Author's note: Yes, after almost eight months, this story rises from the grave. Reviews are gratefully appreciated.
It was time to start filming.
Clarice stood, hands cuffed in front of her, ankles shackled, itchy and uncomfortable in her pantyhose, lab coat flapping around her. There was a black taped X on the floor on which Chatiqua had ordered her to stand. She stood on it, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Were they going to be Chatiqua's latest victims?
Josh stood next to her, also dressed only in a lab coat. His bare legs stuck out the bottom, and he shifted his feet uncomfortably. His legs were skinny, she noticed. He seemed quite embarrassed to be filmed without pants. He, too, was handcuffed. They'd given him white socks. Clarice would've liked the opportunity to switch.
Chatiqua's heels clicked as she walked over to Clarice. Her light brown eyes perused her captive calmly. She pointed wordlessly to the X's taped on the floor. Clarice eyed her back hatefully. She was captive but not afraid; her hands might be cuffed but her head was unbowed.
The first take had been blown, apparently, when Clarice had not moved to her mark as quickly as Chatiqua demanded. For that, Chatiqua's hostage now sported a long but shallow wound across her cheek. It had been a warning, and Clarice had taken it as such. All the same, that girl would now sport a scar on her face for the rest of her life. And for what? It was meaningless, an evil so petty that she swore before everything she held dear that Chatiqua would pay for it and pay dearly.
She watched her foe carefully. Chatiqua was acting annoyed; she couldn't be in front of the camera and behind it at the same time, and it seemed to bug her.
"Goddammit, Starling," Chatiqua said, "next time, make that mark on cue. From what I heard, you were smarter than this."
Clarice wanted nothing more than to spit in her face. All the same, an innocent life was in the balance, and Clarice cared about that. Chatiqua didn't. So she let her angry spit fill her mouth. For now, it was all she could do.
"Yes, ma'am," Clarice said hatefully.
Chatiqua's heavily made-up lips curved up in a smile. "That's the attitude, Starling. That's what I like to hear."
Beside her, Josh jumped suddenly. Clarice and Chatiqua both turned. On his other side, Alice turned away and smiled guiltily. The hem of Josh's lab coat fluttered back down. He looked furiously embarrassed, his cheeks flaming scarlet.
"Girl, dammit," Chatiqua said, "what are you doing to him?"
Alice seemed humorously abject. "I was just checking to see if his butt looked any different," she explained with no shame. "It's been a while."
Chatiqua sighed. "All right," she said. "Look. You can play with Josh all you want, after the filming."
Alice's weird maroon eyes lit up. "Really?" she asked, sounding for all the world like a little girl at Christmas.
"Yes," Chatiqua assured her. "You can take him upstairs and do whatever your little heart – or any other part of you – desires. But first, we film. Now take your place."
Alice sighed, brushed off her bustier, and strode over to a red ladder they had leaned against the wall. It had just been painted before filming and the aroma of paint hung heavy in the air, making Clarice a little dizzy. It didn't help her mood any, that was for sure.
"This first line is really not easy for me, you know," she said with ponderous dignity. Incongruously, she draped herself over the ladder languidly.
"Places," Chatiqua said. She glanced over at a young blonde man standing by a red cage sort of a thing. That threw Clarice and made her think of the cage Alice had kept her in. It looked like this one had been made on the spot, out of wooden dowels. All the same, Alice and cages did not make for happy memories.
Chatiqua wandered over to the door and stood in front of it. Clarice flinched because she knew what was coming next. A red light they'd mounted on the wall flashed three times, each time announced with a shrill, loud beep. The door lowered itself to the ground like a drawbridge. On the other side, Colin Barksdale was actually doing it with a rope while he tried to film at the same time. She knew that much from the first take. Alice looked for a moment and then scurried back to where Josh and Clarice stood while she was safely out of camera range.
No one threatens hostages if she screws up, Clarice thought angrily.
The camera clicked off, and Chatiqua went back to her preferred spot behind the camera. It shifted to point at Alice, who took a deep breath and held her arms out excitedly. Josh stood beside her, and Clarice beside him. She held onto his sleeve with her bound hands. Otherwise, that girl would pay the price again.
Clarice flinched again, for the same reason. She knew what was coming. Alice had quite a set of lungs on her, when you came down to it.
"EDDIE!" Alice shrieked. Then she ran forward, plastering her body up against the red ladder. Clarice sighed.
Behind the door were several plastic blocks that the industrious Homicidal Productions crew had stacked up. The grumbling of a motorcycle engine came from behind them. Chatiqua came up to take over the camera.
Colin Barksdale piloted a large green motorcycle out from behind the plastic blocks and drove it out into the circular room in which they all stood. He wore jeans, a leather vest, a silver helmet, and sunglasses. He bounced the motorcycle out into the room and stared about myopically at them as if he had never seen them before.
Chatiqua had been good enough to explain that the actual soundtrack would largely be dealt with after the filming. Most of it was music. However, for their benefit, the music began to play on a small boom box out of camera range.
Clarice sighed. This was horrifically amusing. Although it would be worse as things went on. A merry electric guitar began to kick in.
Colin removed his helmet and tossed it on the floor. Under that, his hair had been dyed black and greased into a ridiculous pompadour. A moment later, his glasses followed suit. He turned in a merry circle.
"Whooo!" he crowed. Then he turned on his heel and faced Josh and Clarice. A meaty finger pointed at them in crazed accusation. He sang along with the vocals on the stereo.
Whatever happened to Saturday night,
When you dressed up and you felt alright?
It don't seem the same since cosmic light
Came into my life, I thought I was divine
"But you're not, you're meat loaf," Clarice muttered under her breath. Chatiqua had demanded that Clarice stamp her feet and act like a scared little piece of fluff. She would only do that if she saw the crazed black girl looking at her. She stole a glance over at Chatiqua and decided she wasn't watching.
Alice ran up to Colin, grinning maniacally, and embraced him. The two danced for a step or two, two merry killers doing just what they wanted to do in an world gone insane. Clarice sighed and glanced around. Alice and Colin were dancing; Chatiqua was filming. Could she and Josh make a run for it? Then her shoulders sagged. She might be able to save her own ass, and Josh might be able to save his, but there were always the victims behind who would pay the price of Chatiqua's fury.
I used to go for a ride with a chick who'd go
And listen to the music on the radio
Alice skittered away from Colin, grinning madly, and danced away, the heels on her tap shoes clacking. Clarice took a breath. She had truly grown to hate those tap shoes, and she had a feeling that whatever was coming wasn't going to be pretty.
And she was correct. Alice scooped up a large boombox and advanced on one of the bound victims. With a beaming grin she smashed it down on their head with all her strength. All her strength proved to be pretty good, all things considered. The boombox broke in half and blood began to trickle down the unfortunate's forehead. Not deterred, Alice simply picked up the largest chunk of the boombox and continued. Agonized shrieks rose from under her.
Clarice turned away. This was horrible: a victim right in front of her eyes and there was nothing she could do. The chains on her wrists and ankles assured that.
Saxophone was blowing in a rock-and-roll show
It felt pretty good. Woo! You really had a good time
Colin stepped up next to Alice, wielding an equally manic grin and a saxophone. He, too, brought it down on another victim. Hollow brassy sounds echoed as he used it as a bludgeon. Muffled screams and groans When he finally stopped, the saxophone was dented and bloody.
Hot patootie, bless my soul,
I really love that rock and roll
Hot patootie, bless my soul
I really love that rock and roll
Colin scooped Alice up and deposited her on the motorcycle. It looked to Clarice as if Alice was trying quite hard not to laugh. She grabbed his hand and brought it to her mouth, then stopped and noticeably looked over at Josh with a look that for all the world seemed guilty.
The sound cut off. She looked around at the black girl, knowing already what was coming.
"Cut," she heard, and flinched.
Chatiqua stomped over, annoyed. Alice looked at her impassively, the guilt vanishing from her face. She eyed her friend with equanimity.
"What?" Alice said calmly.
"You're distracted. You're not making your mark," Chatiqua said, anger lining her voice.
Alice made a small gesture. "Sorry," she said.
"Dammit," Chatiqua said, "this is the third take."
"So what?" Alice said, unbowed. "I didn't mess up the first one. Reesey did."
Chatiqua let out a hissing sigh through small, clenched teeth. Clarice swallowed. They're both sociopaths. Alice doesn't seem to give a crap what Chatiqua wants, and Chatiqua isn't getting what she wants, so she's about ready to blow her stack.
Was there a way to try and split these two monsters apart? Where did Colin fit into the mix? Clarice took a step forward and her chains clinked. Both Alice and Chatiqua looked over at her, and she stepped back sheepishly, wondering if she'd blown an opportunity.
"Maybe we're all a little tense," Alice said calmly. "Maybe...we should stop a while. We can do another take in a little bit. The set isn't going anywhere."
Chatiqua eyed her friend tightly. Yes, Clarice though, she was annoyed. Sociopaths usually were, when they didn't get their way. "And what are we supposed to do with Starling and Graham?" she asked, her tone half-sarcastic.
"You can put Reesey back in her dressing room. I might remind you, Teek, the chick is in chains. She's not going anywhere. As for Josh...I'll keep an eye on him for you." A cool smile crossed Alice's face. It made a chill run down Clarice's spine. That was more like the Alice of old.
Chatiqua stared at her friend, breathing slowly. Clarice found herself watchful. This didn't seem to have happened before. How would she respond? Was there a way out here? She glanced over at Josh. He, too, was watching, although he seemed nervous. That made sense. He knew what Alice wanted from him.
Then, surprisingly, Chatiqua put up her hands and smiled disarmingly.
"All right," she said. "We'll do it your way. Colin, please put Agent Starling back in her dressing room. Make sure she doesn't go anywhere."
Calmly, Colin proceeded forward and grabbed her arm. He was strong; she could tell from the grip. He pulled her forward. She didn't think she'd have had much of a chance against him in a fair fight. Chained at wrists and ankles, she had no chance at all.
"Come on," he said calmly, and Clarice went. Alice beamed and approached Josh, grabbing him eagerly. She heard Josh ask what she was going to do to him, and she faintly heard Alice reply that it wouldn't hurt. Then she was out of the room and being dragged down the hall.
She slowed a bit, the ankle cuffs yanking painfully.
"You know you're going down," she said softly. "This can't go on forever. You know it can't. Let me go now, and I'll see that they remember that."
Colin shrugged. He seemed distant somehow, as if distracted by other things.
"If I let you go, we'll all go to prison," he said. His voice was strangely soft and reflective. It wasn't the way you expected a violent killer to be. "At this point, we'd be looking at death row or life in prison. Not exactly the sort of odds I like."
"Chatiqua's the big fish. We make deals all the time, you know that. You've got a record, Colin. You know this isn't going to go on forev--,"
Her voice was cut off by a sudden flash of pain from her wrists. Colin jerked the handcuffs down cruelly, digging them into her wrists. She bit her lip and fought to keep the startled shriek inside.
"Agent Starling." His voice was cool, but still bothered. "I'm not a cruel guy, regardless of what you may think. But right now...right now I don't want to hear it, okay? I'm gonna stick you back in your room and let Chatiqua figure out what to do with you."
Normally she'd have had a few choice names for him for that, but there seemed to be bigger fish handy for the fryer. Something had just happened. Something big. Her mind spun, trying to figure out a way to turn this to her advantage.
"You upset that she wants to be with Josh?" Clarice asked.
Colin let out a sigh. That's it, isn't it, bucko? Maybe Alice doesn't know it, but you like her.
"Agent Starling...don't get me mad, all right?" His voice sounded aggravated, the voice of a man trying to be polite to a rude houseguest. "You know we've got a hostage. Just go in your dressing room and shut...be quiet for a little bit."
For a moment he reminded her crazily of both Brigham and Dr. Lecter. Brigham had once asked her if they could be more than friends, and she'd told him no. She could see those same lines of repressed anger and disappointment in Colin Barksdale's face. His attempt to control himself reminded her of the dark psychiatrist, who valued courtesy more than other people's lives.
He opened the dressing room door and pushed her inside. Yes, he wasn't happy about this turn of events at all. She could see his jaw tighten as he pushed her into her chair and tied her to it. Then the door slammed shut and locked. She tilted her head and tried to examine her bonds, her ears straining for the sounds of him in the hallway at the same time. He was standing outside in the hall, she thought. Just standing there and breathing.
Then she could hear his footsteps leaving the hall, counterpointed by another set approaching. Alice? Didn't sound that way.
"Dammit," she heard Chatiqua say. "I...I can't believe she did that."
Colin took a moment or two before speaking. "Maybe she just wanted a break," he said.
"She got one. She's upstairs with him now."
Another weighty pause. "With Graham."
"Yes, with Graham. Maybe if she gets her itch scratched she'll do this take right." Chatiqua sounded unreasonably nettled, as if the entire world had fallen to pieces. That wasn't uncommon. Unfortunately, it could precede some very, very bad things.
"Maybe," Colin said slowly.
"Well, she damn well better. One more take. That's it. After that...after that, Colin, I want you to...take care of them."
Colin paused again, this time from surprise rather than anger. "Do you think that's smart? The FBI will come down on us with both feet."
"They're doing that now. It won't make any difference and taking care of these two will slow them down. We don't need to film it. I don't want Alice to see it, either."
Oh fuck, Clarice thought and jerked her bonds uselessly. Adrenalin poured into her system. What the hell was she gonna do? She didn't want to die in this stupid costume.
"I really don't think killing FBI agents is gonna do anything other than put a world of hurt on us," Colin observed, and she could hear his voice trembling. "I mean, I wouldn't mind killing him, but--,"
Chatiqua cut him off. "Colin, please. I need you now. You've helped me a lot, and we couldn't have made our art without you. Just do this for me as you've done...so many other things. I assure you, it'll be okay. Trust me. Alice will get over it. I have...I have everything under complete control."
"I don't know," Colin said mournfully.
"I do. Trust me. One more take...and then we'll just put two in the back of their heads."