Frankenstein Theory by Jack Wallen Page A

at this hour?”
    “I have no idea, my dear. Remain here, and I’ll investigate this mystery.”
    I snatched one of the fireplace tools from the hearth and made my way to the door. With my doings of late, I wasn’t sure whom I could trust and whom I could not.
    I tiptoed up to the door, gripped the poker tight, and cracked open the door.
    Through a curtain of rain, I could discern a man clothed in a velvety, hooded black cloak which covered the top half of his face.
    “Frankenstein?” The man’s voice was deep and rough.
    “Who are you?” My whisper was barely audible over the rain.
    “I have a letter for you from Mr. Fishka.”
    All propriety sloughed from my manners and I reached my hand greedily toward the stranger. He backed away slightly and slowly shook his head.
    “The little adventure has put one of my friends in great danger, Mr. Frankenstein.”
    Once again, I shot my hand outward. “That’s Doctor Frankenstein.”
    “I don’t care if you are a king or a god, you’ve placed a friend of mine in a dangerous position which nearly caused him to lose his life. Should Fishka not return from this journey, the consequences for you will be severe.”
    “If you do not hand over the letter addressed to me, I can promise you your life will be…”
    Before I could finish my statement, a leather-clad hand shot out of the darkness and gripped my wrist as if it fully intended to crush through meat and bone. I cried out; the grip released.
    “You know not with whom you are dealing, Frankenstein. One does not toy with me without suffering.” The hooded figure leaned in close. The stench of rot and liquor spilled from between his lips. “I’m watching you, Victor…and your wife. Misstep once more, and the chances of you ever performing surgery again will be nil. Is that clear?”
    This time, the threat hit home. I nodded quickly, and the grip released. The shadowy figure finally slipped the letter through the doorway and then disappeared into the night. Without hesitation, I spun on my heels, fell into the now-closed door, opened the letter, and read.
     
    Doctor Frankenstein,
     
    Though fraught with much peril, my arduous journey has borne fruit. I have managed to procure exactly what you have demanded and will very shortly return to Castle Frankenstein. I fully understand you require the brain in perfect order, so I have avoided using force and have turned to my old friend ether. During my travels home, I will do my utmost to protect the sanctity of the man’s faculties so that you may endeavor to succeed in your research.
    Expect me very soon.
    Your faithful servant,
     
    Igor Fishka
     
    The letter, which had been sealed in an unfamiliar black wax, was postmarked only yesterday. Even with his location a mystery, Igor could not have traveled far—therefore, my servant was close. How the prolonged exposure to ether would affect the brain, I was unsure. I did, however, know that, upon Igor’s arrival, the Frankenstein Theory would be put to its greatest and most profound test to date.
    I had to prepare. The laboratory was already in an ideal state to receive the subject. Every tool had been heated and soaked in alcohol, every surface cleaned and polished. And yet, from deep within my core, there was a frenetic energy building toward a need to do .
    That energy, I knew, would be best focused on my primary concerns: Mother and Elizabeth. Under normal conditions, their presence wouldn’t be an obstacle to success. What I was about to undertake would be, in no way, considered normal. I couldn’t predict how the machination of bringing the dead to life would unfold. That unknown dictated both ladies of the house be avoided at all costs—my appointment with the university, although false, took priority over attending to the currently inconsequential needs of a wife and mother. There would be plenty more minutes, hours, and days to come, each growing ever more significant, year after year. The opportunity to best