The Frankenstein Factory

by Edward D. Hoch

EARL WAS A SECOND too slow getting his own pistol—or Whalen’s pistol—free from his floppy pocket of the robe. Tony Cooper must have heard him or sensed his presence. He whirled, bringing up the laser gun. “Hold it right there, Jazine!”

  “Have I caught the murderer in the act?” Earl asked, staying where he was.

  “Don’t be stupid! I just tapped him on the head. He’s all right.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  “I said I wanted to talk, and I managed to get around behind him. He’ll come to in a minute.”

  “So what are you doing with the laser pistol? Did it just fall into your hand?”

  “I didn’t want him to have it when he comes to. Actually, I’m sorry you showed up when you did because I wanted to do this in private.”

  “Do what?”

  “Put an end to our troubles with Frank here.” Still holding the laser pistol pointed up at Earl, he moved to the far end of the operating table and yanked an electrode from the power cart.

  “You can’t do that, Tony.”

  “Can’t I? I’m doing it!”

  Before Earl could move Tony clamped the electrode to Frank’s head and pulled another to his bare feet. Then he threw the power switch all the way over. There was a crackle of electricity and the instant odor of scorched human flesh. Earl ran forward, down the steps, ignoring the laser gun which had turned away from him now.

  He yanked Tony away from the power cart and threw the switch to the off position. Then he had his own gun out before Tony could level the laser pistol. “All right. Don’t make me shoot you!”

  Hobbes, on the floor, groaned and tried to push himself up. “Help him,” Earl ordered. “And put down that laser.”

  Tony obeyed him. “I’ve done what I had to.”

  Earl unclipped the electrodes and stepped back, Hobbes was on his feet now, holding the back of his head. But it seemed that his thick bush of white hair had saved him from serious injury. “What happened?” he demanded. “What did he do?”

  “Ran a few thousand volts through Frank here. He wanted to fry him, I guess.”

  “My God!” Hobbes took a step closer. “Has his breathing stopped?”

  “No,” Earl replied, trying to control his voice. “He’s still breathing. And his eyes are open!”

  They stood there for a long time, looking down at him, not daring to say a word. It was true that the eyes were open, but there was no indication that they were seeing anything. When Hobbes moved his fingers through the air above them, as one might do with a baby, the eyes did not follow the fingers but only kept staring straight ahead.

  “Well, something’s happened to him,” Hobbes conceded. “But I don’t know what. We used an electric shock to get the heart going again, and I suppose the jolt might have been too weak. He needed what Tony just gave him.”

  “I wasn’t trying to save his life,” Tony assured them.

  “But you may have done just that,” Hobbes said. “And if he becomes reanimated now that will prove him innocent of those murders.”

  “It won’t prove any such thing,” Tony insisted. “It’ll only prove he’s a good actor.” He bent closer to the table. “Hear that, Frank?”

  “Stop it!” Hobbes demanded. “That’s a human being!”

  While they bickered Frank’s eyes fluttered and then closed. Hobbes immediately hooked up the electronic heartbeat and pulse indicators. “All right,” he said at last. “All vital signs are favorable. But he may be sleeping again.”

  “He’s a hard bugger to kill,” Tony conceded.

  “Does that mean you’ve given up on it?” Earl asked.

  “No, it only means I’ll have to try harder next time.”

  “I think we’d all better go upstairs,” Earl suggested.

  Hobbes shook his head. “I’m staying here. He might start speaking at any moment.”

  “I don’t think you should have the laser pistol,” Earl said. “But I can’t leave you without anything. Here—take Whalen’s gun.”

  Hobbes accepted it reluctantly, obviously preferring his own weapon. As they were leaving he called out after Tony, “You know, the next time I’ll kill you. I won’t ever let you get close enough to me again.”

  “I know,” Tony said grimly.

  On the way upstairs Earl told him, “That was a foolish thing to do, you know.”

  “I’m not going to let us all be killed just because he’s wild for that thing down there! I tried to kill it and I’m glad! I still don’t understand why it’s still alive.”

  “Maybe it’s unkillable,” Earl suggested, then added a smile because the words carried a heaviness that he hadn’t intended.

  The main floor was still in darkness, and when they reached it their voices lowered automatically. “In the darkness this place is like a church,” Tony commented.

  “Or a cemetery.”

  They parted in the upstairs hall and Earl quietly eased open his door. No need to wake the others if they were sleeping. He crossed to his bed and doffed the robe, taking care to place the weighty little laser pistol in the dresser’s top drawer, out of sight. Without Hilda to make the bed it had remained in its rumpled condition that day, but he’d smoothed it out the best he could. Now, as he slid between the sheets, he was surprised that they seemed so taut.

  Then his reaching hand encountered warm, bare flesh.

  “Hello,” Vera said softly. “I came to join you. I couldn’t sleep.”

  He caressed the soft mound of her buttocks. “And now I won’t be able to.”

  “I even made your bed. It was terribly rumpled.”

  “You’d make somebody a fine housemate.”

  “Is it true that no one gets married back in New York anymore?”

  “No one young. You should know that. You’re from the East.”

  “God, I wish I were back there now! I wish I were done with Tony.”

  “Is it good between you? The sex, I mean.” They were nestled between the sheets like two children hiding from the world, talking in whispers lest the ogre overhear.

  “It was good at first, natural and good. But I think he’s done something to me this last year. I have to dream up things like the belt to make it exciting now. And that’s not me—it really isn’t!”

  “By this time I don’t know what’s you and what’s not. I’ve seen a great many faces of you these last few days.”

  “You’ve seen the worst faces. Freddy got me off to a bad start from the beginning. I’m so glad he’s gone.”

  “Glad he’s dead?”

  “Glad he’s gone. I was afraid Tony would kill him. Or that I would.”

  “Did you?”

  “No.”

  “Did Tony?”

  “I’m not sure. But he’d have no motive for killing the others.”

  “They might have been killed to hide the real motive.”

  “Don’t be silly! Real people don’t behave like that!”

  “Real people don’t murder five times over. But someone did, nevertheless.”

  “Here with you, like this, I could forget that any of it ever happened.”

  He reached for her then, and was entering her when they heard a pounding on the door. Before Earl could disentangle himself from her embracing arms and legs the door flew open and an arclight targeted the bed.

  “So here you are!” Tony Cooper said, his voice close to an animal snarl.

  “Tony!”

  “Out of the bed, Jazine! You’ve fucked your last lady!”

  Earl rolled over, sick with the prospect of fighting the enraged fool. “Oh, for God’s sake, Tony—”

  “Get up! I’m going to kill you!”

  “You haven’t gotten the word, Tony. Men don’t kill each other for this anymore.”

  But his calming words only served to further infuriate Cooper. He grabbed at Earl’s arm, yanking him off of Vera, pulling the covers away from him. Earl came off of the bed with a surge, butting him with his head, and followed through with a bearhu
g that pinned Tony’s arms to his sides. They jostled there like two erotic dancers, Earl naked and Tony clothed, kicking against the fallen arclight until the room seemed alive with flashes of fire.

  For a moment Earl thought he’d gotten the better of the man, but then suddenly Tony brought his boot down on Earl’s bare toes. He gasped with pain and released his grip. Tony brought both fists up in a hammer-blow to Earl’s jaw, toppling him backward onto the bed.

  “All right, shitface,” Tony Cooper snarled. “I’ll wait for you downstairs. We’ll duel with Hobbes’s laser pistols.”

  “No!” Vera screamed from the bed, but Cooper ignored her and stalked from the room.

  Earl lay on the rumpled bed, running his fingertips over his jaw. “Knowing you can be a dangerous pastime,” he told Vera.

  “Don’t fight him! He’ll kill you!”

  “Is that what you told Freddy too?”

  “At least Freddy lived!”

  “He’s not living anymore.”

  She was kneeling on the bedclothes, her firm, naked breasts pointed accusingly at him. “You’re going to duel with him?”

  “Isn’t that what you want?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How did he know you were here? Isn’t this whole thing another one of your little sex games, like the belt? You told me you have some other little tricks, but I didn’t take it seriously.”

  “Earl!”

  “What happens—does the winner of the duel get to screw you?”

  She was out of the bed, on her feet, and she slapped his face hard. “I won’t take that from any man!”

  At that moment Dr. Armstrong appeared by the door. What’s all the excitement? Woke me out of a sound sleep.”

  Earl stared at his bland face; it seemed the only island of sanity in a world gone mad. “Just a little disagreement,” he answered. “Nothing serious.”

  “Nothing serious? Tony wants to duel with him!”

  Earl was quickly slipping into his clothes. “Let’s go downstairs and see about it.”

  “He’ll kill you,” she said softly, and already seemed contrite at having struck him.

  “We’ll see.”

  He finished dressing, slipped into his shoes, and headed for the door. He remembered the laser gun in the dresser but decided against taking it. He’d reached the stairs and was starting down when Tony Cooper appeared at the bottom. Hobbes’s other laser pistol was in his hand.

  “All right, fucker!” he growled, then squeezed the trigger.

  A thin, deadly beam of laser light cut through the dimness and hit the wall a foot in front of Earl, cracking the plaster. It had been only a half-second burst, but it was enough to show Earl that he meant business.

  “I’m unarmed,” he called down.

  “Then you’d better get armed! Quick!”

  “Let’s talk this over.”

  “No talking. I let Freddy talk me out of it once, but not you! If you won’t duel I’ll cut you down. Then I’ll kill Hobbes and that monster of his too!”

  Earl sighed as he reached the bottom step. Behind him, he could hear Vera and Armstrong starting cautiously down the stairs. “All right, I’ll fight you. But as the challenged man don’t I have any choice of weapons?”

  “What?”

  “The code of the duel—I have the choice of weapons.”

  “The weapons will be laser guns.”

  “All right,” Earl agreed readily. “One laser gun.”

  “How …?”

  “We’ll play the game, and use a real laser instead of the light beam.”

  “You can’t!” Vera cried out, rushing to his side.

  He pushed her gently away. “How about it, Tony?”

  Cooper, now on the defensive, weighed the possibilities. “All right,” he said at last. “I’ll play you.”

  The living room lights were turned up and the laser-game grid was assembled. The tall Plexiglas pieces came out of their felt-lined box. “Game for two,” Earl said, beginning to position his pieces on the grid.

  Tony Cooper worked quickly, putting aside the light box and clamping his laser pistol in its place. It was just above board level, aimed sideways across the field of play.

  “This is madness!” Vera insisted.

  Armstrong agreed. “It certainly is! You can’t both be serious!”

  Tony ignored their comments. When he was ready he said to Earl, “Roll the dice to see who positions first.”

  Earl picked up the heavy dice and rolled them in the box. He had an eight. Tony rolled a nine. “I’m first!”

  Tony’s first game roll was a six. He used it all on one man, moving the left mate into the field of battle but not quite in line with the laser’s path.

  Earl rolled a poor four. He matched Tony’s move the best he could. Then Tony rolled a ten and moved a mirror-man out to intercept the beam. At a right angle it would strike Earl full in the chest. But for the moment he had a mirror-man blocking it.

  “Let’s see,” Tony said. He tapped the laser level and the beam shot forward, deflected by his man, then by Earl’s. It hit the far wall and Vera gasped. “This is insane!”

  “Shut up!” Tony told her.

  Earl rolled next; he got a seven. Tony came back with a valuable twelve, and then a six. The men were moving out from both sides of the board into a confusing jumble in the middle. The play was slower now as both men knelt before their moves to check sight lines and angles above the grid. Sometimes it was difficult to remember the mirrored men from the clear glass ones, and both knew that a mistake could be fatal.

  “I think I’ve got you now,” Tony said, moving two men on another twelve.

  “Maybe.”

  “We’ll see!” Tony tapped the lever that fired the laser beam. It reflected off a half-dozen pieces and finally came off the board on Earl’s side at a forty-five-degree angle, just missing his arm.

  “Close,” he said, trying for a smile.

  “Next time.”

  “This must stop!” Armstrong insisted. “Are you both mad?”

  “Yes, stop it,” Vera chimed in. But Earl thought she might be secretly enjoying it. Perhaps, she bad arranged Tony’s discovery of them after all.

  “At least set a time limit,” Armstrong urged.

  Tony looked up, seeming to hear them for the first time. Earl could see the faint traces of sweat on his brow. “All right,” he agreed. “Two more turns, Jazine?”

  “Fine with me.”

  Tony’s luck seemed suddenly to desert him. His rolls were poor and he could do nothing with them. Earl fired one beam, for effect, knowing that it would go harmlessly off to the side. Tony was sweating now. On his final move he placed a mirror-man with a clear shot at Earl’s chest. “Got you,” he breathed.

  “We’ll see” Earl said, eyeing his own chance-man.

  As Tony’s finger hit the lever Earl’s feet stretched out and yanked at his chair beneath the grid table. It was a sudden, unexpected motion that caught Tony off balance. He went backward on his chair, waving his arms to regain his balance, just as the laser beam fired.

  It reflected off a forest of pieces, passing through some others, and came off the board at just the point where Tony’s chest had been a moment before. Vera and Armstrong gasped.

  “A little miscalculation,” Earl said simply. “You would have been a dead man.”

  Tony got shakily to his feet. “I …”

  Earl took the gun from its bracket and dropped it into his pocket. “Game’s over. Let’s go back to bed.”

  “I’m not through with you,” Tony sputtered a bit half-heartedly.

  “You’d better be through,” Vera told him. “He just saved your stupid life!”

  Earl mounted the steps, the others behind him. He half wondered if Vera might follow him into his room, awarding the spoils to the victor, but she continued down the hall to her own room.

  Nobody said good night.

  This time Earl was able to sleep. When he awakened th
e morning sun was already pouring through his eastern window, and he judged the time to be nearly eight o’clock. He got out of bed, showered quickly, and went downstairs to find the others. He wondered how Hobbes had survived the night with his patient, then decided not to worry about it.

  Vera was in the kitchen, fixing breakfast, but there was no sign of the others. “Sleep well?” he asked as if nothing had happened.

  “Terribly, thank you. I got up as soon as it was dawn.”

  “Where’s Tony?”

  “Dead, I hope. If we have to have another victim I’ll vote for him.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “Sure, I do!”

  “Are you going to leave him after this is over?”

  “Damn right!”

  Tony appeared at that moment, looking just a bit contrite, and she lapsed into a sullen silence. “Sleep well?” Earl asked him casually.

  “Off and on.”

  “Looks like a nice day.”

  Tony stared hard at the floor. “Look here—that was fairly decent of you last night. Kicking my chair over and all. You didn’t have to do it. I would have killed myself with the laser beam. You wouldn’t have been responsible, even.”

  “Forget it.”

  He started to say something else, then thought better of it. Instead he walked over to the counter where Vera was quick-squeezing oranges and tried to strike up a conversation. She ignored him, finishing her task and bringing a pitcher of juice over to the table.

  “The supplies are beginning to run low,” she said. “But there should be enough for the five of us.”

  Apparently hearing the voices and movement, Lawrence Hobbes came up from the lower level, moving a bit like a sleepwalker. Earl glanced at his chalky complexion and asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, yes! Just a bit tired.” He still clutched Whalen’s pistol, though now he laid it on the counter next to the microwave oven. Earl could see a swelling at the back of his head where Tony’s blow of the previous night had landed.

  “You’d better get that head looked after. There could be bleeding under the scalp, or a slight concussion.”

  Hobbes glanced sideways at Tony Cooper. “We have enough doctors around who can take care of me.”

  Tony put a pained expression on his face and went to inspect the bump. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled. Then, “It looks okay. Nothing serious.”