Author: dhsully
Company: US Army

Sample Chapter of Frankenstein and the Zombies

One

It became aware of its existence, but it was an existence in a world of blackness and silence.  Although it was conscious it possessed none of the five senses.  
There was no memory, no thought, no emotion; it was aware only that it existed.   It had no concept of time, no idea of when it came into being or how long it had existed.
It was not curious as to how or why it had come into being; it did not know and it did not care.
And then something happened.  A flash of memory.  It was but a short flash of a memory, lasting only seconds. And it was not a clear memory:  It vaguely remembered jumping from a ship moored in frigid waters amid mountains of ice.  It had landed on an ice floe, intending to end its life.  
The memory faded and its coma-like state returned.  
It did not know how much time passed before the next memory came.  It could have been seconds or it could have been years.  But this time the memory did not come and go in a flash. 
The memories came slowly at first, and then started flooding its mind.  It remembered feeling its first spark of life, and then discovering that the spark was given by its creator, Victor Frankenstein.
Then it remembered the conflict that developed between it and its creator.  Victor Frankenstein was bitterly disappointed, even remorseful, that he had created such a loathsome creature.  He had envisioned a being of grace and beauty, only to find that his creation was a hideous monster.
Victor  set out to destroy the obscene thing that he had created.  
And it, the hideous monster, resented being brought into a world where it would be regarded as a horrible freak, and to go through an existence of being feared and despised.
It hated its creator, but it could not bring itself to kill him, as much as it would have taken pleasure in doing so.  And since it could not bring itself to slay the man, though it could have done so easily, it decided to destroy any and everything that Victor Frankenstein loved and treasured.
It remembered the brutal murders, one by one, of anyone who happened to be dear to Victor Frankenstein, and the murders of any who had gotten in its way.  It remembered delighting in the grief and misery it had caused its creator.  
And it remembered the searing hatred, outrage, and burning desire for vengeance of Victor as he set out to destroy his creation.  It remembered fleeing its creator, who was obsessed with tracking down and destroying the monster he had unleashed on the world.
It fled, not because it feared Victor, for it knew that with its vastly superior strength and near invincibility, it could withstand any kind of assault that the man was capable of meting out.
It fled because it delighted in taunting the man.
Years passed as it was pursued by Victor Frankenstein.  It would sometimes allow its creator to get tantalizingly close, close enough for the man to think that he could overtake and destroy his wretched creation.  And then it would delight in once again slipping away, causing more anguish and frustration.
It left clues that marked its trail, leading the man on.  Sometimes it would leave clues by murdering and terrorizing large numbers of people in a village, knowing that the village would be in the path of its pursuer.
It finally led its pursuer into the desolate, frigid wilderness of the arctic.  Victor Frankenstein, being but a mortal man of flesh and blood, finally weakened and was near death when he came upon a ship on an expedition into the arctic.
The creature, upon becoming aware that his antagonist was no longer in pursuit, backtracked and found the ship.  It learned that the ship's captain, Robert Walton, had taken Victor aboard and attempted to nurture him back to health. But Victor was too far gone, and finally died aboard the ship.
Upon learning that its creator was dead, it felt no elation that the man he so hated had succumbed to the brutal environment of the arctic.  Instead it felt disappointment and frustration that Victor Frankenstein was now beyond any harm that it could cause the man.
Over the years, its sole purpose of existence had been to torment its creator, to punish him for giving the spark of life to a vile creature that would suffer through a wretched existence.  
It learned that Victor Frankenstein had told the ship's captain the whole story about creating a monster and of his pursuit of the vile creature with an obsession to destroy it.  
The instant that the creature laid eyes on the lifeless body of its creator, it decided to end its own miserable existence.  It jumped from the ship and landed on an ice floe, which it intended to ride through the freezing waters until even its powerful body would perish from constant exposure to the frigid temperatures of the arctic.
It remembered everything now: How the ice floe on which it had been riding had collided with a huge sheet of ice.  It had abandoned the floe and set out hiking across the ice sheet.  
It trudged across the sheet for months on end as it wandered the the harsh wilderness of the arctic.  It lost track of time as it continued its endless trek.  
The seemingly endless exposure to the brutal cold finally began to take its toll on its body.  But during that time it had gradually developed a will to live; it no longer had a desire to end its existence.  Instead it began thinking of a way out of this perilous desolation.
But it had already suffered too much damage, even to the superhuman body that it possessed.  It remembered those last hours before collapsing on the ice sheet.  It struggled to keep moving, but finally decided that it needed to rest and restore its body.  It fell and lost consciousness.  
But now it was awakened.  Though it had regained a measure of strength, it was still weak.  It resumed its trek, determined more than ever to find its way out of this frigid wasteland.  But it now had lost any sense of direction.  There was blinding white wilderness everywhere.  For all it knew it could be going in an endless circle.
There were several other times that it collapsed, then revived to continue its trek.  But each time it collapsed it grew weaker, and its memory grew dimmer.  It barely remember its goal, and even how and why it was here.
The last time it collapsed, it awakened to discover that it was no longer on the ice sheet, but had reached land.  Plants were now pushing up through the snow, which was now not so deep.  Though small and sparse, the presence of the plants gave it new hope.  
Though still cold, the climate here was perceptibly warmer.   It was now regaining its strength.  It continued on with no more collapsing, and though its body grew stronger with each passing day, its mind was not recovering.  It remembered the past only vaguely and also had trouble focusing on the present.
Then one morning, by the silver-gray light just before sunrise, it saw something ahead.  As it drew nearer, it appeared to be structures.  It was a village on the bank of fairly wide river.
Lights were on in some of the cottages, but no one could be seen moving about except for two men who were pushing a rowboat into the water, apparently preparing for a fishing trip.
The men now saw it as it approached.  They shouted something that sounded like a greeting.  It shouted back, intending to ask the men if they would row him across the river.
But it could form no words with its mouth; though it intended to speak, only loud growls and guttural noises came from its throat.  The years, perhaps decades, it had spent in the arctic had done something to damage its ability to speak.
The men now saw it up close and jumped up and ran toward the village, shouting and screaming as they ran.  Moments later people began pouring out of the houses. 
It pushed the large rowboat into the river and began rowing.  The strength of its arms pulling the oars moved the boat through the water rapidly.
It had intended to use the boat to cross the river.  But before reaching the other side it changed its mind and began moving with the current, toward what it hoped would be the open sea. 
It did not take long.  It reached the mouth of the river well before sunset.  The water became rougher and rougher, and it was finally out to sea in rolling swells. The small craft bobbed and lurched, but proved to be seaworthy.
It rowed day and night.  As the days, then weeks passed it became warmer and warmer.  Soon a hot sun was beating down on the creature and it felt the stifling heat.  But it rowed on, its strength now fully recovered since leaving the frigid wastes of the arctic.  But its mind, damaged by exposure to many years of numbing cold, had never recovered.
Somewhere, in the deep recesses of its mind, it was aware of the damage its mind had suffered.  It would try to speak, but its voice was nothing more than grunts and growls.  At times it lost sight of its goal; but it kept rowing, not really knowing why.
The memory of its creator, Victor Frankenstein, was still there, but it had grown dim.  It vaguely remembered the enmity between it and the man, but could not remember how or why they had become enemies.
Day after day the heat continued, seemingly endless, until one day clouds began to gather.  Soon dark clouds covered the sky.  The sun could no longer be seen.  The weather grew cooler and winds picked up.  The wind increased and the seas grew rougher until the creature could no longer control the craft.  The oars were useless now.
As the out-of-control craft spun and pitched, the creature spotted land.  It was in the distance, but it caught a glimpse of a few mountains rising out of the wild, churning sea.  But at the instant it spotted land, it stood up in the boat to get a better look, causing the boat to pitch.  
The boat capsized and the creature found itself floundering in the swirling waters.  It had no experience with swimming, and was sinking into the depths.  Though its body was powerful and nearly indestructible, it fought to breathe, but only drew water into its lungs.  It survived for a period, but finally succumbed to the watery depths.