Free Frankenstein Lives Again (The New Adventures of Frankenstein) by Donald F. Glut, Mark D. Maddox Page A

he could perceive a large flash of silver which was reflecting the light of the sun. As he drove the sled dogs onward in that direction, Winslow could identify the tail of an airplane.
    “There!” he shouted to Dupré, releasing one hand from his reins to point out the snow-covered object. “That’s it! That’s got to be Fairfax’s crashed plane!”
    The Frenchman saw the ship and nodded in acknowledgment. He tried to yell back to Winslow but his voice failed to carry through the wind and over the yelping of his team.
    “Looks like Fairfax was telling the truth!” shouted Winslow. "At least, so far!”
    The two sleds speeded in the direction Fairfax had told them to go. The sweeping winds no longer seemed to matter, nor did the stinging coldness of the men’s faces. They forced the huskies to draw them faster until, there, standing up from the snow like some frozen gravestone, was a peculiar block of ice, shining in the sunlight like a beckoning mirror.
    “ Over there !” Winslow roared, pointing.
    Both Winslow and Dupré stared at the upright piece of ice as their teams pulled them closer to it. They could see the dark area that betrayed the fact that there was, indeed, something inside th ice block — something imprisoned. As they drew steadily closer they could discern that the shadowy form was vaguely the shape of a large . . . man.
    It could be nothing other than the Ice God!
    Fired by enthusiasm, both men pulled hard on their reins forcing their teams and sleds to a halt.
    “Burt,” the Frenchman started, then paused, “do you think—?”
    “I don’t think,” the American interrupted. “Pierre, I know!”
    “Then come on,” said Pierre, “and let’s get up there!”
    Taking their packs of equipment, their rifles and pistols, the two explorers trudged through the snow toward the ice block. Behind them, the dogs howled, almost in a warning against their approach toward the darkened form within the block. Like two enthusiastic children — or obsessed madmen — they reached the glassy slab and brushed aside the snow that had settled there.
    That done, the men stepped back in awe, gasping.
    The giant thing loomed above their heads, peering out with a frozen snarl through the obscuring ice, its features twisted into a petrified mask of horror.
    “It’s ... it is ... “ began Dupré, who found himself speechless and unable to proceed with his intended description. He could only gawk with wonder and hope that his friend would speak in his place.
    “Yes, Pierre,” said Winslow, who was surprisingly calm, given all that had led up to this moment, “it’s the Frankenstein monster.” He then stared at the hideous being in the ice in silent reverence, as if it surely were a deity of the frozen North.
    “Come on,” said Dupre’, taking a pick in his hand and gripping it tightly. “Let’s begin chopping away the ice so we can get the thing back to the truck.”
    Winslow, who had been staring trancelike at the ice block, suddenly snapped back to reality.
    “Yes!” he agreed. “But we’ll chop away just enough of the ice to get it back by dogsled. But not too much of the ice. I don’t want him thawing out on us.”
    “Thawing out?” asked the Frenchman. “What does that matter? The Monster looks dead in that ice. How could — ?”
    But Winslow was shaking his head, a quite sober look on his face.
    “If Victor Frankenstein really did succeed in making his creation immortal, then don’t you think for a moment that the Monster is dead. If that ice thaws out, the creature could revive on us which is something I won’t let happen — at least not here. He’s not going to come back to life until I’ve made all the preparations I need, taken all the precautions, given him all the power to make him completely well. Bringing him back to some kind of ‘half-life’ or in a weakened condition could be disastrous, both for the Monster and for our knowledge of him.”
    “I’m beginning to