Strange Tales #32 Part 2 Featuring  Written by Bob Gansler

YEAR THREE NOV

He was grateful for the assistance that one of the DOA’s minor underlings had given him.  He would have found it extremely difficult to return to his home without some assistance, financial and otherwise.  Apparently, his rescuers were watching him and had noticed his problems.  Sometimes Victor would catch sight of some round object with his peripheral vision, but whatever it was would quickly dart away.

“Let them watch,” Victor thought.  “They will see my genius at work.”

Victor had no idea who occupied Castle Frankenstein at this time.  If his line had survived, one of his descendants would be the likely owner.  It really made no difference.  It was his home, and he would claim it.  For now, he would be cautious.  There were hidden entrances and hidden laboratories that none save he knew about.  They were so well secreted that he felt confident that they would not have been discovered even after all of these years.

Victor crawled through one of the hidden entrances on the Castle’s southern exposure.  It led him through the mountain rock and into a secret lower part of the Castle.  Once inside, he was content to see that all was as he left it, even after all these decades.  His equipment, full of dust and cobwebs, but still functional was all there.  Cobbling together a makeshift weapon, one that would disperse a noxious cloud, Victor left to go find who inhabited Castle Frankenstein now.

The first men that Victor came across could only be loosely referred to as such.  They were small, deformed humanoid creatures who scurried around like mice.  Victor was not even forced to use his makeshift weapon as they scattered before him.

“We must tell the Baroness,” they cackled as they ran away.

Victor came to the main parlor.  A multitude of the misshapen creatures were there, but there was also someone else.  A middle-aged woman with long flowing black hair in a long purple dress descended the staircase. Two of the little creature clung to her legs.  “Who are you?” the woman demanded.

Victor took a bow.  “I am Victor Von Frankenstein, rightful lord of this castle.”

The woman laughed.  “That man who was my many-times great-uncle has been dead for a long time.  I am Baroness Victoria Von Frankenstein, and this is my home.”

Victor studied the woman’s features.  He could detect a slight trace of his brother Ernst’s features in her.  “I am Victor Von Frankenstein and I have cheated the afterlife.  My once and future home will serve me in the destruction of my creation, my monster.”

“The Monster?” Victoria gasped.  Not many people in this day and age knew about the Monster.  Could this really be her ancestor returned from the dead?  His appearance matched the portrait that had been passed down through the generations.  Some of the creatures whispered to her where the man claiming to be Victor had appeared.  She instantly recognized that it was from a part of the castle long thought forgotten.

Victor pointed his weapon at Victoria.  “I mean you no ill will, my great-grand-niece, but I will be obeyed.  These ... things seem to cling to you, to look up to you.  You will order them to follow my instructions, and no harm will come to anyone.”

The creatures began to buzz with fear.  Victoria quieted them with a simple ‘hush.’  She addressed her forebear.  “I will have ‘the children’ assist you as long as no harm befalls them and you treat them humanely.”

“Humanely?” Victor replied.  “How can these things be treated humanely?  Are they even human?  What explains their existence?”

“They are the product of my father and grandfather, your descendants, who tried to follow in your demented footsteps in creating life.”

Victor shrugged.  “Apparently they did not succeed to well.”  He lowered his weapon.  “Enough about my descendants.  You can tell me about them later.  For now, I need workers ... and test subjects.”

He lived in a small house in a remote area.  He only went outside in the dark of night, where a being of eight feet in height, massive in body, and haggard in features would not be spotted.  His few friends brought him groceries and provided company when they could.  Most of his time was spent in front of his electronic devices.  The variety music that he could play on his stereo gave him endless hours of happiness.  He was enthralled by live CD recordings of orchestral performances.  He could almost imagine himself there, listening to the performance in person.  It was likely to be as close as he ever would be to a concert.

The near-endless options on the television set provided him with easy diversion.  The inhumanity toward man that he saw every night on the news shows sickened him.  How could they ever accept him if they hated themselves?  The electronic invention that gave him the most joy, however, was the computer.  His friends had gotten him a specially-designed keyboard, one that worked with his rather oversized hands.  As he joined into countless chat sessions, he could pretend to be everyday working man Frank Stone rather than the Monster of Frankenstein.  He was able to converse with people around the world, and they would accept him for the man that he was inside, not the monster that he was on the outside.

He noted with concern that he had received no new email from Victoria for a few days now.  It was unprecedented, since the Baroness had acquired a computer for the Castle.  Every day she or one of the children would write to him.  Now there was only silence.  Could some evil have befallen them?  He sincerely hoped not.  He checked his mailbox one more time, and a message from the castle did appear.  The Monster was overjoyed.  He eagerly opened the message, looking for an explanation for the unnatural silence in communication.

The message had no subject.  The body of it simply said:

HELP. CREATOR HERE. HE WANT

It obviously was the writings of one of ‘the children’.  But what did it mean?  Was it some prank of theirs?  The Monster thought not.  He quickly typed in a message, saying that he was coming to the Castle.  He gathered together a comfortable outfit and waited for the sunset.  Then he would head for New Orleans and find a boat headed to Europe.  He would stow away and make his way to Switzerland.  He had done it before; he wished that he did not need to do it again.

As he had crossed the cold mountaintops, he was reminded of a previous frigid encounter.  He had come face to face with this creator, Victor Von Frankenstein, in the bitter wastes of the Arctic.  Victor had died there, and the Monster thought that his demise was also inevitable.  However, the cold caress of Mother Nature was not able to extinguish the spark of life that burned within him.  Years later, an expedition led Robert Walton IV freed the Monster from his prison of ice.

After crossing the Alps, he headed directly for Geneva.  Though the landscape of the country had changed much since the day of his creation, he could still make out the way to his destination by natural landmarks.  Soon he was upon the gates of his ‘home’.

Castle Frankenstein stood before him in all its ancient majesty.  It rested in the mountain, impervious to the modern changes that occurred below it.  The Monster was wistful for a moment, but the moment quickly passed.  Victoria and the children could be in danger, or worse.  He had asked his friends back in the States to try to reach Victoria for him.  The castle looked cold and uninviting.  The Monster assumed that his friends had not been able to re-establish contact with Victoria; else she or one of the children would have been waiting for his arrival.  His massive frame was not hard to miss, even in the weak light of the setting sun.

The Monster resolved to go in through the main castle door.  It had taken him many days to travel the thousands of miles from America to Switzerland.  Now was not the time for any more delays.  He clambered up the path to the gigantic wooden gate.  As expected, the gate was locked tightly.  The Monster took a step back and then began loudly knocking on the door.

There was no response.  The Monster continued to pound as small splinters began falling off the gate.  The pounding went on for about a minute before he ceased this obviously futile effort.  The Monster turned to take a few steps back.  Perhaps a running start would give him enough momentum to burst through the wooden barrier.  As he turned once again to face the castle, the gate began to rise.

“Victoria?” the Monster called out.  “It is I.”

No reply came.  Suddenly a large figure came rushing out at the Monster.  It crashed into him and sent him tumbling to the ground.  “What?” the Monster bellowed as he tried to get to his feet.  It was not an easy task to topple him, but this creature evidently had the power to do so.

The creature had rolled a few yards away after tackling the Monster.  He now stood poised for battle, and the patchwork man sized up his unknown opponent.  The creature was quite massive; he was noticeably larger than the Monster.  His muscles bulged most unnaturally; his entire shape was mangled beyond anything that heredity or accident could have caused.  The Monster wondered who could have created a creature such as this.  Surely not Victoria!  She was too noble a woman to fall prey to the same motivations as her ancestors had done.   Could there be some other member of that hated family who had taken up the unholy cause, the cause of Victor, Vincent, Basil, and Ludwig?  Or had someone else been infected with the disease of hubris to create life?

These questions would have to wait.  The Monster would have to deal with this creature first.  The creature panted heavily.  The Monster could see that his opponent’s eyes burned with fiery emotion.  The two then locked into combat.  Neither was that skillful of a fighter.  The Monster, however, had learned something of fighting during his decades of existence.  He could tell that there was no reason behind the creature’s attacks; it was only sheer brutality.

The Monster fought as cannily as he could.  The creature missed repeatedly with wild swings while the Monster connected time and again with well-placed blows.  It took a few minutes of this pounding before the Monster could detect any signs of weakness on the part of his opponent.  Finally, the creature staggered and the Monster ended the battle with a titanic blow to the head.  The creature wobbled and then collapsed to the ground.

Going over to the side of his fallen foe, the Monster looked at the creature’s sorry face.  Even as it lay panting, insensate, its visage was still one of torment.  But there was something more to it than that.  There was a tinge of recognition.  Then the Monster also was overcome by a sense of recognition.  This creature had been one of the ‘children’.  However, this member, the name ‘Karl’ rung in the Monster’s memory, had always been a small, misshapen creature.  He had never been anything like the giant that lay before him.  Who could have transformed Karl so grotesquely?

The Monster knew that the answers were inside.  If there were any doubts in his mind that there was a simple explanation to Victoria’s communication silence, they were removed now.   Frankenstein offered a prayer to God for Victoria’s safety, hoping that such a Supreme Being would look kindly upon the prayers of a being not of His creation.

Passing through the doors without incident, the Monster looked warily around the inside of the main chamber Victoria had modernized the place somewhat.  There were electric lights and other electrical appliances around - a computer, a television, a stereo.  Still, for the most part, the inside of the castle was as stuck in the past as its outside was.  The Monster strained his ears to hear anything, but the castle was deadly quiet.

He resolved to go down to the dungeons.  He reasoned that whoever was in charge here would incarcerate some of the castle’s rightful inhabitants there.  Someone had obviously taken to the Frankensteins’ infernal experiments.  If there were prisoners, perhaps the Monster could discover some useful information before storming the laboratories, where the new master of Castle Frankenstein would undoubtedly be found.

The Monster lumbered down the cold stone steps to the dungeons below.  He could hear a number of sounds emanating from the cells below.  There was sobbing and nervous chatter and other intelligible sounds.  There was one sound, however, that was clear and intelligible.  It was the soft, sweet voice of Victoria Von Frankenstein.

As the Monster reached the dungeon floor, the ‘children’ that were imprisoned there pressed themselves against the crusty, ancient iron bars.  They were packed many to a cell, and they were all babbling at the arrival of the Monster.  At the end of the row of cells, Victoria stood alone inside and watched the Monster’s entrance.

“You came,” she said thankfully.  “Karl was able to get a message to you then?”

“I received an incomplete message warning of trouble, and so I came,” the Monster said in reply.

“Incomplete? Then he must have captured Karl, and subjected him to the experiments,” Victoria sighed dejectedly.

“Karl was changed,” the Monster explained.  “I fought the massive creature that he has become, not five minutes ago at the main gate.”  He put his hands on the bars of Victoria’s cell.  He could break these bars, but it would take some effort.  “Who did this to him?  Who imprisoned you?  Who is in charge of Castle Frankenstein?”

“I don’t understand how,” Victoria replied, “but he has come back to continue his damnable work.”

“Who?”  The Monster’s voice rose in volume as he strained to pry the iron bars from the ground.  “Who?”

A voice came from the top of the stairs.  “Your creator, you hideous abomination, you mockery.  I, Victor Von Frankenstein!”

The Monster turned to see the unmistakable form on Victor, flanked by two massive humanoid creatures.  “It cannot be.  Victor Von Frankenstein is dead, dead!”

“I was, Monster, but I have survived the fires of hell to destroy you utterly.  I gave spark to your existence, and I will extinguish it.”

The Monster turned to Victoria again.  “Who is this madman really?”

Victoria shook her head.  “He has convinced me.  In some way that I cannot truly fathom, this is my many time great-grandfather returned from the dead.  He has said that those responsible for his resurrection gave him the commission to destroy you.”

“My great-grandniece speaks the truth speaks the truth,” Victor interjected.  “I have returned from beyond death to bring it to you, a monstrosity that thinks itself immune to its cold touch.”

The Monster began to walk towards Victor.  “If you are Victor Von Frankenstein, then you know that you met your own death as you tried to destroy me those many years ago.  Why do you think the result will be any different this time?”

Victor pointed to creatures on either side of him.  “These products of my genius.  I don’t know what names they had when they were the diminutive results of my feeble descendants trying to duplicate my work, but they are now William and Ernst.”

“William and Ernst,” the Monster gasped.

“Yes, the names of my brothers.  William, whom you slew in cold blood,” Victor ranted.  “These two are my brothers now.  They have the same desire as I do - to destroy you.”

“You can’t hurt them,” Victoria implored.  “Those are really Kristian and Johann.  They mean you no harm, it’s only that Victor has twisted them with his experiments upon them.  He has had the children slaving for him, and acting as test subjects for his hellish science.  Many never returned from his laboratory.”

The Monster sighed.  “I will try, but it may mean their deaths in order for Victor to be stopped.”

Victor laughed demonically.  “Don’t worry about you harming William and Ernst.”

“Kristian and Johann!” Victoria shouted.

“As I was saying,” Victor replied.  “William and Ernst will crush your body that I sewed together.”  He indicated for his creatures to exit.  “Return to the main chamber, Monster, and meet your doom.”

The Monster slowly climbed the stairs.  Victor and the creatures waited for him at the top.  The four of them walked into the main chamber.  Victor took a seat in a large wooden chair and crossed his legs.  “Any last words, Monster?”

The Monster grunted.  “I will see you dead, again, Victor.”

Victor held his belly as he laughed heartily.  “William and Ernst have been transformed into creatures far exceeding your might.  Against one you could not achieve victory, against two you have no hope.”  He motioned for William and Ernst to attack.

The two misshapen creatures lumbered towards the Monster.  There was no plan of attack.  They simply wanted to overwhelm him.  The Monster tensed himself and looked for an opening.  He did not want to kill them, only Frankenstein deserved that fate.  William suddenly sprung forward and landed a powerful blow to the Monster’s chest.  The Monster reeled at the impact.  Ernst came at the Monster from the right.  The Monster fended him off with a stiff arm to the face.

The Monster was able to hold Ernst off while William came at him again.  William tried to run the Monster over.  The Monster sidestepped and caught William in a headlock.  Ernst was struggling to break free of the hold on his face.  The Monster needed his other hand to deal with William, so he strained and lifted Ernst off of the ground and tossed him aside.  Ernst flew through the air and crashed into a large antique china cabinet.  The wood and glass shattered upon impact, and Ernst lay deathly still.

Focusing his efforts on William now, the Monster tightened his grip.  William struggled but the Monster would not loosen his hold.  William tried to break free by dropping to the ground, but the Monster held on as he lowered himself to his knees.  William’s breathing was becoming labored now.  The Monster only wanted to restrict William’s air to make him pass out; however, he did not know how much pressure he could apply and not break William’s windpipe.

The Monster’s focus was broken when a sharp pain stung him in his back.  He turned his head to see that Victor had driven an antique cavalry sword into his back.  “Aaargh,” the Monster growled.

“You killed my beloved Elizabeth, you monstrosity,” Victor screamed, recalling the death of his fiancée at the Monster’s hands.  “If my new creations cannot kill you, I’ll do it myself.

The Monster squeezed William’s neck one more time, and then dropped the poor creature to the ground.  He hoped that it was enough to knock the fight out of the transformed ‘child’.  He reached around to pluck the sword out of his back.  “I have spent my life trying to atone for those mistakes I made long ago,” the Monster responded emphatically.  “It seems that your years of torment have not made you repentant for your sins.”

“My sins!  What madness you speak?”  Victor had now taken another saber in his hands.

“Your sins, of arrogance and murder.  You created me, you created life, and that is something reserved only for God.  You created a bride for me, and then you destroyed her, murdered her.”

“She was an abomination, just you like are.”  With fire in his eyes, Victor rushed at the Monster, but the Monster was ready for him.  Massive hands wrapped themselves around Victor’s throat and lifted him off the ground.  The saber fell from Victor’s hand.

“I will feel no guilt for killing someone who is already dead.”  The Monster tightened his grip, and slowly Victor’s thrashing stopped.  Relaxing his hands, the Monster let Victor Von Frankenstein fall to the floor.

The Monster went to check on William.  The creature was laboring for breath still, but the Monster was sure that William would recover.  Whether he could ever be returned to his original form remained to be seen.

The prognosis was not as good when the Monster checked on Ernst.  The impact with the glass had driven a number of shards through Ernst’s skin.  Blood was flowing quickly from his still form.

The Monster raced down the stairs and freed Victoria and the imprisoned children.  The iron bars bent to his efforts rather quickly. “Quickly, Victoria,” the Monster growled.  “One of the children that Victor transformed has lost a great deal of blood.”

Victoria instructed some of the children to gather some things for upstairs.  They all gathered around Johann and tended to him.  She stopped the bleeding the best she could with the bandages she was given, but a transfusion needed to be made.

She looked around to determine who could be the donor.  The other children would not be a good choice.  Their respective abnormalities could spell instant death for another.  The Monster would be an unwise choice as well.  It would have to be her own.

As she started to prepare herself for the transfusion, the Monster grabbed her arm.  He directed his attention to Victor’s body. “Take his.”

She instructed the children to drag Victor’s body over.  The heart of the deranged scientist was still beating slightly.  She plunged a needle into his arm and attached a thin plastic tube.  Blood soon flowed from Victor to Johann.

“Once again you have given life,” the Monster noted ironically.

After a few minutes of blood transfer, Victor’s heart stopped beating.  However, it had been enough.  Johann would survive, Victor did not.

A small flying metal orb registered Victor’s passing.  The recipients of its signal, the nefarious group DOA in their London headquarters, were disappointed.  Their leader Belial’s voice was transmitted through the orb.  “You have done well, Monster.”

The Monster looked up.  He could not tell from where the voice was emanating.  “Who is there?”

“We are DOA, and we are responsible for your creator’s resurrection.”

The Monster continued to search for the source of the voice.  “You are mad to have brought that vile man back to life.”

“Perhaps we are.  Rest assured, that we have more evil planned.”

“Where are you,” the Monster demanded.

“Why,” Belial replied nonchalantly, “we’ll be at the British Museum in London, if you want to try to stop us.”

“I shall be there,” the Monster replied.  Anyone who would be so demented as to bring Victor Von Frankenstein back from the dead was a menace that must be stopped.

“Victoria, I must go,” the Monster said softly.

“Be careful,” she implored.

The Monster said goodbye to the many ‘children’ who surrounded him.  He sullenly stomped outside and headed east for England.