Disabled
And in no time he drifted in the compound.
He dashed out the door and rushed towards the building, placed his hold on the door knob and struggled to insert the keys into its lock as his hands shook violently. He finally gained access, rushing towards the crate of beer he had newly acquired, knocking down everything that blocked his path, he opened it and let its content rush down his throat.
“That was close.” He heaved a sigh of relief.
For a moment, Ken doubted his claim of being immortal, he sat there thankful to the makers of alcohol.