All The Beautiful People (A Dread Novel Book 1) (10 page)

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.

Another look behind her and Taylor stopped. The horde would be on them in seconds. The mass of sprinting bodies was so close now, Taylor could make out uniforms and faces. A waitress with her left eye falling from its socket, a man in a police uniform with his lower jaw missing; thousands of lost souls all aiming to consume—nothing but madness in their eyes and hearts.

They all knew it was over. Frank, Captain Martin, Dr. Jenkins, Cidney, Taylor. The girl was looking at Taylor with trust and hope in her eyes. Taylor saw her own reflection in the little girl’s stare. And in that moment, Taylor knew she would find a way to survive. If not for herself, then for this little girl who looked at Taylor like her own personal hero.

Something changed in Taylor. For so many years she did her job for money. She saved and ended lives for a paycheck. This was different. As she raised her 1911 and searched for an answer, Taylor knew that she actually cared for this little girl. Through some unexplained force moving inside her, Taylor knew she would never let anything happen to Cidney.

Then as if the answer to her unspoken prayer was being manifested, she saw the tanker. A huge silver cylinder pulled behind a massive truck. It was to her left, to the right of the approaching wave of teeth and nails. No one was inside, a sign that the driver had fled with the mob of terrified civilians.

It was close, too close for Taylor to know they would survive but what option did they have? The captain’s men were pumping round after round into the frontlines of the human mass, and where one fell two seemed to take its place.

With a prayer that the tanker still held gas, Taylor fired her pistol at the steel exterior. Time hesitated as the bullet made contact with the material. In the place of the desired explosion, a small hole appeared with fluid draining out onto the gray freeway pavement.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” Widening her stance, she locked both elbows and opened fire on the tanker in quick succession. The air was cooling from the sun’s descent and the cold was settling in. Somewhere between the fourth and fifth bullet, with the infected bearing down on them no more than fifteen yards away, the tanker exploded.

In the fraction of a second it took for the bullet to ignite the gas, the shockwave hit. She knew they were too close. The blast that radiated from her target rocked her off her feet. The heat soaring from the tanker warmed her entire body and even singed her hair. Her gun was lost amongst the maze of cars as Taylor was blown backward. She rocketed through the air like a baseball after a homerun hit.

Still in the air, Taylor was left to wonder how much her landing would hurt. The stars opened up to her as her neck snapped back.

So few stars in the sky to see in this part of the world.

Taylor came down on the trunk of an ancient Mercedes-Benz. The impact sent searing pain through her entire body. From the top of her head to the tips of her toes, something like an electrical shock stole her breath. She lay there for a moment, struggling to force oxygen back into her lungs. Her impact dented the car and even cracked the rear window.

While she was catching her breath the last person she expected to see popped into her line of vision.

“Wow, I can’t believe you did that. I can’t believe we’re alive.” Frank was a sight. Most of his black Kevlar armor was gone, shed from his need to run faster. Along with his change were his eyebrows. Taylor assumed they were casualties, singed completely off from the blast. Unsure how he would take the news, Taylor decided to skip over his alien-like appearance.

“Help me up.”

Frank extended a hand. With a grunt she stood from her metal landing pad. Equilibrium struggling to find its center, she surveyed the freeway, post-explosion.

The tanker was a mess of flames and twisted metal, as were the cars closest to the epicenter. The mass of infected humans racing toward them was nearly all fried to ashes. The smell of gasoline and burnt flesh was heavy in the air. Here and there, one of the humans taken over by its own darkness struggled to its feet. Some still on fire, some with their legs blown off, crawled in their direction.

Members of her own party were fighting their way to their feet. Taylor searched for Cidney and her father. Dr. Jenkins was bleeding from a wound near his hairline. Cidney looked dazed but she was on her feet, no trace of serious injury apparent.

“That was one hell of a call, Hart,” the captain said, throwing away his used rifle and limping toward Taylor. “I think you may have saved this mission.”

It was a funny thing to literally blast everyone off their feet and yet be praised for her actions. Brain aching from her impact, Taylor made her way to the doctor and Cidney. “Everything okay, you two?”

“Yes, thank you,” Dr. Jenkins said. “I thought for sure we were done.”

“I knew we weren’t,” Cidney spoke up. Her eyes were locked on Taylor. With a nod the child continued, “I knew you would find a way.”

“We need to get moving,” Captain Martin said over the crackling flames of the tanker. “We’re almost there. Taylor bought us some time but we’re not out of the woods yet.”

With parting looks at the infected mob of humans struggling toward them despite their injuries, they were off again. The wounds from the blast were more severe than she’d thought. Everyone was alive, yet they were moving at a fraction of the pace they had mere moments before.

Taylor’s head was alive with buzzing, as if a swarm of bees were doing circles in her skull. Though her body ached and begged for a respite, she was determined to get her team to safety.

They approached the exit they needed off the freeway at a snail’s pace. Through raw determination, the party made it to the freeway off-ramp.

“There.” The captain pointed with an outstretched finger. Taylor followed his line of sight to a high-rise building. The exterior was covered with a quilt of glass windows, some broken, and others with lights blinking off and on inside. Most of the windows were dark altogether.

Gun lost, Taylor walked with the others down the dark freeway ramp and onto the quiet city street. For a city this large, there should be more noise; more voices, sounds of traveling cars, something. There was nothing. It felt wrong, and Taylor wasn’t the only one that sensed the problem.

“Why aren’t there more people here?” Frank whispered.

“I don’t know,” Dr. Jenkins replied. “This is the beginning of the business district. Maybe they were the first to flee back to their homes?”

Taylor kept a firm grip on the handle of her blade. The doctor was right. Instead of houses cresting the landscape, large buildings ascended into the dark sky in varying heights. Besides a streetlight forever alternating its red, yellow, and green lights, nothing moved.

Limping the remaining distance to the entrance of the tall building, Taylor couldn’t believe their luck. The group huddled outside the front doors, kneeling behind a giant cement planter holding a grouping of large domestic plants.

“Four-man teams,” the captain said. “One in the lead with me, the other covering our rear. Taylor, you know your job. Nothing can happen to the doctor.”

“Or his daughter,” Dr. Jenkins added.

“Or me,” Frank said with a twitch of his nonexistent eyebrows.

Cidney giggled. “You look funny.”

Frank furrowed his brow. “Why do you say that?”

Cidney unslung and unzipped her backpack in one quick, practiced motion. Her hand disappeared in the bag only to return a moment later with a thick, black-tipped marker. “Here, I’ll fix you.” She motioned with her left hand. “Come here.”

The entire group was lost in the comical interaction between Frank and Cidney. Despite the hour and the circumstance, the child’s innocence dampened the desperation they all felt.

Captain Martin brought them back to reality. “Cidney, that’s very nice of you to offer but we have to be going now. We go quietly and make for the stairs. I don’t know if the elevator is working but I don’t want to risk what may be in there if it is.”

The group took one deep, collective breath and moved forward.

The entrance to the building was flanked with white marble pillars casting shadows across the entire front entrance. The first group of four security members, led by Captain Martin, reached the massive doublewide glass doors. The inside of the building’s lobby opened in front of them in a twisted maze of shadows and reflections.

The captain and his team entered first. A brief moment passed, then the captain motioned the others inside. Taylor followed with the two Jenkinses and an eyebrow-less Frank.

The room smelled like a mixture of sweat and death and Taylor put a hand to her nostrils. While her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, a quick survey of the lobby revealed the room had witnessed something horrible beyond words. The tile was slick with fresh blood. The lobby’s decoration items—chairs, end tables, plants—were strewn all over the floor. What bothered Taylor the most was the lack of bodies. There was enough red wetness on the ground to satisfy Dracula himself, but no bodies.

Thomas raised a hand to shield his daughter’s eyes but the look plastered on Cidney’s face told Taylor she had already seen the worst. Along with the rollercoaster ride of emotions Taylor was struggling through, a new one surfaced. Anger. Anger for what Cidney had to see. The issues this child would have due to the events of the day boiled inside of Taylor.

The future for all of them was bleak at best. Knowing Cidney for only a few hours, Taylor knew she deserved more. She at least deserved a chance at life.

The group moved further on into the dark. To the right was a row of steel elevator doors. To the left was a door, presumably to a stairwell. It was too dark inside to see but a sign was placed beside the door. As they got closer it revealed a stick figure man walking up a mountain of stairs.

Picking their way through the slick blood and overturned furniture, the company crossed the lobby entrance and halted next to the closed stairwell door. The silence was so thick it was nearly tangible.

Taylor would look back on that moment unable to remember who was the person to open the stairwell door. It seemed like such a trivial thing, something they had all done a million times in the past. Opening a door; it was so simple. Yet when this door was opened it would signify something vastly different. It would herald death.