Tammy and Ringo (13 page)

He'd made other mistakes as well. He decided that once he was set in the barn he would devote the waiting time to the small journal he had, making an assessment of his movements and mistakes on this little jaunt. Even if he didn't need it, someone might find it later on and be able to use it.

And it would give him something to do. That would be important over the next three days, he decided.

*****

Helen and Tammy looked up expectantly as Hiram entered the kitchen. He got himself a glass of water and then moved to the small table indicating that Tammy should join him, Helen already being seated.

“Heard from Ringo,” he said simply. “He got his job done and got clear. Samples he collected ought to be on their way to Atlanta by now.” He stopped there, weighing his next words very carefully.

“He was attacked while he was gathering what he needed,” Hiram went on after a pause. “He defended himself and wasn't bitten, but he did get a good deal of infected blood on him. He's going to wait out the incubation period and a little more in a barn he came across on his way up to the bridge. He knows the signs and what to look for. He can safeguard himself from being out and able to hurt anyone if. . .that is in case he. . . .” Hiram finally trailed off, completely out of steam. He was suddenly very tired.

“I see,” Helen spared him any more need to talk. She kept herself calm but did cast a look at Tammy. The younger woman was as stoic as Helen herself was.

“Is there anything we can do to help him?” Tammy asked, and Helen felt a swell of pride for the girl.

“We can pray for him, dear,” Helen answered the question. “We can ask God to take care of him.”

“Best help he can have right now,” Hiram nodded in agreement. “He's not bit,” Hiram stressed again. “He's taking a large dose of precaution because he got a good bit of blood on him. No open wounds or scratches, so he should be okay. But he wants to make sure and I can't blame him,” the older man admitted. “If it was me out there, and it has been more than a few times, I'd want to know before I came dragging back here bringing something that could kill everyone around. He's just playing it smart, which in this case means careful. We should hear from him in three days when he starts back for home. Until then, like Helen said, pray.”

Tammy wanted to scream at Hiram to do more, but one look at the old man's wounded face told her that doing so would be a waste. He was obviously blaming himself for the fix that Ringo was in. There was nothing he could do, either. Realizing that she decided she'd try instead to make him feel better.

“Well, all that talking is probably dry, hungry work,” she said lightly, trying to break the gloom and doom atmosphere in the kitchen. “I guess I could find a fresh slice of bread for an old goat who had the manners to ask nicely. In fact,” she added with a grin, “if he were to ask nicely enough, I might could find some butter to go on that bread.”

“Ah, child, you are a comfort to an old man on a hard day, you know that?” Hiram smiled. Tammy stuck her tongue out at him, then laughed and turned to get Hiram some fresh bread and something to drink.

The three of them sat together in the kitchen trying to cheer one another up. It was all they could do and it helped to alleviate their worry about Ringo being all alone in what was becoming an increasingly crazy and dangerous world.

*****

Ringo saw the barn through the trees sooner than he'd expected. He was tired and knew that was affecting his sense of time and distance. He'd stopped already and filtered enough water to fill the one gallon collapsible bag he had kept in his pack, as well as his canteens. He'd used a different creek to bathe in, using the disinfectant and bleach to cleanse himself and his equipment. The shirt, pants and web gear he'd been wearing had been discarded, buried in the ground fifty yards or so from the water to avoid contaminating the creek any worse than he already might have. Hopefully it would work.

He felt clean, at least. Water and soap, after his thorough disinfecting, had left him refreshed if still tired. Seeing the barn made him start to relax but he caught himself before he'd really started. He couldn't afford to relax until he was secure. He might be infected, he might not. He didn't know. But if he wasn't then there was no point in taking chances. If he was clean but got attacked and bitten, that would be a complete waste.

He made his way carefully around the small barn making sure it was still abandoned. He watched the house in the distance for fifteen minutes, seeing no signs of occupancy during that time. He saw no movement, no traffic on the road in the distance, nothing. Satisfied he was clear for the moment, Ringo made his way back into the loft. He quickly secured the entrance again and then set about making himself comfortable.

With his meager camp set up, Ringo removed another MRE and popped the fuel tab, heating the slightly palatable meal for a late lunch/early supper. He was not surprised at all to see the cat appear once the meal started to give off a fairly pleasant aroma.

“Well, well,” Ringo chuckled aloud to the feline. “Look who’s still here.” The cat sat down just out of reach, ignoring him as she used a paw to clean her face. Shaking his head in amusement Ringo cut the bottom from the package the MRE had come in and used it to fashion a small bowl. He poured a small amount of water into the make shift container and set it toward the animal.

The cat looked at him suspiciously for several seconds, then leaned forward sniffing carefully. Finding nothing wrong with the small package, she stuck her head inside and drank slowly at first, then more greedily. When the water was gone she licked the package for any missed drops. Ringo smiled and used his canteen to add another drink, which the cat took after only a few seconds hesitation while Ringo moved away again.

“Thirsty weren't you girl?” Ringo asked. He had a sudden urge to pet the cat but resisted it. The cat was all but feral. While it might accept a pat to its head, it could just as easily bite him. No sense borrowing trouble.

The meal now heated, Ringo opened the package to let it cool and the smell of Beef Stroganoff brought him the cat's undivided attention. Chuckling, Ringo took a sizable portion out of the bag and set it on a makeshift plate made from the remainder of the packaging. He slid the 'plate' closer to the suspicious animal, who retreated a few steps, back arched. Ringo ignored the cat, setting the food out where the cat could reach it and then returning to his own meal, leaning against his bed roll.

The cat obviously remembered getting a meal from this human before, and that memory coupled with the inviting smell of another hot, meaty meal won her over quickly. She kept a wary eye on Ringo, but attacked the small meal with gusto.

“You're that hungry already, huh?” Ringo smiled. Talking to the cat seemed silly he supposed, but it was better than just sitting here in silence. He would be here for three days at least and these might be the last lucid days of his life. He really didn't think he had been infected but the only way to be sure was simply to wait and see. He expected that to be a long three days.

He had food, water enough for the three days, and he was dry and comfortable, considering. He had a book he could read and he had a tablet with other books on it, one of the few things he possessed that wasn't a blade or clothing. He had one small box with a few trinkets that had belonged to his parents, which he had left behind in his room at Hiram's. No sense in risking it, he had figured. The tablet could be replaced even now and the books were all copied to a flash drive along with the music he had downloaded over the year or so he'd had the tablet. If he lost it he could replace everything that was important.

So, he would stay put, stay quiet, and see what happened. If the cat was around to keep him company then so much the better. Ringo finished his meal and leaned back, allowing himself to relax for a while. The shotgun was close to hand and the pistol was lying across his chest, still in its holster. His sword was never out of reach by long habit. With the door blocked again, Ringo was about as safe as he could be in the situation he found himself in, so. . . .

He was asleep before the thought finished. Five minutes after that, her belly full again and warm, the cat was once more curled up on Ringo's belly, purring softly.

Neither noticed when it began to rain softly.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Ringo woke sometime later to a gently falling rain. He checked his watch, seeing that it was around midnight. He moved slightly and grinned at the cat curled up on him. For her part the cat stirred slightly, glaring at Ringo for daring to disturb her sleep, then settled in again. Ringo sighed.

“Sorry, Grouchy, but some of us need to take care of some business,” he said softly and gently moved the cat off him. The cat allowed that contact with a jaundiced eye, not biting or clawing. Ringo sat the animal down in a curl on the hay he was using to pad his bed and rose to his feet.

Across the loft was a five gallon bucket that Ringo had appropriated as a latrine. Shredded hay from below mixed with sawdust taken from a pile under a side shed made a fairly convenient repository and should keep the odor down. Business done, Ringo added another handful of the hay and then crushed some pine needles he'd collected from the trees nearby, dropping the fragrant pins into the bucket.

Cleaning up with the wipes and hand sanitizer, Ringo eased to the open loft door and stood looking out at the area around him. The rain prevented him from seeing much but he could see the distant glimmer of security and street lights. Apparently the power was still on.

For practice more than anything, Ringo took the night vision scope from his pack and used it to scan the surrounding area. Other than two deer munching at the uncut hay in the field to his east there was nothing moving he could see. He moved to the rear opening and repeated the process, studying the woods. Again he could neither see nor hear anything out of the ordinary. Satisfied for the moment, he sat down and began to clean his weapons. He hadn't had time before and his impromptu nap had stopped him earlier.

They wouldn't be damaged by a little rain and time, but he wanted them clean anyway. Sword and knife could rust if left uncleaned and firearms could ruin if allowed to rust. He cleaned them all, even those he hadn't used since they would have gotten wet, paying close attention to any damage he could see. All was well.

Once the guns were cleaned and reassembled he loaded them and laid them aside, close to hand but out of the way. He took a small stone and ran it over the blade of his katana and then his knives and the small throwing axe he carried. The spikes didn't require that sort of thing. Seeing the empty holder reminded him that one spike was still on the interstate, buried in the head of the infected woman who'd tried to kill him earlier in the day. He didn't really want it back and certainly not bad enough to go and get it. He could make a new one. He'd made that one, after all.

Once his chore was finished Ringo eased back onto his pack again, considering his position. There really wasn't much he could do until the time passed. He decided that any time he had to confront the infected again he'd be wearing a balaclava. Hopefully one that was resistant to water. Between that and the goggles he shouldn't have to go through this again.

He would also make some gauntlets, he decided. They would need to be light, yet strong enough to stop a biting attack. Perhaps some kind of aluminum shrouded with Kevlar? That might work. He used the writing function on his tablet to make a few notes, careful to keep the screen low and block the light it let off from escaping the barn.

Next Ringo considered the tactics needed to fight the infected. Noise was death, especially in a large group. They could also see fairly well. But could they tell the difference between one of their own and someone healthy? Close in he was pretty sure they could, since the three he'd taken had attacked him without pause or hesitation, but what about at a distance? Could an infected see a person walking in the distance and know whether it was one of them or not? And why didn't they attack each other? The only altercations he had observed had been individual infected fighting or struggling over something both seemed to want, whatever it was.

How was their sense of smell? He'd had no way to test that and hadn't thought of it even if he had. No one else had mentioned it either. He needed to find out if they could smell. That meant finding another infected and trying to get downwind of him/her with something they'd want. He didn't know what that might be, so that was something else he'd have to wing. But he was convinced it was good information to have.

He thought back to the three he had killed at the interstate. They were not drained of blood despite their wounds, which meant their blood was still congealing as it should, still clotting. Maybe the virus made their blood thicker? The blood that had spilled over on him had been very thick, almost like oil in both color and consistency. That could mean that the virus was changing the make-up of the blood in its victims, maybe? Or was that what blood from a head wound looked like when it hit the air? He made another note but was shaking his head. He could come up with all sorts of questions, but he didn't even know where to start on answers. Ringo wasn't dumb by any one's measuring system, but he lacked the training and education to figure out something like this. So he made notes of things that occurred to him, figuring to pass them along to Baxter.

You know, if I don't become an aggressively violent hydrophobic maniac sometime in the next couple of days. 

Tired of this line of thought for the present, he opened a book he had been reading before the start of all this. He hadn't had time to read any the last few days, but here all he had was time. Might as well read, he figured.

Taking a ration bar from his pack, he nibbled on it as a snack while he read, laying small pieces on the floor for the cat, who would sniff disdainfully but then gobble the pieces up when she thought Ringo wasn't looking.

The two passed the rest of the night like that with the sound of falling rain as a background noise.

By morning it would be raining much harder.

*****

“Glad we got the rest of the early stuff in the ground,” Hiram said as he sat on the front porch the next morning, coffee in hand. “Won't be working in the garden next few days looks like.”

“No, I expect not,” Helen agreed, sitting at his side. “Have you heard from Ringo?” she asked gently.

“Don't expect to,” Hiram shook his head. “He'll call if he starts showing symptoms or when he starts home and not before, unless he's got something to report.”

“I see,” was Helen's reply. She took her husband's hand and squeezed gently.

“What set you off yesterday?” she asked, and Hiram stiffened, but didn't pull away.

“Just worried about the boy,” Hiram answered, and while not the whole reason it was still the truth. “I know he could have said no, and hell, I even sort of prodded him to say no,” he admitted, “but I still feel like it was my fault he was out there…is out there, right now.”

“I can see how that would bother you,” Helen nodded, “but, as you said, he could have said no. Your influence might have helped him say yes, but I get the feeling that he wanted to be away for a few days. Alone.” Hiram looked at her, nodding slowly.

“I thought that too and it's probably accurate,” he replied finally. “He's been through a lot for a kid his age and that's the truth. Talking to him is almost like talking to someone that's a ten or twelve year vet. With combat time at that,” he added, sighing. “He's had a rough time.”

“Want to tell me about it?” Helen asked.

“It's his to tell,” Hiram shook his head. “And I know just enough of his story to tell it completely wrong. I will tell you this,” he turned to look at her. “Beneath that lamb exterior is a dragon, ready and waiting to breathe fire on anyone who wakes it. That, you can count on.”

“I thought as much,” Helen nodded once again. “He seems like a sweet boy and he is, I'm sure, but there's an edge hiding beneath. I probably wouldn't see it if not for living with you for so long,” she added, partly teasing.

“Me?” Hiram looked at her with raised brows. “Why I'm as pure as the driven snow!”

“Oh, my dear Hiram,” Helen laughed. “That's one of the things I love about you so much. You don't look or act dangerous and yet you are. Ringo hasn't your years of experience in hiding it though. The edge to him is much closer to the surface. Unlike you, Ringo doesn't seem to care if anyone sees it or not. I'd say he doesn't advertise it, but then I'm fairly sure he doesn't have to, either.”

“I'd say you've got him pegged pretty fair,” Hiram nodded, grinning slightly. “That boy is dangerous, there's no question or doubt about that. I just hope he comes through this okay,” he said, looking back out at the falling rain.

“Lord willing, he will, husband,” Helen's voice rang with a confidence Hiram wanted to share, but couldn't. “Lord willing, he will.”

*****

Ringo startled awake, unsure when he had gone back to sleep. His tablet was lying beside him so he must have just drifted off. He realized it was getting light outside when he looked toward his feet and saw the cat.

The cat was looking toward the opening to the front of the barn with her back arched and a quiet hiss showing on her face. Ringo tensed slightly. Whatever had woken him up had also upset the cat.

Getting quietly to his feet Ringo started to move over to the loft door then thought better of it. Some of the boards creaked, he knew from experience. Moving across the hay scattered on the floor would also cause some of that hay to fall between the cracks in the boards, giving away that someone was up here.

He took his seat again, careful not to disturb the hay beneath him or make any noise. He wondered who, or what, was around the barn. Was it someone who was infected? A thief maybe? Someone looking for a place to hide, like he was doing? There was no way to know.

It could just as easily have been the farmer who owned this barn, Ringo realized with a start. There was no equipment stored here but there was the hay he was sleeping on and there might be other things downstairs. He hadn't paid attention to most of the storage other than to ensure he was alone. He really wanted to look outside and see what he could see, but to do so might give him away.

The cat was still as well. Ringo thought that if it wasn't something to worry about, the cat would have gone to investigate or gone back to sleep, one or the other. Instead she was still on guard, watching the entrance to their loft.

Ringo lay back carefully and pulled the shotgun to him, making sure the safety was on. He wasn't proficient enough with firearms to go around with the safety off, not that he thought it was a good idea even for a professional. That done, all Ringo could do was wait; which would be more difficult because he needed to pee. Really bad.

*****

Tammy looked outside from the window in her room, sighing at the rain and the generally gloomy day it was causing. Thankfully they had completed the garden work yesterday afternoon, so they weren't being held up by the rain. Hiram had even said it was a good time for a slow, gentle rain like this since it would help give the garden a jump start.

Still, it meant that she was pretty much stuck in the house unless she wanted to get soaking wet, which she didn't. So she was resigned to a day inside. Fortunately Helen and Hiram had a nice library and she'd picked herself a book, a mystery, and settled into the chair in her room to read.

She kept drifting away from the story, though, to look out the window and wonder where Ringo was and how he was doing. He wouldn't call unless he was headed in or had started showing signs of infection. If it was good news they wouldn't know until at least tomorrow and probably the day after. If he called before then it would probably be bad news.

She could tell that it was working on Hiram pretty hard. It was clear the older man blamed himself for Ringo's predicament. While Tammy would like to have someone to blame and be angry at, the fact was that Ringo had gone because he had wanted to. There was no blame, including for Ringo really. He had done something that needed doing, something that few others had been willing or able to do. Perhaps his work would give the doctors and scientists what they needed to combat the virus. She hoped so, for more reasons than one. Sure, it would be nice for things to start getting back to normal, if that were even possible, but also it would mean that whatever Ringo was going through would mean something. It wouldn't be wasted.

As much as she didn't want to think about it, Tammy had to admit that she was afraid for him. She would give almost anything reasonable and few things unreasonable to be able to help him in some way. But there was nothing she could do. She didn't even know where he was and Hiram had been remarkably reluctant to give any details about his location. And she couldn't do anything even if she knew where he was and went to him, except add to his burdens.

She exhaled heavily, her mood slipping. She returned to the novel in an attempt to put those concerns from her mind, but sooner rather than later she would find herself looking back out the window again. Thinking about what Ringo was doing and how he was feeling.

How he was making it.

*****

At that moment Ringo was crawling to a small hole in the floor of the loft, trying to get a look at what was happening below. He'd heard a muffled cry a few minutes before and the cat had scampered away to whatever hiding place or secret entrance she used. Ringo had heard what he was positive was a low voice though he wasn't able to make out the words, then what had sounded like a blow and a thud. He was almost sure there were at least two people beneath him. Who they were or what they were doing he had yet to figure out.