Free Tower Of The Dead: A Zombie Novel by J.V. Roberts Page A

cardboard cutouts. The layouts are always the same: cheap carpet that sheds like an old cat, flimsy kitchens with broken appliances and peeling tile, faulty light fixtures, and cramped bedrooms; just enough to keep our stomachs from rumbling, just the scraps, nothing more.
    Things have been moved around and thrown aside. The couch has been toppled over. There’s no blood. Could have been a struggle. Could have been a desperate dash towards freedom. The cabinets in the kitchen are thrown open, the shelves are bare. Lucky for me, when I get back to the master bedroom, the sheet is still intact. It’s the same story in the kid’s room as well.
    I return to Tasia, my bounty in hand.
    “Do you even know how to tie a knot?” There’s a condescending flavor to her voice.
    I am sitting on the ground, legs crossed. My daughter is crouched next to me, watching with curiosity as I attempt to link the sheets together. “Everyone knows how to tie a knot, Tasia.”
    “This isn’t just some knot, this is a lifeline. Your daughter is about to climb down that thing.”
    “Well aware of that, sweetie, well aware.” I’ve always had rather clumsy hands, go figure. Not a good thing when you’re a mechanic. Despite all the years I’ve put in under the grease-stained hoods of the rust buckets of the inner city, my hands still get torn up on a daily basis. My palms are too fat, my fingers are too short. But I’ve always gotten the job done and I’ve always gotten on well with my boss and because of that I’ve been able to keep the paychecks rolling in, meager as they may be.
    “Just give it here.” Tasia yanks the sheets out of my hands and reverses what little progress I’ve made. She shakes them out and begins again, looping them over and around each other with such grace and speed that my eyes lose track of what is where. She gives a final pull. “There we go,” she says with a satisfied nod of her head.
    I can’t hate. It’s a damn fine knot. “Well, alright then. Looks good.”
    “I know.” She tilts her head towards the pipe. “Lift me up.”
    I set my AK beside hers, crouch down, and hug her around the thighs. “Look out, baby. Don’t get kicked.”
    Alisa shuffles out of the way.
    Tasia feels damn near weightless compared to the tools and parts I’m used to hauling around all day. I lift her in one swift motion and hold her in place without breaking a sweat. She has the sheet secured in seconds and gives me a pat on the head to let me know she’s finished.
    I make my way back to the window and press my face against the glass, trying to see if there’s anyone in the streets to witness our attempted escape. I can’t really see, but no one has shot at me yet, so I take that as a good sign, an omen that we should keep moving forward.
    The wooden window frame shivers beneath my grasp as I force it up, kicking years of dirt and rot away in the process, it groans, it stutters and stops, but it moves. Eventually, the opening is big enough for me to squeeze through. “I’m going first.” I pick up my rifle and prepare to step backwards out of the window.
    “You sure?” My wife grabs the sheet.
    “If it can hold me then I know it’ll be able to hold ya’ll. Besides, I want to make sure everything is clear.”
    She nods and lets go of the sheet, giving me a peck on the lips. “Be careful.”
    “Always am.”
    Alisa wraps her arms around my right leg. “Be careful, Daddy.”
    “I will be just fine, sweetie. I need you to keep an eye on Mommy, okay?”
    She steps back and holds up the hatchet, giving a determined nod. “I will.”
    “I love you girls.”
    I throw the sheet from the window and then dip my head out to follow its descent. It’s barely long enough, dangling midway down the third-floor. I step backwards, my right foot now hanging above the alley. I’m clutching the sheet and the stock of my AK with both hands. “Here goes nothing.”
    “Oh my God, oh my God! Lord Jesus, help him!”