Your *last* 500 words...

oooh... check out my excerpt....that's what's there now. Though I think it may be more than 500.

My last 500 or so words...actually they're about two-thirds through the novel, and they don't make much sense without context, but I am not going to bore you with description of the context...

----------
from "The Fires of Azekah"

(c) 2007 M. Modine
----------
“Don’t you think that seems a bit premature?” Chaim asked. “I mean, we know that the king is dead, certainly, but there are plans of succession in place, are there not?” He was hoping to calm his viewers down, quelling potential fears of a civil war boiling up in the wake of the king’s death. But in reality he wanted to calm his own fears along those lines, and he reached out to Ethan not just as anchor to reporter, but as one trusted friend to another. The old proverb about iron sharpening iron briefly flashed into his mind and then was gone.
“Well, it is indeed premature, Chaim,” Ethan responded, sensing his old friend’s fear and turning in a masterful performance of concealing the knowledge behind professionalism. “But remember that King Josiah had been riding on high popularity numbers since the consolidation of his great religious reform and the reclaiming of significant amounts of territory in the north land. But he had also spent a lot of political capital in his suggestion that the Egyptian army should not be allowed to pass through Judah. And now it appears he himself has paid the ultimate price for this political miscalculation.” Ethan stopped suddenly and cupped his hand over his ear again. He turned and looked as a bustle of activity suddenly began near the podium in the front of the room. After a while he turned back to the camera and said, “Chaim, we’re seeing the doctors who worked on King Josiah are coming into the press room now, along with Moshe Tulafel. Let’s stand by and listen to what they have to say.”
“Fine, Ethan,” Chaim said. “For our viewers, in case you’re just joining us, you’re watching a live shot of the press conference room at the University Hospital of Megiddo. The people you see at the front of the room, well, there’s a few of them, let’s see... At the podium is Dr. Joab Gittain, emergency room attending physician. There’s Moshe Tulafel, chief of King’s Security. To his right is Hanan Rulate, hospital administrator. On the far left of the screen is the chief of thoracic medicine, Dr. Caleb Fermi. One would expect he would have a great deal to say about the technical aspects of the injuries sustained by King Josiah in the sniper attack. Let’s listen in as Dr. Gittain comes to the microphone.”
Dr. Gittain was an austere man, lean and imposing. He scratched his brown goatee thoughtfully as he began his summary of the events. “As you are by now aware, King Josiah Amon of Judah was brought to the emergency room of the University Hospital of Megiddo at 10:37 AM local time. He had suffered a gunshot wound in the abdomen during hostilities between the Army of Egypt and the King’s Army of Judah. His vital signs were weak, but stable, when he arrived. The paramedic team had done an admirable job of ministering to him on their journey by ambulance from the battlefield to the hospital. Despite our best efforts, however, we lost the king to complications arising from his wounds. King Josiah was declared dead at 12:11 PM.”

I don't know how bad this sucks.. I wrote 23K on my novel in a day and a half... I don't think I ever want to see it again!
Note: I have the chapter before the ending and then the ending that appear after this.
This was what I wrote last, though.

-----------

“You know, that’s probably true. It’s also why I don’t get involved in it that often.”
“Talking about me?” Scott asked, appearing on the front of the ship.
“Well, we were. But now we’re not.”
“That’s good to know.” He turned to Jane. “Want to go explore the island, or were you planning on staying on the boat?”
“Actually, I was planning on finding you and asking you if we should go out there or not.” Jane said. “I assume you’d like to spend a couple hours exploring?”
“Take a pack of food with you. You know where the packs are, right?” Hank asked.
“Yep.” Hank had shown everyone that was on the boat where certain items were, including life jackets, swimming goggles and flippers, inner tubes, extra towels and the bathroom. They had arranged certain food areas, certain coolers for booze and soda, and then he had taken off for the start of their three-hour tour. “Sounds like a good plan, actually. You up for it, Scott?”
“Of course. What could be better than a couple hours on a somewhat deserted island with my girlfriend?”
“I think Dan’s already out there. He’s the one that asked about it. Something about cash on the island, he said. I’m guessing I have no clue what he’s talking about, because I know there’s not a stash of money out there.” Hank shook his head.
“Not cash like the money, cache like something in a hiding place.” Jane said. “He has a high tech treasure hunt thing that he does. Somebody must have hid a container on one of these islands. When he comes back just ask him if he got a smiley or not.”
“Should I ask, or should I just accept that?” Hank asked Scott.
“Just accept it. I certainly am.”
They exchanged a few remaining pleasantries before going to pack a small bag. By the time they were ready to go, they had four sandwiches, two sodas and two bottles of water, a nice thick beach blanket and a large bag of Sun Chips at their beck and call. Jane and Scott climbed on a raft, along with Lilly, who they dropped off at the close island before paddling out to the far one.
“It’s a bit steep, but there’s a trail going up that hill. I bet we’d get a great view from there,” Scott said, pointing at a possible trail.
“I think you’re right. The top looks flat enough for a picnic.”
They climbed for a few minutes, terrain, not distance, slowing them down and set up a small camp for their meal. Jane looked at Scott, hair ruffling slightly with the breeze. “Looks perfect, honey.” There’s no way Hank was the menacing one she was worried about, Jane thought as she cuddled next to Scott. She forced the issue out of her mind before she let herself realize that she had exhausted her list. This moment with Scott was perfect, and that’s all she wanted to focus on.

Today was the day he would finish everything. He had gone through it in his head every night before bedtime for forty years. Today he would close the loop.

He was parked across from the Seven-Eleven and waited for Matt and his father to arrive. He had been there two hours when he saw an old El Camino pull up. A young father and his ten-year-old son stepped out. They came out of the store a few minutes later, and he watched as they ate their sandwiches. He saw the young boy interact with his father, and he caught himself wondering if there was any way to save the boy. Should he kill the young Hispanics before they strike? There would still be a chance his father and mother would be killed some other way, and then his uncle would get him again. He could kill the uncle, but he didn’t know if another relative wouldn’t be just as bad. He had thought about a half dozen other scenarios over the years, but none of them were foolproof, and that’s what he needed. He followed them after they finished their meal and pulled out of the parking lot. He parked across the street and observed the family as they bought their fireworks. He then watched as the two young Hispanic men arrived on the scene and exterminated the three adults. John had positioned himself perfectly, and he came up from behind them and shot both of the young men quickly. Then he walked up and put a bullet in each of their heads to make sure the job was finished.

John walked slowly to Matt, as the ten-year-old looked down on his dead parents. “Why didn’t they kill me?” Matt turned and asked John.

“I don’t know,” John replied before extending his hand and pulling the trigger. The young boy’s head was split in two, and his slender body dropped to the ground beside his mother.

As John put the revolver to his own head, he knew he had one last bullet for one last action to close the loop. “I’ll be your huckleberry,” he said as he looked down on the boy’s ghastly face. He pulled the trigger and his body collapsed on top of Matt’s.

THE END