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The Home Stretch

I just wrote the penultimate chapter of The Nature of the Beast, complete with a brutal brawl in a crematorium.  All that's left is the aftermath chapter in the hospital.  I'm at 75k and feeling more than a little fried.  I'm going to hunt down something to eat and boat this bass.


“It's hard to convict someone without a body,” Brett said and rammed his head into my nose. Blood spurted everywhere and I was convinced my nose was broken. I staggered toward the ovens and felt something pierce my arm. Through the tears and blood, I saw Brett withdrawing a needle. My vision wavered as Brett's fist connected with my solar plexus, knocking the wind out of me.

I fought pain and whatever Brett injected me with and went on the offensive. I got in a few good punches but my reflexes were slowed by the drugs. Brett pummeled me to the floor and flipped a switch on the wall. I heard the whoof of the gas jets inside the ovens ignite. Brett opened the door to one of the ovens and pulled out the retractable slab.

Brett manhandled me back to my feet and I jammed my thumb into his eye. He shrieked like an animal and punched me in the mouth. I sprawled against the slab and Brett wrestled me on it. He pushed the slab into hell's maw but I grabbed the lip and tried to roll off. He slammed the wrought iron door, connecting with the butt of my jaw, and I felt something crack.

As I writhed in pain, Brett turned up the gas. Instantly, I smelled my hair and clothes burning as Brett pushed me into the furnace.