All The Beautiful People (A Dread Novel Book 1)

by Jonathan Yanez

  Taylor didn’t hear the response coming from the captain’s earpiece. With the noise from the gunfire outside, she was surprised he was even able to discern a response.

  “We move fast and low,” the captain instructed, looking at Dr. Jenkins and Frank. Taylor and I will provide cover. All you need to worry about is following us to the truck. You move and you don’t stop moving until you are inside, understood?”

  Adrenaline-laced nods returned his orders. Taylor readjusted the grip on her pistol and locked her elbows. Her weapon was pointed to the floor now but as soon as the door opened she was prepared to run out and kill whatever posed a threat to her or her cargo.

  Cargo, Taylor thought to herself as the captain reached for the doorknob releasing them to the hell waiting outside. It’s hard to think of Cidney as cargo.

  The captain’s hand fell over the knob, encompassing it in his large hand.

  Cidney was crouched, holding the straps of her backpack that rested tight on her shoulders with both small hands. No tears of fear fell down her face. She looked like a sprinter at the start line of a race. Her father’s hand was on her shoulder for comfort but this seemed like a wasted attempt at security. Cidney was ready.

  In the next instant, the door was thrown open. Taylor was the first to rush outside. The air was thick now not only with the constant crack of bullets exiting barrels but with screams and groans from the horde at their doorstep.

  In the reddish-orange rays of the day’s setting sun, Taylor realized the captain had been exceedingly calm when he had relayed their situation moments before. To their credit, the captain’s unit was holding in a tight circle around the front of the house, to the lawn, and ending at the three armored cars that formed a kind of barrier. Shouts were passed as magazines were switched out of weapons and movements coordinated. The scene reminded Taylor of a modern day circling of the wagons scenario.

  Just beyond the protective circle of soldiers, Taylor saw their enemy. They were too many to count and all much closer than Taylor would like. The infected bodies came at them like an avalanche.

  Dozens of bodies were lying in the street, yet hundreds more descended on the group. Taylor stayed her arms, which begged to aim at their closest target and fire. Her mission was to secure the doctor and his daughter.

  Heart pounding and with adrenaline to match the intensity of the situation, Taylor ran for the middle truck. A mixture of grass and spent bullet casings crunched beneath her feet as she crossed the yard.

  Risking a quick glance behind her, she saw the others following. Frank was doing his best to keep up under the weight of his Kevlar, the doctor was running in a crouch shielding his daughter with his own body. Cidney was focused, a look of concentration on her face as she caught Taylor’s eyes and looked to her for direction. The captain brought up the rear, his right eye aiming down the long barrel of his rifle and sending shots into the mass of figures approaching.

  The promise of the vehicle’s relative safety vanished while Taylor was ten feet away. Content to see those following her were in stride, she swung around to find the lines had finally broken.

  No matter how steadfast and firm the captain’s men could be, they would not be able to stop the sheer mass of human bodies sprinting at them from every direction. Taylor witnessed a soldier fall to her right under a snarling woman with blood red hair. To her left came a scream that somehow rose above the rest of the chaos and another soldier was down under a pile of wiggling arms and clacking teeth.

  “Hold!” The captain’s voice rose like a beacon of strength in a storm of fear and doubt. “Hold them back!”

  But as he knew it, so did Taylor. The perimeter was breached. The next few minutes would decide if they would make it safely to the vehicles or not.

  Five feet from their armored car, Taylor had her chance to engage the threat the doctor and Cidney referred to as the darkness. A teenage boy not much older than Frank jumped on the roof of the same truck Taylor was leading the group toward.

  In a smooth move perfected with practice, her weapon was up and ready. A gentle squeeze of the trigger sent a bullet from her Kimber 1911 into the diseased boy’s right eye. Her target wobbled back as if he was drunk then fell backward, lost to sight by the truck’s large frame.

  Taylor reached their truck, grabbing the rear hatch door as another maniacal victim rounded the corner. Taylor threw the rear door open as hard as she could. The steel door collided against the advancing assailant with bone shattering force.

  The man fell on his back with a gurgle emitting from his blood-soaked mouth. Before he could rise and mount another attack, Taylor squeezed her trigger once more. The bullet entered the man’s forehead, tearing a hole through both skin and bone and creating an exit wound the size of a grapefruit.

  Taylor took up a position between the truck door and the rest of the world to buy as much time as it took for the others to mount the vehicle. Bullet after bullet exited her pistol. There were so many bodies rushing them, finding targets was not a problem.

  In seconds, Taylor’s gun clicked on empty. With one quick motion she dropped the empty clip from the butt of her pistol and slammed a new cartridge inside. The exchange took only a brief moment before she was mowing down more of the killers seeking to reach her and her group.

  Captain Martin appeared beside her, sending a spray of bullets at a large cluster running at them from their left. “The doctor is secured!” he yelled into his microphone. “Return to your vehicles and let’s get out of this hell hole.”

  At two taps on her right shoulder, Taylor turned to see Cidney looking at her with huge eyes. Without a word, the girl pointed with a pink nail polished finger to Taylor’s feet.

  A thick, calloused arm followed by a balding scalp and sun beaten body was reaching out from under the truck to grab Taylor’s boot. Taylor ended the fiend's adventurous groping with an answer from her 1911.

  “Thanks!” Taylor yelled to the girl.

  “Inside!” Captain Martin yelled to her.

  Taylor and the captain mounted the vehicle at the same time. In unison they grabbed for the interior hatch of the door and yanked it shut.

  CHAPTER 20

  “How do you want me to get out of here, Captain? There are too many of these freaks.”

  The voice was coming from the small sliding window that led to the driver and passenger seats of the truck. Even as the soldier voiced the question, hammering and banging from outside of the vehicle was picking up volume.

  “Run them over,” the captain ordered. “Now go before they find a way in.”

  With a lurch, the armored truck sprang forward. Snarling and the gnashing of teeth could be heard outside the safe walls of their steel box. Bumps rocked the truck as they moved forward, marking each of the lost souls they rolled over.

  Dr. Jenkins held his daughter with both arms, tight to his chest. They were safe for the time being, but with the intensity that the doctor held his daughter one would think he was in fear of her being snatched at any moment.

  Frank sat against a bench, his face drenched with sweat, already busy at work going over the doctor’s research. His eyes were huge as he scanned line after line of the work Dr. Jenkins had spent years compiling.

  “This is—could this really happen?” Frank’s tone indicated he knew the answer. Still, he needed to voice his disbelief to someone.

  “It can and it is,” Dr. Jenkins said.

  “But the testing. They tested the drug on thousands of people before it went to mass market. Why wouldn’t they see anything then?”

  Dr. Jenkins kissed Cidney on the top of her head. He placed her gently on the seat next to him. “I can only suggest a theory in response to your question. However, I would pose to you that darkness, to some extent, lurks in us all. Some more than others. If the darkness can hide, why couldn’t it have hidden itself until its introduction to the world?”

  “W-what?” Frank stuttered. “Are you trying to tell me evil can think?”


  The doctor leaned back in his seat and shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s only a theory.”

  Taylor listened to the exchange in silence. If people’s inner darkness found an outlet, if it was spreading, then they all had cause for worry. Taylor retreated into herself and did what she had always done when something was beginning to appear daunting. She focused on the solution.

  A quick check told her she should have brought more than two extra ammunition magazines. She was down to her last clip. After that, unless she could find a new weapon, it would come down to her knife.

  Let’s not think that way, she chided herself. We made it. We’ll get back to Lazarus and be able to find a cure.

  Taylor rolled her eyes. This was why she didn’t give herself internal pep talks. They never worked. She didn’t even believe what she was telling herself. She couldn’t. Her way of thinking was founded too firmly in Murphy’s Law. Whatever could go wrong, would go wrong.

  “What do you mean Archangel Three is down?”

  All eyes turned to the captain who shouted into his receiver. “No, we keep moving. If there’s no response from the team that means they’re already dead—or worse.”

  The captain’s harsh words struck Taylor like a bucket of ice water. He was right, of course, though even for Taylor it seemed harsh to leave an entire truck of men behind. But what could they do? Jump back into the stream of crazies to see if their men were dead or in the process of becoming a member of the growing mass of lunatics? Captain Martin was making the right call, Taylor knew. It was the ease with which the captain made the call that bothered Taylor.

  No sooner had these thoughts passed through her mind than their truck came to a screeching halt. Taylor was thrown forward and crashed against Frank.

  “Report!” Captain Martin shouted to their driver. “Why have we stopped?”

  Taylor was already crouching to look out the narrow windows. The sun was down, disappearing past the never ending horizon of roofs that comprised the city Dr. Jenkins and his daughter made their home.

  The truck was stuck on an on-ramp to the freeway. The road was beyond congested. Unlike the trip to find the doctor and his daughter when there was some order to the panic, now true chaos ensued. Cars of every make and model covered every square inch of the pavement. They crammed against one another, in most cases literally bumper to bumper. Now even the shoulders of the road were lined with vans, SUVs, trucks, and cars.

  Most people shouted with panic and fear, only a few asking for information on what was happening. Some vehicles were abandoned altogether, the occupants no doubt leaving the stalemate of the freeway in favor of traveling on foot.

  “There’s no way through, sir!” the voice came back. “Orders?”

  Captain Martin clicked through his radio channels. “Mother, this is Archangel Two. We’ve lost Archangel Three en route from Lighthouse. Our exit is blocked, please advise.”

  Frank motioned with an outstretched hand for the captain to switch to his intercom so they could all hear Wade’s response. The captain complied and a second later Wade’s voice came through.

  “Events are unfolding faster than we anticipated. The city is being evacuated. Hold for further instructions.”

  As the silence lengthened, Taylor further examined their surroundings. If they did have to walk out, it would be one long trip. Commotion caught her eye far down the length of freeway. It was too far away to tell exactly what was happening.

  It was Jason’s voice, not Wade’s, that came back through the vehicle’s intercom. Taylor listened to the familiar voice over the radio, her eyes glued to the mystery taking place outside.

  “Bad new first. The streets are packed. I’m tracking every exit route from where you are to Lazarus and it’s tighter than a rollercoaster’s seatbelt out there.”

  Frank flipped over his computer monitor for everyone to see. Jason wasn’t kidding. Satellite feeds showed the freeways and roads in every direction congested with vehicles. Taylor glanced at the laptop display for a brief second then turned her attention back to the window. The indiscernible commotion was getting closer. People were exiting their cars and yelling to one another, fingers pointing behind them in fear.

  “Good news next,” Jason continued. “We can send a chopper for you. Bad news again; you’ll have to hike to a rooftop three miles away for the extraction. I’m sending the coordinates to Frank’s computer as we speak. The chopper will pick you up at 2100 hours.”

  “We’ll be there,” Captain Martin said. He clicked off his radio and turned to address Taylor. “Taylor, what is it?”

  Taylor narrowed her eyes and pressed her face so close to the bulletproof glass, its cool surface tickled her nose. She knew what she was seeing now. Still, how could there be so many? So soon? They were in the 24-hour window of the first incident.

  “We have to make a decision to stay here or go. There’s a mass of infected heading down the freeway that makes what we saw at the doctor’s house look like a Girl Scout troop.” Taylor said this while making eye contact with everyone in the truck. She even stopped for a brief moment to look at Cidney. After all, the girl did save her life with that tiny tap on her shoulder. Looking into each of their eyes gave Taylor insight on what they were thinking. Frank was afraid but doing his best not to show it; the captain was determined, ready for a fight. Dr. Jenkins was sad, as though he’d known this was coming and there was nothing he could do. Cidney sat beside her father with her brow furrowed. She looked angry.

  The captain moved to the window and followed Taylor’s line of sight.

  “We move now. I don’t want to wait to see if those things will be able to get inside the trucks.” The captain shouted to the driver, “Can we back up?”

  “No, sir,” was the response, “we’re boxed in now.”

  “That’s fine. Out of the truck. We’re hoofing it to the extraction point.”

  CHAPTER 21

  “Sorry, sweetheart. You’ll have to leave it.”

  “But the sandwiches…” Cidney said with reluctance in her voice that even made Taylor feel guilty for leaving the meal behind.

  “I’m sorry, Cid,” her father said, taking her small hand in his own. “We’ll have to move fast. You can make more sandwiches later.”

  Cidney didn’t say a word but followed her father’s instructions with a frown.

  The captain was addressing his remaining men as the panic swept to their position and passed them. People ran from their cars screaming down the freeway from the approaching doom. There were thousands of them. Thousands of people, whose inner darkness had twisted and contorted them from the inside out until only shadows of who they once had been remained, were coming.

  They were a minute or two back. The team would need to leave soon. The captain barked out instructions. With only two trucks remaining, his force shrank to eight soldiers, six men and two women. They stood at attention, heads nodding as they received their orders.

  “We need to get going,” Frank whispered to Taylor.

  “We will,” she said. “Give him a minute.”

  Soon the captain was done and the entire group started a light jog up the freeway, merging with the flow of human traffic. The fastest route would take them down the freeway asphalt to an off-ramp and then through a business district. Their target was a twenty-story office building where a Lazarus helicopter would be waiting for them.

  Taylor led the group with the two Jenkinses and Frank following close behind. The captain and his men followed on either side and covered their rear. The panic sweeping over the four-lane freeway was intoxicating. People ran screaming past them, fell, pushed and shoved one another, cursed, knelt, and prayed. One man carrying a baseball bat looked at Taylor and the men behind her carrying assault rifles. With wide eyes, he altered his course to give them a wide berth.

  As the darkness around them became total, the mood of their fleeing entourage worsened. The freeway was lit by lamps and headlights of the parked cars. One out of every two
cars was empty or in the process of becoming empty as drivers looked in their rearview mirrors.

  Taylor glanced over her shoulder and immediately regretted the decision. The people infected by their inner darkness were closing the gap. They ran between and over cars. Some ran straight up like sprinters, some on all fours, but there was no doubt they all had one thing on their mind—death and the spread of the disease.

  The sound of their approaching doom was filling the air. Sounds of running feet on pavement, screams for help, and breaking glass all added their unique voices to create the one-of-a-kind sound of the approaching mob.

  The exit they needed was a full mile off when the first shots set those fleeing into a further state of panic. The captain’s men were opening fire. Taylor knew how close the mob of lunatics must be if they were given the order to engage. The captain wouldn’t allow wasted bullets. He would instruct his soldiers to wait until they had clear shots.

  “Dad? Dad!” Cidney screamed.

  Taylor looked behind her to see the strong-willed girl finally give into fatigue and reach for her father. Like it was second nature, her father reached down and swooped her into his arms. Frank was also finding a way to run faster. Pieces of Kevlar were shedding from his frame as though he were a snake removing a layer of skin.

  Taylor reached for her pistol and yelled to those behind her. “We’re almost there; come on!”

  The truth was, at this rate, they would be overtaken by their pursuers a half mile from their off-ramp. If someone didn’t think of something soon, they were each going to find out how much inner darkness lived inside of them.

  CHAPTER 22

  More gunfire. Like their exit from the Jenkins’ house, the air was scattered with shots from automatic rifles. To most, the noise would sound like any selection of guns being fired. Taylor, however, could distinguish the difference. Some automatic assault rifles lit the air with their anger, yet now more sidearms were being used. The soldiers were running out of ammunition.