Tammy and Ringo by N.C. Reed Page B

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