Fred Saberhagen - The Frankenstein Papers

Our eyes were riveted on Karl as he approached the laboratory door. He paused in front of it, evidently struck by something, most probably the fact that the door was not tightly closed. Whatever his thoughts in that moment, in the next we were all distracted.

The lightning struck.

It was one of those violent preliminary bolts of a considerable storm, and it hit very near us. Clerval and I were both momentarily blinded, and almost stunned with the shock. I must admit, giving fair credit to an enemy, that it may have been only Franklin's iron points, installed upon the roof, that saved the house from destruction.

Both Clerval and I rapidly recovered our senses. We were in time to see Big Karl—I have no doubt that the figure I saw was still his—recover himself also, give his huge head a shake, and go on into the room.

In the moment of silence before the rain began in earnest, I heard a low cry, like a single, mumbled word, come out of that dark doorway. Now, looking back into my memory, I assume that it must have been uttered by the peasant, who on entering must have observed some sign of life in that great figure on the table. Naturally enough, the uncouth man knew superstitious terror at the success of an enterprise which, though his labors had served to advance it to some degree, was fundamentally beyond his comprehension. At the time, Clerval and I could only continue to watch with the greatest interest, and speculate on the reason for his outcry.

After crying out, Karl reached back to close the door behind him. He then remained in the room for several minutes, without lighting any lamp. Before our whispered speculations as to what he might be doing could arrive at any conclusion, the stalwart peasant again emerged into the hall. This time, the brief glimpse I was given of his face in the dim light suggested to me that he must be, like his master before him, in a state of extreme agitation. Karl had been empty handed when he went into the laboratory—I am sure of that—but when he came out he was carrying a heavy canvas bag. I want to emphasize at this point that it could not have been an entire body that the peasant was removing; the shape of the burden, if not its size, was absolutely wrong for that. And in any case the bag was not large enough to have contained a large body like the one we had examined on the table. The contents of the bag doubtless consisted of the various spare and disconnected human parts we had seen about the laboratory, and which were not there when we reentered the room with you next morning. I remember that someone remarked upon their absence at the time, but in the flush of our great discovery we none of us bothered to pursue the matter.

Karl departed at once, going down the back stairs more silently and much more swiftly than he had come up. In his haste to leave, he had again left the laboratory door slightly ajar; and now a gust of wind, part of the onrushing storm, opened it a little farther. The moonlight had now been completely obliterated by the hurrying clouds, but the intermittent flares of lightning were bright and numerous enough to allow us, in momentary flashes, quite a good view of the interior.

Gazing in—with Henry at my side, seeing the same things, and able to testify to them later—I saw the body on the table stir. The first movements that I beheld were moderate, only slightly disarranging the cover that until then had shrouded most of the form. Clerval, may his soul know peace, many times confirmed with me in later conversations that he had witnessed the same thing exactly.

When the next very bright flash came, almost enough to dazzle us again, the body was completely gone from the table. Only the coarse sheet remained there, and it was now completely disarranged.

Dear Victor, when these last things happened, there could hove been no one in that room except the creature himself .

A few minutes passed, in which we held our breaths, oblivious to the cold and soaking rain, and wondered.

Presently, to our unutterable astonishment, the sole door to the laboratory was pushed open— from the inside . And a moment later, the unmistakable figure of your giant creation, that most savage enigma that I have tried to shelter, and have been forced to pursue across most of Europe, walked for the first time into human sight. It shambled along the hallway and went down the stairs.

My dearest Victor, that pursuit now nears its climax. We shall yet bring it to a successful conclusion. I have sworn, on the graves that both of us hold dear, to da so. But that part of the game, if such a deadly serious matter may be so called, is not yours to play. I beg of you to allow yourself to be guided by my judgment in this matter, just as I have always allowed myself to be ruled by your wisdom, in any matter of the laboratory. Stay in Paris and await us; or, if you prefer, return to London and there resume your all-important labors. Walton and I will rejoin you, in either case, as soon as possible.

Your Friend,

Roger Saville

LETTER 14

April 5,1783

From: Victor Frankenstein, en route to Bavaria

To: Benjamin Franklin, Passy

My dear Sir—

I cannot thank you enough for your advice. I have decided to accept it, and to break permanently my connections with Roger Saville and the others with whom I have long—too long—been associated. In the future I shall certainly do my best to see to it that no associate of mine has a hand in harming any innocent person.

I am now on my way to confront your son, and the being for whose creation I am responsible, in Ingolstadt, or wherever they may be found, separately or together. When I have located them I shall make every effort to make amends for such harm as may have been done them in the past, because of their association with me and with my work. I assure you, Sir, that such harm was never my deliberate intention.

With all respect,

Victor Frankenstein

Postscript: In deciding to sever my connection with Mr. Saville and his associates, I do not mean to imply that I believe the accusation, which you seem to be hinting at, that the man Small, acting under Saville's orders, was probably responsible for the death of my dear Elizabeth. You do not make this accusation flatly in your letter, but I find the implication unmistakable. That Saville should have ordered such a thing, and found someone to carry his orders out, all in an effort to prevent my marriage and induce me to concentrate upon my work! No, Sir, I cannot believe it. My decision for the final separation with Saville is based upon other considerations.

V.F.

Chapter 16

April 6, 1783 Big Karl's village

I have caught up with Big Karl at last. The encounter, while mystifying in several ways, has served at least to lay to rest the last lingering suspicion that I might possibly be Karl, transformed through some unimaginable wizardry of electrical science.

A certain person in the village, one who evidently felt he had some old score to pay back, helped us to arrange an ambush for the man we sought. The same person passed word along to us that Karl was shortly going to return.

Freeman and I lay in wait on the edge of a small grove, and when we saw a man of remarkable height approaching, walking with a rolling gait and humming, we pounced out. I seized the man, who struggled powerfully, but only for a moment.

As soon as he realized that his efforts were useless, he resigned himself to his unusual situation, of being in the grip of one larger and stronger than himself. He is only about six inches shorter than I am, and proportionally built—big and powerful indeed, by human standards, but not so big, powerful—or ugly—as I am.