That feel of glee when someone you know from long-ago lj conversations leaves a kudo on a AO3 fic. :) Hi beanside. :)

(wow this is gonna be uncomfortable if it's not you who left the kudo)

Tyler and Jamie limp home almost at nightfall, Tyler numb from the vibration of the scooter, Jamie pushing the garden cart loaded high with guns and seeds, clean new water hoses, stacks of plastic flower pots, shovels and hand-tools, garbage bags full of the light dry soil from the dead plants ( Read more... )

The three miles from the library to the garden center are a mess. Something must have clustered the dead together, because the streets are packed. They go as far as they can without shoving in among them. The closest blighted turn, jaws slowly opening and closing. Shuffle towards them like a slow flow of lava ( Read more... )

Jamie wedges the pry-bar by the doorknob of one of the houses and leans on it. The door pops open with a crisp snap and he goes in, Tyler right behind him ( Read more... )

Tyler is benched, his neck stiff and sore from the whiplash of the hit he took, the front of his throat bruised black, the soft tissue puffy even with the ibuprofen he’s taking. Jamie thought he’d put up a fuss. Thought he’d argue and insist on working. It worries him, how little Tyler fights the order to rest ( Read more... )

Jamie stands on the chair they’re using to get over the railing and onto the ladder. The moment disorients him for a second, deja-vu of the last time he was here, ready to go out of their shelter. He tells himself it’s just him and Tyler this time, nobody slow to protect. They can do this. They’re good at this ( Read more... )

They wake late the next morning to heavy, dreary skies, and Tyler knows they aren’t going out. There’s a bite to the air, a humid chill that makes his ears ache even as he sweats as he helps move refrigerators to the garage, trying to beat the rain. Jamie is pale, his cheeks blotchy red as they get the brushed steel water-holder up on a pair of ( Read more... )

Crock pots. Cast-iron pans, ice-chests. Tyler is not even asking, at this point, what the hell Eduardo and the inside-team need this stuff for ( Read more... )

The end of the world party is one of the best that Tyler’s been to. They sacrifice one of the bottles of liquor and everybody gets just a little easy, a little loose. Jamie has enough that he doesn’t object when Tom brings the guitar out and puts it in his hands. He strums idle chords while Tyler hums along, Nikki sings ( Read more... )

(sorry, I missed posting ch 18 here when I posted it on Tumblr, so I'm doubling up and posting 2 chapters here today ( Read more... )