All The Beautiful People (A Dread Novel Book 1) (9 page)

CHAPTER 18

The rest of their journey was bumpy with sporadic jukes and weaves that reminded Taylor of moves an NFL running back would use. The convoy drivers were skilled at their craft and maneuvered around the traffic like pros. The only thing that bothered Taylor about their aggressive tactics on the road were the civilian cars that followed their lead. Every few minutes Taylor would look out one of the windows. There was a line of cars following their path on the shoulders of the road, through alleyways and abandoned lots. Like an ever-growing snake, the cars followed behind them.

Going back was most definitely going to be an issue. Taylor was going over alternative plans to reach Lazarus on the return trip when the captain announced their arrival.

“Let’s get ready. Mother reports we are one minute out from the Lighthouse.”

Taylor checked her firearm and the two extra magazines strapped to her thigh. She didn’t need to double-check the knife at her waist. She could feel the solid form of the blade nudging her left hip with every turn and jostle of the truck. To most this would be a nuisance. For Taylor the constant reminder of the blade was comforting.

True to his word, within the next sixty seconds the truck came to a stop. Taylor checked the windows to be sure they were safe from any immediate danger. Once she confirmed their safety she wasted no time in exiting the vehicle. She grabbed on to one of the steel door handles that would release her to the world on the brink of chaos.

Here we go,
she said to herself.
No time to be afraid. You can handle whatever comes.

Taylor pulled the rear release and jumped down from the truck’s raised back end. The first thing she noticed was the stillness in the suburban street. A high-end living district reserved for the social elite, the neighborhood was a picture of four car garages, three-story homes, and top tier vehicles.

The sun was descending above roof of the highest house on the block. No one was outside. No cars passed, no one exited or entered their home; it was a ghost town. Either the inhabitants of the area had already fled or they were heeding the warnings of the Army and seeking shelter behind their home security systems.

The three armored Lazarus trucks were parked in front of Doctor Thomas Jenkins’ house in a half circle. Private security guards under the captain’s orders piled from the rear and front of the trucks to take up positions and await their orders.

“Archangel One will take up position here maintaining a secure firing line,” Captain Martin said, his voice cutting through the stillness. “Archangel Three will secure the rear of the building. I don’t want to be surprised by anything. Remember, we are here for the doctor and we are gone. Do not engage unless you are ordered to do so.”

The captain rattled off orders with no room for debate in his voice. He expected his words to be followed without question. As soon as he was finished, soldiers moved to carry out his commands.

Taylor was impressed by the squad’s efficiency. Trying to slow the progress of the apocalypse, Lazarus had hired the right professionals for the job.

“Miss Hart, Mr. Caster,” the captain said as he released the safety to his assault rifle. “Into the belly of the beast?”

Taylor removed the 1911 from its snug resting place at her right thigh. It felt good in her hands. Like the knife tucked at her side, it wasn’t only a tool, it was an object of reassurance. She followed the captain’s lead, also flipping the switch to her own safety. The captain nodded to Taylor and they both looked at Frank.

To his merit, he was right beside them. The Kevlar armor he insisted on wearing ballooned him to twice his normal size. Laptop closed and tucked under his right arm, he gulped the last of his energy drink with his left. With one long draught he emptied the can and crushed it in his hand.

Despite his efforts, the can didn’t collapse in on itself under Frank’s grip. Satisfied with his show of vigor, Frank threw the can on the front lawn. “Let’s unleash the dogs of war, Jeeves.”

The captain raised an eyebrow. He was about to open his mouth when Taylor caught his eye and shook her head. Rather than questioning Frank’s battle cry, Captain Martin took point and started toward the house’s front door.

The estate was massive. A long walkway gave way to two pillars that flanked a set of double doors. The house, like the scene surrounding them, was quiet. No lights showed through the plethora of windows. No music or voices drifted from the inside of the home. As they approached, Taylor began to wonder if anyone was inside at all.

Captain Martin was the first to reach the doors with Taylor close behind. Frank walked a few yards behind, convinced at any moment a monster would pop out of thin air and surprise him. The teenager walked with his chin down, both arms grasping his laptop as though the machine had some kind of supernatural power to protect him.

The captain knocked twice on the door then stepped back, weapon ready. Both blows to the door echoed in the quiet. Taylor’s shoulders tightened as the thought of the house being empty or the idea that the house’s inhabitants were already somehow infected pushed through her mind.

Seconds past with no sound. Captain Martin’s face bunched in a scowl as he pounded on the door again. “Doctor Thomas Jenkins, this is Captain George Martin. I was sent here by Lazarus Pharmaceuticals. Please open the door. We need your help.”

Nothing.

The captain took a deep breath, considering his options. Locks opening on the other side of the door hit their ears in slow succession.

Immediately, both Taylor’s and the captain’s guns were in position, pointing to the bottom of the two large doors. From this position both guns could be raised a few feet in a split second and be ready to fire should the need arise.

Click after muffled click could be heard on the other side of the thick door. If nothing else the doctor was prepared for the event by securing the door with enough bolts to rival Fort Knox. After what seemed an eternity of waiting, the door swung open revealing a bright, shiny floor that covered an elaborate foyer. Their host was not the doctor. To their surprise a small child stood smiling at them and waved them inside. Instead of awe or fear, the child took her visitors in with a quick smile. Her eyes played over their rigid stances and lowered guns as if it was a common thing to witness.

“Come on in. My dad and I are waiting for you.”

Taylor and Frank exchanged glances. Taylor caught herself wondering if meeting an infected maniac on the other side of the door would have been less surprising than their tiny host.

The captain squatted down and gave the girl a wide smile. “You must be Cidney Jenkins. We’re friends of your father’s. Is he here now?”

The girl nodded in short, quick jerks that made her shoulder length black hair fall in her eyes. She was wearing a pair of jeans, tennis shoes and a white shirt that said,
‘I read the Constitution for the Articles’
in red cursive.

“Yeah, he’s been waiting for you. That’s why I told you to come inside.”

The captain looked to Taylor and Frank, “Well, you heard the lady.”

Taylor stepped over the threshold with Frank behind her. The house was massive. The foyer led into another room with a winding staircase that disappeared somewhere above. Cidney walked deeper inside the house, trusting them to follow.

“You are with Lazarus Pharmaceuticals?” she pronounced each word slowly with purpose and asked in a way that made her seem much older than she was. The captain once again held his right hand to his ear and spoke into his radio.

“Yes, Lazarus sent us to talk to your father,” Taylor answered.

The girl slowed her pace to walk parallel with Taylor. She pursed her small lips deep in thought. Taylor took the time to examine their surroundings while her companion chose her words. The house was plain; no decorations hung on the walls or sat on displays in each room they passed. Despite the ordinary feel to the house, little things strewn across the floors and tables hinted at Cidney’s happy childhood. Children’s books piled on the staircase, coloring books and crayons strewn across the carpet in an open room they passed, even multi colored cookie cutters sitting on the kitchen counter ready to be used.

The smell of fresh dough caught Taylor by surprise when they passed through the kitchen. She could practically taste the sugar in the air. Along with the lump of dough and cookie cutters in the room, Taylor saw an army of sandwich ingredients vying for space on the marble counter top.

“It’s usually not this messy,” Cidney said, following Taylor’s gaze. “I was getting dinner ready for me and Dad. He likes sandwiches and cookies.”

Taylor stutter stepped in surprise. “You cook?”

A machine’s loud beep drifted down from somewhere on one of the floors above.

“Yes,” Cidney said with a smile. “I do laundry too.”

Captain Martin was checking in with his teams outside on his radio earpiece. Frank was following close behind the two girls. When Taylor’s eyes met his, he gave a shake of his head. “Zombies would have been less weird.”

“They’re not zombies,” Cidney said with a glance over her shoulder to Frank. “It’s the darkness inside of them that’s gotten out. Why are you dressed in all that black padding? Were you going to dog attack school?”

A smile and even a chuckle built up inside of Taylor and pushed forward through her lips.

Frank scowled. “No, I’m here on important business. This is Kevlar. Have you ever even heard of Kevlar?”

“Of course,” Cidney answered.

Captain Martin ended the conversation on his radio and turned to the others with a look of alarm. “We have the premises secure but we need to hurry. Archangel One is reporting sightings of those
things
in the area.”

Cidney led the group to a door toward the rear of the house. Solid wooden steps led down into a basement. The interior was well-lit with a large desk on the far side of the room. Stacks of books piled high in no particular order rose from the floor like tiny trees. The walls were covered. Every square inch was quilted with newspaper clippings, notes, or pictures. The entire room looked like one giant collage.

A man sat hunched over the desk on a gray stool. Even as they approached, he ignored their presence. His left hand was scribbling something in a leather notebook at a frantic pace.

“Dad,” Cidney said, stopping beside his left elbow. “The people from Lazarus Pharmaceuticals are here to see you.”

Doctor Thomas Jenkins released his grip on the pen and turned in his stool toward his daughter. “Well, thank you for welcoming them in, Cid. Do you have all your things packed?”

Cidney nodded with a smile that said her father was embarrassing her in front of her friends. “Yes, Dad. Everything is ready.”

“Good. Be a dear and go grab your things. We’ll be leaving soon.” The doctor leaned down and placed a tender kiss on his daughter’s brow. “I love you, Cidney. You always remember how much I love you and how proud I am of the young woman you are becoming.”

The little girl blushed with a sideways glance at her visitors. “I love you too, Dad.”

The doctor gave his daughter a wink. With a smile to Taylor, the little girl walked from the room and up the stairs. Dr. Jenkins’ gaze followed his daughter’s steps up the stairs and from the room, ignoring his company.

Looking at him sitting with a sad smile on his face, Taylor knew he was cherishing the moment. He above any other knew where the future of humankind was heading. He understood how precious the moments were here in his house while they were still safe.

After a moment of silence, Captain Martin stepped forward, “I’m sorry to disturb you at home like this, Dr. Jenkins, but—”

“No,” Thomas Jenkins said, standing from his stool. “It is I who am sorry. For so many, many things in my past but more recently for ignoring my guests. It’s just that—well, you know the state of the world. I need to cherish every moment here and now. Tomorrow is promised to no one.”

The captain raised a hand to dismiss the doctor’s apology. “It’s perfectly fine, sir. My name is George Martin and this is Taylor Hart and Frank Caster. We’re here to escort you back to Lazarus Pharmaceuticals. “

Dr. Jenkins nodded to both Taylor and Frank with the same sad smile slipping across his lips. “George, Taylor, Frank, I wish we could have met under better terms. I am more than happy to go with you, of course, but I’m afraid you’ve come to a place seeking answers where there are none to be found. It’s the hour of reckoning, you see. We’ve opened Pandora’s Box and there is no going back.”

CHAPTER 19

“Are you saying you know what this is? That there’s no cure for the virus?” Captain Martin asked.

It was an answer they all needed to know, yet one that was equally horrifying to receive. Deep inside Taylor already realized what was going on. She knew after seeing James Jones for the first time. This was something different; this was something on a far greater level than she had ever encountered.

The doctor nodded slowly and it became clear that although he was physically in the room, his mind was somewhere else entirely.

Taylor abandoned the conversation. It was a truth she needed to listen to, however, that didn’t mean she had to stand there and do nothing. She walked to the wall to stand by Frank.

The human Kevlar-clad marshmallow was already soaking in knowledge. He was staring at the collection of information plastered on the basement walls. Frank held his laptop open cradled in his left arm while his right hand ran rampant across the keyboard. His head was on a swivel, pivoting from screen to wall fast enough to give him whiplash.

Taylor scanned the information the Dr. Jenkins had deemed important enough to post in his workplace. It was all the same; research, stories, essays, theories, all on the inner conflict inside man—the struggle older than time itself, the conflict between good and evil, light and darkness. She was soaking up the information on the walls in front of her, a lifetime of work ready for her to consume. All the while she listened to the captain’s and doctor’s conversation.

“I do know what this is and I wish I had better news for you,” Dr. Jenkins said. “It is a disease, a virus, only not in the traditional sense. The word
darkness
would be more suitable for what we find knocking on the door of mankind’s fate today. It’s the evil we are all capable of accomplishing. It’s the darkness most of us choose to keep at bay on a daily basis. What is running rampant on the streets now is the inherent madness we are all carrying inside.”

“Vanidrum was only the beginning,” Frank said, barely loud enough to be heard. “Vanidrum was only a key unlocking a door.”

“That’s right,” the doctor said, matching Frank’s volume. “I was afraid of what would happen with the development of a drug that would amplify mankind’s inner beauty. We all like to think the best of ourselves and our fellow man, but for as much good as we are capable of achieving, there are those among us that are equipped with as much darkness. I begged Lazarus to stop their research but they wouldn’t. They even called my bluff when I told them I would walk away from the whole project. That was my greatest mistake. If I had stayed on, maybe I could have stopped them. Maybe I could have altered the drug to…”

The doctor’s voice trailed off into silence.

“There has to be a cure,” Taylor said, tearing her eyes from the wall. She looked into the defeated face of Dr. Jenkins, whose posture also spoke of his morale; shoulders sagging forward, eyes cast to the floor. “We can’t give up.”

“Oh young lady, I didn’t say giving up was an option,” the doctor said. “Believe me or not, there is no cure. What we must do now is what light always does against the dark. We fight.”

Cidney appeared at the top of the staircase wearing a pink backpack and holding a large brown grocery bag in her arms. “I’m already to go and don’t worry, I made enough sandwiches for everyone in case you were hungry.”

The echoing bangs of gunfire from somewhere close outside dismantled any notions of sandwiches. The captain was on the situation even before the echoes of the spent bullets subsided.

“Frank, contact Mother. Inform them of what the doctor said and ask for orders. Doctor, I need you to gather any and all information you think is valuable and be prepared to move in the next five minutes.” The captain paused to check his M468’s ammunition clip. “Taylor, I’m going to take a look outside. You stay here with the doctor and his daughter—nothing happens to them.”

Taylor nodded. Instinct was already taking over as her brain identified entrance points to the basement and alternative exit routes should the staircase become inaccessible.

The captain was off at a run, his heavy boots pounding against the wooden steps like a hyperactive drummer.

“What do I do?” Cidney was standing in the middle of the room calling after the captain, who had already disappeared through the basement door.

“You can help me, Cid,” her father said. “I need you to pack that notebook on my desk and my journals while I gather the rest of my research.”

“We need to get the information about the spreading darkness, right, Dad? So we can tell everyone who wouldn’t listen to you.”

“That’s right, kiddo. Now hurry.”

Taylor stood back in shock. Not only was Cidney more aware of the events unfolding around the world than most adults, she took all the information in stride. While referencing the darkness, Cidney hadn’t batted her long eyelashes. She was accepting the facts that surrounded them with a composed attitude even Taylor was impressed by.

“She’s mature for her age,” the Dr. Jenkins said with a sideways glance. He was running around the room pulling various clippings and notes from the walls he deemed important.

“I can see that,” Taylor said, watching Cidney gather her father’s belongings and place them neatly in the brown paper grocery bag that held her sandwiches.

Frank was speaking to who sounded like Wade through his laptop speaker. Commotion from somewhere above drew her attention to the basement entrance.

There was more shooting from outside then a bang like someone slamming a door. Shouts from outside. Rushed footsteps from above.

Taylor stepped to the staircase. Her hands found the grip of her 1911 with ease. In one fluid motion, the barrel of the gun was pointed at the basement door. Taylor was never one to
wait
for events to unfold. She
made
events unfold. True to her nature, she ascended the steps.

Whatever it was, was moving fast through the house. Taylor crested the last steps and pointed her weapon through the door. Nothing. Then with a blur of motion Captain Martin turned a corner.

Taylor lowered her weapon. More gunfire came from outside. It was constant now, a steady stream of suppressing fire sounding like the most elaborate firework show.

Taylor lowered her weapon. “What’s going on out there?”

“We need to leave now. This place isn’t safe anymore,” Captain Martin said. It wasn’t the words that came out of his mouth that rattled Taylor's resolve, it was the look in his eyes. Although Taylor doubted she would ever see fear cross his stare, nonetheless, Captain Martin’s demeanor spoke volumes on the urgency of their situation.

She nodded and called down the stairwell to the others, “We’re heading out, come on.”

Frank and the two Jenkinses hurried up the steps, the doctor carrying the brown paper bag and a pile of papers, his daughter, and pink backpack in tow. Frank was ending his call on the laptop when he joined the group.

“Wade—er, Mother said regardless of the absence of antidote, our mission is the same: get the doctor back to Lazarus.”

“What’s going on out there?” Thomas Jenkins asked.

The captain looked between both Frank and the doctor. “I need to know that these things will go down like any normal humans. Bullet to the skull and center body mass, correct?”

Frank and the doctor exchanged looks of their own and nodded to each other.

“Yes,” Doctor Jenkins said, “that should be accurate. But we’re dealing with an unprecedented threat here. We have no way of knowing how the darkness will affect its hosts, especially over time.”

“They’re already here, aren’t they?” Frank asked.

“Archangel One and Archangel Three have made contact with the infected. There are hundreds—maybe more—appearing from every direction. We need to leave now. Follow me.”

The captain walked to the front door issuing orders first through his microphone then to the group. “Archangel Three, fall back to the vehicles. Archangel One, we are coming from the house. Hold a perimeter until we secure the doctor, then pull out.”

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.