Chapter 10

Still a bit uneasy, Edward had conceded nevertheless to be brought by Ulick per rowing boat. There was something about this man that didn't feel right to him, he just couldn't put his finger to it.
"Do you see the island yet?" Hannibal asked. "It should be visible by now."
"I don't see anything," Edward said while squinting in the distance, "Can't make anything out yet."
Hannibal noticed Edward's near-sightedness at once and wondered how it would affect the man's chances when hunted. The pleasure would have to be in the hunt mainly this run, since Hannibal had not intended to harvest many parts of this intrusive alcoholic - he estimated the yield to be minimal and of poor quality.
Inedible Eddie.
Hannibal believed Edward, to credit him with at least one thing positive, would be a worthy prey to pursue. He wasn't as stupid as most members of the group that preceded him, and probably more resourceful. He was sure this afternoon was going to have the best recreational activity of the last few days. He was truly looking forward to this.

"Can you see the pier yet?"
"I see something, I think," Edward answered.
"Good."
Hannibal turned around for a moment to see for himself.
No more than a dioptre of -1, it seems. Nothing to worry about.
"As you probably already noticed, this is not the village, nor the harbor of the island. But we're not allowed there with a mere rowing boat. The village is right behind that projecting rock, we'll walk there once we've landed."
He could feel a hint of doubt arise in Edward.
"Or would you mind walking there yourself? I have some other things to do," Hannibal said as inconspicuously as possible.
Edward nodded. Hannibal noticed his slightly more relaxed expression.

.

Hannibal sneaked through the undergrowth of the island, his senses on full alert. Edward proved to be a worthy prey, as expected. Hannibal filled with happiness as the noun connected itself in his mind with another noun: predator. Clarice called him that often.
He could faintly smell his adversary and the broken twigs and torn leaves confirmed Edward had indeed taken this path.
You chose well. This part of the island is covered deepest in green, hiding you from view. Luck or wit?
His Buck in his left hand, Hannibal slowly proceeded. He knew better than rush ahead.
After some time, a clearing with a lake presented itself to him. Hannibal lost Edward's scent as the green no longer kept the wind from dispersing it. The absence of green also disallowed following the trail of twigs. Hannibal looked at the ground, the remaining medium to track Edward. Hannibal noticed with some level of disappointment Edward hadn't thought of jumping from rock to rock to avoid footprints in the sand, but as he followed the tracks, he saw the man had been wise enough to enter the water. Now, Hannibal would have to choose which way to walk.
What did you see? Where did you go?
Hannibal scanned the view and recalled the decisions Edward had made so far. Three times left, five times right. Hannibal looked at his right. The lake was surrounded by a lot of rocks there. He turned his attention to the left - mostly sandy beaches. He turned right and walked along the shore of the lake.

Edward panted from anxiety and fear. That madman was after him, going to kill him! He knew it! He knew something was wrong! Why hadn't Vera seen it? Now, he was running for his life from a psycho killer on a remote island. He realized his chances were slim. He had nothing to help him but a piece of wood he'd found and rocks he could throw.
He ran through the water towards the rocks, to hide there. He held on to the precious makeshift baseball bat as he worked his way between the masses of stone. Once he'd made sure his hiding place had only one way in, he leaned back against the wall and tried to catch his breath.
Nobody's gonna surprise me here!

There was Edward's distinctive smell again, and stronger than before. He was close now. Hannibal started moving with an even stealthier grace, his muscles under absolute control.
He closed in on the rocks, surefooted as a mountain goat, lethal as a leopard, silent as an owl.
There you are… I can smell you. You've been hiding here for a few minutes, right? The alcohol has corrupted your breath and you stink of fear.
Hannibal climbed the rock slowly and listened attentively all the while. The stench was getting stronger with every step.
Ah - I can hear you as well… Still out of breath? Hm, you're in an even worse condition than I thought.
Hannibal approached a fissure. Edward was in there, hiding and surely waiting for him. He picked up a small pebble as he neared the edge of the rocks. A final check of the information his senses provided him told Hannibal he was in the right place. He threw the pebble - it landed at the beginning of the hideout. The moment it hit the rocks, Hannibal jumped down into the crevice.

Edward was breathing heavily. The exertion was beyond his regular level and he wasn't feeling well at all. Nausea bothered him and he swallowed regularly to keep the contents of his stomach down. The water he'd drunk from the lake had quenched his thirst but his throat was still as dry as sandpaper.
Holding his bat he was confident he'd be able to keep Ulick at a distance, but he hoped he'd be able to defeat the freak. That would allow him to return to the rowing boat and escape. With Ulick after him, he doubted he'd make it to the boat and off the island.
A sharp, sudden clatter made him look towards the entrance of his hideout.
What the…
And then a ton of bricks hit him in the back and he fell over.
When he managed to push himself up again, he heard the feared voice behind him.
"Hello Edward, I thought I'd drop by. Hope you don't mind?"
"What do you WANT, you FREAK?"
"Now, now, no need to call names."
"I'll call you as I FUCKING PLEASE!"
An unnerving swift motion from Ulick and Edward felt a sharp pain in his lower legs. As the pain continued, he realized his tendons had been cut.
"I do prefer better manners than that, you know. But I think the problem is you probably don't, you even had a look inside my bedroom. Your manners are exactly what brought you and your friends into this situation."
"What?" Edward managed to say.
"You lack manners. You and your friends have been a terrible nuisance these last few months."
"What are... you talking about?" Edward stammered.
"The incessant noise coming from your on-board stereo was irritating enough, but actually setting foot on my island, making a bonfire and doing the things you did - you know what I mean - was unforgivable."
"We meant… no harm."
"I doubt that. And you do too."
Hannibal's face was austere as he looked at Edward.
"Any last words?"
Edward stared at Hannibal in disbelief and tacitness.
"I guess not," Hannibal stated and approached Edward, the Buck ready for the kill.

.

Hannibal rowed the boat to the other side of Burgh Island and tied the rowing boat to the boat house. He got out, unlocked the door and opened the gate. He rowed his boat inside, locked the door again and went up the path to his house, delighted these last few days had been so successful. Everything had gone as smooth as he'd imagined.
He lifted his fedora to greet the woman on the porch.
"Hello, stranger," he said.
"Hello, big boy."
They kissed passionately.
"Your visit this night was quite a risk."
"I needed you, Hannibal."
"And I needed you, Clarice. But with two of them still around, you shouldn't have come."
"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it?"
"You know very well I enjoyed it immensely, my Love," he replied and kissed her.
"Then stop whining, you wuss," she grinned.
"Wuss? Clarice, really?"
She just grinned again in reply, then kissed him again with unbridled passion.

"Am I glad to be sleeping in my own bed again!" Clarice exuberated. She rolled to and fro on the king size bed in delight. Hannibal stood in the doorway and took in the sight he'd been forced to miss for a while.
Clarice sighed and stretched her arms.
"I'm in heaven!" she called out.
"Then I must have died as well," said Hannibal.
Clarice opened her eyes and eyed him. Pleasure beamed from her face.
"I missed you," she said.
"I missed you too. But I think your days have been worse than mine."
"It's been hell, but worth it."
"You wish to talk about it?"
Clarice considered for a moment.
"Hm. Perhaps a bit."
Clarice sat up and motioned for Hannibal to join her on the bed. Hannibal removed his shoes and sat down next to her.
"It was quite obvious from the start they were a group apart, and not much loved by the local people. Their trips weren't planned in advance, they simply did as they pleased - even more than we'd anticipated. It was really simple, actually, to convince them to take me along. As long as they accept you as one of them, they'll accept anything you do."
Hannibal gently kissed her neck. Clarice moaned with anticipation.
"It didn't take as long as I estimated to become member of the group," she said.
"Nor to go on another trip."
"Ha - I didn't even have to suggest that, Ethel wanted to go!"
"We'll give her some credit for that, then," Hannibal said and grinned.
"Ethel. Hrmph. When she touched you, I almost killed her there and then! Did you take anything from her? Did she suffer?"
"No," Hannibal replied, "hardly any meat on her. And of poor quality. And yes, she suffered."
"Good. And the rest?"
"We added quite a stock to the fridge."
"Pick of the crop?"
Hannibal smiled in reply.
Clarice put her arms around Hannibal and pulled him down with her on the mattress.
"Kiss me, Hannibal. Kiss me and make love to me."
Hannibal didn't hesitate and got down to business.

A/N:
And on that note, we leave our (in)famous duo and allow them some privacy…

For the sake of a lot of things but mostly to explain why I wrote this story as I did, I'll reveal I was inspired by Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None and its core poem (latest version):

Ten little Soldier boys went out to dine;
One choked his little self and then there were nine.

Nine little Soldier boys sat up very late;
One overslept himself and then there were eight.

Eight little Soldier Boys travelling in Devon;
One said he'd stay there and then there were seven.

Seven little Soldier Boys chopping up sticks;
One chopped himself in halves and then there were six.

Six little Soldier Boys playing with a hive;
A bumblebee stung one and then there were five.

Five little Soldier Boys going in for law;
One got in Chancery and then there were four.

Four little Soldier Boys going out to sea;
A red herring swallowed one and then there were three.

Three little Soldier Boys walking in the zoo;
A big bear hugged one and then there were two.

Two Little Soldier Boys sitting in the sun;
One got frizzled up and then there was one.

One little Soldier Boy left all alone;
He went out and hanged himself and then there were none.

As I remembered it, I thought it could be fun to write about ten castaways on an island with Hannibal as host. But I added a twist: what if the tenth person was Clarice? From there, I started to fantasize and write out the plot, focusing on connecting it to the poem. Therefore the emphasis was more on what happened on the island (staying up late, the bee, etc.) than on getting rid of the intruders. I can only wish my decision will be approved now I've explained where it originated.

Anyway, thank you for reading and (if you did) for reviewing!

Major Bachman