All The Beautiful People (A Dread Novel Book 1) by Jonathan Yanez Page A

exterminate the human race as we know it.”
    The audience sat stunned. Not only was there a teenage boy leading them now but also, if he was right, they were up against what could be mankind’s greatest threat. The matter-of-fact way Frank spoke sent a chill down even Taylor’s spine. He was so young, yet talked about the death of millions as though he was commenting on the weather.
    “I’ve put together a slide to show you. Every minute from here on out counts. Take a look.”
    The screens moved from their freeze-frame on James Jones’ husk of humanity to a black and blue diagram of the globe. The country in the center of the screen was the United States. Its familiar shape sat with a dark blue hue against the blackness of surrounding bodies of water.
    “So this is us,” Frank said, pointing a finger to the screen above him as a whole. “I only had a few minutes to put this together so it’s simple, but the red dots are every known Vanidrum outbreak.”
    The shape depicting the United States broke out in what looked like a case of the chicken pox. Bright red dots filled every state from California to Maine.
    “So that’s as of now, and this is in the next twelve, then twenty-four hours.” Each red dot oozed out to the states around it, first slowly then picking up speed. If Frank was correct, in twenty-four hours a quarter of the United States would be infected. “The same holds true for every country across the globe. Time wouldn’t allow me to put together a similar diagram, but let your minds run with the worst possible scenario and you’re probably close.”
    Nervous whispers broke through the crowd like sporadic ripples on calm water.
    “Remember,” Frank said, “this is only a rough estimate based on records of who has taken the drug and how fast we know it can spread. The truth is, it could be a lot quicker. We only have a few reported cases on the time it takes for someone on Vanidrum to attack a bystander and then for that bystander to change into—into those things they are now—zombies or whatever you want to call them. So, now that you know the stakes let’s talk solution. Wade?”
    Wade tore his eyes from the screen of spreading red dots and moved to stand beside Frank. “I’m not going to sugarcoat anything. The short version of this is that we had a scientist who worked on the development of Vanidrum who did predict an outbreak like this. I already know what you are going to say, and you’re right. We should have listened. But even he didn’t predict an event to this degree. He was worried about what the drug could unleash in people. He had misgivings about the project’s ethical boundaries and resigned from Lazarus when we refused to put the brakes on developing the drug. Our hope is that if he knew something like this could happen then he also knows of a way to stop it.”
    Taylor’s mind was racing as fast as the cars near the end of a NASCAR race. She wondered how many people in the room were thinking the same things. The three thoughts winning the race for attention were: Lazarus really did it this time by not listening to one of their scientists; it was a definite leap to think this man also had a cure for what was going wrong with Vanidrum; and this was much bigger than she originally imagined.
    Sure, she knew things were serious. The madness of those she encountered on the drug, the security measures at the front gate, the involvement of the various governments—it was all bad, really bad. The detail that truly caused her to consider her calm demeanor was the diagram Frank showed the room. If this disease could spread as quickly as those red dots on the screen, they were all in an exceptionally serious amount of trouble.
    “You okay?” Jason whispered.
    Taylor thought about the question. It was ingrained in her at an early age to answer “yes” when someone asked that question. She was taught to smile past what you really thought and be pleasant.
    “No,” she said,