Tammy and Ringo (10 page)

So much for getting his work done here on the first day, he thought sourly. He gathered his gear and set off through the woods toward the bridge. He was more careful now, however. He knew that the least noise would bring the infected down on him and that was something to be avoided at all costs.

He decided that he wasn’t going to offer to do anything like this again.

*****

Tammy settled onto the front porch after lunch. She had assisted with the clean-up and both Hiram and Helen had announced they were going to lie down a while. Tammy tried her satellite phone again, calling her father and Lucinda Steele. Neither answered her. She kept the phone with her anyway. There was always the chance that she’d hear from her father, at least.

Looking out over the yard she leaned back, slowly drinking cold water from the glass she’d brought with her. Helen and Hiram had a beautiful place. In spite of the events of the last few days, she could honestly say she felt as comfortable here as anywhere she’d ever been. The place seemed to embrace her, hugging her close, keeping her warm and making her feel safe.

She was careful with the last part, however. With things the way they were now nowhere was really safe. Not anymore. Despite the safety brought by isolation here, there were no guarantees that things would stay that way. Maybe they would and she hoped for that, but her father had taught her to always be prepared for the worst even while hoping for the best. The idea was to not be surprised when things turned bad.

She had forgotten that on the first day, she admitted. She’d done well at first, but the three thugs that meant to attack her and Ringo after the debacle at the river bridge had caught her unawares. She hadn’t been thinking about threats from people who weren’t infected and that had been a mistake. Ringo had, though, and that was all that saved her from a terrible fate.

Thinking about that afternoon brought to mind once again how quickly and efficiently Ringo had dismantled the three would-be rapists. Even though she was watching, the event was a blur to her, both when it was happening and in her memory of it now. She had never seen anyone move that fast.

Ringo reminded her of a cobra. Fast to strike and deadly when it did. She wondered again at the notion that had made her invite him along. She would never understand it. Normally she wouldn’t have even considered it. Whatever the reason, it had been a good decision. One that had ultimately saved her life and brought her a good friend.

The thought of Ringo as a friend made Tammy re-evaluate her relationship with him. She snorted mentally at the word ‘relationship’ even as it flitted through her mind. They didn’t have a relationship, other than a friendship forged in the heat of battle, for lack of a better term. She hardly knew him, knew next to nothing about him. She knew more about Helen and Hiram in point of fact.

Still, she had to admit that Ringo was special. He reminded her of her own father in many ways. Strong, quiet, but with a determination to get things done and an attitude that should serve as a warning to anyone who would dare attack him or anyone he cared about. She remembered the scars she had seen on him and wondered again where they had come from.

He was a mystery in so many ways. Tammy couldn’t help but be intrigued by that, even when she knew she shouldn’t be. The worst thing she could do was allow her imagination to run away from her. There were any number of reasons for those scars, for his attitude or for his solitude and silence.

On top of it all he was good looking, she admitted, if only to herself. Dammit, Tammy, she chided herself. Here you are in the middle of. . .well, maybe the end of the world, and you’re thinking about how good looking the man who saved you is. You’re treating all this like some romance novel!

Shaking her head at her own foolishness, Tammy got to her feet. While there was no work to be done at the moment she decided she wanted to walk around and stretch her legs. She wouldn’t leave the grounds of course, but she could roam around the house and down to the river.

It would distract her from things she didn’t want to think about.

*****

Ringo mentally cursed the sinking sun as he made his way through the woods. The sun was going to be setting soon and he was still in the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t lost, thanks to the map and the GPS, but he still wasn’t where he needed to be. Worse, he hadn’t found anywhere that could serve as shelter for the night. He had a tiny tent strapped to his pack, but. . .he really didn’t want to trust that tent in the woods at night. A random infected could stumble across him and have him bitten before he knew what had happened.

He had hoped to find a shed or a barn, something that he could secure at least nominally. He needed anything that might afford him some protection, or at least some warning of impending attack. So far, that hadn’t happened. There was nothing out here but trees and more nothing.

He estimated he had another hour, hour-and-a-half at most, before it would be too dark to see well inside the trees. He had until then to find some place of safety and get undercover.

As he continued to make his way through the trees and brush a new thought occurred to him. Did the infected move after dark? Would they be active without the light of day? Probably another ‘observation’ that Doctor Baxter would interested in. Hiram had shown him how to work the night vision on the small video recorder so he could document whatever he could see after dark but that was not for today.

Today he was more interested in simply finding protection and making sure he was at least marginally safe before dark. Tomorrow or the next day, if he could find a safe place to observe from, he’d use the camera to see how the infected handled the dark. For today he was more worried about how he would handle the dark.

He saw a lighter area ahead of him and was soon at the edge of a small clearing. The area of grass, maybe an acre, was almost surrounded by trees save for a gap in the tree line that opened into a much larger pasture. In the distance he could see what he thought was a farmhouse. Between his position and the farmhouse sat an aging barn. It was one with a hayloft, if the small doors high on the eaves of the building were any indicator.

It wasn’t exactly isolated but it was better than nothing and the light was fading fast. Moving through the clearing, Ringo used the woods on the other side to screen his movements from anyone inside the house, placing the barn completely between him and the distant dwelling. Satisfied that he had done all he could to avoid detection, Ringo began to slip toward the barn. He had to travel about one hundred fifty yards to get there and every step was laced with the anticipation of a gunshot from an angry farmer, or worse, that hair-raising screech from an infected farmer. Neither threat materialized, however, and sooner than he’d thought he was standing at the entrance to the barn.             

There were no actual doors, he was sorry to see. He could have secured the doors to give himself an added bit of security. At least there was only one ladder into the hayloft. He could probably jury rig something at the top of the ladder to help cover himself and provide at least some warning of an intruder, infected or not.

He climbed cautiously, slow but steady, making as little noise and disturbing the dust and dirt as little as possible. At the top of the ladder Ringo poked his head carefully above the entrance, looking around the loft.

A screech coupled with movement almost gave him a heart attack and nearly caused him to lose his grip on the ladder. He managed, barely, to keep from falling while grabbing for the pistol Hiram had given him. He stopped short of drawing it, however, when he realized that he was face to face with an enraged cat, hissing in anger and back raised like the proverbial Halloween feline.

Swearing under his breath, Ringo climbed into the loft, keeping clear of the angry cat. For her part, the cat watched him intently, following his every move. Shaking his head, Ringo made a quick inspection of the loft. Finding that it was just him and the cat, he shrugged out of his pack and removed the shotgun from its harness.

Taking four bales of hay, Ringo made a short, but effective, barrier around the hole in the floor, then placed another two bales across the top of the first four, closing off the opening completely. While someone could still get in, they would have to work at it and that would make noise, noise that should wake him in time to defend himself.

That being done, Ringo took his binoculars and moved to the open loft door at the front of the barn. Inspecting the farmhouse through the powerful glasses, he could detect no sign of movement within or around the homestead. After ten minutes of careful watching he decided either no one was home or they were very wisely staying out of sight.

He didn’t blame them one bit for that. If he had better sense he’d still be at Hiram’s enjoying Helen’s cooking and sleeping on a comfortable bed. Using a flush toilet and taking a hot shower.

Instead, he was spending the night in a barn in the middle of No and Where. Sighing in regret, he moved back to his pack and dug inside for one of the MREs. Opening the self- heating meal pack, Ringo looked at the roast beef substance inside and shrugged. It didn’t smell all that bad. He added a bit of water, activated the heating tab as Hiram had shown him and set the bag aside to wait for it to heat.

As he waited, he fished through the remainder of the contents; spork, toilet paper, some kind of peanut butter treat, salt and pepper, crackers, and what looked like a small container of jelly or jam. All the comforts of home, he snorted to himself. Movement drew his eye and he looked up to see the cat edging forward, drawn in by the smell of the roast beef, no doubt.

“Oh, you want to be friends, now, huh?” Ringo said softly. The cat hissed silently, but didn’t arch its back. Ringo decided that was an improvement. He took the now warm meal pack and fished a small amount out with the spork, tasting the roast beef.

It wasn’t Arby's, but it wasn’t bad, either. Or else he was just hungry. Using the spork he lifted part of the contents out and placed it on the outer package the meal had come in, pushing it slowly toward the cat.

Suspicious, but drawn in by the smell, the cat took several steps back but didn’t run away. She watched Ringo for signs of treachery for a minute, then moved slowly toward the offered meal. Ringo continued to eat slowly, his movements slow and steady so as not to startle the cat again. He was going to have to share the barn with the cat tonight and figured it was in his best interest to be on at least neutral terms, if not friendly.

The cat sniffed, always keeping one eye on Ringo, then leaned forward and licked at the substance. Realizing what it was, the cat suddenly attacked the meal with gusto, gobbling it down as if it hadn’t eaten in days. Ringo had to smile at the cat’s actions. Maybe she hadn’t eaten in a while.

Once finished, the cat backed away a few steps then proceeded to clean herself of the gravy that had wound up on her fur. Ringo chuckled at the haughty attitude, finished his own meal and leaned back. His movement drew a look of suspicion from the cat, but didn’t result in any outrage.

For his part Ringo ignored his temporary feline roommate and considered his situation. He had managed to gather some information today and had covered a good bit of ground. He wondered idly how the dog had made out. Had the infected on the highway followed the dog far? Had they lost interest when they didn’t catch him right away? Were they even now still chasing after him?

These were all good questions for which he had no answers. He took out his notebook and noted what he had seen, using the last of the dying light to make his entry. Once that was done he laid his sleeping bag out and placed his flashlight next to him. He didn’t plan to use it, but figured if he needed it he would need it bad and need it in a hurry.

He hadn’t realized how tired he was until he stretched out. He wanted to remove his boots but decided against it. He wasn’t secure enough here to ensure that he would have time to put them back on if he had to run for it. Better to leave them on and be a little uncomfortable than have to go running who knew where in his sock feet.

He wondered idly what Tammy was doing right about then and if she had ever managed to contact her father. As much as he hoped she had, he doubted it. At least she was safe with Hiram and Helen. As safe as possible, anyway, considering that the whole world was going stark raving mad.

He drifted off to sleep thinking about what he would have to do come morning. He was so tired that he didn’t even notice when the cat curled up on his stomach and went to sleep as well, its belly warm and full for the first time in two days or more.

The night passed peacefully for both.

CHAPTER NINE

Tammy Gleason rose early the next morning. Standing by her bed she stretched and instantly stopped. She was sore in places she hadn't even known were there. She was finding out the hard way that athletic, active and 'in good shape' did not necessarily translate straight to 'able to do hard labor'.

She snorted at that thought. Gardening didn't especially qualify as hard labor, but it had required her to use muscles she obviously didn't use often. She was paying for that now. Knowing there was only one way to fix the problem, she dressed and headed downstairs to stretch and exercise the soreness away.

Much like Ringo with his martial arts and sword work, Tammy's stretching and calisthenics were pretty much locked into her muscle memory. As a result, she didn't really have to concentrate much on what she was doing, leaving her free to consider all kinds of new things.

The world had definitely gone to hell in a hand bag, as her dad would have said. Thinking of that made her think of her father and that made her a little sad. She tried to avoid thinking that he was gone, but she was honest enough to admit that his chances of survival hadn't sounded good. It was obvious from his last few words that Reese Gleason hadn't expected to survive the situation he'd found himself in. But then her father had never been anything but a realist. He looked life in the face and rarely flinched. When he did, it was normally over his daughter. She smiled, remembering the first time she'd had a boy pick her up for a date while Reese was at home. He had been at his very intimidating best and had gone next door as soon as Tammy had disappeared down the road to ask Lucinda Steele to have 'The Talk' with his daughter. When he discovered that it was far too late for that, Reese Gleason had actually not known what to do. So he went home and got very drunk.

Returning to the present, Tammy considered her situation. She'd already decided to remain with Helen and Hiram. Not only could she probably not reach home, it might not be there when she did, at least not like she remembered it anyway. Tammy hoped that Lucinda was all right. She missed the older woman's steady influence. At least she had Helen now.

Tammy found it difficult to admit to needing anything. She supposed it was partly because she'd been on her own so much. Part of it was that she was her father's daughter and Reese Gleason avoided anything that might make him appear weak or 'needy'. It was not that he didn't often need the help of others, because he did. He just didn't want it to show. Tammy had inherited that innate stubbornness from him.

She sat back on her left leg and extended her right, stretching out the muscles there. As the soreness radiated away, she wondered where Ringo was at the moment. She found herself thinking about him more and more with each passing day. She frowned at herself, not really in annoyance but in puzzlement. What was Ringo to her? A  friend? Even though they'd known each other only days, she had to say that there was friendship there, if nothing else. Her father had always said that combat forged tighter relationships between people than anything else he knew of. Looking back on the wild trip that had brought her to where she sat at the moment, she could almost see how the ties of friendship, of companionship, had been built between them. They'd had little choice but to trust one another. Thankfully, each had come through when the other needed them too.

Tammy honestly didn't think that Ringo was interested in her in any way other than friendship, but he was extremely hard to read. Hiram had hinted more than once that Ringo thought more of her than he let on and she had begun to realize that Hiram was a pretty sharp old dude. But was she interested in Ringo that way? It wasn't an easy question to consider, let alone answer.

They just hadn't known each other long enough for her to know. She didn't think he knew, either. One of the things that made her trust him, then and now, was how he treated her. Even when he told her he would 'see her home', he wasn't condescending about it, just. . .matter of fact. I'll just do this and then move on to something else. To him, it was probably just that simple.

Ringo seemed to think very straightforward and he probably did at times, but all it took was one look in his eyes and you realized that Ringo's mind was always working, always running. She switched legs, extending her left leg out before her, and began again.

She hoped that Ringo was safe. She also hoped he managed to get whatever it was that this Doctor Baxter needed and that she, in turn, could give them some hope for the future. As things stood right now, she wasn't sure there was much hope for the future without it.

*****

Ringo had awakened before sunrise, surprised to find the cat curled up on his belly, purring loudly. He smiled slightly but didn't move just yet, preferring to lay still and listen to his surroundings. He couldn't hear anything out of sorts and the cat was still sleeping peacefully so things were probably all right.

As light began to dawn Ringo stirred finally, the cat stretching slowly before abandoning its warm bed on his stomach. While the cat had deigned to use his body heat for a comfortable bed, the morning found little improvement in their relationship.

“Don't worry,” he told the aggravated feline. “I'll be gone soon enough.” He quickly packed away his gear and then made a quick meal of one of the ration bars. The cat sniffed at a piece that Ringo had broken off and placed on the floor, but the smell wasn't enticing enough and was ignored. Ringo shrugged. If the cat got hungry he was sure the small piece of food bar would be welcome.

In less than twenty minutes Ringo was on the ground just inside the barn door, using his binoculars to scour the area around him. He could see no movement and couldn't hear anything other than nature; birds, crickets and other insects, and once in a while a dog barking. Normal stuff you'd hear every day in a place like this.

He thought back to his encounter on the highway the day before and wished he'd paid more attention to whether or not those same sounds had been present when he was looking at the infected. If the birds and insects grew quiet when infected were around then that might make a decent early warning system. Any advantage he could gain he would take and be glad for it.

Satisfied that there was no threat around him at the moment, Ringo eased out of the barn and began his trek anew. He'd checked his map and GPS before exiting so he knew exactly where he was and which way to go. As he entered the woods, the cat sat in the hayloft, tail flicking, watching him out of sight.

When it could no longer see Ringo, the cat turned to gobble down the bit of ration bar left for it. No sense letting it go to waste, the cat decided.

Ringo was much more cautious than he had been the day before. He had learned a good deal from his brief experiment with the infected and was putting that information to good use. Stealth was definitely the best way to move, but he also needed to stay hidden. The infected, unlike the movie zombies they'd been named after, could see just fine, apparently. He didn't want to know if they would respond to seeing him moving through the trees. He especially didn't want to see how well they moved in the trees when chasing someone, namely him.

According to the GPS, Ringo was a little more than three miles from the bridge. Following the highway had been a good idea in the sense that he had something to follow, and the presence of the road made reading the map easier using intersections as landmarks.

But, it had also carried him a good bit out of his way. While it had added steps to his journey Ringo was still satisfied with his decision. Had he not followed the road as he had, the opportunity to record the infected he had the day before might not have presented itself. Their behavior was puzzling to him, but maybe Baxter could use it. He'd reviewed the recording and was pleased to see it had been in focus and most of the activity had been captured on the screen.

Ringo halted abruptly, his thoughts of movies and the CDC left on the floor. Cocking his head to one side as a dog might, Ringo strained to hear. He was almost certain. . . .

There it was again. Ringo felt his pulse quicken just a bit as his blood pumped a bit harder. Somewhere ahead of him were infected and from the sound of it there were a lot more than what he'd seen the day before, a lot more.

Ringo checked his watch, eyebrows rising in surprise. He'd already been moving over two hours? It seemed like just minutes.

He would have to watch that, he chided himself. Being aware of his surroundings was important these days. He obviously hadn't been as alert as he'd thought if his wandering thoughts had allowed him to move for over two hours without him even realizing it. That was dangerous and a habit he could ill afford.

He stepped into a small, dense grouping of trees that afforded him better concealment, then consulted the GPS. He was less than a mile from the bridge. Which meant he was right on top of an entire gaggle of infected. He swore silently at his own stupidity. He took a deep breath to clear his mind and then focused on the job at hand.

In a way, he wished he had left his bedding and other gear in the barn. That way he could move quieter, without the risk of abandoning his pack and its contents. Of course if he needed to leave the area in a direction other than the barn he'd still have lost them. Either way it was a moot point now. He examined the small copse of trees he was using.

It was a small area and provided a good hiding place. He was still hesitant to use it for storing his gear. If he couldn't get back here, then it was gone. After a few minutes of mental debate he decided to keep his pack with him and plan his moves accordingly. He checked to make sure he wasn't making any noise, and that everything was tied or strapped down tight. Next he made sure that anything he might need in a hurry was within reach and easy to hand. Finally, he couldn't put it off any longer. Taking a deep breath, he eased away from his hiding place and started moving again toward the bridge and the horrors he knew awaited.

Oh, I really don't want to do this.

*****

Hiram walked around the place after breakfast, looking over everything. His fence was in good shape and he'd closed the gate across the driveway. It wouldn't stop a determined thief or attacker, but it might confound some poor sot whose brain was burning up with fever. Hiram wouldn't hesitate to shoot one of the infected, if needed, but he'd prefer not to have to. Most would be innocents, infected without even knowing it. He didn't want to think about it and he wouldn't, he knew from experience. If the need arose, he'd kill as many as necessary to keep Helen, and now Tammy, safe. It wasn't as if he had never killed a man before, or a woman, if it comes to that, he remembered grimly.

Hiram tried very hard to be the kindly old innkeeper most people saw him as. He really did. But too many years doing his nation's dirty work had left its mark on him and he knew it. Without constant discipline he wasn't fit to be around good people. The part of him that still cared regretted that. As he'd grown older he realized what he'd missed through the years, always being gone, always moving from one dirty job to the next. True, if he'd stayed in the Army's regular forces he would have still been deployed, but he'd have been home more, too. And maybe he'd be better for it. He just didn't know anymore.

He didn't know Reese Gleason but felt a kindred spirit to the man that had raised Tammy the way he had. Tammy had called him the 'Battalion Sergeant Major' which Hiram knew made him a Command Sergeant Major for an Airborne Battalion in the 82nd Airborne Division. He hadn't bothered to correct her, but he doubted Tammy realized just how important or influential her father was. He was, for all practical purposes, the third highest ranking man in his battalion. No Captain who assumed command of a battalion would dare ignore a man that almost certainly would have more experience than he did. A good CSM could easily make or break a battalion commander with about as much effort as most people put into making breakfast.

All of which meant that Reese Gleason was a capable man. If there was a way out of the pickle the man was in, Hiram was willing to bet he'd find it. And now he knew where his daughter was, too. That would let him free his mind to work on his own problems instead of worrying about her constantly. Hiram silently wished him well and knew that Helen was constantly praying for the man. Hiram would pray for him, but didn't figure the Creator wanted to hear anything from him these days. Probably hadn't for a long time. He shook his head, trying to get rid of thoughts like that. They were unprofitable and useless, especially now.

His thoughts turned instead to Ringo. They hadn't heard from him as yet, but that in itself didn't concern Hiram too much. It was easy to forget to check in even when things were normal. And things were anything but normal these days.

He hoped to hear from him tonight, at least. He wanted to know the kid was okay. In the short time he'd known Ringo, Hiram had come to like the teenager. He liked to think that if he and Helen could have had a son, he would have turned out to be like Ringo. Not many men his age would have done what he'd done for Tammy Gleason. And that kind of thing stood out to a man like Hiram.

Hiram finished his inspection and headed for the house. They would need to get to work on the garden soon or it would get hot on them.

*****

“Hiram is coming in,” Tammy said from where she stood washing the breakfast dishes.

“Finished his inspection, I suppose,” Helen chuckled lightly. “He did that most every morning before all this blew up. Now he's almost fanatical about it. He misses the military.”