Disclaimer: All due respect to Thomas Harris for creating these wonderful characters.
Chapter 1
Clarice Starling's mustang most certainly did not boom up the gravel service road to Mason Verger's estate, but rather stealthily crept to avoid any unwanted attention. It took every ounce of control in her body not to punch the gas when she heard the blood-curdling screams play across the speakers, but her experience and intuition held steady, for in reality she had no idea what to expect once she reached the barn. One side of her wanted to get there as soon as possible, the other half in some way hoped the journey would never end so that she wouldn't have to face what she was ultimately about to do. She slowed to a stop and got out of the car feeling both apprehensive and exhilarated.
What do you do to get up your nerve, Clarice? Do you envision scenarios, tableaux's…
Her father leaving for his night shift waving goodbye; her mother washing the blood out of his hat.
Not the scenario I was hoping for…
The barn door flew open. "Clarice Starling, FBI! Drop your weapon!"
Of all the possible scenarios I imagined on the way over here, this was not one of them…
Carlo and Pierro inside the pen froze in the middle of their preparations for the evening's events. Deputy Mogli, sitting in a chair propped against the wall, a cigarette falling from his mouth, extinguished on the dirt floor; and there in the flood light sat Dr. Lecter in all his glory, hoisted on a forklift, chained to a crudely-fashioned cross as if he were Jesus Christ himself.
"Ah, Special Agent Starling, so glad you could make it." He greeted her as if she'd just shown up fashionably late for a dinner party. He could smell her before he could see her-- smell her as she crouched behind the barn door working her nerve up. The scent of Evian skin crème, a mixture of fear and excitement, and the scent that was purely Clarice Starling was enough to make his pupils dilate a fraction of a degree.
"Nice to see you've kept your sense of humor, doctor." She quipped back.
"Get down on the ground. Keep your hands where I can see them." Without looking, Clarice retrieved two sets of handcuffs from her back pocket and threw them at Carlo and Pierro. "Cuff your hands to his ankles and vice versa. Do it now." Carlo hesitated a moment until he saw in her eyes that she would kill them both if they did not comply, and slowly put on the cuffs. Snapping back to reality, Deputy Mogli unwisely made a poor attempt to draw his firearm. He hadn't so much as flicked the button off the holster as Clarice shot a single bullet right through his deputy star. Carlo had known better than to move.
Clarice approached Dr. Lecter and retrieved a small knife from her back pocket. She was silently thankful that Mason had opted for the mask, since freeing the doctor meant that she would have to climb on to the forklift face to face with him.
"Tell me Clarice, did you like the shoes?"
"Shut up. Do right, and you'll live through this. You touch me, I'll shoot you."
"Spoken like a true Protestant."
Brave little Starling, such strong words, though I highly doubt you actually mean them.
Clarice ignored the last comment as she proceeded to cut the rope binding his left hand. She truly did not know what she was going to do next. As soon as his left hand was free, she jumped down from the forklift and kept her gun fixated on him. She threw her third set of handcuffs on the ground in front of the forklift, and handed Dr. Lecter the knife.
"Cut yourself down, then cuff yourself."
"Just how many sets of handcuffs did you bring, Clarice?" He was taunting her as he cut the final straps on the back of the mask..
"Three."
"Three? Watch it, there were four."
Before she had time to turn around, Tomasso, armed with the tranquilizer gun aimed and fired a dart square into Dr. Lecter's chest. Dr. Lecter, his face giving no sign of pain or emotion, fell to the ground. Clarice fired three rounds blind into the direction of the dart, but Tomasso had taken cover. Quickly, she scrambled over to the doctor and pulled the dart out. It had bent on the breast plate-- she assessed the doctor may not have gotten the full dosage. As she pulled him behind the forklift for cover, Dr. Lecter seized her arm with a force that made her jump.
"599 Chestnut Cove, Chesapeake…" Maroon eyes faded into black as he lay unconscious on the barn floor.
Gunshots broke her silent revelry as Tomasso fired off two rounds-- one hitting the ground near Dr. Lecter's head, the other penetrating deep into her left shoulder. Clarice fell to the ground, cursing herself for losing focus, and darted behind the forklift for cover. Using the forklift's mirror, she was able to shoot three rounds into Tomasso's chest as he reloaded. Blood flowed from Clarice's shoulder leaving a wet-sticky feeling that made her sick to her stomach. Adrenaline dulled the pain for now, but she new it was just a matter of time. She could hear the pigs made wild by the scent charging the gate, and the doomed Carlo and Pierro, speaking frantically in Italian, desperately trying to crawl out of the pin. She seized hold of the doctor, pulled him out of the pin, and closed the main gate just as the pigs broke free, devouring Carlo and Pierro alive.
Starling's shoulder burned as she dragged Dr. Lecter to safety, and soon realized that there was no way she would be able to get him to the car. She would have to leave him, get her car, and drive back to the barn.
"Make it quick, Starling." She thought it odd in that moment that when speaking to herself, she would address herself by her last name, perhaps attempting to forge some sense of duty that no longer remained. She new she didn't want to leave the doctor alone, though the reasons for which were unclear. She grabbed her keys and jogged as quickly as her injury would allow her back to her car. She didn't want to think about what she was going to do next.
"Do I call the FBI?" The thought of handcuffing the doctor and locking him in the trunk until the authorities arrived struck her as immensely comical in that moment. He had killed 16 people that they knew of and yet for some God-forsaken reason she hadn't the time to think of, the idea of seeing the doctor locked up for the rest of his life just felt-- wrong. Besides, what did she expect to happen when the FBI showed up?
"Would they reinstate you, Clarice? Would they give you a big, shiny medal, your prestigious F--B--I?"
"Get out of my head, Doctor." She quickly glanced around to make sure no one heard her speak aloud.
The cold, clammy truth was that she had killed four people that night, imposing as a law enforcement officer, while rescuing one of the most horrific serial killers the world has ever known. She would go to jail. Truth's a bitch, ain't it. She could almost see the smile playing on Paul Krendler's face. He would most certainly see to it that she would take full blame for all the events that took place.
"Will you come to my cell and hold my hand, Clarice? We could have a lot of fun…" She shuddered at the thought.
Fuck the FBI, we're going to Chesapeake.
As she drove the mustang closer to the barn, she half-expected, half-hoped the doctor would be gone; yet there he was, lying perfectly unconscious in the same spot where she had left him. Christ her shoulder hurt. She opened the passenger door and with much difficulty, hoisted the doctor in, putting as little weight on her left shoulder as possible. When she finally got the doctor inside, she walked as calmly as her nerves would allow her to the driver's side, and never looked back.