Kristie breathed a sigh of relief as her final kick shot the door open with a loud thud. She rushed past the door and swept the roof quickly. Several air vents were dormant and she looked around. The roof was not very big, but the sides were moderately high and she had an amazing view. She smiled to herself as another deep wince followed in the wake of a rush of pain. Kristie set her M16A4 against the side of the roof and pulled her load bearing vest off, dropping it next to her rifle. She felt lighter than ever, her upper body covered only by her MARPAT MCCUU blouse. She pulled it off and stood there in a dark green shirt. She pulled up the shirt and checked the door for a second. Pulling the shirt over her breasts, she grimaced at a large, light bruise about the size of a footbal hid just under her left breast. She didn't have a bra on, which was her own fault. Three days earlier Kristie had tried to take a shower, and in the process was jumped by a nude woman whom had been killed in the home. She killed the woman, for the second time in the womans life, and made it out unharmed, except for at least no broken ribs but definitely some muscle bruising as well. The bruise sent a shiver down her spine as she pulled her shirt back down. Earlier it had been black, but things looked better now. She sat against the wall and pulled her boot off.<br/><br/>Fishing a small kit out of her LBV, she opened the small gray box up to reveal a syringe of morphine and a half used roll of tape and a half roll of bandage. She pulled her sock off, and just above her ankle was badly swollen. Kristie wrapped the bandage up firmly and finished it off with a tight ring of tape, before putting the small syringe of morphine into her arm and putting the spent syringe back. She closed off the case and chucked it to her left, over the edge. The does of morphine wasn't enough to dull the pain, but it wouldn't have major mental effects either. It was a combat dose, not for pain treatment but to make it bearable. Kristie suddenly began to sob and felt tears running down her cheek. Everyone she'd known in the Marines had died in the ambush. She'd watched girlfriends from high school be torn appart, ex-boyfriend or two getting tackled by half a dozen zombies and ever friend she'd ever made get shredded. She wanted to just die, she wished she hadn't run, just stayed and accepted her fate. Kristie wasn't a firm Catholic but she believed in something and now she wanted to know why the fuck she wasn't put out of her misery.<br/><br/>The dull sound of a drill from below caught her attention, and Kristie stood up. Her ankle and chest felt much better, and she winced at her shoulder making an odd cracking noise. She looked at her shoulder and noticed it was bulging. Her shoulder was dislocated, great. Without a thought she put her hand on the bulge and gave her arm a firm shove. A loud crack shot out from her arm, but she hardly felt the bones snapping back into place. She sighed and with gear in tow she shuffled downstairs and to the front, where she saw Dinah moving through the isles and Markus and Jake preparing what looked like the barricade. Kristie went down the stairs and rejoined the two at the front. She set the M16A4 down on the counter and looked down at everything she had.<br/><br/>Kristie looked over at Markus and took a deep breath and walked over. "<strong>Hey, Markus.</strong>" Kristie spoke, walking right up to him and glancing at Jake with the drill. "<strong>Listen uh...I'm sorry about how I treated you earlier. I have no excuse for the way I treated you, and I'm sorry about it.</strong>" Kristie bit her lower lip and sucked in her pride, as she backed up with a sincere look of guilt on her face, as she walked over to her table and looked at everything she had.