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Ever since his dad insisted on going out alone, only Max by his side, it's been awfully quiet in their shelter. Chuck has taken to talking to himself, even; anything to fill the silence of the bunker.
It's a quite good bunker, to be honest. There's electricity that comes from the numerous solar panels they have put up on the outside and their own water filtration system set up in the corner of the main room. The second room is filled with stands full of plants - most of them are vegetables, but they even got a pot of wildflowers from somewhere. Chuck thinks it's a waste of space; his old man claims it's good for their morale.
Whatever. Some bloody flowers won't cure his boredom.
Since the second day of no sign from his dad, Chuck keeps his walkie-talkie close. It's turned on all of the time now and he messes with the knobs every now and then, adjusting the waves in hopes of catching anything. Maybe his dad mixed something up in his own thing and can't catch find the previous settings; maybe he damaged it and the only way of communicating is Chuck's one-way monologue now. Maybe, maybe, maybe. There's a lot of uncertainty these days.
But one thing he knows is that his dad would never keep quiet for so long if something didn't happen.
After three days, he can't sleep. He goes out to clean and check the panels, and then waters all the plants. He inspects the filtration system twice and even swipes the floor like they used to before the war, and when that's done he makes sure the plumbing in their tiny bathroom works alright. By the fourth day, the whole bunker operates like new.
At 7 a.m. on the fifth day, his walkie-talkie crackles. It caught signal.
"Dad?" Chuck says to the transceiver as soon as he fishes it out of his belt. His knuckles are white where they grip the device.
The non-stop hum breaks for half a second. A distorted sound is heard.
"Dad?" he repeats frantically, unseeing eyes on the wall ahead. "Can you hear me?"
"-ad----hurt----whe-"
The voice coming from the walkie-talkie sounds unfamiliar, even if it's distorted. It's not his dad. Chuck would recognize him anywhere and it's not him.
Hurthurthurt. The word echoes in his mind. Is his dad hurt?
"I can't hear you, you're breaking up," he says to the device. He knows that talking to strangers these times could be a death sentence - it usually is - but if his dad is really hurt, does he have any other option? "The signal's wacky, I don't understand you. Can you repeat?"
More buzzing and crackles on the other side.
"Hurt----at----sou-"
Chuck frowns so deep it almost hurts. He can't understand shit. How far are they that the walkie-talkies are having so much trouble connecting?
His gaze falls on the dog bowl set on the floor by the table. Oh God, Max. Do they have Max too? He can only hope that his dog is safe, preferably as far from these people as possible. He knows the way back to the bunker - he should get here soon. Chuck's grip on the walkie-talkie tightens. The buzzing doesn't stop and no more sounds come from the transceiver. He puts it down on the counter.
What the hell is he supposed to do?
He catches maybe an hour of sleep tonight, too anxious to close his eyes for longer. Every minute sound has him on edge and the walkie-talkie laying next to his head doesn't help with that, but he finds he can't make himself put it somewhere where he'll hear it less. It's been silent, save for the occasional crackles, since the weird, mostly one-way conversation he had in the morning. Chuck's sure its outline has been burnt on his retinas from all the staring at it he does.
On the morning of the sixth day, the buzzing breaks thrice. Chuck knows it's an indicator that someone is trying to use the other transceiver. He waits with his eyes glued to his own.
"-ello?"
This time the sound's clearer - Chuck is relieved as long as he doesn't think. Then the realisation that the other person is getting closer hits him and he can't breathe for a moment.
"Hello?" he answers when his lungs let him. Two crackles on the other side.
"-dad is----dog----eading us----you?"
He swallows past the growing lump in his throat. Max is there, too.
"How's my dad?" he manages to say. The questioning tone from the other side was clear, but he has no idea what they were asking about.
"Hurt-"
One word. Chuck blinks maniacally and swallows again.
"How hurt?"
"-out----arryin----don't kn----"
Chuck hears a weird snapping sound on the other side before the voice returns. This time it sounds like a girl and only now does he realise that he was talking to a guy before. There's at least two of them.
"-are far----dog is----you?"
Again, a question. He guesses it's the same one as earlier, but he still has no idea what they're talking about.
"I don't understand. Repeat."
"-are you?"
"Am I what?"
He waits with his breath held for a minute, then two. The silence stretches and he realises he won't get an explanation now. The signal must have broken up again.
His walkie-talkie stays silent for the entire day. He cleans the panels again and checks the surroundings with an old pair of binoculars. Nothing new, as far as he knows - just the same empty hills with burnt trees and a slightly yellowed sky. Their rusty van, hidden behind an overgrown bush, is covered in a layer of brown ash.
This afternoon, after getting through half a can of beans, he goes inside their plant room. Everything is fine, as far as he's concerned.
He stops by the pot of wildflowers. Their petals are soft under his fingers - he stands there, staring at them, for twenty minutes at least, the absence of his dad a painful pang in his chest. He sleeps on his old man's mattress tonight, like a little kid, and can't even make himself feel embarrassed. His loneliness is too large to make room for any other emotion.
At 7 a.m. on the seventh day - a full week since he's last seen his dad - the walkie-talkie crackles again, like on a clock. Chuck has his hands around it as soon as he hears it.
"Hello?" he tries. The buzzing is quieter than yesterday. They're closer, and he doesn't know if he's scared or not.
"Hello?"
He hears the voice so clearly it startles him. It's a man speaking, the word sounding raspy.
"Can you hear me?" the man asks when Chuck doesn't answer. He fumbles with the knob to turn up the volume.
"Yes, yes. How's my dad?"
"Out. He hasn't woken up in two days. He's alive though."
Chuck breathes out a sigh of relief. It's not lost yet.
"His dog is leading us. The signal's better."
"How many of you are there?" he can't help but ask, suddenly overwhelmed with the realisation that they're going to get here soon. Max has been leading them for days. He must trust them for some reason. Or he's too concerned about Chuck's dad to care.
"Three. My brother, a friend, and me."
"Your names?"
The line is quiet for a moment. Chuck starts to worry the signal broke up again.
"Yancy, Mako, Raleigh."
Chuck nods to himself. He has no certainty that they're saying the truth, but at least he has something. "Where are you? Surroundings?"
"A sign said Takotna an hour ago. There's a church on the far left and a bridge a mile in front of us."
They're closer than he thought - maybe a few hours away on foot. He waits for something more, but nothing comes. The signal breaks up again. He guesses it's the forest that surrounds the nearby river that always stops all communication from getting through. All he has now to do is wait.
The walkie-talkie crackles again at noon. He's during the process of fixing a tiny cable fracture next to the solar panels when he hears it. When he lifts his head up from his work, he sees a group of people in the distance, by the edge of the forest.
"Hello?" the same voice again says. Chuck ducks behind the panels.
"Hello?"
"We passed the woods. The dog has just run ahead. I think we're close."
Chuck doesn't answer. He's too busy listening up to the sound of dog legs hitting the ground so fast he's taken aback that Max is able to run at this speed. He peaks from behind the panels; his lumpy dog jumps straight into his arms, his tongue very wet on his face.
"Max!" he can't help but yell, the tightness in his chest loosening. Max is warm and soft in his embrace, a steady ball on his chest, and he smashes his face into the dog's fur for a moment. "I missed you."
When he stands up, Max by his feet, the group has moved significantly closer. He can make out a short silhouette of a girl with black hair and a fringe over her forehead, and two tall men with matching blonde hair that look really grimy. Both of them are carrying a stretcher between them with an unconscious man on it.
His dad.
Chuck breaks into a run before he has any time to think. He barely registers Max following him and then getting a little ahead - he runs and runs and runs, and doesn't feel tired until he stops in front of the strangers. He forgets to look over them and check for weapons; he forgets about everything. The only thing he can think about is dropping to the ground next to the stretcher and leaning over his old man.
"Dad?" he says quietly, hands on his old man's neck and chest. The pulse is steady as is his breathing. "Dad?"
His gaze frantically jumps between his dad's limbs and head and torso, looking for any wounds, any signs of what's wrong with him. He finds none.
"We think he must have gotten some kind of head injury before we met him. He was already weak by then, and the next day he passed out," the girl says from the other side of the stretcher. Chuck looks up at her; she has a very friendly face, with big dark eyes and an honest look to her. She looks tough. Mako, Chuck remembers.
"We gave him water and whatever food he was able to swallow without choking though," one of the men says after they lower the stretcher to the ground. He looks the oldest of them all and has a long scar running from his left ear down his neck, where it disappears under a thick neckerchief. "He didn't get a fever either. I think he just needs to rest in a warm safe place without much moving and he'll be fine."
Chuck nods to them both. "Alright. Our bunker is by that hill."
The brothers lift the stretcher and they start the short walk to the shelter, hidden in the side of the hill. Chuck stays close to his old man, walking next to the cot, alternating from looking ahead and at his dad; anxiety pumps fast in his veins. Max seems to have taken his role back - he's a little ahead, leading them all in the right direction.
When they finally manage to get inside the bunker and Chuck closes the heavy door behind them, he shows the other men to put his dad on his mattress. It's a bunk bed and they have a bit of a problem trying to place him down, but in the end they manage.
"You can use the shower in the bathroom there," Chuck points distractedly in the right direction, "and you can get whatever food you want from the cabinets by the door. Water is in the filter there."
He starts taking off the outer garments of his dad - his heavy coat, the scarf, dirty boots. He ignores the newcomers, too concerned about his dad, and completely misses their matching looks of shock at their new surroundings. Mako moves to the bathroom after a moment, and the oldest looking guy goes to inspect the water filtration system. Chuck's left with the one bloke that didn't speak out before, but he mostly ignores him too, busy with scrubbing the grime off his unconscious dad's face.
The guy crouches next to the bed after a minute and Chuck casts a glance at him. He's handsome under all that dirt, short fair hair and stubble on his chin, a sculpted face with clear blue eyes. He averts his gaze and continues getting his dad to a decent state.
"I was a nurse before the war," the guy says at last; Chuck sees him looking from the corner of his eyes. "I know how to take care of him so he'll get better, faster."
Chuck eyes him, a frown on his face. The exhaustion of the past week suddenly hits him.
"I'm Raleigh," the man adds when Chuck stays quiet. He even reaches out a hand and the Australian has to think for a moment before he remembers he's supposed to shake it. He does.
"Chuck. My dad's name's Hercules."
"We know. He told us," Raleigh replies and smiles slightly. It makes him look even more handsome. Chuck turns back to his dad to stop himself for reddening. He hasn't exactly had too many interactions with charming men in the past few years.
"We have brought some supplies with us," Chuck hears the other brother (must be Yancy) and turns to him. He's taken off a backpack that Chuck hasn't noticed before and is in the process of taking out the stuff from it. Some cans, bottles, medicine. A couple of packets with what looks like seeds catch Chuck's attention. He gets up and walks up to the table.
"These are vegetables, I think," Yancy says when he sees him grab the packets. "We have no idea where to plant them though. The outside is still too harsh."
"We have a greenhouse in the other room."
Yancy's eyes widen. Chuck hears Raleigh walk up to them as well.
"Greenhouse?"
"Yeah, we grow some of our food. We could expand it, get some more pots and soil, so these would grow too. There's still plenty of space."
He doesn't hear Mako approach until she gets from behind him. Her eyes are trained on the seeds as well and she's silent, thinking.
"We could stay here? For some time?" Raleigh asks and Chuck looks at him. There are still traces of shock in his eyes, but there's something else, too. Hope, he muses. He shrugs.
"I'll have to talk with dad when he wakes up, but for some time, yeah. This place is huge anyway. We have a storage next to the greenhouse that could be made into a room. We don't use everything."
The trio is silent when he says that. They're all thinking, Chuck can see that, and he waits patiently when they exchange glances. Max trudges up to him and plops his ass on one of his feet happily.
"We'd like to stay, if your dad agrees, too," Yancy says at last. "We've been on the road for quite some time already."
"I reckon staying at one place could be a good change," Chuck nods and watches as Yancy smiles. Mako does, too, when he looks at her. They look relieved; under all this, they look tired. Exhausted even. Chuck doesn't want to think how much they've survived on the move. The world is still rough outside, even if it's gotten better in the last year or so.
"There's a couple of mattresses in the storage, but that room hasn't been cleaned properly in a long time. I'll show you where to find them and you can set them up here. Plenty of room."
A few hours later, when they're all settled for the night and Chuck climbs on the top bunk after having checked on his dad again, he finds he quite likes the new sounds of their bunker. Five sets of breathing, with Max's heavy snoring as sixth, and a bit of fidgeting from time to time fills the silence and lulls him to sleep.
Both walkie-talkies lay on the table, turned off.