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Authors: Joe R. Lansdale

Tags: #Western, #Fantasy

Flaming Zeppelins (5 page)

BOOK: Flaming Zeppelins
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“You betcha,” Buntline said.

“Give me a crank, Ned. Give me two.”

Buntline complied. Cody's hair stood on end and the jar glowed. When the moment passed, Cody's hair collapsed in the fluid to float. And Cody began to talk.

“Once up a time I had a body with this head. Pretty damn good body, I might add. I've told many tales about how I ended up this way, but, as you might suspect, they are all lies, some of them concocted by my friend Buntline here.

“My head was not cut off with a tomahawk, as has been reported, nor did I have an accident learning to fly an airplane or drive one of those horseless carriages. Nor was I in an incident with a herd of swine. That's one I didn't make up, I'm quick to admit. That was one of Buntline's. Turn the crank, will you, Ned.”

Ned took hold of the crank and went to work.

“That's better. It all happened back at my place, The Welcome Wigwam on the North Platte. Christmas of two years ago. It was a great night at home. It was cold as a castrated pig's nuts in a tin basin, and it was snowing. Louisa and I had guests. Sam Morse and his wife. Their friends Professor Maxxon, his lab assistant, B. Harper, and his lovely wife Ginny. Also present was the beautiful young stage performer, Lily Langtry. They were spending the night with us. The Morses and Maxxons in the guest house, all others in the main house. There had been much playing of the piano and singing aloud around the Christmas tree. The usual holiday frivolities.

“Truth was, Morse, Maxxon and Harper were there to do scientific work in my outbuildings. They were trying to bring a cadaver back to life. A horrible thing, I assure you, but fascinating nonetheless, and I was anxious to have them there because they were such good company, and because Miss Langtry was a dear friend of Sam Morse's. A lovely woman, clothed or unclothed. Wonderful as a spring morning, only a lot more fun.

“The good news was my wife, Louisa, went to bed early. And I went to bed not much later. With Miss Langtry. The bad news is my wife, normally a sound sleeper, slept less soundly this night, and Miss Langtry, a vocal nightingale under any circumstance, hit a high note during our visitation. It awoke Louisa. She discovered us together, took the fire axe from the dining hall and struck me from behind.

“It wasn't a killing blow, but it nearly severed my head from my shoulders. Once Louisa realized what she had done, she let out a scream that awoke Morse and the others. Miss Langtry began to scream as well.

“Morse immediately set about stopping the flow of blood, and with the aid of Harper and Maxxon, got me out to the lab they had made in one of my outbuildings. They immediately placed me in the bathtub there and packed it with snow. I don't remember feeling cold, or feeling much of anything. I vaguely remember the tub was where they cut up dead bodies for use in their research, and now I was in it. But I didn't give that much thought. I was sailing away, folks, that's what I was doing. The Happy Hunting Grounds had done thrown me up a teepee.

“Well sir, Maxxon and Morse struck upon a bold plan. They had had no success in reviving a corpse, but perhaps their knowledge could save me. Morse contrived the battery jar, the fluid was a creation of Maxxon's. He had been using the fluid for some time as a preservative for body parts.

“They had been working on the theory that if you charged Morse's electrical energy into Maxxon's chemicals, it would not only act as a method of preserving, but would actually cause the nerves in severed limbs, and perhaps even brain cells, to continue to function.

“Since I didn't have a lot of options, they decided to operate. My head was completely removed, placed in this jar you now see, and an electric current was applied.

“Obviously, it worked. Later, the battery, the cranker, and the voice horn were added. Then of course Frank Reade provided the steam man's body and Doctor Charles Darwin has made a few suggestions. But the bottom line is yet to come. And that is Victor Frankenstein.”

“Frankenstein?” Annie said. “I thought that was just a story. This all sounds like a story. One of your stories.”

“This one's true, Annie. And Frankenstein, he's real. And so is his monster. Morse and Maxxon were much aware of Frankenstein's work, but had been unable to duplicate it.

“Maxxon had tried to produce a man out of chemicals, what he called the very stew of life, but had failed. As you might suspect, he was not vocal about his results, for obvious reasons. He had failed, and the fact that he had tried was enough for some authorities and citizens to rise up in arms and maybe lynch him. The very idea of it was aberrant to many.”

“It's aberrant to me,” Annie said.

“I just recently learned that word,” Cody said. “And I've been wanting to work it into conversation. How did I do?”

“Good enough,” Hickok said.

“So, it's aberrant to you, Annie,” Cody said. “But think about it. Without it, I wouldn't be here.”

“But you weren't created,” Annie said. “You were saved. That's not the same as bringing back the dead, or creating a human being out of electricity and chemicals.”

“True,” Cody said. “That kind of business upsets the Christians, and I don't think it does the Moslems any good either. But it can be done. Frankenstein managed to cobble dead bodies into a man, and with a charge of lightning, brought it to life.

“Morse and Maxxon teamed up, decided to try and approach Doctor Frankenstein, and Doctor Momo, another scientist working on the problem, to see if collectively they could find an answer. Something more successful than a living dead man. They felt with Maxxon's knowledge of chemicals, Morse's of electricity, Frankenstein's knowledge of anatomy, and Momo's understanding of surgery, they would be able to fill in the blanks for one another.

“How would this help you?” Bill said.

“In the process of learning how to create a human being, they felt assured they could, with Frankenstein's help, refasten my body to its head. Use me as a kind of lab rat. An experiment in preparation for the greater experiment.

“However, Momo was eliminated immediately. He had left England some time before and had not been heard from since. It was rumored he had lost his marbles.

“Then it was learned that Frankenstein had gone to the Arctic in search of his creation. It was his intent to kill it. Story isn't clear, but it's said the doctor was lost in the frozen waste, perhaps killed by his creation. Certainly the monster killed Frankenstein's wife, so the creature was capable of it.”

“How horrible,” Annie said. “That's the kind of result you can expect, tampering with nature.”

“Perhaps,” Cody said. “But the creature turned up in Russia, was captured, sold to Takeda. This we knew. Takeda bought him with the express purpose of making aphrodisiacs by cutting off pieces of him and turning them into a powder. This was on the advice of his Master Physician, who has ulterior motives. Like finding out what makes this creature live.”

“How do you know that?” Bill asked.

“Because the Master Physician is an agent for the United States. He has scientific interests that are smothered by Takeda's war interests. He's been turning information over to our country with the understanding that he may come to the U.S. to live, and there have the opportunity to expand his knowledge and interest in medicine.

“The Master Physician offered the creature to our country along with the information he was providing. Our country was not all that interested in the thing, but I was. And so were the good doctors who saved me.

“So, when there was an opportunity to take The Wild West Show here on a diplomatic mission, I jumped at the chance. I thought I might kill two birds with one large rock. I'd make a good deal for our country with Takeda, then maybe make a personal deal for the monster, take him home for Morse and Maxxon to look over and study. The first part of the plan is shot. I know that now. And I doubt that helps the second part of the plan. So, what we're going to do is something different.”

“How different?” Hickok asked.

“We're gonna steal the old boy and hustle him home to Welcome Wigwam where the boys, wives and assistants, and of course the smug Louisa, wait to do their work. They on the monster, Louisa on me. Her tongue is as sharp as any scalpel.”

“How did it work out with Miss Langtry and your wife?” Annie asked.

“Louisa apologized, but I got to tell you, an apology for something like that, it just doesn't have the impact you'd hope for. I forgave her, but I didn't forget. I'm thinking of divorce.

“As for Miss Langtry, she was disappointed in the whole state of affairs, especially since we failed to finish our mission of that night, but pledged silence. She went home on the next train. I suspect she's doing now what she's always done. Performing in stage shows.”

“With donkeys and her tied to a barrel,” Annie said.

“What was that?” Cody said. “Speak up.”

“I said, you can't really blame your wife. You're not exactly the most faithful husband in the world.”

“Well, dear, not everyone can be like your Frank, God bless his soul. I was at fault, no doubt, for I love a skirt, or rather, and pardon my boldness, what is under it. But chopping off my goddamn head. Now that's severe.”

“Not in my book,” Annie said.

“I'm not trying to force anyone to get involved with my plight,” Cody said. “But if I can convince just a few, for it is a mission better accomplished by a few, to help me, then I have a chance to live a normal life. The creature will be spared a slow death, brought home for honest scientific study.”

“Won't he be cut up there?” Annie said.

“Possibly,” Cody said.

“Then what's better about his situation?” Annie asked.

“Oh, hell,” Cody said. “I admit I'm more worried about my situation. Look at it this way. He's dead already, so what's to lose?”

“Nothing says he'll certainly be dissected.” Hickok said. “Am I right?”

“Right,” Cody said.

“Then at least he's better off for a while, and maybe forever,” Hickok said.

“I don't feel right about it,” Annie said.

“Count me in,” Hickok said.

“Ned?” Cody asked.

“I get whiskey out of this deal?”

“You do.”

“I'm in.”

“Annie, darling. What about you?”

“I don't like it,” Annie said. “But since the Japanese are double-crossing our government, and it gives the monster some chance at freedom, why not?”

“Good,” Cody said. “It's wonderful to have you. There are a few others I'm going to ask for assistance. But only a few. A small group is best. And we'll only need a skeleton crew to operate my personal zeppelin. We'll send everyone else home, then…well, let's just hope the Japanese don't read Homer and the Master Physician is as trustworthy a spy as he seems. He did, after all, study at Harvard. Ned. The time.”

Ned removed his pocket watch from his pants pocket, opened it, told Cody the time.

“Two hours from now, the Master Physician will be ready to receive a message. Ned, this is what I want you to tell him…”

When the show came to an end that night, and ceremonies were observed, Cody set a crew of men to work. By morning the mules were pulling a large wheeled platform into the arena, near the edge, next to the great tent of the Master Physician.

The platform was thirty feet long, twenty feet wide and five feet deep. On it sat a Conestoga wagon fashioned from the lumber of prefab animal pens and leather. It had been worked on carefully by Cody's craftsmen: carpenters, tailors, etc. It was a beautiful thing. The leather covering of the Conestoga — mocking what should actually have been canvas — was brightly painted with trees, buffalo and a rising sun. Inside the Conestoga were a number of gifts. Indian blankets, beaver hats, jerked meat, jarred jellies, and a fairly lifelike female sex doll fashioned from leather, paint and human hair. The doll had been pumped full of air, and had the proper anatomical adjustments.

Almost instantly after the delivery of the Conestoga, The Wild West show folded and loaded. The zeppelins rose, their steam-driven motors kicked in, and they sailed west, leaving their gift behind.

The delivery of the wagon had not gone unnoticed by the Japanese. The departure of the American fleet had been rude and unceremonious, but at least they had left a box of treasures. Takeda surveyed them, had the wagon searched for trap doors and the like, found none. He gave a few of the gifts to select soldiers, placed the wagon under guard, then retired to his tent with the leather blow-up doll and the intention of testing its function.

Deep in the night, the wind came down out of the north and brought dampness with it, spread it over the great camp of Takeda, and over the unlucky guards protecting the gift from The Wild West Show. The air turned chilly, and so did the soldiers.

The Master Physician, feigning insomnia, came from his tent smiling, carrying a gourd full of sake. He offered some to each of the guards in little wooden cups he carried in a knotted rope bag coated in wax. Shortly after swallowing the liquor, all of the guards collapsed into a deep sleep. Later, early morning, they would be awakened by their skin being removed slowly from their bodies with a sharp piece of bamboo. Their reward for failure.

When the guards collapsed, the Master Physician gave the side of the wagon's platform a hard kick. Hesitated. Kicked again. Then kicked twice. He immediately disappeared inside his tent.

The sides of the platform on which the wagon rested opened, and a very hot and uncomfortable group of men, and Annie, all dressed in black, their faces smeared with ash, (except Cetshwayo, whose skin was already black as the night sky) slid out into the darkness and rain, and slipped into the nearby tent of the Master Physician.

Inside there was only one lantern burning. But Hickok, Cetshwayo, Annie, Bull and Captain Jack had enough light to see the Master Physician and a man seated on the ground, dressed in a blue and white kimono. He had a leather mask over the lower half of his face, his feet — one foot actually and a block of wood — were bound in front of him, his hands behind his back. For insurance, he had been wrapped in strong silk cord.

BOOK: Flaming Zeppelins
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