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

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 certainly 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.

“What now, Heinrich?” asked Braun in a whisper. “It’s been a while since the machines stopped and still we haven’t seen anything suspicious out here.”

“No,” replied Franz. “But we heard, didn’t we, the sound of the door and that inhuman roar.”

“The wind, perhaps?” asked Ulrich quietly and hopefully.

“If that was the sound of the wind, I’ll gladly —”

But Heinrich Franz’ voice was abruptly silenced as the German heard the steady
thump, thump, thump
of heavy footsteps crushing the foliage of the woods.

“Listen,” he whispered. “Do you hear that?”

Exchanging fearful glances, Braun and Ulrich obviously did.

The footfalls were louder now, the man or thing making them obviously stepping nearer.

“He sounds as if he’s coming from the castle,” said Braun. “If it’s who I think it is, then I’m going back to town — now!” Automatically, he started off in the direction of Ingolstadt.

But Franz’ strong hand caught his shoulder and brought him to an abrupt stop. He raised his long rifle into the moonlight, the barrel appearing bluish in the pale light.

“No one’s running just yet,” said Franz. “We’ve got rifles. We’re going to see this through. Now let’s keep close together.”

Standing near one another with weapons ready, the three men waited, the footsteps sounding louder, moving faster than any one of them had expected. Suddenly they saw an enormous shadow loom above them, the bushes flying asunder as the towering dark form stalked into view. Three human faces gasped at the sight of the monstrous visage that scowled down at them, snarling hatefully.

“The Monster!” gasped Braun, shaking where he stood, no longer possessing the ability to run. “The Frankenstein monster!”

“Alive!” exclaimed Franz. “You see, I was right!”

“But w-we were supposed to find him,” moaned Ulrich, “not the other way around! We’ve got to run back to town, arouse the people to get torches and –”

“No time for that!” observed Franz. “Ready with those rifles, men!”

There was no other choice but to stay and fight. Had they decided to run at that moment, the giant could easily have snatched them back with his enormous hands and arms.

Ulrich was the first to take aim.

Instantly, the Monster reacted. Though he had been imprisoned in ice for so long, the sight of a gun was branded indelibly in his memory. The weapon might not have the power to slay him, but he remembered the pain it could inflict upon his immortal frame. Before Ulrich could squeeze back his trigger, fingers of living steel snatched the weapon from his shaking hands.

Franz and Braun stood petrified.

Ulrich could only gasp. And when he finally mustered the energy to turn and flee, he was already in the giant’s unbreakable grip. It all occurred so fast that Ulrich was probably unaware of what actually happened as the Monster grabbed him by the feet, swung him around and dashed his brains across the trunk of a nearby tree.

The other two men reacted with revulsion, clutching at their mouths and stomachs. It had all taken place so rapidly that neither of them had yet come to the realization that they might be next.

Braun was the second to raise his weapon. He cursed the Monster, determined to exact a terrible vengeance against this beast who had murdered his friend. But, even as he aimed at the misshaped, stitched head, his rifle was seized and snapped in half by those Herculean hands.

Heinrich Franz, imagining the sound of the cracked rifle to be that of his own backbone, was already retreating into the shadows. He watched with horror as his comrade was snared by the Monster’s hands and raised high into the air. He turned, just as the giant snapped Braun’s spine over his knee. Franz would remember that nauseating sound for the rest of his days, which he knew would not be for long if he didn’t move faster.

Franz did not look back as he bolted in the direction of the town. At least he would survive, he told himself, to carry out his original plan which would eventually lead to his rise in the field of local politics.

Somewhere behind him, the Frankenstein monster was already searching for his third victim. But he was alone now, save for the two bloodied and battered corpses that lay at his feet. Without feeling any emotion for the two killings, the giant stomped past the mangled bodies and proceeded, without any real destination, in the direction he assumed the third man had run.

Moments later, the Monster was lost amid the dwarfing trees of the forest.

* * *

In the glade where the circus wagons still stood, Professor Dartani heard the sounds of struggle from somewhere in the direction of the castle.

“Gort,” he told the brute standing beside him, “it will not be long now. I can feel it. My psychic powers have never felt anything this strong before. Follow me.”

The two men hid in the bushes, while the mammoth figure stiffly emerged from the shadows, its eyes looking toward the campfire. The fire’s light made the Monster’s features appear even more unearthly. Carefully, the Monster avoided the flames, then scrutinized the camp, his eyes seeking the third of the three gunmen.

“Looking for someone, my friend?” hissed Professor Dartani. “Obviously you were lured to our camp by our fire. Could we be the object of your search?”

Boldly the Professor crept from the bushes.

The Monster looked incredulously at this diminutive human being who dared to approach him without fear.

Gort stood up cautiously from behind the dark vegetation, expecting to see his scrawny boss broken in half by the giant.

But the Monster showed no sign of aggression, at least not for the present. He was waiting to see what this insanely courageous old man would do next. Surprisingly, the ancient one did not do what other men would do in this situation, namely to draw a firebrand from the campfire and wield it defensively against him. He just continued on his way, grinning to show the small number of teeth in his shriveled mouth, and looking kindly at the Monster.

“No, no, my friend,” cackled Dartani, “don’t be afraid of old Professor Dartani. I know who you are and what you are. Frankenstein’s monster, I presume?”