The group slept peacefully.
For five minutes.
The day was still early, and people were still walking around. But what woke them from their nap was the booming thunderclap from the rain storm.
Mexico and America jolted awake, ready to attack something. Cass sat upright, hugging his bunny. The child's eyes were wide and afraid.
"Cass, are you alright?" America asked him, kneeling beside the cot. The boy nodded, huddling himself into a ball under the blanket.
Another thunderous bellow sounded out, shaking the whole underground building. Suddenly, the air was much thicker.
America glanced at the oxygen recycling machine and cursed despite Cass clinging to his arm.
The fan that filtered dry air into fresh and breathable oxygen wasn't spinning. The wind must have knocked down something.
"José?"
"Checking with Max," said Mexico and jumped up to talk to the tall young man trying to calm the people around him.
Max was a strange character. He was thoughtful and definitely intelligent, but he had always seemed a little...off, at least to America.
He was thin with stringy red hair and round brown eyes, making him almost look like Scotland.
Max also had a voice like America's; high pitched and didn't match his height at all. But it was also like England's; serious and authoritative. In fact, the only thing to keep Max from being Scotland's twin was eye color and his almost non-existent eyebrows.
Non-existent, at least by Kirkland standards.
But scrawny appearance aside, Max was one of the few who had seized power amidst the chaos and was in charge of keeping things in order. He did a relatively good job, but when a catastrophe happened, people flocked to him and he apparently wasn't as good a thinker under pressure.
He stuttered and spoke things that were either too smart or too stupid to comprehend, and he mumbled when people asked what to do in a tragedy.
Mexico and America made fun of him, but now there really was an emergency.
By this time, Mexico and America had grown somewhat accustomed to the harsh outside air. Meaning, their lungs didn't burn as much and with each day they could travel more distances.
But there were still people who had not been outside yet. Children and elderly who don't even know what the earth looks like now. America could already hear the very young coughing and burying their faces into their guardian's shoulder.
Mexico pushed his way through the panicking people surrounding Max and tried to speak to him, but Max's muttering and stumbling problem had already overtaken him.
However, when Mexico returned he did say that Max had told him the vents were broken, but fresh air could still filter in and out.
"What does that mean?" asked Cass, who was using America's jacket as a face mask.
America ruffled his hair and smiled gently. "It means we're gonna be breathing the outside from now on."
Cass stared up at him, then snuggled closer to his chest. America continued to smooth his greasy white hair.
"Who's knows what's out there and what people could be breathing in. We can't be wearing the masks all the time," complained Mexico. America shushed him.
"Look kiddo, why don't you take a nap while Max and I try to fix everything," offered America, but Cass shook his head.
"Nuhuh. Not tired."
"I don't think I asked," joked America. "Just sit with José, okay?"
The boy sat silent with his arms crossed, then stubbornly nodded his head and transferred himself to Mexico's lap.
"There you go, chico," said Mexico soothingly, massaging the boy's scalp.
America smiled. "Be good you two," he warned, and went over to the other side of the bunker and to Max's cot. The thin form sat in the dark at the foot of the cot, his legs crossed, head bowed, and muttering to himself with folded hands.
"Hey Maxie? What are you makin' up now?" America asked, slight sarcasm oozing into his voice.
Max looked up with a glare. "For your information, I am making up nothing. I don't see you doing anything. The fans are broken and you're over there with that dumb friend of yours," he retorted. Max had quite the way with words.
America, however, ignored the jab and rolled his eyes. "Now's not the time to be racist, dickhead. Just tell me what you plan to do."
Max continued to glare at him for a moment, then nodded and explained to America that water rations would be cut down and no more showers so the water could be used for drinking and keeping the air moist enough to breathe. Max also added his own jabs and insults at America, which he could literally not care less about.
He knew why Max hated him, along with pretty much everyone else in the bunker. Finally, people would listen to him instead of view him as the freak with a speech problem. People wouldn't ignore his ideas and could not care less about what he had to say. Everyone saw him as the ADHD teen with mild apraxia and dyslexia, the last person you'd want in an apocalypse. But now, crowds of scared people would flock to him like clueless sheep seeking guidance and comfort, seeking his ideas on how to live better in the confinements of the bunker, just how to survive.
But he still saw them as threats. At any moment, he thought he could say something really stupid or do something he couldn't explain, or not know what was going on, anything that might make the on edge people angry.
Which means at any moment, the somewhat peace he thinly held together could be shattered and violence could erupt, with him as the first target.
America understood, and almost pitied him. It was the life of a politician.
But still, Max was an ass, and that made it kinda super hard not to hate him. He was just a paranoid as hell edgy ginger teen.
Max explained his plans with as little detail as possible, but with as many annoying brags he could fit into a sentence.
When he was done, he shooed America away, and he walked back to Mexico and Cassius.
The little boy had fallen asleep on Mexico, who was singing some smooth lullaby in Spanish. America caught some of the words, and the tune sounded familiar.
"Did Spain sing that to you?" America asked, and Mexico looked scared for a split second. He was silent with wide eyes for a moment, then hardened his face back to its usual expression.
"The kid is sleeping, idiota," Mexico whispered loudly. Cass stirred away, blinking slowly.
"Aw, great. Look what you did, stupid," accused Mexico.
"I didn't wake him up!" America defended himself, a small smile lighting his face.
"Wake who up?" Cass asked sleepily.
"You," Mexico and America replied in unison.
"Wasn' asleep....jus' nu..." He yawned and snuggled back up next to Mexico, who grinned slightly and smoothed down Cass' hair.
"Aw! Even the "tough" country of spicy foods and cowboys couldn't help but smile like the softie his is. What a cute picture. Ma, get the camera!" America called into the distance, laughing at his own joke.
Mexico groaned. "I hate you. Literally, I hate you so much right now."
America's smile broadened. "I know you mean love!" He teased.
"Yeah you guys love each odder..." Cass yawned and an awkward silence passed through the bunker.
(Cassie ships it XD)