Where were you when it happened? The common, simple question is always asked when you first meet another survivor. It has taken the place of "how are you" or "how is the weather". Will can remember where he was. It was the last day that everything seemed to be going well. He woke up early from a nightmare; another stag had walked across his dream. But someone had run out of the darkness, screaming, charged the stag and ripped out its throat.
These cases were getting worse. The past three victims, all found in fields, were torn to shreds then left to rot. There was little left for the people to identify anything about the victims with. As Will attempted to watch this killer at work, he found it wasn't actually working. The cases were so sporadic that the only way they could identify them as the same killer was the lack of similarity. A true psychopathic killer.
Will sighed as he dragged the laptop, which Crawford had forced on him a month ago as a birthday present, and powered it back on. The article he had been reading the night before filled the screen. Yet another person was killed while hyped up on Bath Salts. He had been conversing with another man, in the streets of New York City, and had stopped mid-conversation and had ripped out the other man's throat. The man had been shot by an on duty cop. The attacker died, after a shot to the head, his friend was rushed to the hospital.
Will was drawn from his morbid thoughts when Winston licked the fingers of his left hand, which had been resting on his leg. Will smirked and pet Winston's head before refreshing his internet browser and closing the lid. He did not see the updated article that seven, three of them ambulance drivers, were killed by the friend of the late Bath Salts victim.
As Will scooped some dog food out of the can, some of the generic store brand, his phone rang. He glanced down at it, sighed in both frustration and exhaustion, and answered.
"Will, we have to go," Hannibal's calm and cold voice brought Will out of his day dream into the present. Will Graham, age thirty-four, holder of a Master in Phycology, Bachelors in Literature and a Doctorate in Forensics; was now stuck in hell. This state might have been alleviated by his company, the still somehow immaculate Doctor Hannibal Lecter, but he was in the ninth circle none the less. Reaching to the ground next to him, Will picked up the shot gun that sat to his right. Winston sat up from where he had been laying at his masters movements.
Shouldering his gun, Will trailed behind Hannibal, who seemed to know where he was going, even in this hell. Will studied Hannibal, he couldn't help it, and he couldn't shut it off. Hannibal, who had always been in a well pressed suit, he had always been very careful what he put into his body; now he wore a pair of jeans, faded but no holes, a clean t-shirt with a blood red blazer jacket over it. He always changed clothes when they passed through a town. Will looked up at his surroundings, attempting to break his mind of the habit, and he realized he had some idea as to where he was.
"Where are we going?" Will asked perplexed as to why they would be where they were. Hannibal stopped and half-turned to face his traveling companion. He smiled then began walking back to Will.
"I was beginning to wonder," Hannibal began once he had reached Will "when you would realize our destination. I must say, you caught on faster than I thought."
"You're not answering my question."
"I think you already know the answer."
"Tell me where it is we are going!"
"New York City." Hannibal's calm was driving Will nuts. The whole world goes insane, and the one who was crazy to begin with becomes the only sane one left.
"So, So we are going to…?" Will couldn't continue so Hannibal did for him.
"To where this all began, yes," Hannibal stated before turning to continue down the path. Will followed, for lack of a better idea. He didn't want to go there, he didn't want to see all the corpses, both walking around and lying dead. He didn't want the visions, he never wanted the visions.
At night fall Hannibal stopped walking. He was always the one to bring the caravan to a halt for the night. He never allowed a fire, unless they had food that needed to be cooked, and that only happened when they were within a town. He always took first watch. They hadn't stopped in any of the houses along the way to scout for food, Hannibal still maintain a close eye on what he ate and when he ate, seemed to have forgone the idea of food today for the sake of getting closer to their target.
They sat in silence. Will sitting with his back to a tree. Hannibal sitting on a rock hands clasped between his knees, like he was ready to analyze Will. Winston was lying out on the ground at Will's feet. This was normal. Soon Hannibal would suggest Will get some rest. Will would try, of course never actually achieving true sleep, and then half way through the night he would take over watch for Hannibal.
He had never slept well before, because if his empathetic imagination. Now he didn't sleep because all he had were memories of good times. Memories of eating breakfast with Hannibal in his hotel room. Memories of his father and him working on engines in the shipping yard. Memories of his time spent with Abigail, Alana and Jack. These were always the worst, because these dreams would end the same as reality. But he tried to sleep all the same.
"Is this our same killer?" Jack asked looking down at the body. Will was crouched down next to it, studying everything as he tried to relive the murder. But the job seemed half done, and recently to due to the state of decay. It's wasn't working, something was very different and wrong with all of this.
"Jack!" Katz ran over to Jack and Will holding a manila folder. She came to a stop right before her boss, slightly panting but a smile still plastered on her face. "You are never going to believe this. We have a match; five actually, to the teeth marks from our vic."
"Is that not a good thing?" Jack asked, slightly perplexed as to why he would never believe their luck.
"Usually, yes. But the reason we got the results so quickly was they were reported dead several days ago. Several of the bites are almost an exact match to two of our pervious victims, the ones released to their families to burry." Katz handed Jack the folder with a sigh. Jack thumbed through it furiously, he could not believe this. He wanted to scream and yell in frustration but he composed himself and glared at Will.
"Catch this guy before someone else dies!" he ordered in a half yell, storming off back up the slight hill, folder in hand. Will cast a glance at the body and went to stand back up, when the corpse lunged at him. Will screamed and reeled back, slamming his head against the tree trunk.
"Another nightmare," It was less of a question and more of a statement on Hannibal's part. Will sent the older man a glare then ran a hand through his curly hair.
"Just…remembering how all of this began," Will replied, his voice almost distant, in a far off land.
"Your dreams used to give you insight into cases that your waking mind could not. What do these dreams tell you about the past?" Hannibal was sitting on the damn rock, giving him that look.
"Nothing new, just reality mixed with nightmares," Will commented glaring at the ground in agitation. His attention drawn between Hannibal's feet and Winston. "They have a very hind sight 20/20 type of feeling now that I know the outcome. Almost like Ebenezer Scrooge seeing his life with the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future."
"And what do you see in your future, Will?"
Will stared into Hannibal's eyes, blood red color mixed into the brown almost reflective of the blood he spilled prior to all of this, "Blood." He saw creatures over swarm Alana as she made a last stand to buy time for them to escape in the car; Abigail, Hannibal and himself inside. "Death." Hannibal passing him the revolver, explaining what was to happen. "The end of life." Bodies lying on the ground decaying and as Will passed over them he studied their faces. He stopped though when he saw his own lying there, glasses blood splattered and smashed, his throat ripped out.
"How does that make you feel?"
Will drew his knees towards his chest, he braced his elbows on top of his knees then rested his head in his hands. Fisting his hair in his hands he laughs then replies, "I feel like giving up."