by Tinnean
He ran right into Mr. James.
“What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
“Why…Never mind. We can’t dawdle. It’s a good thing this mall is so small.” He unhooked the small flashlight he wore on a belt loop and led the way to Uncle Frankie’s. Shopping carts were lined up neatly to the side of the door. He unlocked the door and propped it open.
“Where’s the water? This isn’t the store in which I usually shop.”
“Check the endcaps.” Lync liked that Mr. James was thinking smart. “You can probably fit a couple of cases at the bottom of the cart as well as what you put in it. Don’t wait for me—fill up a cart, take it to the movie house, then come back for another one. We’ll need about…” He did some figuring. “About fourteen cases, but don’t worry about what fits in the cart. I’ll be grabbing cases, too. Once that’s done, hit aisle four. Here.” He handed Mr. James his flashlight. The emergency lighting didn’t reach to the inner aisles. “Don’t bother to be neat, just grab as many cans of soup as you can.” Even as Lync was telling Adam what to do—and how weird was that, him ordering around the wealthiest man in town?—he was glancing up at the aisle signs. “I’ll see about getting crackers and peanut butter and jelly. We’ll do this in about ten minutes. We can’t push it for much longer than that, since we’ll have to get the supplies down into the shelter. We’ll use the rest of the time for that.”
Mr. James wet his lips and gave a massive shudder, but he nodded.
“It’ll be okay, Mr. James.” Lync squeezed his arm. He’d take care of him.
The man gave him a lopsided smile. “I think you should call me Adam.”
“I should?”
“You saved me.” Mr. James rested his hands on Lync’s shoulders and stared into his eyes.
Lync wasn’t surprised when Mr. James shivered again. Even though the air conditioning in the mall was off and it was becoming warm, his nerves were probably getting the better of him. It was a scary situation.
“And if this is the end of the world, then yes, of course you should call me by my first name.”
“All right…Adam.” Lync didn’t think he’d done much in the way of saving anything, but if this really was the end of the world, they didn’t have time to go into that. He gave a shy smile, then bolted into action. “We’d better get busy.”
“Yes, we should.”
Adam ran to the endcap where cases of water were stacked, while Lync headed to the aisle that contained flashlights and batteries. He opened a package of batteries, put them in a flashlight that was on clearance, and turned it on. Able to see more clearly—his night vision only went so far—he put all the batteries into the cart and ran to the rear of the store. He filled the cart with all the cases of water that would fit, then raced out to the movie house. He left the cart there and pelted back to the store, where he grabbed another cart and loaded more water before he went to the aisle where not only peanut butter and jelly were stocked, but bread as well. He scooped up armful after armful of the plastic jars—creamy, chunky, honey roasted—and dropped them into the cart, then added jelly, as well as loaves of bread. Crackers were two aisles over, and he raided those shelves before he headed out of the store again.
He passed Adam running back to get another cart. “Wait!” When Adam skidded to a stop, he swapped flashlights. “You’ll get more light with this one.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“How much time?” Lync asked.
“Seven minutes.”
“Go, go, go.”
“Going.”
He parked the cart beside the other two, sprinted back to the store, and grabbed another cart. This time, after adding more cases of water to the bottom of the cart, he headed for the aisle that held canned fruits and vegetables. Most of the cans had lids that popped off, but some didn’t, and he barreled around another aisle where items such as can openers were stocked, and he tossed a few that were battery-operated into the cart. And to be on the safe side, he threw in a couple of manual openers as well.
There was one more thing: a first aid kit. Uncle Frankie’s was too small to have a pharmacy, but part of an aisle contained over-the-counter pain relievers and fever reducers, plus the actual first aid kits themselves. Lync piled in everything that would fit.
Adam came up beside him with another filled cart. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” He rushed toward the door with Adam just behind him. “Time?”
“We’ve got about two minutes.”
Shit. “Okay, we’ve got to book.” Lync kicked aside the chock, and out of habit, he pulled the door shut behind him and let the lock catch. They rushed to the movie house and hurried to get all the carts into the lobby. With that done, Lync once again pulled the door closed. It seemed that was all he did this evening—open and shut doors—and headed toward the part of the movie house where the service elevator and the stairs to the basement were.
“Hurry, Lyncoln.” Adam tried to open the elevator.
“No, no power.” Even the damned main breaker wasn’t working. “We’ll have to take the stairs.” There was no time for Lync to wonder how Adam knew his name. In spite of their occasional interactions, Adam had always addressed him as Mr. Ryland. “We’ve got about fifteen minutes to take the carts down to the basement one at a time, then get the supplies down to the shelter.”
“Sounds like a plan. Let’s just be careful we don’t fall and break our necks.”
“Now that sounds like a plan.”
They eased each cart down the stairs, Lync steadying it at the front end and Adam at the rear, tipping the cart up so only the rear wheels rolled down each step. Finally, panting and sweating, the air getting stuffier, they got the last cart into the basement, and Lync scrambled for the heavy-duty plate that was set in the floor. It covered the opening into the shelter, and it felt as if it weighed a ton. He struggled to pull it open, almost crying in desperation, and Adam rushed forward to help him. Finally the catch gave, and they pushed it back on its hinges.
Once they had the cover up, Lync jammed the flashlight between his teeth and climbed down the ladder, descending into the circle of light. That was all he could see in the otherwise pitch darkness of the fallout shelter.
Chapter 3
“Lyncoln, I know there’s a generator somewhere in there.” Adam must have torn off his overcoat, because it came sailing down, missing him by a hair and landing on the concrete floor with a surprisingly solid thud. “You get it working, and I’ll start bringing the supplies down.”
“But…okay.” They didn’t have time to argue about it. Lync went through the second room to the closet that contained the generator. This was something else he’d kept in good condition once he knew it was there, and even though it only took him a couple of minutes to power it up, those were minutes they couldn’t really spare.
The lights, air filtration system, and the fan to circulate the air in the shelter came on, and Lync turned off his flashlight and hooked it to his belt again as he raced back to the ladder. Adam’s legs came into view just as he reached it, the arms of his tuxedo jacket looped around his neck, the bulging jacket hanging down his front.
“What did you do?”
Adam was panting and sweating harder than before, and Lync could see by the cases of water piled up at the base of the ladder that he’d made a few trips already.
“I buttoned up my jacket, tied the arms together, and made a sack.”
“It’s too valuable,” he protested.
“It’s just cloth.” Adam lowered one of the bunk beds and upended the jacket, spilling out cans of soup.
“No, wait.”
“We’ve got to hurry.”
“I know, but take the next batch straight through to the storage room. There are shelves set up for supplies.”
Adam groaned. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Leave this for now. We can deal with it after everything else is done. Just hold on a second.” Lync yanked hi
s shirttails out of his jeans and began pulling it over his head.
“Really, Lyncoln? I hardly think this is the time.” Adam’s tone sounded flirtatious.
“What?” He blushed when he realized what Adam must think. “No, but if I tie up the arms of my shirt the way you did, I can make a sack, too.”
“Don’t waste any time.” He hauled himself back up the steps.
Lync stared after Adam’s very attractive ass for a second, then yanked his shirt off over his head and clambered up behind him. By the time he reached the top, Adam was filling his own sack with more cans of food. Lync filled his shirt with as much of the peanut butter and jelly as he could. On the next trip up, he’d start on the batteries and first aid items, and finally he’d get whatever canned goods Adam hadn’t been able to bring down.
It took more time than Lync liked to get everything down into the shelter, but finally they had the last can down and the last case of water stacked in a corner. The carts had been moved away from the hatch and tipped onto their sides so they wouldn’t roll around if things got hinky.
Adam blew out a relieved breath. “All we have to do now is close the hatch.”
“I’ll get it.” Lync took the steps of the ladder as fast as he could, then angled his body up through the opening and reached for the heavy, hinged cover. Just as he had it lowered, a rumbling like a freight train passing inches from him sounded. The building shook, dust drifted down from the ceiling, and he lost his grip on the ladder and tumbled down.
“Lyncoln!”
“Oof.”
“Oof is right.” Adam had caught him, managing to break his fall. “You’re more solid than you look.”
And Adam was stronger than Lync expected. Even though Adam was a good half foot shorter, he held Lync as if he didn’t weigh anything.
His throat felt clogged, and he had to swallow a few times before he could get out the words. “Was that it, do you think? The missile hitting…” He didn’t want to think of New York, with its teeming masses of humanity, as nothing more than a huge hole in the ground.
“I don’t think we’d hear it this far away, but that might have been an aftershock.”
This time it was Lync who couldn’t help shivering. Was this the end of the world? Adam gave him a brief squeeze. Did he know where Lync’s thoughts had gone?
“I have to apologize,” Adam said, distracting him.
“What? Why?”
“I fell apart earlier.”
“I don’t blame you. Being outside…knowing what was coming…” He cleared his throat. “I think you should put me down.” He liked the feel of Adam’s arms around him, but they were in a serious situation, and he had no intention of taking advantage of the man.
“Must I?” Adam gave a droll smile. “Yes, I suppose I must.” Adam set Lync on his feet, and for a second Lync thought Adam might kiss him. But he didn’t, and Lync sighed surreptitiously and shook himself out of his ridiculous thoughts.
He climbed back up the ladder to secure the hatch, then forced himself to smile at Adam. “We’d better get the groceries put away before we try to get some sleep. The water first?”
“All right.” Adam stooped to heft one of the cases of water, and Lync allowed himself another moment to watch the bunch and play of muscles under the snug tuxedo trousers.
He gave an almost inaudible hum of appreciation when Adam balanced the case on one hip and caught up another by the plastic that enclosed an end. Lync snapped out of it and got to work himself.
That began the first of the multiple trips they’d need to make to transfer the water into the storage room.
“Last trip,” Adam finally said, slightly out of breath. It had taken them seven trips each. “I’ll bring in the cans I dropped onto the bunk while you start stacking the rest of the supplies on the shelves. All neat and tidy.”
Lync tilted his head, biting his lips to prevent a smile. “Neat and tidy, hmm?”
Adam grinned at him and bumped his shoulder against Lync’s, and Lync grinned back at him. Adam went into the living area, and Lync began stacking the cans on the shelves. The shelving units went to the ceiling, which ran about fifteen feet high, so there should be plenty of space. He’d put the soup and canned pasta at eye level. And son of a gun, Adam had found some packets of tuna and salmon, as well as chicken.
Within a minute or so, Adam returned with his “sack”—Lync felt so bad about the expensive tuxedo jacket being ruined.
“You’re a genius, you know,” Adam murmured.
“Me? How do you figure that?” Lync felt his cheeks warm. No one had ever praised his intelligence.
“You knew what we’d need.” Adam dropped his tuxedo jacket/sack on the floor and stepped around Lync to tear open the plastic that enclosed one of the cases of water.
“That’s just common sense.”
“You might think so, but—” He held up a bottle of water. “Do you want one?”
“Yes, please.”
Adam handed one to him, then unscrewed a cap and took a long gulp. He dug his other fist into his back and arched into the pressure. “Oh my God, those cases were heavy.”
“Who’d have thought, right?” Once again Lync took the opportunity to admire the sleek lines of Adam’s swimmer’s body. “Why don’t you start with the neat and tidy?”
“Got it.” He recapped the water and set it aside, then began shelving the cans. “And as for common sense,” he said, returning to Lync’s previous remark, “I was so stressed I would have wound up with a cart full of cookies and candy.”
“Nothing wrong with candy.” He wouldn’t tell Adam just yet that he’d tossed a couple of bags into his cart, so instead he asked, “Have you ever had Wally’s chili?”
“Wally?” Adam gave him a blank stare. “Is he your boyfriend?”
Lync chuckled and shook his head, although he did wonder how Adam knew he was gay. He lined up the peanut butter in their various types. “Wally owns Walter’s Burgers and Dogs.”
“Ah.” Adam shook his head.
“No, of course you haven’t. Well, Wally is also the cook. Along with hamburgers and hotdogs, he makes the best chili in the state—he’s won quite a few chili cook-offs. You have to try it with me sometime, my treat.” Which was silly, considering how wealthy Adam was, but Lync wasn’t going to take back the invitation. Of course, with the world coming to an end, they might not have much opportunity to sample anything of Wally’s anymore. “He…uh…he says his secret is the ceramic bowls he’d brought back from a trip to Mexico.”
“Okay.” Adam agreed with his suggestion easily, and Lync could have wriggled like a happy puppy. “Is there a radio down here?”
“Yeah, and the batteries should work.” Lync took it down off the shelf, turned it on, and fiddled with the dial. Usually the emergency alert system would emit a screeching sound, to warn listeners of an impending disaster, but it seemed they were way past that point. Each station that was audible simply repeated, “This is an emergency. Tune to the civil defense band.”
The first station he tried, 640 on the AM dial, had nothing but white noise, but 1240AM had something.
“This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill. This is an actual attack. The president has activated the nuclear codes in response to an unprovoked attack by a foreign power, and the National Guard has been mobilized. Missiles have been intercepted, although we’ve sustained massive casualties. The Air Force will continue to intercept for as long as possible, but some have gotten through, and at least one missile has decimated Los Angeles. Another is aimed for New York. Evacuate if you can, but for many it may be too late. In that case, take shelter and stay tuned to this station. We will continue broadcasting for as long as possible. God bless America, and may He bless and keep us all.”
Adam made a soft sound of distress. “They did it. They actually fucking did it.”
Lync wasn’t surprised to hear him swear—the situation certainly merited it—although in a manner of speaking, h
e was. The few times he’d seen or interacted with Adam, the man had always struck him as very classy, very cool and contained, not at all the sort to say words that would have gotten Lync’s mouth washed out with soap if his dad had ever heard him.
“Do…do you think we’ll make it?”
“We should be okay. We have plenty of supplies.”
“No, I mean America.”
“We can only hope, I guess.”
Adam was silent for a long minute. Then he swiped an arm over his face. “I don’t remember this being so spacious,” He looked around before he resumed stocking the shelves.
“Had you ever been down here?” Lync gazed up at the ceiling, which was the same height as the main living area.
“No, I have a copy of the original plans, though, and I’d intended to see what a relic of the ‘50s actually looked like, but something always seemed to come up…”
Lync hadn’t seen the plans, but he’d been down here a few times. “Someone must have enlarged the shelter at some point. As you saw, most of the bunks are folded up against the walls to give additional space. Let me give you the dollar tour. This door leads to the generator room, although room is a generous word.” Lync opened the door to reveal the compact space. “I’ll show you how to run it, if you like.”
“Yes, I would like.” Adam had found a stepladder and began climbing up and down it, storing supplies on the upper shelves.
Lync stared at the items Adam was placing on those shelves—packages and packages of toilet paper. “God bless you!”
Adam winked at him. “Is it too much to hope for a toilet?”
“Is that why you brought along the bucket?” Lync had been too distracted to pay it much attention when he’d first seen it, although he had noticed it had been filled with loaves of bread.
Adam nodded. Smart man. Lync wondered if he could use that as an excuse to hug him, then decided maybe not.
