It was a shame Chuck couldn't see Bart's face, because every unspoken concern and fear was written in lines of his face. No one who saw his expression could have mistaken that this was a man who was indifferent to his son's well-being. Bart swallowed audibly, his fingers tightening on the cellphone as if he reach for Chuck across the miles that separated them.
"I'm glad," he said tightly, successfully battling down the tsunami of emotions that threatened to engulf him. It was no use panicking over the idea of his sheltered, wastrel son having had to fight with only a knife. He knew the horrible mental images would taunt him regardless, but he had to focus on the present now. There was a long moment of silence but when he resumed speaking, his voice was measured and even.
"Look Charles, it's not clear what's going on exactly, but it seems that you should avoid their mouths. This might be something like rabies, you don't want to get bitten." He said this as he scanned the brief report on his desk, wishing that he had more useful information to pass on.