Kurt Stevens's Blog, page 13
September 19, 2013
Chapter 14: The Wait
I didn’t know if my best friend in the whole world had just ratted me out—I might look out the window to see a string of flashing lights descending on the house. But I was too tired to run, so I sat there at his breakfast bar and waited, not really believing that he would sell me out, but who can ever know? I refilled my coffee cup, my hands trembling, and sat back down.
As I waited, I thought about my career, especially the last ten years as an executioner. These thoughts had been flooding my...
September 18, 2013
Chapter 13: A Man’s Best Friend
This is Chapter 13 of a serial novel. Each weekday, through January 31, 2014, a new installment is added. To start at the beginning, click here.
“Kurt?”
My best friend, Greg Laughlin, threw open his front door and rubbed his eyes. “It’s like 12:30 in the morning.” He stood in the doorway and unceremoniously adjusted his pajama pants.
“I know, I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I need to cash in a favor.”
He invited me in. I wasn’t sure if he’d heard what happened to Tonya, or if he knew I escaped the pri...
September 17, 2013
Chapter 12: Prison Area
I knew the procedure. When a prisoner escaped all of the roads would be blocked for at least twelve hours, and helicopters would search the fields around the prison until I was found.
But I wasn’t a prisoner. As far as any official paperwork was concerned, I’d never been arrested, I’d never been booked, so I was not technically in prison, which meant there’s no way they could mandate a helicopter from the state police. What could they say? “A man I was planning on illegally detaining has escap...
September 16, 2013
Chapter 11: The Big Squeeze
After what seemed like an eternity of squeezing myself through an 18-by-18 inch hole into hell, I wanted to die. My skin was numb from the cold and bleeding from a thousand microscopic cuts. Anyone searching for me in this tunnel would find the trail of blood. I’m not sure how much longer I would have gone on if I hadn’t found that room when I did. And when I found the room, I thought maybe I was already dead because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
The space was twenty feet long, twenty...
September 14, 2013
Week 2 In Review
In case you missed it, or need help finding your spot, these are the chapters that were published this week:
Chapter 6: Working the Ribs
Chapter 7: Incineration
Chapter 8: Any Landing You Can Walk Away From
Chapter 9: Living Space
Chapter 10: Michael
Or you can start from the beginning here.
If you’re following the book on GoodReads (you can find the book here), and would like to mark your status, you have read 11% of Capital Offense.
We would also like to offer a special thank you to these blogs tha...
September 13, 2013
Chapter 10: Michael
It was about five o’clock in the afternoon when she told me. I was sitting in my arm chair watching the news while I thumbed through a novel Tonya had given me to read. She was good at convincing me to do things I wouldn’t otherwise have done. She was good at convincing everyone to do things they wouldn’t otherwise have done.
Her stance was plastic, like a store mannequin with its unsettling robotic bearing. Her eyes were fixed in front of her and her hair was piled up on top of her head. It w...
Chapter 9: Michael
It was about five o’clock in the afternoon when she told me. I was sitting in my arm chair watching the news while I thumbed through a novel Tonya had given me to read. She was good at convincing me to do things I wouldn’t otherwise have done. She was good at convincing everyone to do things they wouldn’t otherwise have done.
Her stance was plastic, like a store mannequin with its unsettling robotic bearing. Her eyes were fixed in front of her and her hair was piled up on top of her head. It w...
September 12, 2013
Chapter 9: Living Space
It was hollow.
A full two seconds later the echo of the thump finally returned to me. Whatever was behind there, it was long.
I felt around, but there was just a wooden board, maybe eighteen inches by eighteen inches, embedded in the brick with no handle. This tunnel must have been built for colonial Spaniards, no modern American was making it through. But I had no choice. I had to do it for Tonya.
I pounded the wood with my left hand until my flesh was bruised and throbbing. Finally, the petrif...
September 11, 2013
Chapter 8: Any Landing You Can Walk Away From
As I dropped into the two-by-two foot shaft, I spread my legs to the opposite walls and expected to fall for a while, but after only a second my right foot caught on a small shelf. I threw my left knee against the other wall to keep myself from falling further through the shaft and bit my lip to stop myself from hollering over a bruised kneecap. I struggled to remain braced about six feet below the door to the chute.
I didn’t have time to wait for my eyes to adjust. I could barely make out the...
September 10, 2013
Chapter 7: Incineration
I couldn’t go out the front door. Not anymore. Cameras were everywhere, but the exits would be especially impossible to make it through. I slipped past Mendley’s office and hustled down the hallway. Against every instinct that told me to go back the way I’d come, I did the opposite and made my way away from the administrative offices and into the secured portion of the prison. I took long strides to the old laundry wing on the second level. Under the tall concrete ceilings the garish lights s...
