Tammy and Ringo (16 page)

He had to admit that she had done very well. She might not have fared well with the three men he had killed defending her, but otherwise she had held it together in the face of ever-increasing danger and difficulty and Ringo admired her for that. He suddenly found himself hoping to meet her father one day. A man that could raise a daughter like that had to be okay. The thought made him think of his own parents.  He had only a few shards of memory of them. Nothing he could really cling to just flashes here and there. He wondered what they had been like. Had they been like Hiram and Helen? Had his father been like Tammy's?

The smell of his meal getting warm drew him away from those thoughts as his stomach growled. He discovered he had an appetite now and dug into the meal with gusto.

*****

Helen and Tammy ran outside at that sound of the gunshot, Tammy's hand going to her hip where her small pistol was riding in its concealed holster.

Both saw Hiram standing at the far side of the yard proper, near the tree line. His pistol was in his hand and there was a figure sprawled at his feet. Without thinking, Tammy scanned the area for any other intruders, but she saw nothing. Hiram looked up at Helen's call and waved to her that he was okay. Tammy and Helen walked slowly to him and Hiram met them several feet from the body.

“Mack Bodine,” he told Helen softly. “Came at me out of the woods.”

“Oh, no,” Helen almost whispered back. Mack Bodine owned a boat repair and servicing business just two miles away from them down river. He and Hiram had spent many hours fishing the river together and solving the world's problems, at least to their satisfaction. They weren't exactly friends in the way Hiram figured such things, but he had liked Mack and enjoyed his company.

“I guess I need to go and check on Celia,” Hiram almost sighed. Celia was Mack's wife.

“Was he infected?” Tammy asked, eyeing the body closely.

“I didn't ask,” Hiram replied dryly. “Why?”

“I'm assuming he attacked you with that crowbar?” Tammy asked, pointing to the crowbar in question lying near Mack Bodine's body.

“Yes, using it like a club,” Hiram nodded. “Why?”

“I haven't noticed any infected using tools before,” Tammy shrugged. “just curious.” Hiram stared at her for a moment as the gears in his mind shifted.

“Huh,” he grunted at last, eyes showing thoughtfulness. “Hadn't considered that.”

“Me either until right this minute,” Tammy admitted. “But I've seen several infected up close and personal and none of them were using anything as a weapon.” She looked at him steadily. “If they're starting to do that then we might have a bigger problem than we thought.”

“How did he get in?” Helen asked, frowning suddenly. “He's inside the perimeter.”

“I don't know,” Hiram admitted. “I suppose he could have crawled over it. The fence is only four feet high in most places.”

“I think we need to try and find out how he got in,” Helen insisted. “If he opened a gate then that implies that he could think clearly enough to open the gate, not to mention that the gate is probably still open. It also may imply that the infected can remember things from their lives before they were infected.”

“Good point,” Hiram sighed. “I'll walk the fence and check it out.”

“Not until you've had breakfast,” Tammy almost ordered and Helen nodded, suppressing a smile. “And not alone, either,” Tammy added. “This is a game changer, Hiram. We're going to have to be extra cautious from now on.”

Hiram glared at the girl for even suggesting that he couldn't take care of himself, but Tammy had endured 'the Glare' before and stood her ground firmly. Hiram realized that she wasn't going to back down and finally conceded the point, much to Helen's silent delight.

“Fine, just don't start getting the idea you can tell me what to do,” he said firmly. “I'm doing it because it's a good idea, that's all.”

“Of course it's a good idea,” Tammy replied smugly. “Now, breakfast is ready. After we eat I'll help you get rid of your friend and check the fence.

“He wasn't my friend,” Hiram said without thinking. “I just knew him, that's all.” Tammy almost stumbled at the words but managed to keep walking. Her father had used those same words more than once about people he would hear of being killed in action. “Guy I knew,” would be all he'd say.

It seemed like some things were universal. Including how men who couldn't afford to be ruled by emotion dealt with the loss of 'people they knew'.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ringo sat in the small living room of his refuge, reading. He had his ear buds draped across his ears listening to music but where he could still hear sounds around him as well. It was a poor way to relax, but it was all he had. He found himself wishing he could sleep since it would be a good way to pass the time.

Of course, if he was infected and the virus hit him while he was asleep then he wouldn't have the chance to call Hiram and let him know. He wondered if he should call before he went to sleep later, assuming he could sleep later, and tell Hiram he was going to sleep, just in case.

But then he'd have to call when he woke up too, wouldn't he? And if he started calling it would raise their hopes back at the house and he wasn't sure there was anything to be hopeful about. His temperature was 100.9 the last time he'd checked it, which had been about a half-hour before. He had found a half-bottle of Ibuprofen in the bathroom's medicine cabinet and taken three of the tablets. They were meant to be a fever reducer, after all, and he might have a fever because he'd been in the weather, right? A simple fever didn't mean anything.

He laid the book he was reading aside and rubbed his face with both hands. No matter what he did, he couldn't escape the simple fact that he was sitting here waiting to see if he was going to become like the three people he had killed the day before. Or was it the day before that? He frowned, trying to think back. How many days had it been? He had to wait three days, right? Had it already been two? If it had, then if he was still good tomorrow he could head home.

No, he was certain it had been yesterday morning early. He had gotten back to the Cat Barn before noon, and had napped until late afternoon when he had been. . .no, no that was wrong. He'd slept through the night, hadn't he? It had been raining when the thug had brought the woman into the barn for. . .well. So this was Day Two then.

But did the first day really count as Day One? Seventy-two hours didn't necessarily mean three sunrises, now did it? It meant seventy-two hours. It had been roughly nine in the morning when he might or might not have been exposed. So that meant he had to wait for three full days, seventy-two hours from then.

Okay so it was three sunrises, wasn't it? He had to wait three full days. So, about nine o’clock on the day afterward would be one day down on his countdown. That meant that when he woke up in the morning, it would be two full days. One day to go and he could head back.

Unless he woke up infected. But then if he woke up infected he wouldn't know it would he? Or would he? Some of the behavior he had witnessed the day. . .no, two days ago, had been a little disturbing. He might end up being a raging lunatic that could remember everything but still couldn't control himself. Be aware of everything he was doing and still be powerless to stop it.

He stood suddenly, his thinking filling him with the desire to move and burn off some of the stress he was feeling. He walked around the small living room several times as he tried to focus himself. On a whim he dropped to the floor and began doing push-ups. He did so many that he lost count. It no longer mattered how many he'd done, he just kept going, pushing himself until his arms refused to lift him from the floor again.

He turned to his back and hooked his feet beneath the couch and started doing sit-ups. He didn't take a break, just launched right into the sit-ups. He worked until he couldn't and then still did crunches until his abs flatly refused to continue. He lay back, looking at the ceiling and waiting for his breathing to settle. When it did, he rose from the floor and went to take a shower. He was obsessed lately with being clean, it seemed. He hoped that wasn't some kind of sign, at least not a bad one. He could do with a good sign right now.

He was in the shower when he felt a tickle in his nose. Raising a hand to wipe it away, he was shocked to see the hand come down bloody. The shower washed it away almost immediately but he had seen it. He turned immediately and got out, looking at himself in the partially steamed over mirror.

His nose was bleeding. The left nostril.

Panic seized him for just a second, but he managed to get it under control. He pinched his nose together, tilting his head forward. Why was his nose bleeding? Was that one of the signs? He couldn't remember. Oh, God, I can't remember!

He forced himself to stay still for a slow count to one hundred. Once he reached the end he released his nose and looked up at the mirror.

Nothing. No more blood. It had stopped. Would it have stopped if he were infected? Why hadn't he asked that? Maybe Hiram didn't know anyway. He started to call and ask, but then thought better of it. He would have to tell Hiram why he was asking. Admit that he was bleeding.

He thought about the three Ibuprofen. Would that make his nose bleed? Did it work like Aspirin and thin the blood? He didn't know that, either. Why hadn't he bothered to learn things like that? Why didn't he know the things he needed to know?

How the hell was I supposed to know I'd need that? he asked himself silently. How does one train himself for the end of the world?

He took three deep, calming breaths, and then stepped back into the shower. He hadn't cut the water off and it was lukewarm at best now, the small hot water heater exhausted for the moment. He washed off in the rapidly cooling water and shut it off, getting out again.

Once he was dry and dressed with his freshly clean clothes he sat down to consider his options. His spontaneous burst of exercise had left him tired enough he could sleep he thought. Maybe he should call Hiram anyway, just in case. What if he didn't wake up? Or what if he did, but wasn't himself anymore. Would Hiram come looking for him? No, Hiram was smarter than that. He wouldn't leave Helen and Tammy alone to try and find someone who might be infected.

Or would he, if he blamed himself? Ringo was surprised his head hadn't exploded it was going so fast. He dug into his bag and withdrew the satellite phone. He stared at it for a long time before suddenly punching the number into it.

Hiram deserved to know.

The phone rang…and rang…and rang some more. But Hiram didn't answer. Ringo allowed the phone to ring until it simply stopped ringing. He lowered the phone slowly, wondering why Hiram wasn't answering. Was something wrong? Had something happened at the house? Was he just away from the phone?

He had told Hiram he wouldn't call unless he knew he was infected or when he knew he wasn't and was headed in. Maybe Hiram wasn't expecting a call this soon. Maybe he was asleep. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

He shut the phone off and lay back on the bed, mind swirling with what might be. He closed his eyes, both hoping for and dreading sleep.

No more nightmares, he pleaded silently. Just let me sleep.

He slept.

*****

Hiram led the way as he and Tammy walked the fence around Birdsong Bed and Breakfast. Helen was on the porch with a two-way radio, the mate to it in Tammy's hand. Hiram was carrying a rifle in his hands now, one Tammy recognized as an M-4. She had a sneaking suspicion that this rifle was not the civilian model, but she didn't ask.

Hiram was quiet as they made their way toward the gate in question. Tammy kept her head on a swivel, reasoning that if one infected, or not, could get inside the fence and attack then so could two or ten for that matter.

Hiram stopped in front of her, hand raised, and Tammy froze. His hand slowly came to a point and she followed it to see the gate.

It was standing open.

“Dammit,” Hiram cursed softly. “Did he manage to open that gate infected? Or was he still sane and attacked me anyway?” Tammy had no answer for that and didn't think Hiram was really expecting one. She watched as he reached into a pocket and pulled out a padlock. She followed as he continued to the gate and stood guard as he pulled it closed and locked it.

“That might keep it from happening again,” he told her and she nodded. The two of them walked the rest of the way in silence, Hiram stopping at each gate to secure it with a padlock. They made the entire circuit, ending up once more at the front porch.

“Well?” Helen asked.

“Gate was open,” Hiram pointed toward the offending gate. “He had to have opened it. If he was infected and managed to open that gate, and was using the crowbar as a weapon, then you're right,” he looked at Tammy. “We may have a bigger problem than we thought.”

“Let's don't borrow trouble,” Helen advised. “We still need to get rid of Mack's body,” she reminded him.

“I know,” Hiram nodded. “I'll take care of it.”

“I'll help,” Tammy said at once, but Hiram was shaking his head.

“No. I'll get it. He might have been infected. If he was, then we want the least exposure possible.”

“What are you going to do?” Helen asked.

“I'm going to use the forks on the tractor to carry him down the road to the dumpster, drop him inside and then burn him. The dumpster will make sure the fire doesn't get out and the fire should make sure that any trace of the virus, if he had it, is gone.”

“Hiram, that's almost two miles,” Helen pointed out, and he nodded.

“I wish it were ten,” he replied. “But it is what it is.” With that he went inside to gather what he needed before starting out. Helen looked at Tammy, her face stony.

“I need to go with him,” she said evenly.

“I can go,” Tammy told her. “I'll follow in my car. If anything happens he can abandon the tractor and we can come running back here.”

Helen considered that for a moment before nodding her reluctant agreement.

“Take the radio,” she ordered. “Call me when you're almost back and I can have the gate open. The less time we're exposed, the better.”

“Amen to that,” Tammy breathed. The statement made her wonder how exposed Ringo was at the moment.

“Leave that for later,” Helen ordered her, knowing the look. “Worry about him when you're safe again. That's what he would want. What he would expect.” Tammy nodded, knowing the truth when she heard it. She made sure she had her pistol and knife secured on her belt and thought about getting her bat but decided against it. If she were attacked, she'd be shooting. Her father had made sure she knew how to handle most any kind of firearms she might come into contact with, including some that she probably shouldn't be able to come into contact with. Reese Gleason was a careful man.

Hiram came around the side of the house on his small tractor a few minutes later, a set of forks that were probably originally meant for hay attached to the front. He slowed at the steps, idling the tractor down to be heard.

“I'll be back as soon as I can,” he told them. There was a small gas can beside the seat.

“I'll be following you,” Tammy told him. “If something happens we'll use the car and run back here. We can try to get the tractor later if we can.”

He looked as if he was about to object but the two women had what he called 'the Look', which meant they had already made up their minds and that meant he had too. He was accustomed to seeing that look from Helen now and then, but he hadn't realized that Tammy had it too.

No wonder they get along so well, he snorted mentally. He nodded his acquiescence and started the tractor moving again. Tammy got her car and prepared to follow while Helen stood on the porch with the remote for the driveway gate.

Hiram lifted the body of his former neighbor off the ground, managing to center the weight in one try. With a gentle wave to his wife, he started down the drive. At the road he turned left and increased his speed, wanting to get this over with. Tammy followed a few spaces back, eyes constantly scanning for threats.

Behind them Helen secured the gate, worry in her eyes as she watched them depart. She glanced at the shotgun leaning against the porch post near her side. Out of sight of casual onlookers or passersby, it was still ready for instant use and Helen knew how to use it.  They had thought they were safe here from the madness. Ringo had pointed out that might not be the case, saying that 'as the crow flies' they weren't all that far from the bridge. But Helen hadn't given that statement much thought and she didn't think Hiram or Tammy had either. Ringo had the kind of mind that was needed in a crisis like this.

If he still has his mind she thought wryly, a pang of sadness hitting her at the thought of Ringo being infected. He was a genuinely good young man or she was badly fooled. And fooling her was hard to do. He had helped Tammy when most men, especially at his age, would have, at the very least, made some kind of unsavory demand on her for that assistance. He had defended her against an attack by men who were even worse than that and Helen was thankful that Ringo had been there. Helen had taken an instant liking to the younger woman, seeing in Tammy something of herself at that age. The idea of her suffering like that was heart-wrenching.

She offered a silent prayer for Ringo as she stood on the porch waiting for her husband and houseguest to return. It was a prayer for his well-being, his safety, and his safe return. It was all she could do at the moment.

*****

Hiram pushed his tractor throttle to the stops, moving down the road as quickly as the small tractor would go. It seemed faster than it was. Tammy was looking at her speedometer as she trailed him and it was resting at 20 mph. She sighed in frustration at how long it was taking.