The Killer Couple Manhunt

Blades of grass are pulled out of the earth as clumps of soft, damp dirt spray up. A treaded tire pulls back onto the road, skidding over the rumble strip, and weaving through the middle of a long, open road, fishtailing the yellow line.

Seven cop cars chase furiously after a saddle colored 1978 Chevrolet Impala. A helicopter floats above at equal speed, suspended above the Impala like its tethered together.

From inside the helicopter is a news crew, reporting the high speed chase diligently; a camera is pointed at the Impala at all times.

“The Killer Couple has made its way back on the road after drifting into the dirt, now swerving in an out of the lanes — thank goodness no one else is on the road as far as we can see,” the static bleeds through the radio as the reporter describes the previous events. A painted set of nails turns the volume dial up from inside the car. The robin egg blue nails clutch the steering wheel.

“The eight day manhunt for Baker Eisley and his murderous lover, Bella Schumacher, is expected to come to a dramatic conclusion as the police have tracked down the killers that stabbed Bella’s husband to death together in her own home.”

The robin egg nails comb blond hair-sprayed hair behind her ears as Bella listens, with the rest of America, to her own chase.

“Slow down a little, slow down,” Baker advises gently as he waves her to do so. “You’re losin’ ‘em.”

Bella glances up in the rear view mirror and notices that Baker’s right. She eases off the pedal and watches the blue and red lights come closer.

Baker spins back around in the passenger seat, wearing a maroon polo with a yellow and white strip across his chest. Groomed sideburns hang below his ears, attached to his brown, quaffed hair.

Baker listens to the radio: “Running from the law all the way from Hartford, Connecticut—”

“Bristol, goddamnit,” Baker slaps the dashboard. “Bristol, Bristol!”

“—now here in Beckley, West Virginia, the Killer Couple has taken the country’s attention by storm. The criminals turned celebrities have garnered masses to their television screens, like a sporting event. An investigation still continues whether Bella acted in self-defense after hundreds of so called ‘Bella Defendants’ have protested against her arrest, claiming her ex-husband was abusive. This lead to her affair with Baker, ensuing their plot to murder her husband. Since then, America has paid attention to every little detail as the chase...”

Baker turns down the radio and leans back in his seat frustratingly. “Some of them fuckin’ details ain’t right.”

“It’s alright, baby,” Bella looked over. “They got the gist of it, it’s alright.”

“Yeah, well it ain’t all right. Cant even remember we’re from goddamn Bristol.”

“They’ll remember us either way. It don’t matter it if it’s Bristol or Hartford or even New York, as long as they remember us.”

Baker leaned forward, pointing eagerly. “Okay—okay, comin’ up here, baby, by the church on the right, in just a few miles. Dennis said he got it here just ahead.”

“Shit.” Bella extends her right hand and holds Baker’s; her eyes tear up. “God, baby, I’m scared.”

“Don’t be scared. Don’t be scared...” His voice trails off as he sees, appearing in the distance, a tank truck parked sideways in the road beside a small chapel. He squeezes her hand.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” the reporter shouts through their radio. “There’s a truck in the road! It’s stopped in the middle of the road — oh my goodness, it’s a gasoline truck!” Bella steps hard on the pedal.

“Hey, baby?” Baker says shaking.

“Yeah, baby?” Bella replies with little breath.

“I know we can’t control what they say, but myths are made outta the impossible. And, son of a bitch, baby, we’re just about there. When we hit that tank...” He looks at her sweetly. “We’ll be immortal.”

She wipes a tear from her eye. “I love you, Baker.”

“I love you, too, baby. I’ll see you on the other side.”

“I’ll see you on the other side.”

“They don’t seem to be moving out of the way—how do they not see this?” the reporter questions anxiously. “Are they going towards it? Wait a minute!”

Bella pulls down the sun visor and looks in the mirror, pushing up her hair and opening her eyes wide. “How do I look?” she asks as she looks Baker in his eyes.

“Drop dead gorgeous.”

“Oh— oh no, they’re headed right for it!” the reporter screams. “They’re going to crash into the tank!”

From the helicopter, they watch the 1978 Impala drive nose first into the tanker truck, exploding into a fiery ball of glory. The cop cars screech to a halt; some officers exit their vehicles and take in the sight.

“My... God. I...” the reporter holds the microphone next to the cameraman in the helicopter and tries his best to give the details. “This... this shocking finale to The Killer Couple’s Manhunt, Baker Eisley and Bella Schumacher, comes to a blazing end. This site, this stretch of road — an inferno beside this white chapel — will forever be immortalized.”