Read Tower Of The Dead: A Zombie Novel for Free Online

nervous excitement rumbling around inside me, waiting for some type of response.
    Nothing.
    “Alisa!” Tasia raises her voice slightly. I look back, afraid that the noise may attract more unwelcome visitors.
    “Hear anything?”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “We’re gonna have to break it down, move aside.”
    “You think that’s—”
    “I think our baby girl might be in there and she might need us. I’m not standing out in this hall anymore.”
    She nods her agreement and takes two steps to the right.
    I’m no expert on taking down doors, I’ve seen it done on TV a time or two and I’ve heard a couple little hooligans in this building brag about the techniques they use, so I go at it the only way I know how; shoulder first. I’m not a big man, so part of me expects to go tumbling backwards on my ass. But it gives straight away and a few seconds later, I’m standing in the middle of the living room.
    There’s no time for celebration. Whatever rush of victory I feel is quickly washed out by a spine tingling chill of terror. There’s blood all over the living room: streaked on the walls, pooled on the carpet, speckled across the face of the television screen. There are signs of struggle everywhere: the couch is tipped over on its back with white swells of stuffing emerging from tears and slits in the fabric, the coffee table is on its side and is missing two legs, the end table by the recliner has been reduced to a pile of splinters.
    For a moment, Tasia and me just stand there, frozen, taking in the scene, readjusting our hopes and expectations in light of this new information.
    “Oh my god,” Tasia mutters as tears instantly fill her eyes.
    I break from my trance and start storming through the apartment, hatchet up. “Alisa!”
    Tasia is running behind me, echoing my calls, “Alisa! Alisa! It’s us, baby! It’s safe!”
    The kitchen looks just as war torn and the refrigerator door is hanging open. When I get to the hallway leading off the kitchen to the bedrooms, I see them.
    The bodies.
    I catch myself against a door frame as the world around me momentarily fuzzes out of existence.
    I can’t breathe. I can’t scream. I can’t cry.
    “What is it? Is it Alisa?” Tasia squeezes past me, sees them, and screams. “No! Oh, please, no!” She doesn’t waver like I do. She charges in, not put off by the corpses and blood.
    There are three bodies. Two are adults. One is a kid…a little girl. She’s face down on the carpet. I can’t see what her wounds are. But they are there…somewhere beneath all the mess.
    “Don’t let it be her, don’t let it be my baby!” Tasia isn’t concerned with being delicate. She twists the girls’ head in her hands, brushing the hair aside, trying to get a look at the features beneath. After a few seconds, she lets the girl go and collapses against the wall on her butt, breathing heavy and shaking all over. “It’s not her, oh thank you Jesus, it’s not her.”
    I feel the same relief, but the fact remains that we still haven’t found her. “Come on, get up. We don’t got time to relax.”
    “I’m not relaxing, I just need a minute.”
    “We don’t have—”
    Something starts bumping around in the room at the end of the hall; it’s enough to bring Tasia back up to her feet. “Alisa, honey, is that you? You’re safe, baby.”
    I beat Tasia to the door, my hand on the knob, hatchet raised. “Alisa, we’re coming in.” I turn the handle and let go, swinging the door open with my foot, keeping my hands free to defend myself against whatever horror may be waiting to greet me.
    The room is empty except for a set of bloody footprints embedded in the carpet. They lead straight for a small closet on the other side of the bed. “Alisa, honey, it’s your dad.” The folding door is decorated with stickers: sparkling images of shooting stars and glowing planets. I approach slowly, careful to avoid the fresh line of footprints.
    I’m not feeling anything close