Hyped up on Vanilla Coke (The Official Drink of the Lecterphiles Moderators) and watching SotL. What more does a girl need? A new chapter perhaps? Would that satisfy you dear ones? And in answer to everyone who has brought it up, I promise not to kill Clarice. Thank you all, and good night.

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In recollection, the eternity it had taken Clarice to clear the brush was no more than a few seconds. A few seconds, and everything had gone to hell in a handbasket. A branch snapped back into her face, causing a welt to form across her cheek. Only one more amongst the numerous scratches that covered her face from the trek through the scrub oak. She could still hear Lindsey in the bushes to her right, and every once in a while an obscenity rang out as the younger agent ran into an obstacle. Clarice took in another deep lungful of air as she broke the treeline, finding herself in a small clearing. She paused, looking about her, her right hand resting on the butt of her gun. There was the chirp of crickets from behind her, and on her sides, but there was no sound coming from the tree line directly across from her.

A few tentative steps are taken, wary as she catches her breath and tries to listen above the roar of her pulse pounding in her ears. A glance down to the soft reddish sand beneath her feet, the tiny puffs of dust escaping from underfoot. The momentary glance was the first error Clarice had made since delving into the bush after her compatriot. Her head snapped up as she heard the sound of a twig snapping, painfully loud to her as her senses instantly sharpened. She brought the gun up, but it was too late. By either fate or the consequences of poor aim in the near pitch blackness, she felt a bullet rip into her thigh. The report carried through the park, and the crickets instantly silenced. As she fell, Clarice was painfully aware of her scream as it rang through the night.

Forty feet away, edging into a creekbed, two figures stopped, looking to the left of their positions. Lindsey immediately forgot about her prey as she took off in the soft sand of the creekbed, heading towards the sound. Clarice's scream severed the night, and only served to spur Lindsey on. She made no effort at silence as she crashed through the creekbed, following the sound of the elder FBI agent's cries. She pushed through the scrub oak as she propelled herself up the slight banks of the dry creek. She winced as her hair was caught and pulled by the branches, and as more scratched at her face. Head dropped, eyes half open, focusing on getting to her partner, she didn't care about the man following her.

*****

Pete dropped the gun in the brush where he stood. He hadn't felt fear when he had killed the others. Nothing of the sort. Although, as he pushed his way deeper into the trees, it wasn't quite fear he was feeling now. Regret, perhaps? For shooting the woman that represented so much in the mythology he'd created. Yes, regret, that had to be it. He heard her cries continuing as he headed away from the clearing. Moments later, he heard the other's voice as she tried to comfort and tend to her fallen companion. He paused for a moment, catching his breath and debating his plan. The game had changed once again. There was a crash in the trees behind him, along the route he had just taken. He had to decide. Now. He took off running again, and was rewarded fro his efforts moments later.

*****

Lindsey had found herself in the clearing, and had found Clarice curled on the ground, her hand grasping the entry wound on her upper thigh. Her face was contorted with pain as she met the eyes of the younger agent. Lindsey could do little fro Clarice at the moment, knowing that they was no way at the moment to call for help, seeing as the radio was left squawking in the dust near the front tire of the Vic. Helping Clarice to a sitting position near the trees, she pulled the woman's blazer off and did her best to create a bandage for the wound. There was no exit wound, so it stood to reason that the bullet had lodged against the bone. Clarice had grunted off further help, harshly ordering Lindsey to get after the guy. Setting her face after trying to protest and receiving a look that could kill, Lindsey took off across the clearing. She could hear him ahead, and she carried forth with purpose. Clarice closed her eyes and leaned back against the tree and felt the hot tears run down her cheeks. What she felt next she had not expected.

*****

He was in a picnic area, not more than twenty five feet from the road. A dry creek ran under a foot bridge and there were picnic tables set up against a large sandstone outcropping. White plastic trashbags fluttered over the barbecue grills next to the picnic tables, evidence of the still enforced fire ban. Staring at them, he saw precisely what he needed. He tugged the bag off on of the grills and pulled on the handle to the grate. He wondered momentarily as it didn't move if they were of the kind that was welded to the grate. Grunting, he tugged harder, and was rewarded. A black metal rod came off in his hands, almost a foot and a half long, with a coiled grip on the end he was holding. He was examining his prize when he heard the voice ring out from the trees behind him.

"Freeze! FBI!"

*****