Frankenstein: The Legacy

by Christopher Schildt

  I turned away from her and covered my face. It was my turn to weep like a child, as Victor had done before in my nightmares. “What am I to do, Linda? Help me!”

  I felt a rush of cold wind that seemed to move right through me. I slowly raised my head past my hands to look. But now she stood in front of me, no more than three feet away. Her eyes were wide open, gazing at me, and I felt her frozen blue fingers stroking the hair on the side of my head. Linda released an eerie sigh, then smiled.

  “No, Daniel,” she said. “No one can help you, poor dear. Victor tried, but you didn’t listen to him.” Her head tilted, and she sang her song again. “Poor frightened Daniel, asleep upon his bed. He knows who your sister is, and soon she will be dead.”

  I grabbed Linda by the shoulders and pushed her down to the floor. She stared back up—laughing—singing—and then she disappeared!

  I turned to look around the now-empty room—and then I saw the shadow of a man standing at a distance. He called out my name and summoned me to walk closer. It was Victor, and I thought, thank God.

  I ran up to him. He put his hands to the sides of my face. “Listen to me, Daniel,” he said in an urgent whisper. “You must do exactly as I say.”

  Linda’s voice screamed from everywhere and nowhere. “Don’t listen to him, Daniel! Ignore him!”

  Victor continued as if Linda’s disembodied voice had never spoken. “He’ll come for you, Daniel. He will come to murder your family as he did mine.”

  “Then I’ll leave. . . .”

  He shook his head ruefully. “No, he’ll only follow you, and he will still bring death to your home. I know this to be true, but he can be stopped!”

  “He can’t!” Linda’s mad voice shrieked. “Can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t, can’t! He’s in-des-truc-ti-ble!”

  “No,” Victor quickly said, half smiling. “He can be stopped. He’ll seek out a mate, which he’ll ask you to construct for him. Loneliness is his greatest weakness, and when he insists on this, you must seize your chance to kill him. Until that time, keep Nicole safe in your sight. Leave her not alone for a minute.” He pulled my head closer. “My journal—do you still have it?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good! Let him think you’ll use it to fulfill his demands. Then, when you kill him, destroy it!”

  “I’ll return it to Oxford with the other—”

  Victor grabbed me by the shoulders then and shook me violently. “No! Destroy it! You must destroy his body as well! Burn it all! Make it of no use to anyone!”

  Nodding, I said, “I will. I swear to it.”

  “Good. Look to me no more, Daniel—and may God be with you.”

  Victor disappeared, also, then, but Linda’s crazed voice remained.

  “He can’t be stopped! Can’t, can’t, ca-a-a-a-a-an’t!”

  Her screams echoed in my mind, and I yelled for her to be quiet, to stop hounding me—

  Then I woke with a start. The first glimpse of the morning sun came through the window of the guest room—what had been my bedroom growing up—but I was no less reassured, despite the beauty of the dawn. I could still hear Victor’s words echoing in my head, and my thoughts were quickly consumed by my fears for Nicole’s safety.

  I could still hear the mad cackles of Linda, as well. . . .

  Jordan’s Pond was a festive scene. The trees and a small wooden bridge were decorated with white holiday lights and red ribbons, looking for all the world like a colonial New England Christmas. The pond was crowded with happy faces: skaters on the frozen water, spectators on a park bench. Nicole had asked me to take her ice skating. She loved to skate, especially at this time of the year. I of course said yes—after that nightmare I did not intend to let her out of my sight. I also felt the comforting weight of my father’s pistol in my topcoat pocket.

  Upon awakening I put little stock in the idea that somehow the ghosts of Victor Frankenstein and Linda Kauffman were speaking to me through my dreams. My guilt, however, was no doubt working overtime, expressing it through my own guilt over recreating Frankenstein’s work and Linda’s death.

  According to the journal, Frankenstein’s creation took revenge on his creator by murdering those he loved. I feared that my own creation would do likewise.

  Nicole picked up a handful of snow and threw it at me, giggling the entire time. I threw one back, and then we each put on our skates. Nicole raced out onto the ice, and you should have seen how very graceful she was, with her arms floating from one side to the next as she slid out across the frozen pond.

  Maneuvering in slow motion, Nicole held her arms out to her sides and spun in lazy circles, looking up at the blue morning sky. The day was fresh and crisp; snow sparkled on the trees and rooftops, and the white hills of Connecticut sat pleasantly in the background.

  I saw her eyes close, then slowly open again. Nicole smiled, but only for a moment, then she suddenly stopped in mid-spin. Her arms dropped to her sides; her legs spread out just enough to hold her steady on the ice. She stared out across the pond, to the crest of the woods.

  Concerned, I skated clumsily toward her. When I reached her side, Nicole pointed a finger. “Look, Daniel,” she said suspiciously. “Someone’s been watching me. Look, in the woods. Can you see him?”

  I caught a quick glimpse of a man whose dark silhouette blended with the trees. He just stood there for a moment, staring back at us. . . .

  “Take the car—drive yourself home, now!”

  “But, Daniel—”

  “Please, don’t argue. Go!”

  “Who is he?”

  “I don’t have time to explain, just go, please!”

  We skated together to the edge and quickly changed back into our shoes. As she moved through the relative safety of the crowd by the pond’s edge, I started toward the woods. But as I neared that spot where I had last seen him, the stranger had vanished. Yet, he left a clear trail for me to follow in the snow, almost intentionally inviting me to chase after him.

  The sheer size of the footprints left no doubt as to who the figure was—as if I had any doubt to begin with! Yes, it was him. I recognized the tread of the boots that I had had custom-made when I was constructing him. I traced his path deeper into the woods, a good half a mile from the pond’s frozen waters, in fact. Then, in a small clearing, his tracks finally came to an end.

  Suddenly the treetops overhead rustled, as if by a strong wind. But the air was calm. I slowly looked up, pulling out my father’s pistol.

  Snow fell from the tree branches in clumps. I raised my arms to protect my face from it. When I lowered them, I saw an expected sight: a tall figure shrouded by a crudely fashioned burlap overcoat that had just leapt down from the tree. His head was covered by a hood that hung down over his face. The hood was attached to the burlap coat that looked as if it had been stitched together from an old potato sack.

  The stranger stood quietly until I aimed the pistol at him. In response, he lowered his hood. A face, far too hideous to possibly ever forget, stared at me. He glanced down to the gun I held and laughed contemptuously. “You forget that you made me with ten times your own strength.”

  He was right, of course. I had hoped that the pistol-would intimidate him, but in truth, a .38 caliber bullet of the type this pistol held would barely slow him down. He held out his arm, and I surrendered the pistol in his massive palm. Closing his enormous fingers over it, he shook his head. “Haven’t I suffered enough, that you would even dare consider inflicting more pain upon me?”

  Then he threw the pistol into the woods and walked toward me. I sensed those once beautiful blue eyes staring down at me through the deep black holes in his claylike face. That muscular arm of his pointed in the direction to where I had first seen him, while skating with Nicole. “It pleases me to see you so content, Daniel,” he said, “and that you could so easily forget this child of yours who has labored to exist. Shall I tell you of my struggles? How I’ve eaten from garbage cans in dark alleys, hiding from your kind t
hat would certainly do me harm for crimes I have never committed?”

  How could I answer him? Could you? No. Lowering my head in humiliation was the only answer I could think of.

  “No, Daniel. I don’t wish to remind you of that which you should know so well. Instead, I throw myself at your mercy.”

  I blinked in surprise but still said nothing, awaiting an explanation for this rather shocking revelation.

  “Why should you wonder that a child should so desperately need the help of his father?” He rested his hand on my shoulder and smiled. “You appear surprised, Daniel. But I know all about my birth. I’ve known the truth for some time now. Something I once overhead you talking about. So hear me out, Daniel, I beg you.”

  Then he gently guided me to a boulder that the wind had left mostly untouched by snow. He sat there and gestured for me to join him. Relucantly I did so, despite the chill of the rock.

  As he spoke, he held his hands together, his fingers interlocked as if he were praying, while looking down at the snow. He was quiet for a bit, until he finally glanced over his shoulder to look at me. “I haven’t the courage to bring an end to this suffering, but to live alone is an existence not worth living. What I need is a mate. That’s all I ask for, Daniel—a single soul to merge with mine. Oh, Daniel. To see her smile again . . . to feel her presence so close and dear.”

  I shivered with a chill that had nothing to do with the New England winter. It was even worse than I had feared, Father. He was not just talking about a mate, as my dream had foretold.

  He was talking about Linda.

  As much as those watery, dead eyes could, they had a pleading look about them. His head tilted to look at me, and I saw a tear travel down the side of his cheek, tracking the same path as that of the tear (or was it a raindrop?) that had gone down Linda’s cheek in her final moments.

  “Give her back to me, Daniel. I can endure the misery and hatred, but not this loneliness!”

  “I can’t do as you ask, not anymore. You saw to that yourself when you destroyed the lab.”

  “But you must still possess the wisdom to do so?”

  I snorted. “Wisdom is a virtue that I never possessed.”

  He glowered at me. “The knowledge to do so, then. Surely, you must remember how?”

  “Yes.” For that matter, I still had Frankenstein’s journal.

  Then he smiled. It was a reassuring sort of smile, though it did nothing to assuage my feeling of dread. “Come! Walk with me, Daniel. See for yourself the work of these own hands of mine. You’ll be so very proud of what your child has accomplished.” He nodded his head, enticing me on in a direction that led deeper into the woods.

  “But, my sister—”

  “Nicole? A lovely child,” he replied. “But don’t worry. She’ll be fine. I give you my word, Daniel.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t understand. If I don’t return soon, my family will come look for me.”

  He lightly patted me on the arm, appearing excited. “Don’t worry, Daniel. We will not be long. Our destination is but a mile away. When you return, just tell them you ran into an old friend.”

  I followed him deeper into the woods. He walked with a terrible limp, his legs showing pain as he moved. His back was hunched, and the left arm was bent at the elbow. Still, he was able to step quickly even though he appeared to be dragging that twisted body of his on the snow. Every once in a while he would turn to look at me from over his shoulder and smile. He was like an exuberant father taking his son on a wondrous adventure, with their destination never that far off—a chilling metaphor, all things considered.

  Eventually we reached a second clearing. It was secluded but for a building that looked like a very old, very abandoned barn.

  “No one comes here anymore. This place is private—perfect for us to use. But come inside and behold my great accomplishment.”

  When he pulled the doors open, I hesitated. I was afraid—afraid of what I’d find in there.

  He mistook my apprehension as fear of him, for he said, “Surely, if I meant you harm, I could have done so already,” he said, patting me on the back, even though I knew this already. “Fear not, Daniel—your uneasiness is unwarranted. Please . . .” Then he gestured for me to enter first.

  I stepped into the darkened barn. As I did so, he strode past me, striking a match against a wooden beam to light an oil lantern suspended by a rope from the roof.

  “Behold, my father,” he proudly announced, waving an arm out to his side. “See what I have done.”

  As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw something worse than what I had feared.

  I had thought that he had re-created the lab at Princeton. He hadn’t.

  He’d created a better lab.

  He removed a tarpulin to reveal, not one, but five state-of-the-art computers several years more advanced than the single model I’d used in Princeton. Where I had been using equipment that dated back, in some cases, almost ten years, this was all brand new.

  “How—” I swallowed. “How did you—”

  At my second hesitation he laughed out loud. He reached one huge hand into the pocket of his makeshift coat and pulled out a large folded piece of paper. “See for yourself. I’ve written everything down, thanks to this wonderful memory you gave me. It’s just as it was back then. Better, even.”

  I studied the diagram that he made, detailing with great precision the layout from my facility at Princeton. Everything was either where it should have been or an improvement on it. He’d even made a complete and specific wiring diagram.

  “But how did you know what each item did?”

  Sounding pleased with himself, he said, “Linda. She always explained things to me.”

  I finally realized that this equipment had not been obtained with anything like legal means. “From where did you steal this?”

  “I’ve only borrowed it, Daniel. Once you are finished, I fully intend to return them to the nearby university. It’s Christmas break, after all—they won’t need it until mid-January. And we will be finished by then.” He limped over to my side. With a hand on my shoulder he whispered in my ear, “Fear not, Father. I was very careful not to leave a trail back to this place. And no one was harmed. Best of all . . .”

  He staggered toward the far end of the building. Suddenly I heard the sound of an engine, quickly followed by a flood of lights. The screens to the computers flashed and flickered with life. In fact, every device there in that room was ready and in full service.

  “A generator, with all the electricity you should require, Daniel,” he declared, limping back to me. But his smile faded away. “And as for Linda . . .”

  He pointed outside. “She’s well preserved in the cold, packed in that snow where she sleeps, still so beautiful.”

  The stage was set. With everything here, I could easily do as he requested. In fact, I could do it in half the time, what with the better equipment, and having had the experience of going through it the first time. He would indeed be able to return everything to the university by mid-January.

  But it was not to be. It could never happen as long as I lived.

  “What if I refuse?” I finally asked. “What if I decide not to repeat past mistakes?” I turned and, for the first time, really looked at him right in the eyes. “What would you do?”

  He moved to the center of the room where a single beam of sunlight fell on him through a hole in the roof, turning his distorted figure a pale shade of blue. He answered my question by holding up his fists, appearing more frustrated than angry. “If I looked as you do—if this face were to reflect similarities to your own—would it be different between us? Would you quite possibly even consider me a friend?”

  “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “Have I given you any reason to be afraid? If I did, through some actions unknown to me, I will apologize. Although I know of no such event. But, so be it. Down on my knees, I say to you, Daniel, once and for all, I beg your forgiveness
for this trespass against you, and I plead with you to accede to my request!”

  My voice as cold as the snow outside, I said, “Then I’m free to leave?”

  Those muscular shoulders of his dropped. They sagged, as his head bent, glancing down at the floor where he stood. “You may,” he finally answered, his voice sounding so very defeated.

  I carefully stepped toward the double set of doors but kept a close eye on him from over my shoulder. Soon I reached the crest of the snow-covered ground that bordered the shelter of this abandoned building.

  I couldn’t leave without saying one final thing to him:

  “It was an accident. I never meant for her to die. You must believe me.”

  “I’ve long since forgiven you,” he answered.

  “I wish I could help you. Please, believe me.”

  But he said nothing, and neither did I. Instead, I walked away, determined never to set foot in that barn again.

  I wandered over to the neighboring city of New London on foot and eventually found a quiet tavern that rested alone on a side street. I stepped inside and ordered a drink. By the time the clock struck twelve, I had lost track of the amount of whiskey I’d consumed. By two A.M. I summoned a taxi and headed for home, drunk. Drunker than I’d been since college—even on shore leave in the Navy, I’d never let myself go to this extent.

  It didn’t lessen the pain or suffering even a little bit. I felt a combination of guilt and fear.

  Upon my return home I was met at the front porch of my father’s house by an old neighbor and friend of ours. He was a clumsy but likable little fellow by the name of Melvin. He was the sort of old New Englander who habitually wore overalls, permeated with the smell from his lobster pots pulled two or three days ago. A bit sloppy, yes, but that was just Melvin’s way. I couldn’t imagine what he’d be doing up at this hour, and tried to say so, but my mouth wouldn’t form words.

  “Your family’s at the hospital,” he said upon my approach, and his expression was that of grave concern, his eyes revealing a sense of urgency I’d never seen in the laconic old man. “I’ve been waitin’ here for you since well past nine. It’s Nicole!”