“Every wall you don’t put up is a path for a greyskin to take,” Gilbert says grimly, but Hank just shrugs and breaks the noodles into the pot of water.

A voice from somewhere unseen calls out for Hank. He jumps a little and laughs at his own reaction, then reaches at the back of his belt and pulls out a small radio. “I’m here,” Hank says.

“Our new friends are fueled up and ready to go,” Walter says from the other end. “Are you through with them?”

“I’m feeding them,” Hank says. “No reason they shouldn’t get a hot meal. They look like they haven’t eaten in a week!” Hank looks at us and winks. There is a long pause from the other end until finally, Walter decides to talk again.

“Just hurry so we can get them out,” he says.

Hank shakes his head and snickers when he clips the radio back to his belt. “These guys are so uptight. Here I am trying to bring back a little civilization to the world and they just want you out of here.”

“I suppose I can understand,” I say. “There are a lot of bad people out there. Raiders, you know.”

“Oh, I know all about that,” Hank says. “People get selfish. They get to a point where only their own survival matters. I don’t see it that way. I think it’s important that we all try to survive. That we all try to help others survive. For example, I would love to ask you three to stay with us indefinitely, but the others here wouldn’t have it. They would say that supplies are low enough as it is. I, however, look at it differently. I would say that three recruits like you would heighten our chances of finding more supplies. It would be a mutual benefit.”

“I wouldn’t stay here if it were the last group of people on earth,” Gilbert says under his breath.

Hank doesn’t miss a beat. “I just think this whole thing would be over a lot more quickly if people just banded together. Make super-towns with giant walls so no greyskin could ever get in. I tell you what, if someone had the resources and manpower, people would flock in droves to a place like that.”

“I would,” I say.

“So would I,” Hank says, winking again, a couple of dry noodles sticking out of his mouth.

He finally sets a plate full of spaghetti in front of each of us and decides to have a plate himself. We spend most of the meal listening to Hank tell stories. Mostly funny ones. Ethan laughs the hardest, and I try to, and Gilbert sits with a straight face, eating his food quickly. Hank takes bites like he has all the time in the world.