Where the Undead Roam

Chapter Eight

Casey's POV

How dare he call me jealous! I was furious at Timmy for... for... being so right. This halted my next step, which was toward a huge building a couple yards away. Timmy was right? Was I jealous? Ha! That would be the day.

I continued stomping toward the building. Oh: where am I going? To be honest, I didn't really know. When I stormed out of the McDonald's like a bat outta hell, I had no plan whatsoever. I chose a landmark off in the distance and began walking to it.

As I got closer to the building, my curiousity grew. The building, from what I could tell, was completely unmarked, whereas all of the other, smaller buildings had billboards or signs on them. All of the windows had curtains or shades blocking the inside. Anyways, I was too far away to see inside.

All of a sudden, I went flying through the air. Shizz! I landed on my wrist and my face (although more on my face) and I heard a loud snap. Was that my bone? Aww crap. At first I didn't feel anything. Maybe I popped my knuckles or something. I don't know. BOOM! Yep! Definately broken.

I wanted to scream but that really wouldn't be a good idea. What if there were zombies around? I clutched my left arm and rolled around on the ground a bit, my eyes squeezed shut, biting down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. I bet I looked like I was having a seizure or something. Too much pain to care, though.

After a few minutes went by, I managed to sit up and lean back against the car. What was I going to do? I didn't know how to fix a broken arm. By now, I was sure it was broken because it was way farther back than it should have been. Besides, moving it AT ALL killed!

Well, I knew one thing I wouldn't do. Go back to them. I couldn't face Timmy again, knowing what I knew now. I had been a complete bee-otch to him and I had a sneaking suspicion that he liked me. That wasn't a good thing. Look what happened last time I got close to someone. She "fell in love" with someone and I turned into a raging, jealous lunatic. Well, depending on who you asked.

A terrifying thought popped into my head just then. Whether from TV, the internet, or a book, I knew that in order to mend a broken arm properly you had to "set" it. To set it meant you had to break it again and move it into place. Not so difficult, right? Yeah, except they always had morphine to help them.

At least I could walk. There might be something in that building that could help. Medicine or gauze or at least something I could bite down on while I broke my wrist so that I didn't bite off my tongue.

Then I heard rumbling noise coming from the direction I had come in. I sounded familiar but I couldn't quite place it... A motorcycle! What the hell... Crap, it was probably Alex or AJ... Either way, I had to hide. With Alex, I would probably give in and go back with her. If it was AJ... Well, let's just say that I only needed one hand to fire a gun.

I struggled to get up from the ground with no hands, vaguely wondering if I was going to go into shock (I hoped not) and jogged toward the building, careful not to jostle my arm around. The motorcycle was getting closer. I pulled on the handle of the door, cursing when I found it was locked. I went around the side of the building, finding only windows. Oh well. I looked around, picking up a chunk of crumbled asphalt. It shattered the glass easily. Now to get in. I sucked in a deep breath and lifted my leg over the windowsill. My eyes bugged out as my wrist knocked against the wood. Keep going.

Just as the bike revved infront of the building where I had just been moments ago, I pulled myself through the window and dropped to the floor.

Holding my breath, I waited. But then I realized I couldn't see anything. And there was a scuffling noise quite close to me. Worst place to be during a zombie apocalypse: In the dark. Fudge.