Sorry. The new job has caused me to adjust my schedule accordingly, and I haven't been very productive. But, without further ado, a chapter. And yes, I know I'm evil.
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Lindsey ran headlong into the scrub oak that filled the park, growling and cursing as her blazer caught on a twig and hindered her forward journey. With quick ease she pulled herself from the jacket, which waved limply in the juniper scented breeze. The outstretched arms of the trees scratched at her bare arms, since she had been wearing a tank top beneath the jacket, but she was inclined to ignore the pain. Ahead of her the once single thread of noise from her subjects separated into two distinct paths, one to her right and one to her left. Behind, she could hear the wail of sirens and Clarice's voice cutting above them, slightly winded as the easterner was not used to the altitude. Lindsey ducked her head low to avoid a branch and drove onwards, following the sounds to her right.
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The dry wind whipped leaves and bone-dry branches into his line of vision, further impairing it. There was little light to guide him through the brush, yet he pushed on. He had become unconcerned with his former captive, whom he soon split from and headed in another direction. He would want him to find the women later, anyway. More the shock when he saw his darling little Starling laying dead on the ground, and then Pete coming out of the bushes to send him off to join her. So it wasn't the plan he originally had in mind, but he hadn't planned on having the women show up on his doorstep, either. One took whatever was offered to him and made use of it. He suddenly found his way into a small clearing, no more than ten feet across. He paused there, looking about him, stuffing the gun into the waistband of his pants as he surveyed his surroundings. Not much time, he could here someone crashing through the brush almost along the same path he had taken. Pete quickly moved across the clearing and hid himself in the bushes on the opposite side where he lay in wait. The hunted had become the hunter.
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The altitude combined with the hot air burned Clarice's lungs, causing her to suck in deep lungfuls of air, more than she normally did, as she followed Lindsey into the scrub oak. For the love of… She plunged after her partner, wondering what she would do if she met up with their prey. For that matter, she only knew of one man they were chasing, yet there were three people ahead of her, crashing through the July night. She heard more than saw Lindsey break off to the right, since she was only a few feet ahead of Clarice. Gritting her teeth and reaffirming her grip on the skateboard tape covered grip of her own gun she took after the path that led slightly left. She made steady progress forward, ignoring the twigs that tried to tangle in her hair. A little bit further, and she could overtake her suspect. Clarice quietly prayed that it would be Pete Conners and not the other someone she had a suspicion was there with them.
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Even in the near pitch darkness, Dr. Lecter's night vision was superb. He pushed forward through the branches and the grasses that brushed knee high. He could hear his once captor breaking opposite and slightly ahead of him, and the sounds of the pursuing FBI agents behind him. He had hoped that Clarice would be the one to hunt him, to actually seek him out like a lioness on the savanna. How long he had waited to engage her in such an activity, long before he had decided to bring her into Mischa's place. So long… Now, though, was not the time for such thoughts. He pushed forward through the dry brush, keenly away of the scent of juniper, and the mingling scents of l'Air du Temps and sandalwood oil from the women, carried to him on the wind. He could hear every footstep she took behind him, gaining ground on him, he was aware of every one of his breaths as he neared a break in the trees. Another thought crossed the placid mind as he came through the break, momentarily furrowing his brow as he found his way into a dry creekbed. Which of the agents was pursuing him?
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