When Johnny Ghost woke up, he thought he was dead.
He was lying in the middle of a street, surrounded by car rubble and burning metal. To the side of him was a dead police officer. But Ghost couldn't react; the pain was too much. On top of the feeling of hot, fire-like pain dancing along his nerves he felt a sensation unlike anything before. It felt like his whole lower half was severed from his top. And then he realized he had been shot earlier that day. Although he tried to recap everything that happened since he was shot at his door and why he is now car-wrecked in the middle of the road, he couldn't remember a single thing. It was nearly impossible to move, but when he slowly looked up, he saw a large white moon shining above him. He knew he had to get up, but couldn't.
Finally, he sat up. It made the pain worse, but he had to do something. He stood up with weak, shaking, bloody legs and looked around. The smell of burning rubber attacked his nostrils but the scent was far less worse than what he felt on his body. He was surprised that there were no sirens or anybody around. Taking slow steps, he went towards a dilapidated building with a pink, neon sign screaming "BAR: HOURS 5-12"
He looked through the foggy window. Inside was nothing but empty chairs and tables, the occasional glass on the ground, shattered. He stepped away from that window and looked for another place to go. But suddenly, his thoughts were invaded by a scream echoing from beyond. His natural instincts came upon him and although it was painful, he ran towards the sound. After what seemed like miles, he collapsed. The pain from his stomach grew too much, and his eyes began to fade away. Before he knew it, he was lying on the cold street of nowhere, knocked out. Or dead. Either way, there was no hope.
