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

this. Good find.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    The two boys run back into the fray, eager to continue the treasure hunt.
    I open up the cap on the container and take a whiff, immediately recoiling at the scent. “Definitely kerosene.”
    “Can I smell it?” Alisa asks.
    “You can, but you’ll regret it.”
    She frowns at the can and shakes her head. “Then no, I don’t want to.”
    “Smart girl.”
    “So what’re you thinking?” Jersean nods at the container.
    “I’m thinking that this is our ignition switch.”
    “Better be careful not to blow your damn self up.”
    “What, and beat the military to it? I would never.”
    It isn’t long before the crowd is gathered by the window, standing over a three-foot tall pile of linens and clothes. They’re all staring at me, waiting to hear the next move.
    “Looks like they’ve elected a new leader,” Jersean sounds relieved.
    I walk to the window. It’s still open. The sheet is still there, daring an escape. I try to peak over the ledge without making myself a target. I can see the two fallen bodies, their blood and insides splashed in large dramatic pools across the crumbling pavement.
    “We don’t have much time, let’s do this.” I grab the man next to me, a random selection. “Help me get these out the window. We want to throw them to the left side of the rope, not directly beneath it; otherwise we’ll be roasting ourselves.”
    “Aight, I can do that.”
    “Don’t stick your head out there, or anything else you care about. We’re gonna have to throw from inside. Don’t give those bastards something to shoot at.”
    He looks nervous, but he nods his head and picks up an armful of sheets and a couple pairs of pants. We swap spots and he puts his back to the wall, standing on the tips of his toes, straining to look down, trying to find his target.
    “Tie one of the sheets around the whole bundle,” I manage at the last second. “It’ll hold it all together so it doesn’t come apart on the way down.”
    “Oh yeah, shit, that’s a good idea.”
    “What’s your name?”
    “DeAndre.”
    “Don’t miss, DeAndre.”
    He exhales deep, squints one eye shut, and sets the other on his target. “I got this,” he whispers, before letting the payload fly.
    It’s a touchdown!
    A goal!
    A homerun!
    Whatever the hell you want to call it, it’s a damn good start!
    “Nice, man, nice!” I wrap him up in a big hug that he seems moderately uncomfortable with, but I don’t give a shit, it’s a small victory on a day of defeat, we’re celebrating.
    I take up the next pile, secure it, and let it fly. It lands right on top of the first one. “Alright, we’re on a roll.”
    By the time I’m finished, DeAndre is ready to go.
    We switch back and forth like that, the folks in the hall watching us, biting their nails, cheering us on after each successful throw. The final load is mine. I leave behind a single shirt and prepare the rest for launch.
    Perfect landing.
    It’s all just waiting for some fuel and a match.
    I can’t help but crack a smile at the thought of the snipers sitting behind their scopes watching the building vomit piles of clothes and dirty sheets. The radio chatter has got to be something.
    I take up the kerosene container and pop the lid. “Everyone, get back a little.” I’m gonna have to give this thing a good bit of momentum; the container is gonna have to go out the window just a little if there’s gonna be any chance of the liquid getting on the small mountain of fabric. That’s gonna give the government boys a window of time to take a shot at me; granted, it’s a damn small window, but it’s still a window.
    I rear back, holding the container low around my knees. I count off to three in my head and then heave upwards, taking two big steps towards the window, listening to the liquid as the force of movement propels it towards the mouth of the container. I reach the upward end of my swing and the liquid leaves the nozzle, popping