Read All The Beautiful People (A Dread Novel Book 1) Online
Authors: Jonathan Yanez
“And that is why you are all here,” Wade said, stepping forward as though he and Frank were tag-teaming the room in a kind of verbal wrestling match. “You all possess the skills in combat, communications, field support, and technology that we will need to see this mission through. You all know the stakes. This could be the last shot we get at keeping this event from becoming something…apocalyptic. We get the doctor, we find the cure, and we live to see another day. Report to your department heads for your instructions. May God be with us all.”
Taylor was chewing on a cellophane wrapped sandwich as she listened to Wade speak. She wasn’t hungry, but after missing lunch she knew her body needed the fuel. The poor soul in charge of making the sandwiches for the team needed a stint in culinary school. The graying meat was stuck in a stranglehold by a soggy tomato slice on one side of the sandwich. The combination of colors reminded Taylor of the blood she had witnessed pouring down the face of James Jones. The texture of the soggy bread didn’t help. Her imagination ran with the idea that she was somehow already infected with the disease and now tearing away at a human limb.
After the meeting was dispersed, Taylor and Jason were asked to join Wade, Frank, and a well-muscled man old enough to be Taylor’s father in a private communication room.
“Taylor, Jason, I’d like you to meet Frank Caster, whom you already heard speak, and Captain George Martin, who will be leading the team to reach Dr. Jenkins.”
Taylor moved her less than delicious meal to her left hand and traded handshakes with both Frank and the captain. Looking at each of them, she could preconceive their handgrip strength. She could tell a lot about someone with a firm handshake compared to the opposite, which she referred to as “the limp fish.” Being a woman enabled her to further her assessment. Someone who gave her a limp shake due to her sex was only weak in her eyes. It showed they underestimated her.
Captain Martin’s grip was firm and quick. Taylor felt the calluses across his paw of a hand, a trait that came with a lifetime of physical labor. In his case Taylor guessed hours at the gym and hand-to-hand combat training.
Frank’s handshake, to his credit, was also strong, yet nowhere near the size or feel of the captain’s grip. Still, Frank wasn’t afraid to grab her hand and press with an appropriate amount of force.
With introductions out of the way, Frank plopped himself into a black swivel chair in front of his desk and started clicking keys on a wireless keyboard. Taylor forced herself to chew the last bite of her sandwich, wondering if this was how cows felt munching tasteless grass in the field.
Frank’s fingers were racing across the keyboard, striking buttons so fast each individual clicking sound melded into the next until you couldn’t tell where one keystroke ended and the other began. Bright colored energy drink cans lay littered across the computer desk. Each design was the same even if the colors varied. It was apparent the product merchandizing teams thought their customers would be big on extreme sports and large trucks.
The scene reminded Taylor of a graveyard, though in place of bones there were empty cans and the occasional fast food wrapper in no discernible order. Wade’s voice broke through the symphony of key strokes as Frank pulled up a satellite view of the doctor’s house.
Wade chewed on his lower lip deep in concentration. The only respite he allowed his lip came when he turned to Taylor.
“Taylor, you and Frank will travel under a heavy security detail led by Captain Martin. Your mission is to find the doctor and bring him back. Jason and I will stay here, along with a communication and intelligence team to provide any support you need.” Wade allowed his eyes to travel to every member of the team, finally coming to a stop on the captain’s stern jaw. “Captain, the floor is yours.”
Captain Martin stood straight with his hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were narrowed in on the computer screen showing the aerial view of the doctor’s house.
“We’ll be taking three vehicles through the city, each equipped with a six-man incursion team. Taylor and Frank will travel in the middle of the convoy with me. When we reach the house, my men will set up a perimeter and I will take Taylor and Frank inside to secure the doctor.”
It was a simple plan. Taylor knew from experience that there were a million things that could go wrong, but plans needed to start somewhere. They would be required to adjust on the fly. From what she had seen of the captain’s personality, she had faith he would be able to do just that.
Frank swiveled in his chair to look at Taylor. The gum he chewed popped between his jaws. “No offense, I get why everyone else is here, but what is it that you do, Taylor?”
Taylor wasn’t used to answering to a teenager. Nonetheless, in the moment, she decided to adjust and play nice. “I get things done. What is it that you do? You’re an expert on the apocalypse and you have a bunch of degrees in the ‘end of times’? Can you even get your degree in that field? Is that a real thing?”
Frank’s face tuned a bright shade of red. The years of experience he had yet to achieve spoke volumes as he struggled to control his temper. “For your information, I am the leading mind in my field. I even created and wrote the code for the program that is now used worldwide to predict how fast an apocalyptic event could spread. Can you calculate the rate to which a pathogen of unknown origin can spread to members living in a population of over one billion citizens? Because I can.”
Taylor shrugged in mock defeat. “I guess you got me there, Super Boy.” She dropped the balled-up cellophane wrapper from her hand for effect, taking a step closer to Frank. “Although I can’t do that math if I wasn’t a professional, I could tell you how many places I could break your jaw and how long it would take my fist to reach your face.”
“Whoa, whoa!” Wade jumped in with his hands raised. Frank recoiled from Taylor, bringing his knees toward his chin in a protective fetal position. Jason and the captain chuckled.
“Let’s remember where the real enemy is and why we’re here,” Wade said.
“Operation Snatch and Grab is a go,” Captain Martin’s voice boomed through the cavernous garage. The captain stood in front of a large dry-erase board giving meticulous directions to the men and women he hand selected for the mission. “Three vehicles codenamed Archangel One, Archangel Two, and Archangel Three will travel to the doctor’s residence, codename Lighthouse. We will be in open radio communication with Lazarus and our intelligence team for the entirety of the mission. You will refer to them as Mother…”
The captain’s voice trailed off as all eyes drifted to where he stared. Frank Caster was sitting on an ammo box, one arm in the air. The eagerness on his face and the way he pumped his arm begging for attention brought a smile to the faces of the soldiers. In the same booming voice the captain used to address the mission briefing, he shouted to Frank, “Mr. Caster, do you have a question?”
Frank let his arm fall to his side and rose to his feet. “Only a suggestion, sir. It might be easier to have code names that reside in one universe as opposed to mixing them. For example I like the Archangel names for the vehicles. Might I suggest we refer to the doctor’s house as Heaven and the communications team as Michael or Gabriel?”
The caption stood stunned. As the seconds lengthened, Taylor almost felt sorry for Frank. He was out of his element to begin with and now had made himself a target for ridicule. Captain Martin licked his lips, letting the silence build to an unbearable crux. Taylor didn’t feel as if she was the only one in the room wishing the building silence would continue to extend into infinity. Anything Captain Martin was going to say next was going to be awkward for the entire room.
Frank must also have noticed the pause in energy because he fidgeted with unraveling another piece of gum. The pink square missed his lips as he pushed it to his mouth and fell to the floor. Taylor made a mental note to try to be nicer to the kid.
When the silence was already past the point of being unbearable, Captain Martin spoke. Although his words expressed nothing short of professional courtesy, his eyes shouted volumes of controlled rage. “Thank you for your suggestion, Mr. Caster. We will take changing our code names under consideration. Until then we will be working with these call signs.”
Frank’s jaws worked like a machine on a new piece of bubble gum. His face assumed the same red tint as when Taylor offered to show him her fist earlier.
“Archangel One and Three will set up a perimeter while I lead Archangel Two to secure our objective. This isn’t anything fancy, people. In and out, no one will even know we are there. Are there any questions?”
Silence.
“Good,” Captain Martin said. “Gear up, we leave in ten.”
The room broke into a fury of movement as though his voice were the only thing holding the chaos at bay. Men and women fastened black Kevlar vests over their navy uniforms and loaded weapons ranging from automatic assault rifles to pump-action shotguns.
In whole the garage housed enough firepower to start a small revolution. On one side of the large room, racks upon racks of guns and body armor stood ready for use. On the other side, an armada of vehicles lined the walls. Everything from blacked out SUVs to steel-reinforced trucks that reminded Taylor of the vehicles banks used to transport funds.
On one hand, it was a disturbing thought that Lazarus Pharmaceuticals was equipped with this kind of weaponry. On the other hand, it was a relief. The Board at Lazarus had prepared for anything. Because of their paranoia, Taylor and the team were equipped with everything they needed at a moment’s notice.
Having seen what they were walking into firsthand, Taylor decided to follow suit with the rest of the incursion team and gear up for the trip. She replaced her leather jacket for a Kevlar vest, gloves, and black plastic elbow guards. If she did her job right, she wouldn’t need weapons. Still, the images of James Jones’ face was too fresh in her mind not to strap a Kimber 1911 Raptor II to her right thigh. Along with the handgun, Taylor chose the largest knife she could find. The blade measured a full foot in length and was more of a machete than a field knife. This went in a black carrying case on her left hip.
The handle of the knife stuck out and reminded her of a sword hilt.
“Nice blade,” Jason said. “I thought you didn’t use weapons?”
Taylor heard him coming from yards away. She wouldn’t be any good at her job if she hadn’t. Jason stood next to her with a worried expression.
“I thought I would make an exception this time.”
Jason frowned, bringing both corners of his lips down, “Be careful out there. I’ve been briefed on what you guys are walking into. It’s not pretty. Riots are being reported countywide, the hospitals are overrun with victims, and the police are being overwhelmed.”
“I got it. It’s the end of the world out there. That’s why I’m taking weapons this time.”
Jason nodded. Taylor could read it all over his face. He was worried about her. It was a feeling she had not experienced in quite a long time, someone feeling emotional turmoil for her well-being. Her mother and father were dead. Taylor didn’t have any friends and any kind of romantic relationship was out of the question. Men were too emotional and needy. Case in point, Jason Waters.
“I’m going to be fine, Jason. We’ll be in communication the entire way. I’ll have you and Wade on the line if anything goes wrong. If that isn’t enough, we’re being led by Boy Wonder himself.”
Taylor glanced over to where Frank was struggling to tie on a helmet that was two sizes too big for his head. Every square inch of his body was covered in various pieces of body armor the garage held.
“Okay,” Taylor said, “so that’s not the best example but you get what I mean.”
Jason was staring at Frank. “I think he’s tipping over from all the weight.”
Taylor looked back to where Frank was leaning to his left. The padding on his right side finally wrestled away his hold on balance. Like a slow motion video, Frank was leaning farther and farther to the garage floor. At the last moment, Captain Martin appeared by his side. Righting the boy with a disapproving glare, he removed half a dozen pieces of the Kevlar padding.
“Be safe,” Jason said bringing them both back to reality. “I know you’re a loner. I know you don’t trust anyone, but you may need to. We all may need to if we are going to survive this thing.”
Jason turned and left. Whether he knew it or not, he’d planted a seed in Taylor’s mind, leaving in his wake a multitude of questions for the lone alpha female to consider.
The scent of the inside of the armored truck was one Taylor knew well. The clean, almost nonexistent metallic scent of the vehicle mixed with the much stronger aromas of diesel. It made her nose scrunch without thought. The smells were ones she was comfortable with and even welcomed.
The truck’s engine was already running, the powerful machine’s heartbeat sending vibrations through the interior of the vehicle. Taylor was sitting on the long metal bench by herself. Across from her on another bench, Captain George Martin was pressing his right pointer finger and middle finger to his ear, listening to someone’s voice through his earpiece. Beside him, Frank sat with an open laptop, his fingers doing what they did best, hitting keys at a blinding pace.
“Yes, Mother, we are green to go,” Captain Martin’s voice echoed in the square chamber of the truck’s passenger section. He continued to speak into his earpiece but the rest of his conversation was low and muffled.
“Have you seen what we’re driving into?”
It took a moment for Taylor to realize Frank was talking to her. Apparently the youth harbored no ill will to her despite their previous confrontation. On her part, Taylor was willing to let the past be the past.
“I was in the field early this morning but…” she paused to reach in her left pocket and glance at her cell phone, “…that was six hours ago. How does it look now?”
“It’s crazy out there, take a look at this.” The boy exchanged the bench he was on sitting beside the captain to maneuver his bulky, body-armored frame across the narrow walkway.
Taylor smiled as Frank wobbled like an emperor penguin. Even though it was only a few feet to her bench, Frank had to take a dozen small steps to make the journey.
“A friendly suggestion, Frank. You may want to sacrifice a few pieces of that Kevlar for more maneuverability. If we have to run, you’ll regret wearing that thing. We’re not going to diffuse bombs.”
Frank reached his destination and plopped down beside Taylor. “Thanks for the recommendation but I’ve seen what those things can do. I’ve read the reports and if we come face-to-face with whatever those things are, I don’t want any of my skin uncovered.”
“That’s one way to look at it.”
Frank turned the screen of his laptop in her direction. There were too many windows open for Taylor to track at once. Nine individual boxes were open like a single side of a Rubik's Cube. Each screen was following a different story. Male and female news anchors from around the world spoke through television stations, relaying the events taking place both locally and abroad.
There was no volume, only text mirrored the words spoken on the bottom of each window. Taylor didn’t need to hear voices, didn’t even need to read the words scrolling across the bottom of each screen to know what they were reporting. The expression each reporter wore on their face was enough. Bloodshot eyes, rumpled clothing, the constant nervous twitch of licking lips, blinking, and fingers tapping on tabletops were all signs.
Images changed from pictures of news anchors reporting in clean, visually appeasing offices to pictures of chaos in the streets. Imageries of riots, looting, hospitals packed to the brim were only a few of the stories the news was reporting. Taylor’s eyes maneuvered around Frank’s screen at a pace that could match his typing skills. She couldn’t look away. So much was happening throughout the country. So much death, and if they couldn’t stop it soon, this was only the beginning.
“You two ready to look the devil in the eye?”
Taylor looked up into the firm gaze of the captain. He was studying them both, measuring them, weighing their worth. His right hand was pressing his earpiece in place, his left holding the barrel of his black assault rifle across his lap.
“Let’s get this done,” Taylor said.
“Onward and upward,” Frank said around a wad of gum.
The captain clicked a few channels on the radio strapped to his right front vest pocket. “Archangel Two to Archangel One and Three. We are greenlighted to go. Keep in tight formation. We have information from Mother that it is already Armageddon out there.”
Taylor couldn’t hear the responses that fed back through the captain’s earpiece but she imagined they were positive receptions to his order. Their vehicle began to move forward. Even beyond the rumble of the truck, she detected the grating noise of the large garage door being opened, like someone pulling a heavy chain across a steel panel.
The truck they rode inside was intended first and foremost to transport its passengers in a secure manner. This meant the windows the truck did afford were narrow openings with thick, double-paned, bulletproof glass. Above the benches on either side of the truck were two thin windows placed side-by-side. The rear doors sported two larger square windows. The piece of steel connecting to the front of the cab was fitted with a sliding window affording direct communication to the driver and passenger riding shotgun.
It was through these windows that Taylor witnessed the devastation that was rapidly consuming the world. At first it looked like nothing had changed. The sun was bright and cheerful, arguing against the dire hour. As the three trucks rolled forward through the open garage door and travelled through Lazarus’ secured premises, all was quiet.
The square box Taylor rode in wasn’t quite tall enough for her to stand but with a slight bend to her back she could stand near the back doors and survey the landscape.
As they rolled through Lazarus’ expansive estate, the view was promising. The guards were controlling the steady stream of cars to and from the location. The chain-link fences topped with razor wire were in place, and guards patrolled the perimeter.
The convoy was waved through the gates without question. It wasn’t until they reached the first main boulevard that things began to change. The roads were congested with more traffic than should be reasonable for that time of day. The street was a sea of vehicles all eager to get somewhere or away from something. Horns honked and angry yells of panic were exchanged between vehicle operators.
On the horizon, Taylor saw half a dozen different plumes of dark smoke rising to the heavens. Each with their own story to tell, stories that she would never know, nonetheless tragic. Helicopters passed over the road at varying intervals sporting different news station emblems, law enforcement logos, and fire and rescue departments.
After a few minutes of the same scene Taylor resumed her seat. Their truck was moving at a painful stop-and-go pace, one that Taylor was sure she could outwalk. Frank was engrossed in his laptop, another energy drink somehow miraculously appearing in his left hand. The captain was on his radio again discussing their travel route with someone on the other line.
“If time is the most valuable thing we have, then we need to find another way. Getting through this mess will take hours.” There was a long pause while the captain listened. Then he said, “Understood.”
He clicked the radio tuner on his vest. “Archangel Two to Archangel One and Three. We have the go-ahead to travel on the shoulders of the road and through whatever private property we need to in order to reach our objective. The local authorities are being warned. Avoid civilian casualties but let’s get there with all due haste, ladies and gentlemen.”
The captain’s orders were obeyed immediately. No sooner had he relayed the orders than Taylor felt a transition in the armored truck. The driver maneuvered them to the shoulder of the road and hit the gas.
“How are we looking, Mr. Caster?” Captain Martin asked Frank.
Not used to being called by his last name, it took Frank a moment to comprehend the question. “Oh, sorry. Not good. The local authorities are being overwhelmed with the number of calls coming through. The National Guard and Army have been called in. Civilians are being ordered to stay inside but as you can guess, only about half are listening. The traffic we’re stuck in is just the beginning. It’s the first wave of people who know something is seriously wrong. It’s only going to get worse from here. I’m surprised the roads aren’t completely clogged already.”
The captain nodded, unfazed by Frank’s report. “And you, Miss Hart? What is your assessment of the situation?”
Taylor met the captain’s gaze head-on. “It’s not getting there that I’m worried about,” she said. “It’s getting back.”
The captain raised an eyebrow. “Sound wisdom. For everyone’s sake, let’s hope you are worrying for nothing.”