Lessons In Immortality

Visaria, Bavaria. 1937.

“Ludwig Frankenstein’s daughter must have lied to you before she died,” Otto DuPont said as they strolled the streets. “The notebooks are not in this backward town.”

“Patience, brother,” said Heidi DuPont, her eyes scanning the rooftops. “She said that I could find it in the building with the cross and the crescent moon above the door.”

“We’ve been through this entire village,” said Otto. “There is no building such as that.”

“There!” Heidi ran ahead of her frail little brother. He limped after her, knowing that she would wait for him wherever she stopped.

Heidi DuPont climbed the small hillside to the old storehouse. Near the roof, two wooden shutters creaked in the breeze. A cross balanced on a crescent moon was carved into each one. She smiled at it as Otto caught up to her side.

“I told you that Elsa wasn’t crazy,” said Heidi. “Let’s go inside before we attract attention.”

They ducked inside of the old building as a pair of Nazi soldiers walked by on patrol. They saw nothing. Otto and Heidi slid the heavy bolt into place, dragged a heavy crate, and propped it against the door. Enough light leaked through the boarded-up windows to see the disorder inside.

“Where do we even start?” asked Otto.

“Give me a minute,” she said. Her eyes scanned the walls, looking for any sign of a trapdoor. She smiled as a length of a knotted cord revealed itself with her flashlight. “Help me,” she said, shifting heavy furniture piles.

Otto, a sizeable and robust fellow, had little trouble moving the dresser and tables away from the wall. As he grabbed a heavy chair, she touched his arm.

“Leave that,” she said. “Help me stand up on this chair, will you?”

“Of course,” said Otto. He held her hand with a gentle touch as she stepped up onto the seat. The solid construction of the chair barely moved.

Heidi DuPont grabbed the musty, cobweb-covered rope and pulled. It creaked, letting a cloud of dust-free. Coughing, she pulled harder. The sound of heavy wooden stairs trundled along the other side of the hatch.

“Be careful and catch the stairs when they come down,” she said.

“All right. I’m ready.”

The hatch opened with a rush, almost sending Heidi off her perch. She held onto the hatchway and righted herself as the stairs rolled down without pause. Otto caught the end and let it to the floor without a sound. Heidi stepped off the chair and dusted herself off. Her skirt had a tear at the hem, and a spot of grease needed attention.

“Be careful as we go up the stairs,” she said. “There’s no telling what we may find.”

“What are we looking for again?”

“The journals of Henry Frankenstein. They belong to me, as the last heir of the Frankensteins. We must protect them from the Nazis.”

“Why?” Otto had not been intelligent, not during any part of his life. His father assigned him to the mill, carrying heavy grain sacks up the long stairs to the millstone. But he knew the difference between Good and Evil.

“If Hitler gets his hands on these journals, there’s no telling what he’ll be able to do. The Allied Powers couldn’t stand up to an army of monsters like the one Henry created.”

“How terrible that would be,” said Otto.

Image by LPArt from Pixabay

At the top of the stairs, her light fell upon a small, secluded room. A bed, a small writing table, and a bookcase half-covered by a tarpaulin. Heidi stripped the tarp away in shreds, waving away the dust. In the darkened shadows, she saw the name Frankenstein embossed upon two thick volumes.

“They are here, as my uncle told me,” said Heidi. “We must get them away from here now.”

A noise came from behind a small door they had not seen before. Heidi opened it and found a dark narrow stairway leading down. A slight sound came from far below, like a scuffling foot.

“Come,” she said, “someone may be hurt.” The stairs creaked with age, threatening to snap under their weight. Heidi cautioned her brother to wait a moment before following her. The wooden stairs protested less as they made their way down.

They passed the first floor and kept going down. Spiders and rats made their nests everywhere Heidi looked. Her hair had a netting of spider webs that made her skin crawl. A dank, moldy odor rose to assault their nostrils. She heard a muffled growl come from less than ten feet from her. Going back up the stairs was no longer an option. “Be careful.”

They came out into an expansive old cellar. Wine casks lined one wall, dripping into puddles of wine sludge. A wine press, fallen into disrepair, occupied a corner opposite them. Heidi turned her head and saw an enormous bed and an end table. A candle sat sputtering on the table, throwing light upon a figure out of Heidi’s childhood nightmares.

The Creature stood to its full height, the top of the head brushing the ceiling. Heidi noticed the burns on the Creature’s hands and face from being engulfed in flames. The dull gray eyes peered at her with some sense of understanding. The clothes were ill-fitting but clean. On the floor next to it lay a recently killed and stripped chicken. A pile of vegetables lay strewn around the dead bird.

As the Monster stepped toward Heidi, she stood stiff and unafraid. She hadn’t expected to find the Monster still alive. The last sighting of it was in the castle home of Dr. Franz Edelmann. According to the printed account of Lawrence Talbot, a raging fire trapped the Monster under the collapsing roof of the castle.

The Monster gazed into Heidi’s eyes, tilting his head to one side. Recognition flashed into its eyes for a few seconds. “Frankenstein,” it muttered.

“I won’t hurt you,” she said. She had few options at the moment. She made the best of it. “Are you hurt?”

The Monster shook its head in a slow movement. “Bad men. Shot at me. Hid here.”
Heidi nodded, feeling sorry for him. She thought for a moment. “Would you like some help to get away from here?”

The Monster stared at her for a moment. The dust drifted by them, disturbed by their walking. His dull eyes looked right at her. “Friend?” he asked, half pleading. He looked at Otto. Otto’s eyes went wide, and he stepped back.

Heidi nodded. “Yes, friends. We have a boat waiting nearby. If we leave now, we’ll be long gone by dawn.”

The Monster took all of this in, weighing his options. He growled, unsure whether to trust these intruders or kill them and throw their bodies into the river. “We go. Now,” he said.

Otto produced a Luger pistol from the folds of his cloak. “We aren’t going anywhere.”

“Otto, what are you doing?” Heidi stepped toward him. Otto pointed the gun at her.

“Those journals are precious. I shall give them, and this creature, to the Fuhrer. I will have a seat next to the Fuhrer himself when he learns I have given him immortality.”

“How could you do something like this, Otto?” she asked.

“My allegiance is with the Fatherland. This will make me immortal as well.”

The Monster moved toward Otto. Otto shot the Monster three times in the chest. The Monster, unfazed by the bullets, grabbed the pistol. He crushed the gun, breaking every bone in Otto’s hand. Otto screamed as the Monster wrapped his thick arms around his body.

The Monster squeezed in anger. Otto’s spine snapped, and his head lolled to one side. The Monster dropped Otto to the floor and turned to face Heidi.

“I did not know he would do this,” she said. “I will still help you.”

“No trust,” said the Monster. “Trust hurts me.”

“You can trust me.,” said Heidi.

The Monster stood staring at her. A dim memory surfaced from deep within him. “Frankenstein, was good, once.”

“None of them understood you. I can help you. Will you come with me? I won’t let the Nazis get you. I know full well what they are capable of. Is there a way for us to escape?”

“Yes. I hold journals.”

“Of course.” Heidi slipped the notebooks into a leather pouch and handed them to the Monster.

“Come with me if you want to live.” He opened a trap door just as the door upstairs bursts open. The bustle of soldiers’ boots creates a disturbance above their heads.

“We have little time,” said Heidi.

“Follow me.” Heidi and the Monster plunged down into the darkness. At the bottom of the stairs, she lit her Zippo lighter.

The Monster backed away in fear, growling.

“I won’t hurt you,” she says. “It’s for the torch.” She lit the torch and pulled it off the wall. “Are you going to be all right?”

“Yes.” The Monster stayed back a few feet from Heidi.

“Good. We have to get moving.”

“Wait. Here.”

He moved to a panel on the wall. Tearing the door off, he grasped one of the thick handles. Pulling it, he nodded. “Yes,” he exclaimed as the stairs leading into the basement crumble into a pile of rocks.

The Monster nodded. “Good.” He pulled the second handle. Above them, a table filled with wooden crates and instruments tips over. The debris covered the trap door they had just come through.

“An escape route, planned by someone who knew there might be trouble here someday,” said Heidi.

The Monster nodded to her. “Safe. Now go to boat.”

Image by kerttu from Pixabay

“Follow me, and be careful of the torch,” said Heidi DuPont. The sewer led them several blocks away. They emerged by the Danube’s edge. Her boat sat docked nearby. With great care, Heidi moved the boat along the river bank until she saw the shadowy figure of the Monster. Gracelessly, the Monster dropped onto the ship. He sat down and took the sack from Heidi’s hands.

“Thank you,” said the Monster.

“You’re welcome,” she said. “With any luck, we can get you somewhere safe. Maybe we can even get you to America. Countless living options, years without seeing anyone.

“America,” said the Monster as the little boat drifted away from Visaria and the Nazis.