Chapter 8

The mood was heavy when Hannibal, Will, and Theresa arrived at the local greenspot. Mrs. Carrington, Mr. Fowler, and Mr. Sarandon were already getting the fire at the three BBQs going. They placed the different steaks, skewers, and cutlets on the plastic tables.

"These are elk, deer, turtle, alligator, ostrich," Hannibal started counting.

"Very fascinating," Mr. Carrington said truly impressed.

"Yes, the butcher we met said he was getting meat from all over the state. He lives only a five hours' drive north from here."

"How are you, Theresa?" Mr. Sarandon asked. In contrast to his wife, his questions were genuine.

Theresa shrugged.

Will was glad that she was not that talkative – in general and right now. He touched her shoulder as a sign of support. "We're coping, are we not, Theresa?"

She nodded shyly.

"Why don't you help my wife setting up the tables?" Mr. Sarandon suggested, and Theresa went to the long tables to help distribute the glasses and the cutlery.

"Poor girl," Mr. Sarandon said watching her go.

"The best that she can do is move away," Mr. Fowler said.

"At least here people know her," Mr. Carrington mentioned.

"Even more of a reason why she should move," Hannibal said. "We can help her, but do you really think she'll be happy here?"

"Will she ever be happy? After so much trauma?" Will muttered.

Hannibal put his arm around him. "I think that depends on who helps you through it."

Will gave a polite smirk. Hannibal had done nothing but palliate his trauma. He had made it even worse by playing right into his unstable state of mind.

Less than fifteen minutes later most of the neighbors and the kids were sitting at the long table eating cutlets, steaks, potatoes, and salad. Everyone praised Hannibal's cooking skills.

"You must give me the recipe for your spices and sauces," Mrs. Sarandon said.

"Naturally, I will," Hannibal said. Will had forbidden him to write his recipes on business cards.

When most of them were halfway done, Hannibal offered to go back to the grill and put on the skewers.

Will was distracted by a story of Mr. Rodriguez' parrot competition when suddenly he saw in the corner of his eye three men approaching. Despite it being hot, they were clothed in suits. One of them was Jack Crawford! Will looked over to Hannibal and Mr. Fowler standing beside the grills and chatting. Hannibal looked to Will, to the three officers, then back to Will. He nodded. He was ready for whatever happened.

Jack hadn't spotted them yet. There were more than fifty people eating and talking just like neighbors did. The three agents introduced themselves at one end of the table. Will kept his head down and sunk down. Theresa next to him noticed his reaction.

Mrs. Sarandon hurried over to the three men, taking charge again for the neighborhood. Will saw Jack take out a newspaper and pointing at an article. Will did see that this morning's headline had been about the gruesome events of yesterday – a reporter must had smuggled himself into the townhall meeting– but Will had not read the papers and he had hidden the newspaper before Theresa could have seen it.

Mrs. Sarandon suddenly pointed at Theresa who sat next to Will. Theresa flinched when Jack and his two colleagues started walking toward her. They were coming from the left side of the table so that Will looked to the right side and hoped that Jack would not recognize him until he was close enough to attack him.

"You are Miss Noakes?" Will heard Jack say.

Theresa looked up and nodded.

From behind Jack, Mr. Fowler announced, "anyone want skewers? They are ready." Hannibal was carrying a metal tray stacked full with meat and fruit skewers.

"The police may join us for lunch. Unfortunately, we don't have vegetarian," Hannibal added.

Will dared to look up just in time for Jack's face to react to the recognition of the voice. Slowly, Jack turned around. And there they were. More than ten years since their last encounter in which Hannibal's stab had not ended deadly. Will wondered if Hannibal ever regretted any of his decisions, especially those when he had let someone live. Maybe they should have been cleaner.

Jack wanted to pull out his gun, but Hannibal had anticipated his movement. He grabbed two skewers and rammed them sideways into Jack's neck. Jack immediately grabbed the skewers which had missed his windpipe. The blood was spraying out in both directions. He knew that he must not pull them out to avoid immediate blood loss. Half the neighborhood jumped up and shrieked at the sudden display of violence.

Will also stood up and used his steak knife to thrust it into one of the police officer's waist. He bent forward in pain and spit blood onto the grass. Theresa had also rushed up and now she tackled the third officer who had just successfully pulled a gun from his holster. They both fell to the ground.

Hannibal and Jack in the meantime were struggling for the control of Jack's gun. Will jumped onto the police officer that he was confronting and reached for the knife that still stuck in the man's kidney. He pushed it through to the other end of his waist and the blood flowed out in a thick stream, drenching the grass in a deep red. Hannibal pushed Jack against the table where he fell into the salad bowl which crashed under his weight. Theresa had gotten up from the ground and stood in shock watching the police officer below her crawling towards the gun that had fallen a meter away from him. Will jumped onto him before he could reach it and clenched his hands around the officer's neck. Gargling and short for breath the officer tried to get a grip of Will's slender hands.

The moment the officer's grip loosened, and his body flagged, Will heard a shot. In shock, he let go of the officer, but the policeman already sacked down onto the ground unconscious. Will turned around and saw Hannibal drenched in blood. Not an unusual but sexy sight. It took Will a few seconds to understand that it was not Hannibal who was injured. Hannibal did not move, he did not seem to be in pain. Jack, still lying halfway on the garden table, had his hands on the gun, but between him and Hannibal, there stood Theresa. She had not moved either, but now she was stumbling backwards. She must have gone for Jack's gun in an attempt to take it from him before he could shoot Hannibal.

Hannibal caught her in his arms and helped her sink down onto the floor. Will quickly grabbed another random knife from the table and pushed it into Jack's chest who immediately dropped the gun. Will took it from him while Jack was sliding down the table onto the grass.

"Why?" Hannibal panted. He looked in confusion at Theresa. He pushed his big hands onto the wound in her belly. "Why would you do that?"

"You were the only one to be really kind to me," Theresa stammered. Her face had gone pale and her body started to tremble. "You're really…" She could only mouth the word "kind" before her entire body relaxed.

Will could see that Hannibal was in visible shock. No one had ever sacrificed himself for him. He looked up and stared into Will's face. Both of them were bleeding as well, but not as much as the police officers around him. Hannibal gently put Theresa's body onto the grass and closed her eyes. A gesture that made realize Will how much she must had reminded him on Chiyoh – or his sister. Hannibal got up. His eyes signaled Will, come on, we need to go. Both of them started walking away. The entire neighborhood stood there in shock. The screams of panic had lessened, now it was just silent watching. Having attacked and maybe killed up to three police officers, none of the men in the neighborhood dared to attack Hannibal or Will. Something the women would always hold against them.

On their way out, Will said to Mrs. Fowler, "Theresa's father had forced her to eat her mother after he had killed her while raping her. She said that her bones were buried in the forest near the bridge."

"You will find Mr. Kale and Mr. Harris in the lake beneath the bridge," Hannibal added. Together they left the park and within a few minutes they had arrived at their home.

"We got to be quick," Hannibal said. They had discussed what to do in such an occasion. Within five minutes, they had put on other clothes and bound bandages around the parts where they were bleeding. They got the suitcase from under the bed which contained money, clothes, and their next identities. Will grabbed two new license plates from behind the fridge and while Hannibal put the suitcase onto the backseat and got the car started, Will changed the license plates and dropped the older ones. When they were driving around the corner, they could see some of their former neighbors running to their houses or around the streets trying to warn other neighbors who had not come to the BBQ. Two streets further and they were on the country road.

"What federal state do you want to see next?" Hannibal asked.

Will breathed heavily. The pain had started to kick in. "We should keep a low profile for now," he replied. They had not needed to do an on the spur of the moment action like this in ten years. "No settling down for a few months."

Hannibal nodded and drove onto the freeway east.

"I love you, Hannibal," Will said.

A silent tear of joy ran down Hannibal's face.

Rule 1: Murder only bad people.

Rule 2: No murders in your vicinity and change the locations frequently.

Rule 3: No serial killer markings, no identifiable recognition traits. No way to connect the murders.

Rule 4: If possible, mutilate the body enough so they don't find the missing parts.

Rule 5: Every fourth time fishing, they actually have to go fishing.

Rule 6: No writing of recipes on business cards.

Since this is my first story in two years and the first one I have actually managed to finish in a long time, and I think my first Hannibal story, I would really appreciate it if you left me some feedback.