.

IV: The Grantville Library

"I'd better get back before Heather starts imagining the bodies are moving again."

"Jenny, leave the poor girl alone. She was just jittery when she realized that the job she was assigned to at the Bureau of Vital Statistics was at the funeral home. Of course, catching you taking a nap in a coffin just might have been a bit much."

Marietta Fielder had known Jenny Maddox since they were kids. Although two more opposite personalities could hardly be imagined, they'd remained the best of friends throughout.

"The simple pleasures I have to give up just to get good help these days. I've still got that extra large coffin ready, just in case you get tired of your current bed."

Marietta laughed in spite of herself, "No thanks, I'm perfectly fine with my current mattress."

"Will you looky there," Marietta said, indicating the man walking up the ramp outside the picture window in front of the Grantville Public Library. "Is that some kind of a down-time guy in drag?

"At least he knows how to pick jewelry. That cross perfectly compliments the black gown." Both girls giggled as the door opened.

Marietta greeted the oddly garbed visitor. "Afternoon, sir. If you need any help, just ask."

"Thank you, Frau. May I please see your library?"

"Help yourself. I'm going to have to ask you to leave your backpack up here though. We've had some trouble lately with people taking books without checking them out. Are you looking for anything in particular?"

Brother Johann looked puzzled and pushed his glasses back into place. "I don't really know. I've never been in a library quite like this. Is this the only area accessible to outsiders?"

"Now you've done it," Jenny broke in. "Here comes the Public Lending Library 101 speech. If you two will excuse me, I need to go. See you tomorrow, Marietta. Nice meeting you too, Mister...?"

"Brother Johann. I've just arrived in Grantville from Italy."

"Funny, you don't sound Italian," Marietta said.

"No, I'm actually from..." Johann paused. "Very close to here, originally. But I've been serving in the Benedictine library in Subiaco for some years now. I was asked to come here in order to learn what the Lord's purpose was in bringing Grantville to our time."

"Oh! Well then, Brother Johann, welcome to Grantville. You just arrived? You mean you really just got here and came straight to the library?" Marietta was taken aback, half wondering if Johann was pulling her leg and half excited about the possibility of meeting a kindred spirit. She had been initiated into the field of library science at an early age. As a third grader, Mrs. Yardley had noticed her re-shelving the 788.12 section in the correct order. Then she had offered her an after school job as a page.

Johann nodded. "Yes, Frau. I asked where the library was and a kind lady pointed me this way. Is this the whole of your collection?"

"Goodness, no." Turning to her friend, Marietta said, "Jenny, I'll see you later. Let me help this man."

After she and Jenny finished their goodbyes, Marietta continued, "This is just the reference and non-circulating section. My name is Marietta Fielder. Glad to meet you. Now, if you will follow me..." She walked to the back of the room to a step up to an open doorway. "This section holds up to three hundred books and through there"—indicating another door where an even larger room awaited—"are another four hundred-plus books and, of course, fiction. Uh... Brother, are you okay?"

Johann was staring at the ceiling, mouth open. Marietta looked up and saw the fluorescent light fixture. The plastic cover had fallen out last week and she hadn't had time to replace it.

"That's called an electric light, fluorescent to be exact. It was an invention of the early twentieth century. You're going to see a lot of new things here, Brother Johann."

"Yes, this I've learned." Johann followed Marietta through the rest of her tour of her home. He also recognized the same love of books and the preservation of knowledge in Marietta that had consumed his life. He listened to Marietta's explanation of the concept of an up-time lending library and was introduced to some of the staff. He noticed the occasional empty spaces in the shelves, like missing teeth in an otherwise perfect mouth. His mind swirled.

"Frau Fielder, perhaps I should take care of my lodging arrangements before the day gets by, and come back in the morning to study your collection. Do you know where I might find quarters?"

"That's easy, if you have money." Johann nodded as Marietta continued, "You ought to go to see Huddy Colburn at Grantville Homes and Land. He's been handling relocations and housing for the emergency committee since the ROF. His office is back on Main and just a half block on the right."

"We open at eight thirty Monday through Saturday and usually close at seven PM," Marietta continued. "Five on Saturdays. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

V: Lodging

Huddy Colburn put the paperwork back in its legal file and laid it on the "Done" pile. Be careful what you pray for next time, Hudson, he thought, and grinned briefly.

The first couple of weeks after the ROF, Huddy had gone into the office once a day just to reassure his remaining agents that somehow everything would work out. Business had stopped and no one seemed to know what was what going to happen. Then the Mike Stearns plan had kicked in. Just as he had done since coming home, Mike had taken charge. On the strength of his personality alone people had given up driving their cars, pitched in with planting every available square foot of land, turned out for defense drills and did pretty much anything else he asked.

When the first wave of refugees hit Grantville everything changed. Mike called Huddy and asked him to take charge of making sure everyone had shelter by winter. That alone had put Huddy and his agents on a heavier work schedule than they had ever thought of in this hillbilly town. Then, with construction firing up to build new housing, Huddy had taken it on himself to teach his agents how to do a simple construction inspection. If the builder didn't pass, he could count that Huddy wouldn't let the people he was responsible for live there.

A few days later Huddy's cousin, Willy Ray Hudson, breezed into the office with his business partners in Thuringian Gardens. Willy Ray was looking for some help in drawing up a partnership agreement. All the lawyers were slammed with work, so Huddy pulled out the reference material he had. It was left over from when he put together the buy out agreement to purchase Grantville Homes and Land from Mayor Dreeson.

After that, Huddy became the semi-official Grantville Business Broker. With all the entrepreneurs who had bubbled up since, that, too, had become a full time job. As long as Huddy was busy, he didn't have time to think of Mary, or the other thing.

Well, Huddy Ol' Boy, you wanted to keep busy, so get back to work. He picked up the next file from the bottomless pile on the right side of his desk.

Huddy had just gotten the paperwork spread out so he could figure out what this deal was all about. The bell on his front door rang. Since Maxine was out running errands and the rest of his agents were out looking at construction sites or collecting rents, Huddy leaned his chair to the left to get a view of the thin blond man in a black robe walking into his office.

"So where are we going to put you, Brother?" Huddy reviewed the notes from his conversation with Johann. "Would you excuse me while I look through the available properties files? Make yourself at home, I'll be right back."

Huddy walked out and Johann looked around the office. As a follower of Saint Benedict, he and his brother monks led a Spartan life with only the simplest of necessities. This man's office was anything but simple. It spoke of a life lived in full.

The desk was filled with stacks of files, each neatly labeled. The walls were filled with certificates of some achievement or the other, an old red bandanna, and a misshapen leather glove. More than anything else, there were pictures of smiling people standing in front of houses. Johann was surprised to realize that he recognized one of the houses and the man ...