Holding Lynn’s thin waist and drawing her close to him, Winslow boldly walked toward the group. “Might as well bring this out in the open,” he said to Lynn almost in a whisper.
Self-consciously the heavyset Mayor cleared his throat.
“What’s all this for?” asked Winslow. “Mayor Krag, is this show really necessary?”
“I will not welcome you back to this town,” Mayor Krag replied with a cough. “And, as you can see, neither will my people. I could not prevent them from greeting you with their signs. And I will not deny that I agree with what they have written on them. But neither they nor I wish to see another Frankenstein tragedy here in Ingolstadt.”
“You really think there’ll be another?” Winslow asked coldly.
“We have eyes!” shouted a voice from the crowd, after which Winslow saw a wave of the protest placards.
“The crates!” yelled another hostile voice. “We have seen your crates, you would-be Frankenstein!”
“The crates?” asked Winslow.
“The crates,” repeated Krag. “We have all seen your boxes which were driven up to the Frankenstein castle. Crates with your name on them. Crates that were labeled so that it is no secret that they contain laboratory and electrical materials.”
“So?” said Winslow. “Is it illegal in this town to buy equipment like that? Does that make me another Frankenstein? As you know, Herr Mayor, I am a scientist. And scientists tend to experiment, don’t they? And I’d be willing to bet that most scientists who experiment don’t become would-be Frankensteins. I’ve bought property in your town and plan to live here for a while. Naturally, I have carried my experiments from the United States to Germany. I paid for that equipment and I can show you the receipts if you doubt me. I’ve broken none of your precious laws and don’t intend to do so.”
“I did not accuse you of breaking the law, Dr. Winslow,” said Krag. “What disturbs me and my fellow countrymen here is the purpose of that equipment... and the nature of your experiments. I can think of but two reasons for bringing such materials into a place with the demoniac reputation of Castle Frankenstein.”
“And those are?” Winslow responded smugly.
"Either you are creating a new living horror in that haunted palace, or you are bringing the original Monster back to the streets of Ingolstadt. Whichever you plan to do, if you succeed I hope your soul will be forever damned to the devil’s fire!”
Winslow felt Lynn’s body suddenly tense. He grasped her nearer, hoping to reassure her that the present situation was under his control.
“What I plan to do with my own legally owned property is my own business, Mein Herr,” he replied with force. “When I break your laws, then come with your pickets and your gendarmes and I’ll submit to arrest. Until then, stay off my back... and my property. Gentlemen, good day!”
That having been said, Winslow contemptuously turned his back on the assemblage and said not another word. He could hear them mumbling and groaning behind him. And when he took Lynn by the hand and walked with her back toward the freight car, they seemed to become even more agitated. But he continued to ignore them.
Winslow looked back as he and Lynn reached the freight car noting that the crowd was beginning to disperse, and that Mayor Krag, having failed in his attempt to intimidate him, was joining the group.
The two men that Winslow had previously hired were waiting. They had unsavory expressions on their worn faces and Winslow admitted to himself that he was fortunate to find anyone in this town that would help him. He promised to pay them enough, he thought, far more than the job was worth, the money discussed obviously having the power to exorcise their superstitions.
“Can we mach schnell, Dr. Winslow?” one of the men asked. “We have other duties to attend to besides yours.”
“Sure,” answered the scientist. “Come on.”
Winslow pointed toward the ominous appearing wooden crate in the box car and the two German workmen, following the American’s instructions, brought it down to the ground. They carried the heavy box into their panel truck, which had been parked alongside the railroad station. Winslow noticed the look of apprehension that had crept into their eyes and wondered, given what Krag had just said, if they suspected the true nature of what they carried.
As Winslow helped Lynn climb into the back of the truck where the crate had been placed, he noticed that a few of the townspeople were watching their progress from behind a wall on the station. He saw one of the men cross himself and heard him say, “The Frankenstein curse is back upon us again. May Almighty God in heaven protect us all. For on this day, no one will be safe in their beds.”
“It looks like a coffin,” Winslow heard a husky woman in a peasant dress reply to the man, “a coffin big enough for a giant –”
“Or,” said the man, “a Monster!”
Whatever else might have been said was suddenly drowned away by the sound of the truck’s engine. Winslow shut the door to blot out the images of the depot and its small group of spies. Then he felt vehicle begin to roll.
Lynn cringed as she cast a glance in the direction of the crate then moved closer against him, her breast pushing firmly against his side.
“Don’t worry,” he cautioned her almost in a whisper. “There’s nothing to fear.”
“I hope you’re –”
But her words were soon muffled by the force of Winslow’s kiss.
* * *
Dark clouds were assuming grotesque shapes in the sky over Castle Frankenstein.
The panel truck drove slowly over the castle’s old drawbridge, then stopped.
Winslow wanted to make some kind of an announcement about the Monster finally returning to his place of “birth,” but thought it best to keep his feelings to himself, at least for the present.
The two men that the scientist had hired did as they were instructed, taking the crate out of their truck, as Winslow and Lynn stepped out and onto the patio stone where the equipment boxes were still waiting.
“Now be extremely careful with that,” Winslow warned the two men, who carried the box as if it were some priceless treasure, brought it inside the castle and carefully set it down just outside the laboratory door. Then they carried in the other crates, setting them near the first. “That’s far enough. Thank you very much. Danke.”
For a few moments, the two men gazed at the portentious oak door that barred their entrance into the adjoining chamber, wherever that might lead.
“I said that’ll be all. Here...” Winslow reached into his pocket to give them a handful of American paper money that served as both a bonus and a bribe to speed them on their way.
When the panel truck started up and began its trip back toward town, Winslow creaked shut the front door of the castle, the sound echoing through the stone-walled building, then bolted it from the inside.
Lynn was ready to embrace him again, when he stopped suddenly to bask in his surroundings.
“Back at last!” he exclaimed.
The young woman smiled understandingly, then gracefully walked up to him, hoping that Burt would again take her in his arms and, perhaps on the spot, make passionate love with her. Instead, the scientist turned toward the crate, his face beaming with enthusiasm.
“I’ve got it, Lynn!” he roared with triumph. “After all I’ve spent, after everything I’ve been through, I’ve got it. Inside crate! The actual remains of Frankenstein’s monster!”
She had seen the man like this before, yet never to such degree of enthusiasm. There was no use in trying to arouse amorous feelings now, at least not until he burned away his present flame of excitement. Lynn had no present recourse but try and work up a modicum of interest in Winslow’s proclaimed conquest. Undeniably she too had waited to see the thing in the box. Her interest drew her nearer the crate.
“You are going to show it to me, aren’t you, Burt?” she asked “I have, after all, been waiting here for quite a long time.”
Winslow grinned. “Oh, I’m so
rry,” he replied. “Certainly, certainly, Lynn. Come on. I’ll show him to you. But first you’d better take a deep breath. He isn’t a pretty thing to look at.”
“I never expected him to be. Remember, I too read Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Her description of him wasn’t too appealing.
“He’s worse than she described,” said Winslow.
“I’m not a schoolgirl anymore,” she said, laughing. “I think I can take it.”
“All right then,” said Winslow, rushing into the laboratory to return moments later with a crowbar. Hastily he began to pry the lid off the crate. Then he pushed aside the wooden lid, the hinging nails squeaking loudly as they were bent aside.
“Okay, Lynn, if you can stand him, take a look,” he said.
Cautiously, her face no longer smiling, Lynn stepped up to the box, her blue eyes wide with anticipation, and peered in to look for the first time upon its contents. Even though the gas mask was still attached to the Monster’s face, there was enough of the yellowish skin, the red scars and matted black hair to affect her.
She could feel herself beginning to faint, only to be caught by Winslow, who drew her away from the box.
“I’m... all right,” she told him, sitting down in a chair. “You’re right, Burt. He is worse than I ever expected. Just... took me by surprise, I guess.” She smiled and gazed up at the man. “But don’t worry, I promise, now that I’ve seen him, never to faint. Okay?”
The scientist nodded. “Try not to look at him as a Monster. Remember that he is not responsible for his physical appearance. Despite the way he looks and what he is called, this being is a man. His only difference is in the fact that he was created by another man and that Victor Frankenstein imbued him with great strength and immortality. Try to regard him as a miracle of science and the first of a new species, as I regard him.”
“I’ll try,” she replied, looking from Winslow’s face back to the wooden box. “I’m sorry. I guess I just overreacted. I just didn’t expect him to look... quite that imposing.”
“Don’t worry,” he answered. “You’ll get over his looks in due time. Remember, that you and I have work to do. It’s just the two of us now, with a big job, and we can’t rely on anyone else around here for help.”
Without another word, Burt Winslow grasped the crowbar and started to uncrate the other boxes. He tore into one of the wooden containers and exposed a section of a generator.
“Victor Frankenstein used lightning, some primitive electrical devices and chemical injections in his experiment,” said Winslow, cutting away the rest of the crate to expose the complete generator. “That was the best that could be had during his day. But I’ve forsaken the lightning in favor of my own. With my equipment, there’ll be no need to wait for an electrical storm.”
Moving at rapid pace, the scientist continued to open the boxes of electrical and chemical apparatus. Soon Lynn had taken up a second crowbar to help Winslow strip away the pieces of wood to expose the gauges, wire, glassware and other materials underneath.
But even as Lynn worked, her face registered her curiosity.
“Tell me, Burt,” she finally said, turning her attention to him. “Just why are you doing all this?”
Winslow paused for a second, setting aside a supply of electrical wire, then stared up at one of the walls. He seemed to be seeing something which was not there.
“Why?” he said somberly. “I never really thought of that too much. Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t have brought this project this far. I suppose it’s like the mountain peak that has to be climbed because it’s there. Except for Victor Frankenstein himself, no one has ever performed the experiment I hope to perform in this laboratory.”
She set aside her crowbar, stepped over the wooden remnants of the various crates, and took Winslow by the hand.
“Then, since you don’t have to wait for any storm, how about the two of us doing a little experimenting on our own?”
“But-”
“It can wait, Burt, just like I’ve been waiting for you to come back here.”
“I’m sorry, Lynn,” he said. “I guess I have been rather the mad scientist since I’ve returned.”
“I’ll forgive you,” she responded, taking him by the hand leading him toward a huge stone staircase. “But I really shouldn't you know. I mean, you’ve been here a while now, and you still haven’t noticed how much cozier it is, how I’ve cleaned it up. When I first moved in, the place was like the House of Usher.”
Winslow could feel himself blush. Only now, after she had indicated it to him, did he notice that the place had been cleaned. He was impressed, even as he ascended the staircase with Lynn, but did not comment. For his eyes had shifted to the woman’s free hand, which was already unbuttoning her tight-fitting blouse, the material fluttering away from the magnificent curve of her breasts.
“You’ll especially like the way I fixed up the master bedroom,” she told him, her voice like a song.
Winslow’s mind made an instantaneous calculation. The gas mask would ensure the Monster’s dormancy for at least several more hours. And the locked door and the superstitions of the townspeople should shield the giant from any molestation.
He smiled at the young woman as she led him into the stately chamber which had been made as romantic and homey as a gothic castle might be made. As he began to open his shirt, he watched her gentle hands drop her blouse to the throwrug which had been placed on the cold floor. It was impossible, he silently mused, but now he was hardly even thinking about the great experiment or the giant creature it would involve.
CHAPTER X:
To Walk Again
Night had swallowed the town of Ingolstadt. But this was no ordinary night. It was enveloping darkness electrified by a collective fear. Numerous buildings were illuminated by flickering lights that appeared as yellow eyes, giving life to the homes and shops.
Inside the Red Galley Inn, patrons were complaining about the suspicious, coffin-shaped box that some of them had seen carried to Castle Frankenstein. The atmosphere at the inn was thick and difficult to breathe, a congestion of cigar, pipe and cigarette smoke, the cloud’s smell mingled with that of beer and wine.
Heinrich Franz, who always prided himself on his long association with the town’s mayor, took a long draught from his ornate beer stein. Then, with a froth of foam still on his frowning lips, he set the mug down on the table. Wiping away the foam, he stared at the two men who were seated across from him.
Both Braun and Ulrich had been waiting for their friend to speak.
Finally Franz stated, “I don’t like it. I don’t like it one damned bit. It is too much like the old days. My father and grandfather and his father all passed along the story. The story of the scientist Frankenstein and the Monster he made from parts of dead bodies.”
The other two men seated at the table grunted in mutual agreement, then continued to drink their beer while listening to Franz.
“It was a devil’s experiment, I’m told,” he went on, “and now it looks like the devil’s experiment of Frankenstein is going to happen again. Once again the Monster will prowl our streets, searching for victims — our loved ones — to seize and tear apart with his enormous hands.”
Braun was finishing off his beer. When he consumed the last drop, he waved his mug before Franz’ eyes. “We had better all keep our eyes open,” he said.
“More than that,” returned Franz. “We’d best keep our eyes peeled on Castle Frankenstein. For it is there that trouble will begin. And at the first sign of any trouble, we’ll deal with this Dr. Winslow and his wench... the way that our ancestors would have dealt with them!”
The waiter approached the table and Heinrich Franz ordered another round of beer for himself and his friends.
“And how is that, Heinrich?” asked Ulrich naively.
Franz took a long drink, then leaned back in his wooden chair. His gaze was no longer on his friends but on the crackling flames of the fireplace. For several prolonged mome
nts he stared at the fire. Then a smile spread across his face.
And both Braun and Ulrich had their answer.
* * *
A crackling campfire was the only illumination in the clearing of the dense forest. The trees cast elongated, spectral shadows that wavered across the camp, grasping with woody talons along the luridly painted sides of the circus wagons. The aroma of cooking beans wafted in the breeze to the pair of magnificent stallions who waited patiently, tied to a tree.
Gort turned a spoon in the bubbling cauldron of beans and whiffed the aroma.
Professor Dartani sat on a boulder, staring out with a vulture’s eyes across the black expanse of forest. His back was to the campfire and his servant. He seemed not at all interested in food at the moment. Something had seemingly taken possession of his mind to leave only a motionless husk seated near the campsite.
The huge servant looked up toward his master. “Anything the matter, boss?” he inquired. “You better eat, you know. You’re skinny enough now, so you can’t afford to lose anymore weight. Come on, have some beans. They’re good. I cooked them myself.”
But Professor Dartani did not budge.
Gort wondered if his master had seen something in the woods. He gazed in the direction that the Professor was facing, but saw nothing save the shadowy forms of trees and something that appeared in the moonlight to be the silhouette of a great castle. Maybe the Professor was in one of his meditation trances?
“I said, anything the matter, boss?” Gort repeated, this time raising his voice.
Like one of the mannikins in his own Asylum of Horrors, Professor Dartani slowly turned his head toward his driver. His mummylike visage was a mask of sheer hatred, possessing a strength that made even the brute criminal Gort uncomfortable.
Dartani’s lips quivered. “I have been thinking,” the Professor began, “of this village. And its fears. And mostly, I have been thinking of… Krag.”
“The Mayor?”
Frankenstein Lives Again (The New Adventures of Frankenstein) Page 10
