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

“but I will be as soon as we can start doing something to stop this.”
    Frank’s young voice once again filled the room. “The scientist that Wade is speaking of is Doctor Thomas Jenkins.”
    The screens above Frank and Wade released their hold on the picture of impending doom, giving way to an image of a middle-aged man with glasses and a thick, graying beard. If Taylor were to picture a stereotypical scientist, this man would be it. He was small of stature with inquisitive eyes set behind his lenses and a look that said he wanted to know so much more than he could. Although the man was the focal point of the picture, it was the young girl next to him that caught Taylor’s eye.
    She was small, a little thing. Taylor was horrible at guessing children’s ages. If she had to, she would put the girl in the six-to-seven range. She was standing by Dr. Jenkins. The same look her father had, the same inquisitive expression, was spread over his daughter’s face. Her eyes were also the same. Wisdom in those blue orbs that hinted of knowledge reserved for someone twice her age.
    “The young girl in the picture is his daughter Cidney,” Frank said. “The photo was taken around the same time the doctor parted ways with Lazarus. We’ve tried to contact him since the events of last night, but there hasn’t been a response. Lucky for us, the doctor and his daughter live here in Los Angeles. A forty-five minute journey through a city that is falling apart as we speak.”
    “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.”
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 15
     
     
    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