Surviving the Apocalypse

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 haddone 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.