Chapter 0
Nathon Hareds sat slouched over the bar at the first diner he had seen after he had been walking for a few hours. The hospitals had become overcrowded over night, according to her sources, and she was suspicious; and so she had sent him scouting. He looked down at the piece of notebook paper she had handed him. Her straight, harsh handwriting spelled out a list. The list consisted of symptoms not unlike those of the common cold. Fever, nausea, paleness, coughing or wheezing, things seen everywhere this time of year. But he knew she wouldn't see reason, and so he focused on looking for someone who had the last clue she had given him. Someone who had been bitten by another person.
He sipped the last of his water and brushed back his dark hair before he stepped out of the diner without ordering. He didn't have any money anyway. She never paid him. He walked down the cold streets of the city, studying the faces of the people he passed, wishing his life was simple, like theirs.
He looked down at the watch on his wrist, and saw it was already almost noon. She was expecting him at the apartment building in just over an hour, and if he had no news, it would just make her angry. He sighed and turned around, knowing she would surely punish him somehow, even though he had nothing to take away, and he already lived a life he hated. There was not much she could do to make things worse.
As he passed an alley, a man stumbled out of the dim and lunged for his shoulder, surprised, Nathon jumped and almost fell, but recovered and helped the man regain his balance. He was wearing a suit and tie, and held a briefcase in his right hand. He was gripping his right shoulder with his left hand, and he was deathly pale.
"Please," he wheezed, "Help me."
Nathon helped the man walk to the nearest shop, and found himself back in the same diner as before. He half dragged-half led the man to the nearest booth and sat him down, he rushed to the bar.
"Some water, please." The young blonde lady behind the counter, the only other person in the diner now, rushed to the sink behind her and filled the first glass she saw. She handed it to Nathon and he ran back to the table. The man, with generic features and brown hair, was gasping and was close to passing out. Nathon put the glass on the table and the man shakily took it and took a few sips. Nathon could see blood coming between the fingers of the man's left hand.
"What happened to you?!" He asked urgently, trying with difficulty to keep the excitement out of his voice.
"I- I was on my lunch break….took a shortcut through the a-alley….chick came outta nowhere….t-tried to mug me I think….took a b-bite outta my shoulder….I whacked her with my b-briefcase." The lady had come over now and was trying to get the man to move his hand so she could clean the wound. Nathon was in awe at his luck, and after a few seconds he had gathered his bearings and was out of the door, leaving the waitress and man staring after him in shock.