Note: Ach! I'm sorry about the slow work! I'm working on my novel's pretty heftily…please feel free to read them on http // www . fictionpress . com / efirndamcdannak I would love to hear what you think of them, and I hope that you will not give up on me for this story! Thank you again for your time and patience!

Chapter Four

Karel's forehead was wet with sweat, his skin chalky white when the boat splashed up against a wave. Hannibal was standing beside the porthole, his crimson eyes focused on the swaying sea. He was keeping a close eye on his new companion, making sure that the pilot wasn't becoming too ill for his own good.

Not that any good is coming of this, thought Hannibal. He glanced at the younger boy, asking himself why he was so bothered by this. Was he, Hannibal Lecter, the cannibal, becoming human?

This was not something that pleased him.

Hannibal adjusted his jacket about his shoulders and approached Karel's bedside. He moved the pillow under the pilot's head, dismayed to see that it was soaked in sweat. Applying what he knew of medicine, Hannibal again gave Karel the aspirin pill and water to cool his throat. The pillow was exchanged for another and Karel's forehead was given a cool cloth to bring down the fever.

There came a knock at the cabin door and Hannibal approached to open it. He could see the drunken form of a sailor on the other side.

Deciding it to be a rather useless endeavor, Hannibal left the door shut and returned to the porthole. He wished to open it, to feel the cool sea air against his face and to feel the sick of the cabin leave him. He wondered if the scratchy feeling in the back of his throat was from Karel's illness, or if it was from his own paranoia.

The banging came again and Hannibal ground his teeth together. He would not open the door—not if the man outside was truly drunken.

"Ugn…"

Hannibal looked in time to see Karel roll onto his side and drop with a thud onto the cabin floor from the narrow bunk. With a shake of his head, Hannibal approached the boy to place him back in the bed. Karel was heavy but still lighter than before the illness had struck.

Lifting the boy back into the bunk was a chore, but was completed nonetheless. Hannibal returned to the door to see if the sailor was still there. He was not. Hannibal was relieved and returned into the room. The door hung open for a few seconds before it occurred to Hannibal that should the sailor come back, he could easily come into the room.

Did it matter, though? Was Hannibal more interested in keeping Karel safe, or his secret secure?

After all, the dead boy had been found some days before and the boat was in an uproar, wondering when the killer would strike again and who it would be to die. The cannibal thought this over as he stood in the center of the room, his body swaying to the motion of the sea-bound boat. The food on this boat was…unsettling at best. At worst, well, it was simply grotesque.

There came a sound from Karel's clothes and Hannibal was stunned into unmoving. The sound came again and there was the static-eroded sound of a voice coming through on the other end. Hannibal lifted the jacket from a chair and noted that what was making the noise was a radio.

It must have been clipped to Karel's flight jacket, Hannibal decided. And he couldn't part with it…

It was English in make, giving Hannibal reason to finally believe Karel's story about being in the Royal Air Force. He turned the radio over and waited to see if the voice would come again.

Karel...Kar-el…it is me…Slama…come…Karel…

The voices were so broken and the English so badly strewn about that it took Hannibal a moment to decipher it. He pressed the microphone to his lips, the cord crackling and snapping when he replied, "Karel is asleep. This is Hannibal Lecter. Who is this?"

Franta…Karel…sleep…who is this?

Hannibal was easily annoyed by Franta's slow grasp of who he was speaking to.

Where are you?

The signal was better—for the moment.

"We are on our way to Canada," replied Hannibal.

There was silence on the other end, and when Hannibal checked to see if there was a signal, he noted the radio had gone out. Replacing the bulky, but still transportable radio back into Karel's new jacket, he wondered…would this Franta Slama try to find Karel?