NaNoWriMo is happening now, and I started writing at midnight. So here is what I’ve written so far? It is a big chunk of text, so I will not complain if you don’t read it. Also, there is no dialog, so you might not find it interesting? I don’t even have a name for the character yet, but it’s a dude, and I find him incredibly amusing. :D
When I woke up on the conveyor belt that constantly moved toward the insta-bake flame of the crematorium, I was a little perturbed. It had become a custom— enforced by large men in dark suits and sunglasses— to burn the dead a couple years ago, after the vampire problem had become well known and suddenly gotten completely out of hand. Memorial services were held en masse around large pits of ash, since the number of people cremated was too large for it to be practical to hand out individual pots of remains any more.
The last thing I remembered was running— not the frantic run of the being hunted, but just a casual jog along the slightly wooded park trail. It wasn’t even dark out. I was running under a long stretch of trees in the shade, and then— nothing. I didn’t remember being grabbed, I didn’t remember being bitten. I certainly didn’t remember being turned. From what I they had taught us in school, being turned was a fairly memorable experience. I guess it’s harder to remember when you’re not conscious for the act.
So anyway, there I was, on the conveyor belt of burning death— well, just burning for those who were already dead. Conveyor Belt of Burning Second Death for me. Anyway. Death. Big burning scary death of flames. No matter how screwed up my life (unlife, I guess) was about to become, I was absolutely not prepared for the death option. So I flipped the hell out. Almost literally. I was lying on my back, feet toward the quickly-approaching flames, so I rolled to my left toward the edge of the conveyor belt. I would have gone right, but there was another (actually dead) body in my way. I shoved the yickiness of that thought out of my head for the moment— survival first, dead body creep-out second. Two more rolls got me to the edge of the belt, which was only guarded by a foot-high border of metal. The majority of the bodies on the conveyor belt were legitimately not-coming-back-to-life dead, so they didn’t worry too much about any of the bodies getting off the belt. There were other security measures for that, which I was going to have to deal with in due course.
Hoping that none of the security cameras were pointing in my direction, I grabbed the top of the thin stainless steel wall and hoisted myself up and over. It was far too easy to do. I had been told, over and over and over again, about the unatural strength that the human body acquired when it became a vampire, but I still didn’t expect it to be so easy. I mean, I wasn’t exactly a wuss in real life, but I couldn’t have tossed my nearly 200-pound body over a wall (admittedly a very short wall) without at least a little effort. Nor could I land silently, on my feet, and directly in between the two rows of spikes that I had not been able to see while I was on the conveyor belt. I froze for a moment, letting the shock of what had just happened wash over me for a second.
Unfortunately, it was a second too long. An alarm sounded suddenly, shrill and echoing so thoughroughly in the crematorium that it felt like solid sound crashing down around my head. I took off running (this time the frantic run of being hunted), paying very little attention to what was in my way. Consequently, I ran into a few things. My arms scraped against sharp metal spikes— that whole ‘only wooden stakes through the heart will kill a vampire’ thing was totally debunked. If the heart was pierced, you were dead. Period. Again. Historians kind of figured that particular myth started because that was all they had around in the old days that they could get sharp enough and portable enough. Now we’ve got lightweight metal spikes that can be powered by more than upper body strength. Anyway, I was running past a lot of pointy metal, and some of it was cutting me. Part of me, deep deep down in my panic- blinded brain, was wondering if they infused the metals with garlic somehow (garlic is actually effective against vampires— they’re still trying to puzzle that one out)— but the spikes didn’t appear to be affecting me negatively. Unless you count the bleeding, of course, and I guess that really should be counted. So I was bleeding some, but I didn’t notice anything else wrong. Except being trapped, I guess. But I was working on that. Sort of. I sure was running, though.
I hit a wall pretty quickly— not quite literally. My freaky- awesome reflexes prevented me from actually slamming into it, but my nose left a tiny smear of grease (I know, I know that’s gross, so nasty, get over it) before I took a step back. As far as I could tell, the wall I had just encountered was the only thing that separated me from the outside. It’s not like there were field trips to the crematorium in school, but everyone seemed to have a basic idea of what the inside was like. Big warehouse, huge funace, conveyor belt. Not to mention the security cameras and security personel walking around in kevlar bodysuits with very compact flamethrowers and the standard- issue pointy bolt gun. The spikes around the conveyorbelt was a new addition to my mental picture of the crematorium. Make that actual picture of the crematorium. Since I was actually there. My brain was definitely trying to forget that this was actually happening.
But anyway, for some reason I felt pretty sure that the other side of the wall was a much better place to be. Possibly it was the incinerator behind me. The wall felt cooler, not that it would have been hard to be cooler than the incinerator. But, you know, significantly cooler. So I turned to my left (because it took me further away from the incinerator) and started looking for a door. Now that I had stopped running, the panic was subsiding a bit— the siren was still wailing, but no one had come after me yet. It was starting to freak me out, actually. There should have been at least five security people on me two seconds after the alarm went off, but I somehow managed to get to the wall with nothing but scrapes when I should have been a flaming pile of vampire dust. To make matters even more unnerving, about twenty feet from where I started, I found a completely unguarded door. It was locked, but a couple solid kicks to the handle loosened it up. I opened the door slowly— there still weren’t any security people coming, but I didn’t want to be hasty— also, I didn’t want it to be sunny outside. I was greeted with the faint sound of crickets and moonlight. And I ran the hell away.