[color=00a99d][h2]James Cooper[/h2][/color]
[hr]
[b]August 18, 2039, 10:03 AM
Central Brooklyn[/b]

[color=00a99d]"To die, to sleep,
To sleep, perchance to dream; aye, there's the rub."[/color]

White. Ringing. Slow, blurred movements in the distance.
[i][color=00a99d]Am I...dead? What killed me? I wasn't ready to die![/color][/i]
A metallic taste in his mouth and a sharp, throbbing pain in his forehead woke James. He couldn't remember his face being quite so sticky. Nor could he remember deciding to take a nap on the pavement. He rolled over onto his side and immediately clutched his head and cried out sharply.

This was not right. He was bleeding. There was blood on his head and it hurt tremendously. Oh...oh god. He WAS dying. No, it was too soon! He couldn't die yet! He hadn't even seen another person! And...and...okay, so maybe he wasn't actually dying, but he was still in a lot of pain.

Wincing, James stood and surveyed the road in front of him. He hadn't thought it quite so tilty before. The wall seemed awfully inviting, and he collapsed heavily onto it, body wracked once more with paroxysms from his head wound. Blood filled his nose and mouth, and all he could smell was iron. No smells of rotting building or slowly decomposing organic material. Just his own blood, trickling down the side of his face and mingling with tears.

This wasn't how today was supposed to go. It was supposed to be lucky. More crackles, more food. Against his better judgment, James felt betrayed. There was no food today. There was nothing. Just blood-soaked clothes and a pounding headache. All he wanted now was to go home, but he could barely stand. It had taken so long to get here, and the trip back was sure to be torture. The mixture of tears and blood flowed freely onto his sweatshirt and the concrete sidewalk beneath him. 

A slapping sound reached his ears, startling him into clarity. Running down the street towards him was, for the first time all day, a welcome sight. Youthful spark returning to his eyes and mouth contorting into an unholy combination of grimace and grin, James pushed himself up, propping his body against the wall behind him.
The figure dashing headlong at him was a human.