Chapter Text
They went South first. There wasn’t as much ground to cover, and John’s renewed guilt caused him to stay awake, or sleep with vicious nightmares.
Jacob, paranoid as usual, booby trapped the entrances to their compound because not a-one of them had any intention of leaving someone behind, even as a guard. He also gave their moose instructions.
The three of them packed up every vegetable, fruit, cut of meat, seed they could spare and started walking south. John, now a whiz with the shitty bow Josiah’d made, killed rabbits or birds or the weird pink weasels as they walked.
A day in, they crossed a river and had to spend a night drying their boots by the fire. They had been handmade, hand-tanned leather and stitching, and not very durable. Josiah and John had made three pairs, after tracing each of their feet. It had been wildly funny tracing big, bad Jacob’s feet: turns out the man was ticklish in a very giggly and endearing way.
However, neither Josiah nor John were shoemakers, so they weren’t really the soundest of footwear. Once they’d dried, the men took off again.
It was another day and a half later, packs bulging with food and hanging with fresh kills, when they saw camp smoke in the near distance. They holstered their weapons, and Josiah pulled out a length of off-white, undyed cotton fabric. He held it carefully over his head. He went first.
John gave a strangled gasp when they broke the tree line and saw their destination. Jacob literally had to lean over, hands on knees, so he could laugh heartily at John’s offended spluttering. Poor Josiah had frozen and turned a very questioning eye on both men.
“That—That was my house!” John’s voice cracked halfway through, causing Jacob to clutch his gut and squat, laughs becoming breathless.
Josiah turned back to the compound in front of them, walled-in by mismatched sections, a large sign reading ‘Prosperity,’ and, barely visible under tarps and extensions, a ranch house. Very shortly after John and Jacob’s outbursts, several heads and several guns peeked over the tops of the outer wall. Including a few that honestly looked like they launched sawblades or other projectiles.
Josiah very vigorously waved his white fabric. Both Seed brothers shut themselves up.
“Hey! We come in peace!” Josiah shouted. Jacob rolled his eyes and muttered really? under his breath.
A small head of greying black hair popped over the parapet, and the woman attached yelled, “Go away!”
John gasped again, taking an involuntary step forward. The guns on the walls turned to aim at him. His hands raised, as did Josiah’s and Jacob’s. “Kim?” His voice was plaintive. “Kimiko Rye?”
Kim Rye, up on the wall, crossed her arms on the wood of the wall. “What the fuck do you want, John? Nick told you to stay away.”
“I—“ John trailed off, voice dying in his throat.
Josiah put a hand on his shoulder and edged in front of him. “We brought food and supplies. We’re doing pretty well up to the East. Thought we could share the bounty, maybe some information.”
Kim sighed heavily and rested her head on her arms, as if exhausted. She waved a hand, and the large gate started to rumble open. There was a small swell of angry noise from beyond the wall until Kim turned to glare down into the compound. John started forward first, until Jacob forcefully shoved him into line behind him.
Jacob kept his hands rib-height and open as he passed the gate but couldn’t help but look around in approval at the space beyond. John did not look up from his feet. Josiah turned to watch Kim descend the inner stairs.
He raised a hand to shake as soon as she drew even with them. She crossed her arms instead. He let his hand drop with a wry twist to his mouth.
“I’m not a cultist.”
“Yeah, Nick told me about you. I’m his wife, Kim.” She was terse, teeth gritted.
“Oh! Carmina’s mom, then?” Josiah twisted to look around, seemingly oblivious to the guns directed his way. Just behind him, John had tucked his hands into his armpits and Jacob had rested his own on top of his head while he inspected the compound. “Where’s she at? She’s great!”
“You do not need to see my underage daughter!”
Josiah whipped his head back at Kim’s shout. The other two turned to look as well.
“Oh no, ma’am.” He raised his hands in surrender. “No, no. I’m gayer than tree full of chickadees, Mrs. Rye.” He waved his hands for emphasis; his Southern twang swelled in his panic. “I was just wonderin’ ’cause she’s a little firecracker, ‘n’ I was hopin’ she’s doing alright.”
Jacob had slinked up behind Josiah, and at this, he slung his arm very possessively around the shorter man’s shoulders.
“Tree full of chickadees, Mrs. Rye,” he drawled, letting his Georgia drawl pull every word almost mockingly wide. He cocked his head; the red braids along his scalp gleamed in the cloudless sunlight.
“Ugh, so you all got more Southern in your time underground, huh?” Kim grumpily crossed her arms, but there was a tiny, almost unnoticeable uptick to the corner of her mouth. She turned toward the main house, made a gesture, and a tiny brunette blur sprinted towards them.
“Carmina!” Distress seemingly forgotten, Josiah turned to wave enthusiastically at the short teen.
She stood by her mother, bouncing eagerly. “Hi! Hi Mr. Josiah!” She grinned. “What are you guys doing down here?”
“Ah, sweetheart…” Josiah’s eyes darted to Kim. “Uh, Carmina, you can just call me Josiah, or Josie.”
“Josie? Isn’t that a girl’s name?” She tugged on her hair. Josiah chuckled.
“Eh,” He shrugged one shoulder. “Been called that my whole life. So, ya know.”
She brightened. “Okay, Josie!”
“And to answer your question, me ‘n’ Johnny ‘n’ Jay came down with some supplies. Wanted to make sure y’all were getting by alright.”
“Johnny?” Kim muttered to John, who shrugged helplessly and blushed. Kim recoiled in shock at his blush.
She shook herself. “Hey Carmina, why don’t you and I show these guys where we keep our supplies so they can show us what they brought?” Just as Carmina nodded eagerly, an angry voice rang out.
“Hell naw, Kim!” From across the yard, Nick Rye stomped towards the little group. John shrank even further into his slouch. “You can’t show ‘em our supplies! They ain’t our friends!”
Before Kim could reply, Jacob stepped forward, his hands open and careful. “Listen, Rye. We had bad blood before, my family did horrible things before, and Johnny and I, well, we admit and recognize that we went about this whole thing wrong. I ain’t excusing it.” He put his hands up in a shrugging gesture. “But that was before the world burned.” He looked around at the little community, the gardens struggling to grow, the thinness of the faces around. “We have a better hold on the land than you seem to, we have fresh and preserved meat.”
He turned back to Nick. “We’ve got seeds, supplies, and knowledge you ain’t got. Josiah,” He choked a little laugh. “Josie here can turn your whole operation around.” Josiah huffed grumpily behind him.
His hands slowly lowered. “Let us make amends. Let us help you.”
Nick’s face was a thundercloud, eyebrows furrowed, mouth a scowl, but eyes inscrutable as ever behind his sunglasses. Jacob had his hands open at his sides, Josiah’s were loose at his sides, and John… John had his clasped together at his waist almost in a beg.
Nick tore his glasses off his face and scrubbed his eyes. “Fine,” he mumbled as he put them back on. “Seein’ as how you’re the only damned Seeds to actually apologize,” he muttered to himself. John bit back a gasp as his eyes grew wide, but he stayed silent.
“Go on, Kimmy, show ‘em where to store the stuff they brought.” He turned partly away, sighed. “An’ if they’re gonna teach us some stuff, might find them some rooms. It’ll probably take more than a day.” He turned then and stormed away.
John turned back to Kim, hands still in place, and gave her a tiny, tremulous smile. She rolled her eyes, but as she led them off, Josiah noticed a small lightness in her face. He clapped a hand on Carmina’s shoulder as she bounced along beside him. Jacob brought up the rear and, unnoticed by the others, but not Sharky Boshaw hiding in the corner, sighed out in obvious relief.
Now unburdened by all but their own supplies, having seen their pretty ingenious refrigeration and storage units, designed by Hurk and Sharky of all people, Carmina skipped up the steps to the upper floor of the original ranch house.
“We don’t have a ton of space, but we can probably find at least two rooms for you guys.” She paused. “Might have to bunk a few people to open up the second- “
Josiah cut her off. “Darlin’, we shared a two man bunker for 7 years, we can share a damned room.” He chuckled.
“Oh! I guess that’s true.” She stopped outside a door. “Um, but… This room only has one bed.”
“Is it a big bed?” John’s eyes were weirdly intent. Jacob recognized that, despite the changes to the building, this had been John’s room originally.
“Um, yeah. It was here already when we moved in. We did check it for radiation!” Carmina rushed to reassure them.
Jacob started chuckling deep in his chest, and Carmina startled a little when it turned into full-blown laughs. Josiah rolled his eyes as John looked offended.
In answer to Carmina’s bewildered look, Josiah just huffed and said, “This used to be John’s house, an’ I bet this used to be his bedroom. Pro’lly why it’s kept empty.”
“Oh! Are you the reason there are so many planes in here?” She cracked the door open, and dusty and weathered as it was, it was still recognizable as being John’s Room. Shades of faded blue, worn dark wood… Planes.
Jacob was about to laugh harder, but seeing the tortured, devastated look on John’s face stopped him.
Josiah gently took Carmina’s hand. “Carmina, hun, thank you for showing us up here, but I think we need a bit of time to settle in.” He carefully pulled her to the door.
She leaned in to whisper to him on the threshold. “I’m sorry Mr. John is sad; I would’ve figured out something else if I knew it would hurt him.”
Josiah smiled down at her. “I know, Carmina. He’s not sad. It’s called nostalgia. Remembering the past sometimes hurts.” He waved down the hall. “We’ll get settled and come down to get to work.”
The teen nodded, said, “They ring the bell at sunset for dinner,” and wandered away down the hall.
Josiah turned back to the men in the room and shut the door securely behind himself.
Jacob, hearing the door click shut, immediately pulled John into a hug, and dropped his mouth to the top of the brunet’s head. John, having been holding tightly to himself, collapsed against his brother’s chest with a sob. Soon, he was wracked with them, shaking not-quite-silently. Josiah caged him in from behind, holding him just below his brother’s arms, looping his arms around his stomach. He pressed his mouth, not kissing, on John’s neck, letting him feel his and Jacob’s steady, calm breaths.
They stood that way for a long while, and Jacob understood. John hadn’t had a lot that was his in his life. As a child, everything was a hand-me-down from Jacob or Joseph, their parents not caring enough to give him things of his own. The Duncans never gave John anything for free, or anything that couldn’t be taken away. After, not even John’s body had felt like his own.
That’s why Joseph had turned a blind eye to John’s excess in building the ranch house. He was a manipulative fuck, but he was their brother and had, in his way, loved John dearly. The ranch became John’s, in a way the bunker never could have, full as it was with other people. At the ranch, John decided who came and went, what went where, and if he wanted to be alone in it, he could order every guard outside.
He had been ferociously angry when the deputy had taken it, but up until he’d been dumped half-dead in Josiah’s empty bunker, he’d fully believed he’d get his home back. So, for him to see it now, 14 years later, fully overtaken by others, then to find his room… The room he’d designed and planned specifically for himself, overtaken by time and decay…
Jacob nuzzled deeper into the deep brown hair below him.
It took several minutes of silence, steady breathing, and firm support for John’s breathing to slow. Finally, he let out a huge sigh, hot breath brushing Jacob’s chest.
“I guess I’m sort of glad everyone saw me as the boogieman. Means they left my room alone.” He chuckled dryly.
Jacob gently disengaged himself. “Kinda surprised they didn’t hack the bed to firewood or something.”
“Naw, after seven years in a bunker John built, thinking he was dead? They were probably too exhausted to care anymore. Just closed it up for ghosts.” Josiah pulled away a step as well, and John turned a quizzical eye on him.
“What do you mean, a bunker I built?”
Josiah shrugged. “Well, I know a bunch of them out there didn’t have their own bunkers. I remember that first year, you kept worrying yourself about pregnant Kimiko Rye, or poor Mary May, neither of whom had a place to go. There’s a lotta people down there that either shouldn’t have survived or should be real sick with radiation by now, if not dead. You said the Deputy cleared out your bunker, but not that she destroyed it.” He shrugged again. “I’m thinking the townspeople knew that and hightailed it up the mountain.”
John sighed, eyes wet again. “Do you think they’d tell us if we asked?”
“Mmm… Maybe Little Rye, or Mrs. Rye,” Jacob murmured.
“Little Rye’s got a name, Jay.” Josiah snorted and wandered over to a lovely dark wood chair in the corner. Plopping his pack on the floor, he sat to start untying his boots.
“I thought we were going back down to start helping?” Jacob asked as he took off his own pack and stripped off his buckskin jacket (dyed dark to cover the natural pink tone of the mutant deerskin).
“I would honest-to-heaven rather walk barefoot than wear these for another minute.” John snorted, but then his face turned speculative.
“I wonder…” He walked towards a door in the far wall, dropping his kit as he went. Upon opening the door, he let out such a high-pitched shriek of joy that both Josiah and Jacob choked on laughter.
“What’s up, baby?” Josiah followed him into the dark room and laughed incredulously. “Oh no, we’re gonna have to build a cart, ain’t we, t’ bring all this shit back.”
“Oh shit, it’s his closet, huh?” Jacob shook his head and followed the men in, leaning against the doorjamb so he didn’t block the sunlight lighting the interior. John was lovingly stroking his hands down the lines of shirts and pants, stroking over the suits and jackets and shoes. Josiah was fingering a shirt next to him, a deep green silk button-down. He was frowning.
“Baby?” John didn’t respond, pulling open a drawer full of rolled silk ties. “John?” John finally looked up at him. “We can’t take all this with us.” Jacob held his breath.
For a moment, John’s face fell into a mask of sadness, but then he shook his head and it cleared. “I know, Josiah. What use is a Prada suit after the end of the world? Where am I gonna go in loafers?”
“Okay, doll. This is what we’re gonna do as one of our tasks while we’re here. We’re gonna go through this closet, find everything useful to wear. Then we’re gonna find everything that is useful as scrap fabric or bandages. Then we’re gonna give the rest to Prosperity. For like, mattress stuffing or cleaning rags or something.”
John sighed. “Fuck, a two thousand dollar linen summer suit is gonna get shredded into bandages.”
The three of them laughed, and Josiah slung an arm around his waist.
“Let’s get downstairs, boys, and show these people what we got.”
John smiled slyly at the both of them, and said, “Before we do, I think I’ve got a gift for you both.”
Carmina was lounging in the great room as the three men trouped back downstairs. She startled, having expected them to take longer. She startled again when she realized that they’d changed outfits. Gone was Josiah’s faintly pink wool sweater, Jacob’s leather boots, and John’s patchwork jeans.
Josiah was wearing a faded Cornell tee shirt, dated some ten years before the Collapse. Jacob had tan, sturdy boots with thick rubber soles and a tight button-down flannel with the sleeves rolled up, and John was wearing crisp, almost-new denim and short black boots. Josiah was barefoot.
“Oh! I thought you’d be longer!” She hopped up from where she’d been rereading an old poetry book. “Where’d you get the clothes? You didn’t have those in your packs when you took out the supplies.”
Jacob laughed, evidently in a very good mood. “No one touched John’s closet.” He walked past her towards the front door. John followed, a small smile on his face.
Josiah stopped beside her. “Yeah bunch of stuff up there. We’re gonna go through it all, see what is worth saving and what’s for scrap. Some of your guys are similar size to John, so we’ll figure out who gets what.” He smiled down at her. “Couple of real nice things up there for you too, I think. Flannel pajamas you’ll grow into.” He snorted. “You’ll be about John’s height by eighteen.”
Carmina laughed, a bright, happy sound, and led Josiah out into the sunlit yard.
Sharky hadn’t been sure how he’d feel seeing a Seed again. He’d heard from Nick and Kim that Joseph was out there somewhere, traipsing around with his hippies.
But John and Jacob, appearing out of the mists like freakin’ ghosts. Nope, hadn’t even thought he’d have to formulate a response to that. Abso-fucking-lutely did not help that both men were somehow more attractive than before, and that guy they’d brought along was pretty damn hot, too.
The three of them, trailing Carmina, came out into the yard. Jacob’s hair was long, really long, and pretty intricately braided like some sorta ancient warrior. It sparkled in the sunlight like fire. Sharky’s fingers twitched. Just as he turned to retreat from the very idea that he wanted to touch the Wolf of the Whitetails’ pretty, pretty hair, Hurk called out to him.
“Hey, cuz! Come on and say hi to the newbies!” He was standing beside a slightly-frowning John, who probably took offense to being called a newbie in his own home. Sharky jammed his hands in the pockets of his flannel vest and slouched over to the group.
“Hey, Uncle Shark!” Carmina’s sunshine-bright smile never failed to pull a smile on Sharky’s face.
“Heya, Baby Shark!” He ruffled her hair, ignoring the twin snorts from John and the newcomer. “What’s all this commotion? What’d the Carm drag in?”
Carmina grinned again, her bright white smile splitting her face. “You probably know Mr. Jacob and Mr. John, and this is Josie!”
Jacob poorly tried to hide a laugh at the nickname, but Josie, the broad shouldered, lean, younger man gamely stuck a hand out for Sharky to shake.
“Charlemagne Victor Boshaw IV, but everybody, even my momma, has always called me Sharky.”
“Josiah Hozai Stone. The, uhh, first.” They both giggled a little. “You can call me Josiah or Josie, as you like.”
Sharky snort laughed and gently punched the man’s shoulder. “Well damn, you fit right the fuck in then, don’t’cha? Right initials and all.” Josiah flushed high on his cheekbones and shrugged helplessly. He viciously cleared his throat. Sharky was entranced.
“Momma and Daddy, they were good Southern Christians before I came out gay. Then they were good, Southern Christians who ain’t have a goddamned son, no sir.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Carmina’s face was devastated, and she almost opened her mouth to speak.
“Okay,” Josiah’s voice was a little strangled. “I heard it was you two who devised the refrigeration. Can we go look at that now?”
Sharky seized on the excuse to leave Jacob and this terrible conversation behind. “Yeah! Some a my best work! Uhhh… Seeds, you should go talk to Kim to see where you can help.”