Remains of the Dead by Iain McKinnon Page A

survival.
    Looking up, he could see the four other balconies above him. There was a similar line of wrought iron platforms running parallel to him in the identical row of apartments next to this, but the gap between his current position and the closest one was five or six metres away. Even without an injured leg it would be an impossible leap.
    “Upwards and onwards,” Ali geed himself on as he clambered up.
    He examined the railing and the possible footholds. Using the frame of the window to steady himself, he first sat on the railing. He reached up but was a good distance short of the overhanging balcony. A light gust of wind fluttered past him and Ali held his breath. It wasn’t a long way down. If he were to fall he knew he’d survive. But he knew he wouldn’t survive for long. He’d land like a crowd surfer in the welcoming arms of the dead below.
    Ali swallowed down his nervousness and eased his good leg onto the handrail. With one hand gripping the rail and the other flat against the rough brick, Ali pushed up. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he squatted on his haunches on the perilously thin guard rail.
    With great trepidation Ali let go of his hold and placed both hands on the wall to steady himself. Slowly fighting against the pain and the fear, he straightened his legs and stood up. It was only a difference in height of around six feet, but his heart thumped like he was on the peak of a mountain. He gulped down a breath, trying to push back the vertigo. A light breeze wrapped its way around him. His unruly beard fluttered in the draught and fear spurred him into action.
    He stretched up and found the balcony overhead, giving a sigh of relief at finding the extra purchase. He pulled his gaze away from the ochre brickwork to look up. With his height the next storey up was only inches away from his face and he was easily able to get his elbows between the rails and onto the decking. He gripped the bars like a dejected prisoner and tested his weight and grip.
    “You’ve just got to go for it.”
    He swung his good leg level to the decking and jammed his foot in between two railings. He threw his left hand up, using the momentum from the swing and found the top of the railing. Grunting from the exertion, he pulled himself over the railing and landed with a thump safely onto the deck.
    He lay there like a landed fish gasping for air staring at the underside of the balcony above. Even though his leg throbbed he let slip a childish giggle of delight.
    “Made it,” he wheezed.
    After a few moments gaining his composure, Ali got back to his feet. He walked over to the window and gazed in. The sunlight and the dark interior combined to turn the glass into a dull mirror. He placed his hand to his forehead and lent into the window, hoping to shade the worst of the glare.
    The room looked abandoned. Items of a normal life left behind by their dead or fleeing occupant. Ali rapped on the windowpane with his knuckles. He wasn’t adhering to some long lost etiquette, he wanted the noise to draw out any zombies that might still be inside.
    After waiting long enough for any shambling half skeleton to investigate, he tried the window. It was locked shut.
    Still grasping the handle he looked up to the next balcony.
    “Onwards and upwards,” he sighed.
    He repeated the climb and made his way to the next balcony. But again the window was firmly closed.
    He waited for a moment to regain his strength. Above him was the final floor.
    He didn’t know what he’d do if that window was shut. He looked over at the adjacent terrace of balconies. The gap was too wide to jump but he’d seen a movie once where the hero had jumped diagonally, landing on the balcony one level down and across.
    But Ali’s leg throbbed, his joints ached, and he didn’t feel much like an action hero.
    “One last climb,” he said.
    He saddled the guard rail and started his third ascent.
    In a few seconds he’d repeated his climb and was standing at