Surviving the Apocalypse Box Set

By Tinnean

All three stories in Tinnean's best-selling end of the world Surviving the Apocalypse series are available now for the first time in one box set! Contains the stories:

Surviving the Apocalypse: Lyncoln Ryland and Adam James are two very different men. When the sirens go off, signaling the possible end of the world, they take shelter in a relic from the Cold War. Will they be able to survive the apocalypse together?

Pandemic: The world is suffering from a deadly pandemic, due to a virus released by melting ice caps. Laurie Parkinson wakes with a hangover to find his family gone and Laurel Hill, his town, decimated by the disease. Wheat Dupuis regains consciousness from a blow to the head to discover he’s been left behind. Will the two men find safety with each other, or they learn being ill isn’t the greatest danger?

Long Leggity Beasties: Dark deeds are being done. Can former lovers Special Agent Jenn Canaday and Sheriff’s Deputy Meg Parkinson find out who or what is behind the missing people and animals, save the country, and rekindle their romance before they go missing themselves?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Aug 17, 2019
• ISBN: 9781646560165

Tinnean

I’ve been writing since the 3rd grade. I was on the staff of my high school magazine, and then... I got married. There was a long interval when raising my kids took preference, although I would scribble sci fi, contemporary, or paranormal stories with very strong heroines. (This was before I discovered m/m. Don’t laugh, I led a very sheltered childhood.)It was with the advent of the family's second computer – the first intimidated everyone – that my writing took off. I discovered 1. Fanfiction; 2. m/m (yes, I know. Finally!); 3. the wonder that is copy and paste. Does anyone remember what typing up a manuscript on a manual typewriter was like? Okay then, nuff said.While I was involved in fandom, I was nominated for both Rerun and Light My Fire Awards. But even then, my original characters would come knocking, to the point I’ve left Jim and Blair, Rodney and John, and even Lyle and Mr. Taggart (Blazing Saddles) behind. I’ve been published by Nazca Plain, JMS Books, Dreamspinner, Wilde City Press, and Less Than Three Press, and now I’m taking the leap into the self-pubbing pool. My novel, Two Lips, Indifferent Red received honorable mention in the 2013 Rainbow Awards, and Home Before Sundown was a 2017 runner-up.Now I reside in SW Florida with my husband and three computers, but I’ll always be a Noo Yawk kinda gal.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Lyncoln Ryland might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but there was one thing he was good at—his night job at the Laurel Hill Mall, where he worked in maintenance, getting it cleaned up and ready for the next day’s visit by shoppers. It didn’t take very long; he’d been doing it for ten years, since he’d graduated high school, and had a routine he followed religiously.

The quiet dimness of the mall at night was a comfort; Lync preferred not to be in contact with the crowds of humanity who poured in during the day. He adjusted the earbuds he wore and listened to the newest playlist he’d put together for his MP3 player, which was tucked in his shirt pocket.

It wasn’t a very large mall, although from what he’d heard, the James family, who had purchased it a few years before, had plans to expand it beyond the hodgepodge of stores it currently housed: grocery, sporting goods, hardware, a fast-food restaurant, The Hamilton, a single-screen movie theater, and even Bow, Wow, and Meow, the Humane Society facility that was empty just now, having had its last occupants this cycle adopted out. Adam James, IV, the only son, had been put in charge of the project. He’d already enclosed the free-standing buildings, putting them under one roof in hopes it would encourage shoppers when the weather turned crappy, and included an ornamental fountain in the courtyard that was now at the center of the space. An additional store selling electronics had been built recently and was scheduled for a soft opening within the next couple of weeks. Lync was inclined to think that would draw more shoppers than having the mall enclosed, but he was just the maintenance man, and what did he know?

He finished the newest addition to his duties—cleaning the curved glass section of ceiling that vaulted over the courtyard—and he lowered the articulating boom lift, which was just a fancy name for a cherry picker. When Mr. James had told him he’d have to look after the glass portion of the ceiling, Lync had said, That’s awful high.

Mr. James had smiled at him, almost taking Lync’s breath away. It was a nice smile. I’ll get you something to take care of it, Mr. James had assured him.

Lync had never expected anything like the bright yellow cherry picker, and he promised to take real good care of it.

Just don’t fall off and crack your skull, Mr. James said with another smile, and Lync felt his heart lurch. The man was only a year or so older than him, and his mink-brown hair and eyes were so attractive…

Down, boy, he’d ordered his dick. Not only was Mr. James Lync’s boss, but he had a college degree and came from a wealthy family, while Lync had barely made it through the general courses his high school had offered. Although he had done well when it came to the vocational courses he’d taken. And on top of that, Mr. James was seeing a young man whose family was almost as wealthy as his and who’d just graduated college himself.

That didn’t stop Lync from dreaming about Mr. James, though, and waking up from those dreams with his hand wrapped around his dick. If things had been different—if he’d grown up on Mr. James’s side of town, or if Mr. James had grown up on his, they would have gone to school together. They might even have been engaged by this point.

Lync sighed. Things weren’t different, though. He worked here in the mall Mr. James owned, and any day now Mr. James would probably be announcing his engagement to someone not Lync.

Lync rolled the lift to the utility room that had been built into the rear of the mall and was almost as large as a one-car garage. This was something else Mr. James had decided was necessary and which Lync appreciated, since not only was there a place for the many new and improved tools for his job, but also a space for the motor scooter he rode to work each afternoon. Best of all, when the mall was finally fully expanded, Lync would get to be the boss of an enlarged night crew.

With the lift put away and the bucket he’d used emptied and rinsed, he washed his hands and unlocked the doors to Walter’s Burgers and Dogs. Other maintenance men at other malls might take home more in their paychecks, but this was one of the perks working at the Laurel Hill Mall. Mr. James had given him permission to help himself to a meal each night, as long as he cleaned up afterward.

He didn’t bother turning on the overhead lights—he could make his way around the compact mall with his eyes blindfolded. Besides, he’d always had excellent night vision, and the emergency lights inside Walter’s made it bright enough for him to see what he was doing.

Walter’s had had a delivery earlier in the day, so everything was extra fresh. He grilled himself a hamburger, added a slice of cheese, then piled on lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and pickles, and helped himself to a soda. Walter’s also stocked beer, but Lync never drank when he was on the job.

Once he’d finished eating, he cleaned up, pulled the doors shut behind him and locked them, and went to the movie theater. He had a couple of hours to kill before he had to make a final check of the mall. Then his job would be done for the night, and he’d go home and clean his own apartment before finally going to bed.

Lync let himself into the theater, which, like all the other buildings, was small, seating twenty-five people at most. Mr. James had decided to make it retro, and he was marketing it as featuring movies from the silent era on up to the films of the sixties and seventies.

Lync turned off his MP3 player and removed the earbuds, letting them dangle around his neck. He took a couple of dollars from his pocket and left them for a box of chocolate-covered raisins, then set a movie into the projector and made himself comfortable in a seat at the back of the theater.

He sighed. It would have been nice to have a date beside him, even if it wasn’t Mr. James, but not many men could tolerate the hours he kept. It had been a long time since he’d had a boyfriend—he thought regretfully of Laurie Parkinson, the last man he’d dated until his job came between them—and almost as long since he’d had any sort of sex except with his hand.

For a second, he let himself think of Adam James, IV, again. The man was so sexy, and he was gay to boot, but he was so far out of Lync’s league it wasn’t funny.

He sighed again, opened the box of chocolate-covered raisins, shook out a handful, and began nibbling them while he fastened his gaze on the screen.

The title cards flashed across the screen: The World, the Flesh, and the Devil. Lync hadn’t seen the 1959 movie in a while, but he’d always been a fan of Harry Belafonte. He slid back in the seat, crossed his feet at the ankle, and settled in to watch the action unfold as the miner Mr. Belafonte played was caught in the collapse of the mine he’d been in while unbeknownst to him, the world above fell apart.

* * * *

Chapter 2

Shake, rattle, and roll. That was what it felt like, topped off by a boom that almost shattered Lync’s eardrums. The contents of the box of chocolate-covered raisins flew through the air while Lync went skidding off the seat to land hard on his tailbone.

Ow. He lurched to his feet and tried to rub the ache from his butt. The screen had gone dark, and only the emergency lights continued to cast a red glow. Shit. We must have lost power, he muttered to himself. Again.

It was probably a thunderstorm, and a lightning strike must have taken out the power lines, something that had happened before, although not as often since the James family had bought Laurel Hill Mall. Prior to that, Lync had made what repairs he could, but it was a relief Mr. James’d had all the electrical wiring brought up to code.

Lync pressed the knob on his watch that illuminated the dial and read the time. Two a.m.? Geez, he must have fallen asleep. He should have made his last rounds hours ago. Well, he’d take care of it now and write on his time card that he left at his regular time.

He limped down to the mall’s basement and through a door that led to the electrical room. He’d throw the emergency switch and get the power working again.

Only when he did, nothing happened. He’d dealt with situations like this before, and this fell into the power company’s area of expertise. He’d just have to put in a call to Laurel Hill Power and Light. He reached for the phone on the wall and started to dial, only to realize there was no dial tone.

He blew out a breath and hung up, then took out his cell phone and dialed, but once again he got nothing.

Well, shoot. Isn’t this special?

Still, this was his mall, and he had responsibilities. He checked that all the emergency exits were secured before he made his way into the mall proper.

He was startled, however, when he realized he could see through the glass doors that now closed off the entry into the mall. Why wasn’t the metal wall that came down after closing hours to shield those doors not blocking his view?

Oh, right. They were set up to automatically raise when they lost power. The company that had installed them had instructed him about it. In a case like this, a long, telescoping pole with a hook at the end would need to be inserted into a loop at the top and manually turned to bring it down again.

Lync skirted the fountain, which obviously wasn’t working, and approached the west side of the mall. The pole he’d need to lower the metal wall was in a narrow cabinet in a corner where the inner doors met the wall of Nick’s, the sporting goods store. He took out his keyring and found the key to the cabinet. He unlocked it, but curiosity got the better of him, and instead of reaching for the pole, he twisted the latch of one of the inner doors and stepped out into the night. All the lights were out: street lights, the traffic lights leading into the mall. Even the houses across the boulevard were in total darkness.

He tipped his head back, anticipating the vision of a star-spangled sky. Even in a city as small as Laurel Hill, there were enough lights to obscure the night sky, but now—a heavy overlay of clouds concealed it. He drew in a breath, but instead of the cool night breeze he expected to inhale, his nostrils were filled with the acrid scent of things burning, and he began coughing. He walked farther into the parking lot, and a glance to the north revealed red-tinged clouds. Could some of the homes in the subdivision just outside of town have been set on fire by a lightning strike?

The odd thing was the parking lot and the sidewalks were dry. Yeah, very odd. If not a lightning strike, what could have caused the power outage?

He was distracted by the throaty roar of a powerful engine, followed by the squeal of tires as a BMW tore into the empty parking lot, taking the turn on two wheels.

This could be a group of rich kids out joyriding, taking advantage of the loss of power. Lync had heard from other maintenance men of their malls being trashed by kids with more money than sense, and nothing like that was happening on his watch. He backed away until he stood inside the entryway and reached for the door to yank it shut.

The windows of the BMW were tinted, making it impossible to see who was in the car, and Lync backed away another step. The engine turned off, and a man shoved open the driver’s side door, almost falling out of the car. No, wait. Please!

Lync recognized him, recognized his voice. It was Adam James. His overcoat flapped open over a very classy tuxedo, but his bowtie hung undone and his hair was disheveled.

What are you doing here? According to the society section—not that Lync usually read it—well, only if Adam James was mentioned—tonight was a gala to raise money for the Laurel Hill Children’s Hospital. The gala was being held in the opera house at the state’s capital, which was some distance away, and for Mr. James to be here at this time of night was unusual.

This was the best place I could think of.

What?

I tried to tell them, but they wouldn’t listen to me.

Lync blinked in confusion. Tell who what?

Everyone at the gala. They panicked and ran for their cars. He was almost sobbing, and that shook Lync. Mr. James had always been one of the most composed men he’d ever met. They wouldn’t listen to me, he repeated as he rubbed a hand over his face.

Lync swallowed heavily and felt his sphincter clench. He didn’t know what was going on, but Mr. James’s panic was contagious.

My date and his parents took off in their Rolls. I tried to follow them, but by the time I reached my BMW, there were too many cars between us.

They didn’t wait for you?

He shook his head.

Well, that sucked. If Lync had a boyfriend like Mr. James, he’d never leave him behind, no matter what.

Just then, the quiet of the night was shattered by the shriek of sirens—not the wail of the volunteer fire department’s trucks on the way to the scene, but the Civil Defense sirens that were still in place—Laurel Hill was slow to move past the post-Cold War era, and even slower to enter the twenty-first century.

What’s happening?

Didn’t you listen to the radio?

I didn’t have it on. His hand went to the earbuds hanging from his neck. His MP3 player offered the option of tuning in to local radio stations, but Lync rarely took advantage of it.

That maniac in North Korea is threatening to fire off his ICBMs—portions of East Asia are already decimated—and the military convinced the president to declare a national state of emergency. If those missiles are fired, they would be making landfall on this coast soon.

Oh, shit.

Precisely. Mr. James’s laugh was almost hysterical. We only have about half an hour to get to shelter.

Shelter. Yeah, that made sense. When the James family had had the mall inspected before buying it, they’d discovered the movie house—the oldest building in the mall, so old it dated back to the early 1950s—had a fallout shelter below its basement. Even Lync hadn’t known about that shelter, in spite of the fact he’d worked in the strip mall for ten years and had passed the time by exploring it. Rather than get rid of the shelter, Mr. James had decided to keep it and use it for storage, and Lync would occasionally go down to make sure everything was in working order and to study the slice of early paranoia.

Not so paranoid now, as it turned out.

Get inside, he said.

My car? In case we need it afterward?

Lync nodded and set about unlatching the doors. Management had chosen this specific system in hopes that one day they’d be able to hold an antique car exhibit inside the mall. With the doors unlatched, he shoved one set of them to fold into themselves like an accordion while Mr. James got back into his car, turned on the engine, and drove it carefully toward the open space. Within less than a minute, the BMW was parked to the side of the fountain, and Mr. James turned off the ignition and rejoined him.

Will anyone else be coming to take shelter here? Lync asked as he dragged out the wall of doors and fastened them in place.

I don’t know. I don’t think so. The highway was packed, but everyone seemed to be heading south, away from the capital. I didn’t see anyone coming in this direction.

All righty, then. I’ll get cracking and button us up. Lync had already taken the pole from its compartment. Once the security gate came down, there would be about eight inches between the inner doors and the gate, just enough room for him to do this if he sucked in his gut. He extended the pole, slid the hook into the stainless steel loop, and began turning it, lowering the metal gates that would shield the doors.

Hurry, Mr. James panted under his breath as he stared past the narrowing space. Hurry. Hurry.

Sweat was dripping down Lync’s cheekbones by the time the gates were down and locked into place. How much time do we have, Mr. James?

Mr. James peered at the expensive watch on his wrist. Of course the dial was illuminated. About twenty-five minutes.

Okay. You know where the shelter is. Go. I’ll be along in a minute. Lync closed and locked the inner door. He didn’t bother fumbling to replace the pole in its compartment, just propped it in the corner. Okay, he said again. He turned to race to Uncle Frankie’s. They’d need as much nonperishable food as he could get into a shopping cart, as well as enough cases of water to last as long as…well, however long they needed it.

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 his 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.