Tammy and Ringo (20 page)

“You two would get along famously I'm sure,” Tammy agreed. Hiram picked up a rifle and tossed it to her, testing her reflexes. She caught the M4 deftly and worked the slide checking it for a load before putting the weapon on safety. She did it by reflex rather than conscious thought and Hiram nodded in satisfaction.

“Nice,” he told her. “Let's take a look at what we need upstairs.”

*****

The three of them ate lunch and then spent the rest of the day making defensive preparations and plans. Weapons and ammunition were placed in each room and in the garage, out of sight but always within reach. Once that was finished Helen and Hiram sat down with Tammy and began explaining their contingency plans to her, altering them now to allow for her presence and that of Ringo when he returned.

Tammy was impressed by the depth of preparation the older couple had made. Far from just a general list, they had made as complete a plan as possible. While they had no plan for any specific problems other than natural or man-made disasters and attacks from without or within the nation, there were some very specific plans with reference to defending their home and themselves.

If that happened, this was the response. If it was this, there was a different response. If attackers reacted this way, they would respond that way. The list wasn't complicated but it was thorough. Tammy wasn't surprised by that considering Hiram's background.

They spent the rest of the day planning, with Tammy being quizzed on and off at times about what she'd learned so far. She took it just as seriously as they did, knowing what was at stake. As supper neared, it was Helen who put an end to it.

“I think that's enough for today,” she declared, getting to her feet. “Tammy all of this is written out so that you can study it on your own. Learn it all, dear. Commit it to memory and always be alert, inside or outside. It might make the difference if we have a difficulty.” With that she left to start their evening meal before the natural light was gone. It still took some getting used to not having electricity.

“I know it seems like a lot,” Hiram told her. “But a failure to plan--”

“Is a plan to fail,” Tammy finished, and Hiram started before laughing.

“I guess your dad taught you that,” he said through his laughter.

“Among others,” she nodded. “I get it. And I'll make sure I know it all as best I can, too. You can rely on me, Hiram. I promise.”

“I already do, Tammy,” he told her. “I already do. We'll make it. I don't know what shape the rest of the country will be in, or even our own little county, comes to that, but we'll make it so long as we work together and keep our heads.”

Tammy went to sleep that night still thinking about all she had learned that day and about how glad she would be when Ringo showed up again.

*****

Ringo lay down that evening almost too excited to sleep. He had made sure he was packed and ready other than just what he would need to get started in the morning. He had gone through another workout, exhausting himself so that he might be able to sleep despite his excitement. He really wanted to go home.

Home. He rolled that word around his head a few times. He didn't know exactly when he'd started to think of Birdsong as home. He hadn't really spent that much time at the place but there was just something about it that made him feel at home. He didn't understand it, but it wasn't a bad feeling and he rather liked it.

Tomorrow, assuming he woke up still him, he would start for Birdsong Bed and Breakfast as soon as there was sufficient light for him to do so. He had already mapped out a route and a contingency in his head, reluctant to put anything on paper or into the GPS in case he should lose it. No one had to teach him to be careful. He'd been that way all his life.

He went to sleep thinking about something other than an MRE or an energy bar for a meal. He'd be glad to get 'home' and have a good home-cooked meal.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ringo was up and awake long before daylight. He took a very quick, very cold shower and got dressed. He fixed an MRE for breakfast, hoping it was the last one he had to eat ever. It wasn't bad if you were hungry but it left a lot to be desired in the taste department.

He made sure the small house was clean and that the only dirty linen was the towel he had used and the sheet currently on the bed. At the last minute he decided to leave a note explaining what he had been doing and that he had taken pains to leave the house as well as he had found it. He didn't bother with his name. It wouldn't mean anything to whoever found it, anyway.

By the time it was light out he was on the move, crossing the open areas carefully but wanting to be into the woods and the cover they afforded before the day was any brighter. Consulting his compass, Ringo struck out on the heading he needed, following a path he'd memorized over the last three days.

He was going home.

*****

Hiram was awake early, as well, for an entirely different reason. He awoke suddenly, lying completely still as he listened. The house was quiet which was normal enough without electricity. The alarms were still working since the PV system was able to keep them running and it seemed a reasonable precaution considering the situation.

He got up, careful not to disturb Helen, and made his way to the bathroom. He dressed quickly and ventured downstairs, careful to avoid making any noise. Making rounds through the house he was satisfied that nothing was wrong, at least inside. That done he eased outside, standing on the back porch and just listening. Nothing seemed out of place, so he left the porch and began making his rounds, rifle in hand.

It usually took him twenty minutes to make a round of the fence around their property. Ten acres wasn't that much land really, but there was a fence all the way around it and he walked that fence every morning. After his altercation with Bodine he made sure to check each and every gate as he went.

He took his time, stopping every so often to just listen. He finished his rounds only a little slower than normal, satisfied that the perimeter was secure. He eased onto the front porch and took a seat, rifle on the table in front of him. The fact that he hadn't found anything out of place didn't mean that everything was okay. Something was bothering him and that kind of feeling was something that he'd learned not to ignore.

The sat phone ringing startled him. He was glad Helen or Tammy wasn't there to see it. He answered it on the second ring.

“Ringo?”

“It's me,” Ringo confirmed. “I'm on my way in. I’m already in the woods and making good time. I'm clean, looks like.”

“Thank God,” Hiram said reverently. “All the gates are locked around the property so give me a call when you get close and I'll come open one for you.”

“Will do,” Ringo's voice was confident. “I don't suppose you've heard from Baxter, have you?” he asked suddenly. “I'd like to know if this has been worth it.”

“Haven't heard a word, but then I haven't made any attempt to contact them, either,” Hiram admitted. “When you get in, we'll see what we can find out. That work?”

“Only after I've eaten something besides foil-wrapped cardboard,” the teen said wryly and Hiram had to laugh at that.

“I did warn you,” he reminded Ringo.

“So you did, but tasting is definitely believing. I think I can be there before lunch, assuming that I can keep this pace and don't run into any trouble.”

“We'll be waiting on you, kid,” Hiram promised.

“See ya then,” said Ringo and then hung up. Hiram placed the phone back onto the table, smiling despite his unease. There was something wrong, but he just couldn't put his finger on it. Not yet. At least it didn't seem like anything was wrong around the place.

He eased back in his chair, watching and waiting. Both required patience and Hiram had learned patience in spades over the years.

*****

Tammy woke slower than normal for some reason, but soon she was up and moving. A brisk cold shower left her facing the day with wide eyes indeed. She heard Helen stirring as well and decided to head downstairs to get a head start on breakfast. As she came down the stairs into the foyer she could see Hiram sitting outside, just putting the satellite phone back on the table.

“Good news?” she asked, stepping outside. She wanted to know but was afraid of the answer.

“Ringo is on his way home,” Hiram told her simply. “He's clear. Might be here by lunch if he's lucky.”

“Yes!” Tammy shouted and then instantly covered her mouth. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“Completely understandable,” Hiram smiled again. “We do need to keep noise down some but this is definitely a special occasion. He did mention he'd love to have something to eat besides an MRE,” he added.

“I'll see to it,” Tammy promised, still smiling. She made her way inside and started breakfast, whistling as she went. Helen found her a few minutes later and added her smile to the good news and her help to breakfast.

*****

Ringo fought the urge to hurry. He wanted to be back as soon as he could. At least there he could have a bit of down time. The weight of thinking he might be infected was gone and he felt as if he could breathe again for the first time in he didn't know how long. He knew it had only been three days, four if you counted how long he'd been out, but the waiting had made it seem like a month or more. If felt good to be moving and it felt natural to want to move quickly but he couldn't rush.

He was still in what he considered enemy territory and it would be the height of irony to have waited out three days to see if he were infected only to fall victim to an attack on the way home. Odds were he wouldn't encounter any infected in the woods, but who knew? And not all the danger was from infected. He'd learned that the hard way over the last several days.

He did make good time, though. Crossing fences and avoiding gullies cost him time, but he was taking as direct a route as possible to Birdsong. Thanks to the map and the GPS he could eliminate the need for most landmarks and he didn't need to follow the highway again since he wasn't looking for infected. In fact he was actively trying to avoid them.

Even though he stayed alert, his mind was working as he moved. Had his efforts helped? Had Baxter made any progress at all? Perhaps they were already well on their way to finding a way to stop this virus. He knew things had gone too far for the world to go back to 'normal', but perhaps they could have some kind of new normal, at least. One where the terror of the last few days was just a bitter  memory. He hoped they could salvage something, anyway. For him it didn't really matter since his life before all this started hadn't really been anything to celebrate. Not that his Uncle had mistreated him because he hadn't. But his mother's brother had never been a very emotional individual. He hadn't hesitated to take Ringo in and had never made the boy feel unwelcome, but the man hadn't been a nurturing soul. He simply hadn't known how to be.

Coupling that with the problems any small child would have after seeing his parents murdered in front of him didn't leave a lot of room for 'sunshine and puppies' as the saying went. Ringo had dealt with his problems internally, often suppressing his emotions in order to keep them at bay. His uncle had tried to get Ringo to take interest in a number of activities but to no avail. Until one day when he had taken Ringo with him to his dojo.

His uncle had been a martial arts instructor for most of his adult life. A competitor in several disciplines, he also had studied the sword. He had spent a year in Japan training with the katana and becoming efficient enough at it to earn the right to teach certain styles as an officially accredited instructor. Ringo had watched the classes that day that his normal babysitter had been ill and been mesmerized by the flashing steel and graceful movements of his uncle and the students alike.

His uncle had noted Ringo's interest and encouraged it, using the study to draw the boy out of his shell and into the open for the first time since the death of his parents. Ringo had been an apt pupil, devoted to being the absolute best no matter how hard he had to work.

His uncle had urged Ringo to compete in competitions, but that had never been his aim. His aim had been to become so dangerous that he would never again feel alone and afraid. That he would never again be a helpless victim, unable to defend himself or others he cared about. At nineteen, Ringo had been using a sword for almost fourteen years. He held belts in three separate disciplines and was proficient in two others.

He had been preparing to become an instructor at his uncle's academy when things had turned upside down. It hadn't been a dream or a goal, but it was a way to earn a living while continuing to hone skills that he had to admit had no real world value.

Until now.

He had used his sword many times in the last week. He had never really expected that to be the case. He had begun his journey with a child's hope of one day turning his blade on the men who had killed his parents, but as he'd grown older he had come to realize the folly of that dream. He would never likely find the men responsible if the law had not. He was separated by time and distance from that night and that place, neither of which he could overcome. It was very difficult to hitchhike from Memphis to rural west Texas with a sword. That was asking a bit too much of the average traveler.

Ringo slowed as he came to a road ahead. He would have to cross it to continue on his way. He looked at his watch and was surprised to see that he had burned almost two hours thinking about his past. He shook his head, a bit startled that he had allowed his thinking to drift so far away from the present, again. That was a good way to become a victim.

He checked the GPS and was surprised to see that he was now less than two miles away from his destination. He could continue through the woods and be on Hiram and Helen's front porch in an hour, perhaps two at the most.

Excited, he put his map and the GPS away and slid down the slight rise to the side of the road, intent on crossing the narrow back road and returning to the cover of the woods as soon as possible. He never saw the infected man until the, now all too familiar, screech of rage startled him. Turning to his right he saw an older man in bib overalls stagger toward him.

Before Ringo could react the man suddenly stopped short, arm raised to attack though he was still several feet away. Ringo had drawn the pistol by now and had it ready, but for some reason he hesitated, watching the strange behavior.

The man looked confused, Ringo thought, a look he hadn't really noticed on the infected he had seen at the bridge or on the highway. He'd seen frustration, anger, and what passed for boredom, but not confusion. This was new.

The man took another step, this one halting. It was as if he was suddenly having trouble making his limbs obey. Ringo noticed the man's face was flushed and growing more red by the second. He watched in macabre amazement as the man gasped for air and then fell to his knees, one hand clawing at his chest with a partially closed fist.

Is he having a heart attack? Ringo wondered to himself. Stroke? Or maybe it's a progression of the virus? He finally thought to check around him for more danger but could see nothing anywhere around. Turning his attention back to the kneeling man, Ringo watched as the man's eyes bulged slightly. His mouth moved silently, reminding Ringo of a fish removed from water. And then he just fell flat, face first, onto the road and was still.

What the hell? Fascinated, Ringo waited for two full minutes for the man to get back up, but he lay still upon the road. No breathing, no movement of any kind.

This guy's dead! he thought to himself. He just died with me looking at him! Ringo eased forward, his fascination overriding his sense of danger. He prodded the body with a foot, pistol aimed right at the man's head. Nothing. He repeated the measure harder. Still nothing.

Ringo knelt beside the body and reached into the back pocket of the man's overalls where the bulge of a wallet could be seen. Removing the leather billfold, he pocketed it quickly. There would be ID inside. Hiram might know him and might know if he had a history of heart problems or something.

Still shaking his head at the scene he'd just watched play out in front of him, Ringo hit the woods again, taking a great deal more care than he had been before. There would be no more reminiscing as he made the rest of his trek home.

*****

Hiram jumped slightly as the phone rang. He'd been expecting it but it still startled him.

“Ringo?”

“I'm at the gate I left through,” Ringo's voice rang across the phone. “And I'd really like to come inside,” he added, chuckling a bit.

“Be right there!” Hiram promised.  He was already on his feet and moving. Rifle in hand he was off the porch before he thought to call out to Helen and Tammy.

“Ringo's here!” he tossed over his shoulder as he headed for the gate. He made record time crossing his property to where Ringo stood waiting.

“Damn it, boy, you're a sight for sore eyes, I tell you!” Hiram exclaimed, quickly opening the lock and allowing Ringo into the yard. He replaced the lock and then enveloped the younger man in a hug.

“It's damn good to see you, son,” the older man told him, drawing back to take a good look at him. “You look fit.”