Disclaimer: The
characters of Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling (as well as anyone
you may recognize) belong to Thomas Harris, not to me. But they
are so great I couldn't resist borrowing them for a while. I will turn
them back when I've finished. No copyright
infringement intended. No profit. I'm harmless and broke ... So don't
sue me.
Chapter 7
A plastic fork was certainly not the best tool for what he was trying to do, but that was all Hannibal Lecter had at his disposal for the moment. He carefully brought the prongs of the fork to his left thigh and slipped them under the bandage that was surrounding his leg. Then he started to
methodically carve in the wound. He was so concentrated on his task that he did not feel the pain.
He knew he had to hurry for the men would soon come back to take the tray and tie him up again. When he finally felt the warmth of the blood on his skin, he pulled back the fork and rubbed it on his trousers. Then he put it back on the tray where his dinner was still untouched. And he laid back in the bed and prepared for the show.
A few minutes later he heard the steps of his guardians, and the cold click of the lock. He started to moan softly. The door opened. Hannibal did not react but he could see threw his half opened eyes the shadows of the two men. He moved slightly and moaned a little louder.
He heard one of the man walk to the bed and take the tray that was still on the floor. He passed it to his companion and came closer. Instantly, Hannibal evaluated his chance of success in a frontal attack and decided to stick to his initial plan. Now was not the right time.
He felt something hard push on his arm. He opened his eyes slowly and turn his head to his keeper. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again, as if under violent pain. The man hesitated for a moment but finally crouched down next to Hannibal. "You should have eaten your dinner, man." he said. "You know you won't have anything else before tomorrow." His breath was smelling like hell. Hannibal did not fake his grin.
"Not hungry" he whispered. The man stood up. "You don't look so well" he said, with as much feeling in his tone as if he had been speaking of the weather. Hannibal opened his eyes again. "It's ... my leg" he said. His voice was hoarse. "I think it ... started bleeding ... again". The man sighed and without a word began to tie his prisoner to the bed again. Hannibal groaned when the man roped his left foot. He felt a hand pass briefly under his thigh, but that was all the reaction he got. He heard the man go out and the door shut, and the room was in the dark again.
Hannibal started to wait in silence. Just as he was beginning to think his maneuver had been vain, he heard some noise coming from the other side of the door. Act two was coming.
The door opened and Hannibal felt a man was approaching. He did not open his eyes before he felt the breath of the man on his face. It was not the same that was usually bringing his dinner, but the one who seemed to be the boss. The smell of his breath was much better, almost pleasant, and he had always been courteous to Lecter.
"So ..." he said softly. "My friend here says you have problems with your leg ?". Hannibal opened his eyes and nodded. "All right," the man said. "Let's see ...".
He switch on a big spirit lamp he had brought with him and the unusual brightness made Hannibal' s eyes flicker. Then the man delicately undid the knot on Lecter' s left ankle. He slightly turn his leg to have access to the wound and released the bandage. "Hmm ... Yes, it's bleeding again. We have to stop that. You've lost too much blood already. We promised your son we would deliver you in good conditions ... We wouldn't like to be caught lying, would we ?". He looked closer at the wound. "Maybe I should clean it too." He took a towel and Hannibal saw him poor something on it. Then he pressed it on the bleeding wound.
The alcohol felt like fire but Hannibal managed to control himself. Instead, he faked to be out of breath and said: "It ... hurts when I ... I move. I think ... it's broken." The man nodded but did not answer. Instead, he went on cleaning the wound and made a new bandage, as tight as possible to stop the bleeding.
He gave his 'patient' a little time to recover, then he said: "OK, let's see." He slowly started to lift the leg from the bed, holding it by the heel. Hannibal did not have to fake pain this time. He felt as if a knife was going through his thigh and could not prevent a little cry to pass his lips.
" - Yes," the man said, "it's probably broken. I'm really sorry, Mr. Mc Namara, but none of this would have happened if you had done what we told you, right ?
- What would you ... have done ... in my place ?
- ... Probably the same thing." the man chuckled and Hannibal did not like his laugh. Even if his manners were correct, they were just a facade. And cruelty was lying behind. "You do understand we cannot take you to a doctor or a hospital, don't you ?
- Really ?" Hannibal' s voice had been sarcastic and he saw a brief lightning of rage in the man' s eyes. He closed his eyes in sign of submission, then went on: "Maybe if ... you could immobilize ... the leg ...
- Yes. A splint would probably help."
The man put his hand on Hannibal' s forehead. "You've got high fever too." he said. Hannibal knew it was normal considering the cranial trauma he most certainly had, but preferred to let his keeper fear a possible infection. Then the man turned to one of his companions who had been waiting outside the room. Most likely with a loaded gun pointed at his head, Hannibal thought, these men were being very cautious.
"If he makes a single move, shoot him in the other leg." he simply said. Then he got up and left the room.
When he returned a few minutes after, he had some wooden boards and other stuff in his hands. He sat on the bed and started to make a splint. Each movement of his leg provoked excruciating pain in Hannibal' s whole body. He managed to resist for a while, but finally lost consciousness before the end of the process.
When Hannibal Lecter woke up again the two men had left and it was dark again. After having fully recovered his senses, he realized that the ropes on his wrists and ankles had been removed. Instead a single pair of handcuffs was linking his right hand to one of the bed posts. He checked out his leg. The boards had been expertly fixed using two leather belts and he could no more move his joints. Pain was more than reasonable now that movements were impossible.
He sat on the bed and slowly move his leg to the edge. Putting his whole weight on his right foot, he managed standing up for the first time in days. He even made a few steps hopping along.
For sure, he wouldn't run for the olympics but at least he could move. His primary objective had been reached and he smiled in the dark. Now he was ready. All he had to do was to wait for the right occasion.
To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ...
Absolut.
Chapter 7
A plastic fork was certainly not the best tool for what he was trying to do, but that was all Hannibal Lecter had at his disposal for the moment. He carefully brought the prongs of the fork to his left thigh and slipped them under the bandage that was surrounding his leg. Then he started to
methodically carve in the wound. He was so concentrated on his task that he did not feel the pain.
He knew he had to hurry for the men would soon come back to take the tray and tie him up again. When he finally felt the warmth of the blood on his skin, he pulled back the fork and rubbed it on his trousers. Then he put it back on the tray where his dinner was still untouched. And he laid back in the bed and prepared for the show.
A few minutes later he heard the steps of his guardians, and the cold click of the lock. He started to moan softly. The door opened. Hannibal did not react but he could see threw his half opened eyes the shadows of the two men. He moved slightly and moaned a little louder.
He heard one of the man walk to the bed and take the tray that was still on the floor. He passed it to his companion and came closer. Instantly, Hannibal evaluated his chance of success in a frontal attack and decided to stick to his initial plan. Now was not the right time.
He felt something hard push on his arm. He opened his eyes slowly and turn his head to his keeper. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again, as if under violent pain. The man hesitated for a moment but finally crouched down next to Hannibal. "You should have eaten your dinner, man." he said. "You know you won't have anything else before tomorrow." His breath was smelling like hell. Hannibal did not fake his grin.
"Not hungry" he whispered. The man stood up. "You don't look so well" he said, with as much feeling in his tone as if he had been speaking of the weather. Hannibal opened his eyes again. "It's ... my leg" he said. His voice was hoarse. "I think it ... started bleeding ... again". The man sighed and without a word began to tie his prisoner to the bed again. Hannibal groaned when the man roped his left foot. He felt a hand pass briefly under his thigh, but that was all the reaction he got. He heard the man go out and the door shut, and the room was in the dark again.
Hannibal started to wait in silence. Just as he was beginning to think his maneuver had been vain, he heard some noise coming from the other side of the door. Act two was coming.
The door opened and Hannibal felt a man was approaching. He did not open his eyes before he felt the breath of the man on his face. It was not the same that was usually bringing his dinner, but the one who seemed to be the boss. The smell of his breath was much better, almost pleasant, and he had always been courteous to Lecter.
"So ..." he said softly. "My friend here says you have problems with your leg ?". Hannibal opened his eyes and nodded. "All right," the man said. "Let's see ...".
He switch on a big spirit lamp he had brought with him and the unusual brightness made Hannibal' s eyes flicker. Then the man delicately undid the knot on Lecter' s left ankle. He slightly turn his leg to have access to the wound and released the bandage. "Hmm ... Yes, it's bleeding again. We have to stop that. You've lost too much blood already. We promised your son we would deliver you in good conditions ... We wouldn't like to be caught lying, would we ?". He looked closer at the wound. "Maybe I should clean it too." He took a towel and Hannibal saw him poor something on it. Then he pressed it on the bleeding wound.
The alcohol felt like fire but Hannibal managed to control himself. Instead, he faked to be out of breath and said: "It ... hurts when I ... I move. I think ... it's broken." The man nodded but did not answer. Instead, he went on cleaning the wound and made a new bandage, as tight as possible to stop the bleeding.
He gave his 'patient' a little time to recover, then he said: "OK, let's see." He slowly started to lift the leg from the bed, holding it by the heel. Hannibal did not have to fake pain this time. He felt as if a knife was going through his thigh and could not prevent a little cry to pass his lips.
" - Yes," the man said, "it's probably broken. I'm really sorry, Mr. Mc Namara, but none of this would have happened if you had done what we told you, right ?
- What would you ... have done ... in my place ?
- ... Probably the same thing." the man chuckled and Hannibal did not like his laugh. Even if his manners were correct, they were just a facade. And cruelty was lying behind. "You do understand we cannot take you to a doctor or a hospital, don't you ?
- Really ?" Hannibal' s voice had been sarcastic and he saw a brief lightning of rage in the man' s eyes. He closed his eyes in sign of submission, then went on: "Maybe if ... you could immobilize ... the leg ...
- Yes. A splint would probably help."
The man put his hand on Hannibal' s forehead. "You've got high fever too." he said. Hannibal knew it was normal considering the cranial trauma he most certainly had, but preferred to let his keeper fear a possible infection. Then the man turned to one of his companions who had been waiting outside the room. Most likely with a loaded gun pointed at his head, Hannibal thought, these men were being very cautious.
"If he makes a single move, shoot him in the other leg." he simply said. Then he got up and left the room.
When he returned a few minutes after, he had some wooden boards and other stuff in his hands. He sat on the bed and started to make a splint. Each movement of his leg provoked excruciating pain in Hannibal' s whole body. He managed to resist for a while, but finally lost consciousness before the end of the process.
When Hannibal Lecter woke up again the two men had left and it was dark again. After having fully recovered his senses, he realized that the ropes on his wrists and ankles had been removed. Instead a single pair of handcuffs was linking his right hand to one of the bed posts. He checked out his leg. The boards had been expertly fixed using two leather belts and he could no more move his joints. Pain was more than reasonable now that movements were impossible.
He sat on the bed and slowly move his leg to the edge. Putting his whole weight on his right foot, he managed standing up for the first time in days. He even made a few steps hopping along.
For sure, he wouldn't run for the olympics but at least he could move. His primary objective had been reached and he smiled in the dark. Now he was ready. All he had to do was to wait for the right occasion.
To be continued ... Thanks for reading. Reviews are as usual MOST welcome ...
Absolut.