MEET THE SHARPES

8. The Chase

Maxim climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door of the Bronco shut. A glimmer of a smile traced Antwan's cheeks as he looked him over. Maxim held up a hand. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"Don't. Just do not." he breathed. "Did you get it?"

"Of course, I have it. Who are you taking to?" Antwan reprimanded.

Maxim noticed his change clothes. Antwan replaced his khaki boiler suit with a plain white t-shirt, khaki trousers, and navy cardigan.

"You cut off Bernie's hand, Ant?!" he groaned.

Maxim's eyes widened when his husband held out a severed hand. Its olive skin was patterned with large circles of gelatinous, bronze blood and the severed nerves whispered painful groans.

"Like it won't grow back? He's half Hekaton on his daddy's side." Antwan defended.

"Yes, Antwan. HALF. Meaning he's mixed; meaning he may not have his father's regenerative abnormality." Maxim clarified.

"Abnormal is abnormal. We needed Bernie's fingerprint. I brought some of Bernard's fingers. I solved a problem. What am I missing?" Antwan scolded.

"You could've just used a piece of tape to copy his fingerprint, baby." sighed Maxim.

"Well, dear," Antwan japed. "The tape wasn't on his desk. The scissors, however, were."

Maxim rolled his eyes and took Bernard's jewel-laden left hand cautiously into his gloved palms. He squeezed the wrinkled digits into a fist and placed a beefy index finger on the keypad.

"We have company." Antwan murmured.

Maxim lifted his gaze to the rearview mirror. He saw a woman in the distance, and she spoke with two impossibly thin women with violent crimson eyes and slimy black scales. The shopkeeper jammed a finger at the white bronco and their red slit eyes focused on him. Maxim cursed.

"How much longer?" called his husband.

"Calm heads, darlin.' You get ready to move and I'll handle this. Don't flip the key yet." Maxim crooned.

"We don't have time for your parables, Shakespeare. What bones through yonder window break!" Antwan hissed.

"I need a minute!"

Maxim growled at his husband. He checked the rearview mirror again and the Slender women floated toward them. The scene around them distorted into a sphere of slow motion and Antwan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Maxim's fingers began to tremble. He pressed Bernie's index finger to the keypad, and it turned a bright gold. The lid popped open, and his heart sank again. Maxim stared down at another closed lid.

"It's a heptalock case." stated Maxim.

"Well, un-hepta the lock, Max, and please hurry. We got two Slender skating on our four o'clock." Antwan quipped.

He took his husband's instructions and jammed Bernard's fingers against the lock four more times and the corresponding lids popped open. The sixth time, however, the keypad light did not change.

"Try a combination!" Antwan growled.

Maxim pressed Bernard's middle and ring finger to the keypad, and it lit to a golden hue. He tapped the ring finger against the seventh lock and the touch, again, lay dormant. Maxim groaned. He fumbled to Bernard's pinky and the final slid shot open. Maxim wasted no time. He sank his arm—to the elbow—into the depths of the case and his fingers connected with a weighty package. He pulled it out and turned under the noon day sun. The purple package was the size of a small tablet and violet paisley patterns shimmered across the matte violet exterior. Maxim tore it open, and the paisley patterns scattered like disturbed ants.

He tipped the envelope into his hand and a cold sliver of metal made his palm heavy, but he saw nothing. Maxim pressed his fingers to its invisible sides and a series of grooves revealed themselves under his roving fingertips. He flipped it over and the metal card let loose a rainbow of colors. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through its tiny gashes and the invisible card cast a single word onto the tattered tan upholstery in the backseat.

"Armistead." recited Maxim.

"There was a metallic thud and something heavy dropped onto the top of their ride. A deep crater formed in the roof and Antwan aimed his gun at the ceiling. The second Slender landed on the hood of their vehicle and Antwan let a copper bullet fly.

"Drive!" Maxim ordered.

Antwan wrenched the key over, and they thundered into traffic. Their gnarly hood ornament bared her silver fangs and Antwan mashed on the gas. Glass flew into the cab as her head created a jagged hole in the front window.

The Bronco swerved down the two-lane street in a flurry of screeches and sparks. The slimy creature, lodged in the windshield, thrashed around violently. She hissed and Antwan pelted her temple with the butt of his gun.

"Watch the road!" Maxim scolded.

"Then shoot the bitch!" Antwan fussed.

Maxim's hands were mashed against the sinistre's chin, and he pushed its head up toward the rearview mirror. Antwan's thundering punches sent the slender's eyes rolling into the back of its head; and he steered the car over the jagged Louisiana street like a pro.

"Yup, we're home."

Antwan spat his words through gritted teeth as the car dipped into a pothole. The car unleashed a giant shudder and Maxim's stomach turned when a wicked shard from the windshield buried itself in the slender's scaly neck. Its body went limp.

"One down!" Antwan shouted.