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After Dinner on the Chesapeake
copyright 1999, by Running With Deer
Disclaimer:
The characters Dr. Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling were created by Thomas
Harris. They are used herein without permission, but in the spirit of
admiration and respect. No infringement of copyright is intended, and no
profit, of any kind, is made by the creator, maintainer or contributors to this
site.
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PART 4
She dreamed of a ragged fishing dock at a lake where her father took her from time to time. Walking its length, approaching slate-gray still water, she saw her bare legs and feet, stepping lightly to avoid the gaps where wooden slats had rotted away. At last, on the edge, she fully realized the extent of her nakedness. Surely, her father would come with a blanket, a rain slicker, a newspaper, something. He had to—she could not walk all the way back along the dock, with the wind scrambling her hair and blowing dust into her eyes.
She stood, contemplating the water. She had spent her brief childhood absorbing legends of discarded pet alligators trolling beneath the surface of this lake. Occasionally, she swam in it, but only at the height of summer, when the sun was beating down to a dangerous degree and no fish were biting anyway. When her daddy was there to tow her back in with a rope he kept in his pickup. On those occasions, the water had been comfortable, not even cool. More like a tepid bath. And she had never felt the presence of alligators. In fact, one of her last actual conversations with her father, before he died, had included this subject.
“I’m thinkin’ some people are lying about that,” she had said to him, studying his face for clues. He had looked down at her from under his hat, smiling. “You keep on thinking, Clarice,” he’d answered. He’d said some other things, but she’d forgotten them. Her overall impression of the conversation was that he’d been proud of her for questioning her friends’ knowledge.
So, quite likely, there were no gators in the lake. She kept looking down at the expanse of it, which appeared to stretch to the horizon and beyond. After a time, it seemed wise to turn and look behind her. When she did, the dirt parking area was utterly empty. She thought she could discern the tire tracks of her father’s pickup, but they led away from the dock and vanished once they met the asphalt of the county road.
There would be nothing there to cover her if she walked back along the dock, and the road was too narrow to travel back to her home. People she didn’t know would come speeding along in their cars, perhaps to run her down or kidnap her. No, it was best to avoid that road.
But she was cold. The sun had gone behind a cloud, and she thought she saw fog on the distant opposite shore. The water was there for her; it offered warmth beneath its cold surface; would give her cover for as long as she needed it. If there were alligators, well, she believed she could handle them. But in truth, she knew there really weren’t any.
For a moment, she thought about just staying here, on the dock.
But it was her daddy’s fishing dock.
And her daddy was gone.
Carefully, mindful of splinters, she lay prone on the wood and aimed her legs out over the water. The dock was only about 18 inches above it. On her feet and legs, the lake felt cold, but her experience told her that if she had a little patience and trust, the water would begin to warm her once she was immersed just past her knees. Indeed, she felt its touch there. Heard it whisper her name.
Fin
Part 4 of 5