Tammy and Ringo (8 page)

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Ringo shrugged. “Believe it or not, I understand. You’ve been through a lot since yesterday.”

“So have you,” Tammy pointed out, joining him in walking back toward the house.

“Not like you,” Ringo shook his head. “I already lost most of the things that you lost. Only I lost them along the way. One here, another there. You lost them all at once. No matter how tough you are that’s a hard blow. If anyone’s got some leeway coming, it’s you I’d say.”

“And you did great yesterday,” he added. “Most people would have panicked at one time or another going through what we did yesterday. You didn’t.”

“I might have if not for you,” Tammy admitted.

“And I might still be in Memphis fighting for my life or dead without you,” Ringo shrugged. “It evens out.”

“You’re determined to do this, aren’t you?” she asked as the two stepped up onto the porch and sat down.

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “Until I talk with these people Hiram wants me to speak to, I don’t know what they want or if I can do it. He thinks I can, but. . .I won’t know until I know. If that makes sense,” he added, snorting.

“It does,” Tammy assured him. “I wish you wouldn’t go,” she added.

“I plan on coming back,” he told her honestly. “This is supposed to be a one- time thing the way I understand it. Once I’ve done what they want, I’m planning on coming right back here. And stay as long as Hiram and Helen will have me.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, dear,” Helen said, walking out onto the porch. “Not to intrude, but I couldn’t help hearing that. Both of you are welcome to stay here with us.” She sat down.

“I’ve had a word with Hiram about this scouting trip, too,” she continued, her voice almost frigid. “He had no right to lay that on you.”

“Why not?” Ringo asked calmly. “It needs doing. Maybe I can do it. He’s trying to help, that’s all. Do whatever he can to make things safer.”

“That doesn’t change the facts,” Helen said tartly. “You’re not trained for this kind of thing. I think he forgets sometimes that not everyone has his background. Or his sense of adventure.”

“I’ve never had much of a sense of adventure,” Ringo nodded. “But I’m not untrained. I can take care of myself just fine. I’m more worried about actually being of any use to these scientists.”

“We’ll talk to them later tonight,” Hiram promised, following Helen onto the porch and taking his own seat. “I don’t know what all they’ll want but you can be sure they’ll want samples, pictures, maybe a video of their behavior. Behavioral patterns, how they respond to what stimuli. . . .”

“I think we can talk about something else right now, dear,” Helen said firmly, and Hiram nodded, contrite.

“Right. You and me’ll talk later about it, Ringo. And to the CDC, too.”

“I still wish you wouldn’t,” Tammy said softly.

“And I still may not,” Ringo reminded her again. “We’ll see.”

*****

The first thing Ringo noticed about Doctor Meredith Baxter was that she probably hadn’t slept much lately. There were dark circles under her eyes and her face had a drawn, haggard look to it.

The second thing was that she did indeed squint at everything, including the web cam she was using to talk to Hiram.

“This is the young man I was telling you about, Doctor,” Hiram said, once the connection was established.

“Thank you, Colonel,” Baxter smiled tiredly and Ringo looked at Hiram, eyebrow raised. Hiram just shrugged.

“What is your name, young man?” she asked kindly.

“Ringo, ma’am,” he replied. She waited a few heartbeats.

“Just Ringo?” she asked finally.

“‘Fraid so, ma’am,” he nodded.

“Well Ringo, you’re very brave to do this,” Baxter told him. “I’m sure the Colonel has explained how dangerous this will be.”

“I pretty well figured that out for myself, ma’am,” Ringo assured her.

“I imagine you have if you’ve been out there,” Baxter nodded. “Believe it or not, the virus hasn’t spread everywhere as of yet. There are still a few areas that aren’t affected at all, but not many. And I don’t expect that to last.”

“I wouldn’t either,” Ringo nodded.

“What I need are specimens to work with,” Baxter got to the point. “I need tissue samples, blood samples and some video of their behavior. The Colonel can provide you with the containers for the samples but I cannot stress enough how careful you must be. Use gloves and glasses at all times to avoid any type of fluid contact.”

“All right,” Ringo nodded.

“Otherwise, just be observant. Write down anything you see that seems important.”

“How will I know what that might be?” Ringo asked, frowning.

“Well, do they act in a group or pack, or do they act individually? How do they respond to stimuli? Does sound attract them? Movement? Do they all respond at once, like a herd mentality, or do they seem to follow the leader? Things like that.”

“Okay,” Ringo nodded. He could probably do that.

“We also need at least one intact head,” Baxter added, her face sorrowful. “That will require you to dismember the. . . .”

“I’ve already been there and done that, Doctor,” Ringo raised a hand. “Won’t be a problem.”

“Well,” Baxter almost frowned. “It’s a problem for some people. There’s a lot of people in the government insisting that the infected are simply sick and must be treated humanely. At least that’s what they’re saying in public,” she added.

“Ma’am, I’ve seen the infected close up and personal,” Ringo said flatly. “There’s no humanity left there. And I mean none.”

“I know,” Baxter nodded slowly. “Unfortunately, many, many people are buying into the theory, and that’s just adding to the problem. You’ll have to be careful that you don’t run afoul of any of them. Even some peace officers are coming down on that side of the argument.”             

“I’ll mind it,” Ringo promised. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Baxter nodded. “If you can see any of them around water, I’d like video of their behavior there. This is supposed to be a rare strain of African rabies. Rabies is the common name for hydrophobia, which is--”

“Fear of water,” Ringo nodded. “Already thought about that.”

“You are a very intelligent young man, Just Ringo,” Baxter smiled after a minute. “And I really appreciate this. We don’t have many people willing to do this kind of work, and without samples to work with we’re helpless.”

“How many are there?” Ringo asked. “Besides me, I mean?”

“Five,” Baxter replied evenly. “That’s all we could get that we can reach by helicopter. You make six. Hopefully it will be enough.”

“I’ll get what I can for you, ma’am,” Ringo promised.

“Thank you. Again,” she added. “Colonel Wilkins will finish your briefing. Please be careful.” With that the screen went blank.

“Colonel Wilkins,” Ringo tried out the name. “You know, I don’t think I’d heard your last name until just now.”

“It’s not my last name,” Hiram assured him. “There’s no way I’m telling her or anyone else who I am. Or where I am, either,” he added.

“Then why let me tell her who I am?” Ringo demanded.

“I’ve never heard you use anything but Ringo,” Hiram shrugged. “How hard will it be to find someone named Ringo? Just Ringo,” he added with a snort.

“Guess that’s true enough,” the teen shrugged. “You got what I need to get this done?”

“Yeah,” Hiram sighed. “Gonna have to show you something, kid. Don’t really want to, but. . .reckon I gotta trust somebody, sooner or later. You’re elected, looks like.”

“I can wait here,” Ringo offered.

“No, you can’t,” Hiram sighed. “There’s a lot to do and a lot to show you and it’s better we do it somewhere. . .outta the way.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Hiram led Ringo outside to the garage behind the house. Ringo was a bit puzzled but held his questions, following quietly. The garage was two-story with what was probably an apartment over the vehicle bay.

Once inside Ringo looked around, but . . . it was just a garage. A nice one he admitted, with room for three vehicles. Two sat inside, a late model SUV and an older pick-up. The third bay held a side-by-side ATV. Hiram ignored all of these and headed to the back of the garage.

In back of the ground floor Hiram opened a door that exposed a small storage area, full of tools and auto care products and supplies. Walking to the back of the storage closet, Hiram motioned for Ringo to close the door. Frowning, he did so.

Hiram looked at Ringo, eyes flinty hard.

“I’m about to trust you with my life and the life of my wife, kid,” he said flatly. “Don’t make me regret it.” Before Ringo could reply Hiram reached in between some of the stored oil cans and pulled. Ringo heard what sounded like a lock mechanism throwing and suddenly the rear wall of the closet swung open, revealing a set of stairs.

“Watch your step,” Hiram warned over his shoulder. He flipped a switch inside the newly opened door and started down the now illuminated steps. Ringo followed, cautious. As they descended the steps Ringo found it difficult to contain his surprise.

“This is my hole card,” Hiram told him. “Everything the loving couple needs to survive. . .well, anything.”

Ringo nodded slowly, taking in the view. Shelves filled with cans of freeze-dried foods and other supplies lined the walls. The room was somewhat Spartan but still. . .comfortable was the word that came to Ringo’s mind. There was carpet over the concrete floor, simple yet inviting furniture including two recliners and a sofa, and all the touches of a small but comfortable living room in what could be any house in America. Books lined shelves in every available wall space.

Several doors opened off of this main room. Hiram started pointing them out.

“Bedrooms,” he indicated two doors at opposite ends of the larger room they were standing in. “Baths,” he pointed to a room toward the center. “Kitchen,” was a doorway to their left. “And. . .the armory,” he pointed right. It was this door he headed toward.

“C’mon.”

Ringo followed, still taking in what he’d been shown.

“No one other than Helen and I and two other people who helped me have ever been down here,” he told Ringo over his shoulder. “Not until now.”

“Wow,” Ringo finally managed. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Everyone needs a bolt hole,” Hiram shrugged. They reached the ‘armory’ and Hiram keyed in a number on an illuminated key pad. Once again Ringo could hear a locking mechanism disengage. Hiram gave the oversize door handle a twist and opened the door.

Ringo hadn’t known what to expect when Hiram had said ‘armory’ and followed the older man inside wondering what he would see.

The first thing he noticed was that the well lit room was big. At least as large as the room they had first entered.

The second thing, hard to miss, was that one wall was basically a weapons rack. Rifles, shotguns, handguns, and some other items Ringo was unfamiliar with lined the wall on padded rests. He could see the reflection of a light sheen of oil on all of them.

There were cabinets along the far wall, all locked. Several looked almost like safes and two were refrigerators he noticed with some surprise,.

“Powder,” Hiram shrugged, seeing where Ringo was looking. “I re-load, plus make custom rounds.” Ringo nodded as if he understood, which he did in part. Ringo noted there was no wasted space anywhere, shelves and cabinets filling the walls all the way around the room.

From the doorway down the front wall was a long work bench. Odd machines here and there sat with plastic covers over them, while tools unfamiliar to Ringo hung along a pegboard over the bench itself.

“My reloading presses and gunsmith tools,” Hiram offered, waving at the bench.

“Wow,” Ringo repeated, shaking his head.

“I’m showing a lot of trust in you, Ringo,” Hiram said matter-of-factly.

“It’s occurred to me,” Ringo snorted in amusement. “And you just met me yesterday. Not under the best circumstances, either.”

“True,” Hiram nodded. He pointed to a stool, taking another for himself. Ringo sat down.

“I’m a pretty good judge of character,” Hiram explained. “And I’ve watched you like a hawk, too,” he admitted. “Once I figured out that you and the girl really weren’t together except as traveling partners I decided you were okay. Not many men, especially your age, would help a pretty girl like her and not expect something in return, if you know what I mean.”

“I know,” Ringo said softly.

“I also watched you practice this morning,” Hiram continued. “It’s obvious you have discipline and training.” He paused then, looking Ringo dead in the eyes.

“It’s also obvious you’re hiding something,” he said flatly. “Concealing might be a better word since you aren’t harming anyone with it. But. . .I want to know what happened to you, son. And I want the truth.”

Ringo’s face flushed for a second and in that second Hiram saw the dragon lurking beneath the lamb’s exterior. Ringo hadn’t moved an inch, but his eyes were almost glowing with barely-held rage. Hiram held up a hand, forestalling Ringo’s response, if there was to be one.

“That’s good enough, right there,” he said. “Your parents didn’t just die in a plane crash, did they, son?”

“No,” Ringo replied flatly. 

“You saw it happen, didn’t you?” Hiram’s voice was gentle, kind.

“Yes,” Ringo’s single word answer was strained.

“Did you see who did it?” Hiram asked. This time Ringo just nodded.

“How old were you?” Hiram asked.

“Five.”

“Five years old,” Hiram shook his head slowly. “How long did you stay hidden, afterward?”

“I don’t remember,” Ringo admitted. He had never spoken of this to anyone other than his uncle and the authorities. Ever.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Hiram’s voice rang with sincerity.

“Long time ago,” Ringo managed to shrug.

“I’m guessing you don’t feel much anymore,” Hiram speculated.

“No,” Ringo admitted. “I don’t. I never saw a point, afterward.”

“And that explains the sword, the martial arts, the edge on you.” It wasn’t a question.

“I suppose it does,” Ringo replied, almost against his will.

“Thanks, kid, for trusting me as much as I do you,” Hiram said softly. “Let’s get you outfitted, and start looking at what you need to get the job done.”

There was no more talk of Ringo’s past.

*****

Ringo let out a long exhale looking at all the equipment gathered on the table before him. He had thought he’d known what he was agreeing to, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“This is a lot of stuff,” he said, still looking over the gear.

“You’ll need it,” Hiram promised. “More than you expected I take it?” he almost smiled.

“I travel pretty light,” Ringo admitted. “I didn’t think about having to haul all this shi. . .stuff, around while I was doing this.”

“I’ve heard the word before,” Hiram chuckled. “And had the same thoughts myself, I assure you. Thing is, you’re going to be out in the field, alone. You might be able to find what you need and you might not. That means you carry the things you absolutely have to have with you. Understand?” Ringo nodded.

“Good. Now,” Hiram picked up the small camera. “This thing is supposed to hold a shitload of video. I don’t know exactly how much, but a lot. More than the squints should need, especially if you use it right. There’s a small roll-up solar charger that will help you keep it charged,” he set the camera next to what looked like a roll of rubber matting. “Takes a while, but it’s light, easy to carry and simple to use.”

“These are MREs,” he continued, picking up a foil wrapped package. “I would tell you they’re good eating, but I like you. They taste like cardboard, especially if you have to eat 'em cold. But they’ve got all the fuel the body needs to keep going, even in combat. There’s enough here for five days at two a day.” He set the package down and picked up a plastic bottle.

“Food tabs,” he explained. “Actually taste better than some of the MREs. Two of these have about fifteen hundred calories between them. Good to keep your body up and running when you’re on short rations. These,” he pointed to a collection of what looked like candy bars, “are called survival bars. There are thirty-six hundred calories in each bar. Coasties use them in lifeboats. Also good for keeping you going on short rations and a lot easier to carry. And not bad eating compared to some stuff.”

The lecture continued with a filtering water bottle, water purification tablets, GPS, satellite phone, waterproof map, a very small camp stove with fuel tabs. That one brought a question.

“Little warm for a stove isn’t it?” Ringo asked.

“Until you’re soaking wet and night falls,” Hiram nodded. “Then, there’s no fire large enough until you’re dry again.” Ringo nodded. That made sense. Finally, Hiram’s hand touched on a pistol with an attached suppressor.

“You know how to use a gun?” he asked. Ringo nodded.

“I do. Not as well as my sword, but. . .I do,” he settled for saying.

“Got one of your own, do you?” Hiram asked, smiling slightly. Ringo just looked at him but nodded.

“Use it if you want, then,” Hiram shrugged. “This one’s quiet, though. Line of work you’re about to go into, you need to be invisible. Noise is death in Indian Country.” Ringo looked at him and Hiram shook his head.

“Never mind, just an old saying. Anyway, take this with you, you’ll find it handy. I’ve got plenty of knives and machetes so if you want take your pick. I know you favor edged weapons.” Ringo looked the selection over and did select one good knife that he liked the heft of.

“Good choice,” Hiram approved. “Randall Knives. Excellent all-around blade.”

“It feels good in my hand,” Ringo nodded. He placed it with the rest of his supplies.

“All right,” Hiram sighed. “We’ve got sample containers and a bio-hazard container. I cannot stress enough, do not let any of their blood get inside your eyes, mouth, open cut, anything. If it does, you may find yourself infected. Use the gloves and the goggles, got it?”

“I got it,” Ringo promised.

“This one,” Hiram took the second bio-hazard container, “is for the head. Once you put it inside, seal it like this,” he demonstrated, “ and then open this tab,” he pointed, “and push the green button…in that order. Got it?”

“Seal, green button,” Ringo repeated dutifully.

“This container will flood with a tiny capsule of liquid nitrogen when you seal it and then activate it with the button,” Hiram explained. “It will keep for up to forty-eight hours. As soon as you’ve got this and can get to a secure location, use the sat phone to call the number on the back. Give them the GPS coordinates and they can send a chopper to recover them.”

“How do you have all this stuff?” Ringo’s curiosity got the better of him.

“Leftovers from a by-gone era,” Hiram shrugged. Ringo waited but Hiram offered no more, instead returning to his instructions. 

“Wherever you decide to leave your collection, attach this to it,” he gave Ringo a small cylinder. “Hit this button and it activates a light that only a thermal image will see and a small tone that the chopper can home in on.” He looked at Ringo, his face serious.

“Do not be around when that chopper lands, Ringo,” he warned. “Do not trust these people, even for a second. She may mean really well, but if Baxter is on the level, and that's not a sure thing, she doesn’t have a clue the kind of men who will be collecting this stuff for her or I’ll eat my hat. They’re just as likely to take you with them as not. Or kill you.”

“Why?” Ringo was puzzled.

“I’m not saying they will,” Hiram told him. “I’m just saying it’s possible. We’ve already agreed that this virus is probably man-made. Just because someone wants an antidote or a vaccine doesn’t mean they want anyone to know where it came from. I know how these kind of people work and think, kid. Trust me on this. Let them come to get the samples and you be long gone when they get there.”

Ringo absorbed all this without comment, but inside he was wondering what kind of person Hiram had once been. Had this no-nonsense old man once been like the people he’d just described?

“A long time ago and a long way from here, yes, I was like that,” Hiram said softly, seeing the look on Ringo’s features. “All I can say is that it made sense at the time. They were enemies, Ringo. People that would have killed me, Helen, anyone of us they could have. I tell myself the world is a better place without them. Almost helps me sleep better.”

“But this is different,” he went on, voice firmer. “We’re Americans, and we don’t do that to our own people. At least, we aren’t supposed to. But. . .times change, Ringo, and I don’t know all the players anymore. So you do like I said, okay?”

“I will,” Ringo promised. “I’ll call them after I’ve set things up and set off the beacon.”

“Smart boy,” Hiram grinned, slapping the teen on the arm. “All right, let’s get you packed up. Once we’re done you can go when you’re ready. Did you leave the keys in that truck you said those three thugs were driving?”