Frankenstein Page #11

.And he grabs the lever on the platform and pulls to start

it spinning, with a mighty heave, he sets the whole thing

gliding in motion, CAMERA TRACKING FASTER AND FASTER as he

rolls it along the ceiling track through the lab, passing

table after table of desiccated leftovers and discarded

scraps, LIGHTNING BLAZING through the windows to mark his

way with wild and sinister shadows ...

... and he yanks the platform to a stop over the copper

sarcophagus. Amniotic fluid steaming and murky within. He

positions the platform, unties the rope, lowers the Creature

down and down, lower and lower, sinking into the vat, the

steel grate a perfect fit in size and shape.

Faster now, moving furiously. Reaching into the murk,

unhooking the chains. Arraying the copper wire through air-

tight guide holes. Spinning on his heels and reaching up,

grabbing hold of the upper shell of the sarcophagus also

suspended from the ceiling, stunningly heavy, gleaming with

reflections and secrets. CAMERA ROCKETS DOWN on Victor as he

swings the upper shell into position, lowers it into place

with a THUD-CLANK! Working the wing-nuts on the bolts,

spinning frantically, tightening them down, sealing the

sarcophagus air-tight. Faster now. Faster.

(CONTINUED)

50

The frenzy builds and the CAMERA GOES WILD, rocketing,

zooming, gliding, spinning the audience on its ear:

Frankenstein. Turning up the heat on the burners. Cooking

the copper from below. Double double, toil and trouble.

Frankenstein. Gazing through the thick glass portholes

checking on his creation drifting in the murk.

Frankenstein. Whipping up the galvanic batteries,

supercharging them with steam generators. Watching as they

send voltage humming and throbbing through the copper cables

along the ceiling beams. Building up a charge.

Frankenstein. Gazing at his gleaming handiwork. LIGHTNING

painting his features into a twisted mask. Hand on the

switch. Ready to rev it up and throw the throttle.

Over it goes. WHAM! Overdrive.

The body convulses violently in its copper womb as the first

jolt of electricity hits. THUNX-THUNK-THUNK! Blazing with

energy and arcane light, fingers of light throbbing through

the portholes, sparkling, glittering, seeking.

Frankenstein races to the sarcophagus. A long glass tube,

two feet in diameter and ribbed with steel, gets lowered on

a boom and rammed into a hole, collate spun tight, inner dam

wrenched out like a Polaroid plate.

He reaches up and grabs holds of a pull-chain, fingers going

knuckle-white on the wooden handle. one hard yank. A dump-

tank is released, murky water cascading down the glass tube.

And here's the final perversion, the ultimate icing on this

twisted cake:
the copper sarcophagus is literally a womb,

with the giant glass tube serving as a massive gleaming

phallus down which come pouring dozens of electric eels,

wriggling and streaming like huge black sperm ...

EEL POV (IN THE TUBE)

... rocketing down the tube, slithering and squirming,

faster and faster, racing into the sarcophagus, seeking out

the creation in the murky womb-fluid, lashing at the hapless

gray flesh, zapping it again with high-intensity voltage.

the Creature convulsing, thrashing, jerking from side to

side, raising its head against the top, mouth gaping open

and shut, jaws snapping with electrical surges.

Frankenstein's face appears at the porthole, peering in,

watching his dark seed fertilize his unholy child.

VICTOR:

(muffled through the glass)

Live, you bastard!

(CONTINUED)

51

A huge bony hand slaps against the porthole, fingers clawing

and spasming against the glass.

FRANKENSTEIN jerks his head back, stunned. The fingers are

scratching. He turns, runs to the electrical rig, shutting

the whole thing down. It cycles off, whining into silence

INSIDE THE SARCOPHAGUS

... and the body relaxes, shutting down with it, going limp

and lifeless in the murk, spasms trailing off.

FRANKENSTEIN stares at the sarcophagus. Realizing his

creation has stopped moving. Nothing now. He sags to his

knees, utterly devastated at the loss of his dream. Nothing.

It was all for nothing ...

INSIDE THE SARCOPHAGUS

... And The Creature opens its dim yellow eyes, Aware. Its

mouth goes wide, teeth bared in a silent scream as it tries

to breathe and finds nothing in its lungs but fluid.

FRANKENSTEIN is wrapped in his despair, face cradled in his

hands. A SOFT TAP. He glances over his fingers. Thinking he

imagined it. No. There's another tap. And another.

We see it in his eyes. Sheer joy and stunned exultation.

Triumph and wonder unbelievably sublime. A bare whisper:

VICTOR:

It's alive. It's alive.

And then hell breaks loose: Massive convulsions wrack the

sarcophagus, damn near shaking it off its cradle. THUMP-

THUMP-THUMPI Pounding from within. Head ramming against the

inner lid. He races over, frantic, fingers fumbling on the

wing-nuts, spinning them loose, trying to free the drowning

man within. He unscrews the final bolt, reaches for the rope

to hoist the lid away ...

... and the lid launches itself across the room, propelled

from below with rocket-booster force. The massive copper

shell goes hurtling/spinning/cartwheeling across the lab,

demolishing an amazing array of equipment in its path, and

thunders massively off the wall in an explosion of masonry

and splintering coat rack. Victor's greatcoat goes flying.

(CONTINUED)

52

Silence. Frankenstein is frozen. Staring at the roiling

surface of the amniotic fluid as it settles. An eternity

passes in the space of a heartbeat.

The Creature erupts from the vat like a vision from Hell,

thrashing and gagging. murky fluid cascading in all

directions-, The Creature seizes Victor by the shirtfront,

trying to pull itself from the vat, slipping and sliding

like an epileptic in a bathtub full of oil, damn near

dragging Victor in, eels leaping and frothing and crackling

with electricity. Victor screaming, trying to pull away,

trying to break the Creature's grip ...

... and the whole thing tips over. Victor reels back,

falling as the vat SLAMS to the ground, cascading its murky

contents,, washing the Creature limply across the floor like

a body tossed from the ocean, eels flipping and flopping,

snapping electrical discharges into the air. Victor

scrambles back, slipping and sliding on the amniotic muck,

desperately jerking his legs away. He finds his traction and

scrambles to his feet.

The Creature is grasping and crawling toward him. Flopping

and jerking. Gripped by seizures and convulsions. Vomiting

murky liquid as his lungs heave grotesquely to dispel the

fluid. Swiping the air with palsied hands. Malfunctional.

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