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

The photograph was of Lynn, his favorite shot of the beautiful young woman, taken one bright summer’s day when the two of them had enjoyed a picnic in Chicago.
    Lynn was wearing short cut-off jeans, and the pale smoothness of her thighs enticed him from the picture. She had her tight blouse tied-up in front, exposing her flat stomach, and stretched taut against her breasts.
    Winslow sighed. He had snapped that photograph on one of their last few days together that had not been, somehow, tainted by the shadow of Frankenstein’s monster. In the past, he had been obsessed with Lynn, but now his obsession was shared by a being whose essence was entirely the opposite of the blonde-haired beauty in the photograph.
    The American was still gazing longingly at the picture when he heard a familiar voice speak to him through the telephone.
    “Yes, this is Miss Powell.”
    “Lynn?” exclaimed Winslow. “Is that really you? This is Burt.”
    “Burt!” Lynn said happily. “I didn’t expect to hear from you for a few days yet. I was just getting ready to leave for the airport. How are you, dear?”
    “Fine, honey,” said Winslow, trying his best not to think of the reason he had come to the frozen North. “Glad I reached you. I was afraid you’d already taken off. I miss you... a lot.”
    “You too,” said the telephone voice.
    But even though he wished, at that moment, that he could take Lynn into his arms, Winslow could not help but blurt out, “Lynn, it’s all working out perfectly.” Unable to restrain himself, the floodgates burst open, with word after word relating his experiences with Fairfax and the expedition that was soon to take place. “And I’m certain that what Fairfax saw was the Monster, Lynn! And if it is, we’ll know tomorrow.”
    Lynn did not try to change the subject, as if she knew how futile an effort that might prove to be. “I’ve arranged everything just as you wanted me to, Burt,” she said. “I’ll be in Ingolstadt tomorrow when the boxes arrive. You’ve nothing to worry about.”
    Winslow smiled though Lynn could not see him. “Great,” he replied. “I can always count on you when I need you. Lynn, darling, you’re the best, most efficient assistant a scientist could ever hope for.”
    “Is that all?”
    “Well, unless there’s some other business I forgot to take care of before I left —”
    “That’s not what I mean,” she said with a distinct flutter in her voice, which Winslow thought, at first, to be in the telephone connection.
    “What?” he asked, already realizing that he had said the words.
    “I mean,” she continued, “I hope you haven’t entirely come to think of me only as your assistant.”
    “You know I haven’t,” he answered. “It’s just that...  well, I’ve got this thing inside me that’s pushing me on, making me find the truth.” He didn’t use the word but he guessed that it was already in her mind. It was a word he had come to despise. Obsession. If he could only erase it from the dictionary, he thought.
    “But once I’ve proven my theory, worked this all out in the only way I know how, then the two of us can start living again. Really living, just as we used to before.”
    There was a long silence.
    “I hope so, Burt,” Lynn finally replied. “Take care and be good.”
    “You too, honey.”
    “And be careful with those Eskimo girls. I don’t want to hear somewhere that you were caught rubbing noses in an igloo with some North Pole princess.”
    Winslow laughed quietly, then kissed the telephone mouthpiece so that Lynn could hear it and return a kiss. “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “I’m saving my nose, cold as it now is, for you.”
    After they said their goodbyes and Winslow hung up the receiver, the scientist was still looking at Lynn Powell’s photograph. Then he plopped himself down onto the bed and, once again, tried to sleep. He knew that he would need some sleep if he were to survive tomorrow’s