Frankenstein Lives Again (The New Adventures of Frankenstein)

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Frankenstein Lives Again (The New Adventures of Frankenstein) Page 12

by Glut, Donald F.


  “That American – that Dr. Winslow!” shouted a woman. “He’s as bad as Frankenstein himself! He is bringing the Monster back to us! Let’s get him… and put an end to him!”

  The crowd roared in agreement. But before anyone could move in the direction of the castle, Mayor Krag whipped out a revolver from beneath his robe and fired it several times into the sky. The sudden blasts of yellow fire brought the group to hushed attention.

  “Wait!” Krag warned with all the official air he could muster. “Winslow has still not broken any law that we know of. He told us he would be experimenting in his castle. That does not mean he has brought back the — “

  “What of the crate? The big crate that we saw him bring from the train?”

  The Mayor waved his hands to stop the grumbling. “It could have contained anything!”

  “Yes, like the Monster!”

  The word monster instantly aroused another volley of shouts and complaints from the crowd. Again Krag fired into the air.

  “All of you, listen to me! That crate probably contained laboratory materials and nothing more!”

  “And if it did not?” someone exclaimed. “Bah! You were brave enough to drive away that horror show. What stops you now from doing the same with this Winslow?”

  “Winslow has not yet shown us any monster,” he said defensively. “My intention is to keep peace in the streets of Ingolstadt. I will not abuse my office by harrassing the American until I have proof that he has broken the law. But this I promise you, fine people: If Winslow has, in fact, brought back the Monster, I shall deal with him personally and legally, with the police by my side.”

  The crowd grumbled.

  “As for now,” the Mayor went on, “we can’t invade a man’s personal property just because he flashes some lights in the dead of night. All of you, return to your homes and go to bed. Don’t invent demons that are not there. I’ve already ordered the police to patrol the streets and stop any mob action. Now go home!”

  The townspeople were still complaining, but they dispersed, returning to their homes or, in the cases of businesses that remained open this late, their work.

  Three of them stayed behind, concealing themselves in the shadows. After Krag had turned his back on them to return to his residence, the trio quietly moved through the dark umbrage of the street. Ahead of them was the forest, beyond that was Castle Frankenstein. Each man tightly clutched a rifle.

  When the three men finally peered out from an entanglement of shadowed bushes less than a hundred yards from the near end of the castle’s drawbridge, their leader whispered, his breath reeking with the stench of beer, “There it is. If the Frankenstein demon is prowling about the castle grounds tonight, we’ll know about it.”

  The second man, looking up at the flickering lights showing from one of the castle windows, said, “B-but what if the Monster sees us, Heinrich?”

  “Don’t be such a coward, Ulrich,” replied Heinrich Franz with confidence. “It will never see us in this underbrush. Then we’ll return to town, organize the other villagers and bring torches back here. We’ll set fire to the Monster and then the castle, trapping this Winslow and his woman inside like the devils they are. And when the smoke clears, we three will be important men in Ingolstadt. Why, I may even be the next mayor, once the people see how I acted in the place of my old and ineffectual friend Krag.”

  * * *

  Lynn Powell gasped. “Now that it’s alive again, the Monster looks worse than ever.”

  The giant’s head was turning, its heavy eyelids blinking beneath the sloping brow. The straight lips seemed as though they were trying to speak, though no words issued from that long speechless mouth. Then a scream, one which both Lynn and Winslow seemed to feel as much as hear, roared from the strapped-down creature.

  Lynn’s feelings were rapidly changing. “Oh, Burt,” she pleaded, turning away and burying her face in her hands, “turn it off. He must be in terrible pain. Stop the experiment. Please.”

  When he replied, Winslow’s attention was still on the giant figure. “I can’t stop now! Switching off the machines prematurely could prove disastrous. He’d be weak, maybe in pain forever. I’ve got to complete the experiment. Take it all the way!”

  The Monster’s head was still moving about, the hooded eyes looking from Winslow to Lynn and then back to the scientist. The hulking body strained, fought with a loud groan to break free of the restraining straps. Then, surprisingly, its head dropped back against the platform, the electrodes at his temples still sparking and sizzling.

  But the Frankenstein creation did not scream again, neither from pain or any defiance.

  “Burt, please —"

  “Wait, Lynn,” he said, still twisting dials on the control board and maintaining the electrical show. “Something’s happening to him.”

  Winslow, even at this distance, could see the strange excuse for a smile that was distorting the Monster’s features even more so than they already were. There seemed to be a look of resignation on that face, a look that told the scientist that the Monster was accepting the artificial life that had been given him, taken away, and was now restored to him.

  “You see, Lynn? He is grateful that we’ve brought him back!”

  “Maybe,” said Lynn somberly, “he realizes that even a life as miserable as his own is better than no life at all… maybe he might go to any lengths to keep that life.”

  But again, Winslow was more concerned with increasing the power, augmenting the Monster’s strength, than listening. He flicked switches. An ear-shattering electrical crash resounded through the chamber.

  The Monster’s body jerked spasmodically.

  “A little more power....” said Winslow, turning dials.

  Teeth clenched, the creature snarled, then trained his yellow orbs directly on Winslow. The scientist wondered for a moment if the giant were seeing him as his creator.

  Then the yellow hands formed mammoth fists and the muscles beneath the black clothing flexed like twisted steel.

  In a streak of movement, Lynn’s hands moved to the control console, touching switches.

  Two electrically charged arms pushed up against the leather straps, ripping them away with ease.

  Winslow gasped at the display of raw power as the brute tore away the strap that restrained his chest. A second later, the Monster was yanking away the coils that were connected to his electrodes, the free ends crackling electrically as he hurled them to the floor. Leaning forward, the Monster wrenched the last two straps from his legs.

  Lynn glimpsed the two coils, wriggling across the floor like electric snakes, as she finally threw the right switches and rotated the dials that cut off the power.

  Lights made feeble attempts to flicker, then went dark. The humming of the machines lowered, went silent. The once great arcs of electricity fizzled out while the laboratory went dead.

  But the Monster lived.

  And was free!

  “Lynn, why did you – ?” Winslow began, but his attention was captured by the presence of the Monster.

  The creature awkwardly stepped down from the platform, its heavy boots thudding loud in the silence against the stone floor. Its long and sinewy arms stretched out while a grimly satisfied smile appeared on its face. Seemingly the Monster was reveling in its own superhuman power, a strength which Winslow suddenly and inexplicably feared.

  “I couldn’t stand it anymore, Burt! I couldn’t let him suffer!”

  At the sound of her voice, the Monster gazed in Lynn’s direction, as though he knew that she was responsible for turning off the machines, for ending his pain.

  But it was Winslow with whom the Monster was presently concerned.

  The scientist’s mind raced with indecision. As to what next to do, Winslow was utterly baffled. He had somehow, at least when he planned this experiment, expected to find the Monster a more passive creature, willing and able to accept his benevolence. But the twisted expression on the Monster’s yellow face was cert
ainly not one of gratitude.

  Reluctantly, the scientist backed away as the Monster approached him with enormous strides.

  “Wait,” Winslow said, deciding that reasoning with the creature might be his best plan of attack, “you don’t understand. It’s going to be different this time. I promise you it will. Yes, I brought you back to life, but this is a different world from the one you knew. I won’t be like Victor Frankenstein. I’ll help you, take care of you. Don’t you understand?”

  The snarl that hissed from the Monster’s mouth told Winslow that he did understand, but wasn’t accepting his words. It also told the scientist something else.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Winslow. “Can’t you speak? I thought that—”

  The Monster growled his reply. He was nearing Winslow with every giant step. His long, powerful fingers were stretched out reaching for the doctor’s throat.

  As the Monster approached her lover, Lynn was speechless. She had feared something like this would happen right from the beginning. Now there seemed nothing that she could do to save him.

  Winslow stepped back until he bumped hard against a section of machinery against the wall. The Monster was upon him within moments, bridging the gap with two gigantic steps. The scientist perspired as he looked up into that towering face. In those sulphur-colored eyes, Winslow seemed to perceive his own death.

  Winslow was trapped, only a moment or two from slaughter at the hands of the beast. But suddenly he was not concerned about his own life. His eyes were upon Lynn, standing some distance away, her eyes staring wide with indecision, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

  Now all that mattered was Lynn, and the people of Ingolstadt.

  “Lynn!” he begged her as the Monster’s lips lifted to show his teeth. “Lynn, darling, get out of here! Warn everyone that – “

  But Winslow’s final words were lost in a gurgle as the Monster’s mighty right hand, like a fleshy vise, locked about his neck and began to squeeze.

  CHAPTER XI:

  When Menaces Meet

  The two men were still watching, with wonder in their eyes, as the distant gothic structure seemed to die. The lights and sounds that emanated from the castle’s windows had finally subsided. Now, except for a dimmer glow from one window, the building seemed to be no more than a dark shadow across the moonlit heavens.

  Professor Dartani spoke.

  “You know, Gort,” he said, turning toward the burly man towering over him, “I have read much about this part of Europe. It has been said that somewhere on the outskirts of Ingolstadt stands an ancient fortress. And it is there, according to the legends, that a scientist named Frankenstein brought into this world a living Monster.”

  “Frankenstein? Monster?” said an astonished Gort, scratching his head. “But I thought that…”

  “I know what you thought. So does the rest of the world. But long ago I heard the rumor that the Frankenstein story was based on reality.”

  “Then that old castle,” said Gort with awe, “is Frankenstein’s?”

  “I don’t blame you for reacting with incredulity, Gort. I always thought the story to be mere fabrication myself. But it was Krag himself whose mention of Ingolstadt’s private horror made me associate this town and its castle with the old legend. By reading the psychic emanations radiating from the earth my sudden suspicion was confirmed. Ironic, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  Dartani’s green eyes seemed to take on a glow as he turned to face the campfire.

  “That the fat mayor, by his own revelation, has, perhaps, suggested the means by which he will die. Perhaps the creatures in my horror show are no more than mannikins. But perhaps there will be one living horror that is not mere wax or wood. Perhaps…”

  “I’m still not completely following you, boss,” said Gort, trying to think along with his master. “If the Frankenstein legend is true, how do we fit in?”

  “You’ll know soon enough,” replied Dartani with an evil smile showing in the light of the fire. “As for now... we will both have to be patient.”

  * * *

  She could not recall ever having screamed before and now, though she might have wanted to, she found herself unable to utter a sound.

  The horror was beyond anything Lynn had ever experienced in her life. She saw that Winslow could not even gasp as the Monster’s gigantic hands pressed about his neck, only moments away from forcing the life out of his body, from effortlessly crushing the bones in her lover’s neck.

  Winslow could do nothing but stare as the Monster’s sulphur orbs bored into his face, the smile on those black lips revealing the creature’s delight. He felt his tongue hang from his mouth, let his hand instinctively grasp the giant’s wrists in a futile effort to tear the stitched hands away from his throat.

  The scientist knew that the Monster could have destroyed him by now with only a small amount of his superhuman strength. But, for some inexplicable reason, the demon had not yet killed him. Perhaps he wanted to prolong Winslow’s agony, keeping him alive until the last possible moment.

  From the corner of his eye, Winslow detected a blur of white and gold movement. He wanted to call out Lynn’s name, to tell her to run while she could, but he couldn’t speak. He saw her run to the Monster’s side and take a firm grasp on his left arm.

  She was crying as she implored the giant, “Please! Don’t hurt him! He didn’t realize what he was doing. Please, let him go!”

  Still grasping Winslow’s throat, loosening his grip only enough to permit his captive to breathe, the Monster averted his attention to the young woman. His ugliness made a bizarre contrast with her beauty and for a short while he seemed to be overwhelmed by her presence. And he seemed to remember something about her that brought another smile, this one suggesting contentment, to his face.

  “He only wanted to help you,” begged Lynn, “so please don’t hurt him. I love him! I don’t want to see him hurt.”

  The Monster remained silent, recalling again that it was this golden-haired vision that had ended his pain. He looked again into Winslow’s face and a hate-filled snarl sounded from behind his clenched teeth. The eyes of the giant blinked a few times. Then, to Winslow’s astonishment, the powerful fingers suddenly relaxed their hold and released him.

  The doctor stumbled back against some of his machinery, grasping his aching throat.

  With a clumsy turn, the Monster looked once again at Lynn, the contented smile briefly returning to his face. He extended an arm, his huge hand reaching for the woman, who was doing her best not to cringe.

  “Lynn,” choked Winslow, still recovering, wondering if he possessed the energy right now to help her if the Monster should take out his anger upon her.

  But the Monster only touched her cheek, gently, feeling the wet streams that glistened on her flawless skin.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, looking with emotion into the giant’s pathetic face. “I know how you must feel. Forgive us.”

  Replying with a low groan, the creature continued his turn and lumbered toward the main door of the castle, through which he had first entered the world of mankind some two centuries ago.

  As Lynn rushed up to Winslow and tenderly caressed his bruised throat, the two of them heard the great door open and slam.

  Outside the castle, the giant raised his fists to the night sky, a terrible roar screaming from his mouth as he lifted his head to the dark heavens. He stood there for nearly half a minute, his long black locks blowing in the nighttime wind. The creature seemed to be warning the very elements that, though he did not wish to be brought back into their world, back he now was, and that he would do what he must to ensure his own survival.

  Then the Monster stalked into the night, his raven-black clothing becoming one with the darkness.

  Inside the laboratory, Winslow, finally regaining his composure, tore himself away from Lynn and bolted toward the closed main door.

  “No, Burt!” said Lynn, running after him. “You
can’t go out there. Not now. Not in the dark, weakened like you are.”

  Winslow was already at the door, noticing that it had not been unlocked, but was literally broken open. Again he shuddered at the Monster’s physical strength. Again he felt the pain in his throat and knew what might have happened to him if the giant had not, for some reason, released him.

  Opening the door, Winslow could see only the darkness outside. He felt Lynn re-embrace him from behind. Her breath was warm and thrilling against his neck. He shook his head, attempting to clear it.

  “I ... I guess you’re right,” he said, defeated. “He could be anywhere out there, waiting in the shadows, ready to strike.”

  Dejectedly he shut the door.

  “Burt,” said Lynn, turning him around to face her and looking at him with tears in her eyes, “what have we done?”

  “You mean, what have I done,” he corrected her. “I won’t let you take the blame for this. You tried to warn me all along, to make me forget about this... this insane project of mine. But no, I was too stubborn, too... obsessed to listen to you.”

  Winslow started to walk back to the laboratory, with Lynn quickening her pace to keep up with him. He stepped up to the platform from which the Monster had broken loose, leaned against it and lowered his head.

  “I had to do something spectacular, didn’t I, Lynn? Something that would astound the world. Well,” he said, looking at the woman, “I succeeded. And look what it’s resulted in.”

  His gaze went to one of the laboratory windows, trying to discern some sign of movement, some manlike shadow, but finding none.

  Lynn took his hands in hers and clasped them tightly.

  But Winslow could think of nothing more to say, his mind already wondering what he must do now that he had unleashed a horror into the world.

  * * *

  Heinrich Franz and his accomplices, Braun and Ulrich, were concealed in the woods near Castle Frankenstein, entirely out of view of the main door.

 

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