There was something niggling at the back of Chuck's mind.
There was... something. Some realization trying to occur.

It was like his mind didn't quite want to put two and two together.

Something about... the wheelchairs.
There were so many damn wheelchairs.
They were always empty.
Sometimes a zombie shambled around, pushing one...
But the chairs were always empty.

There was one or a few survivors back at the safe house, that might be wheelchair users, but...
Not enough. Not nearly enough. There were far too many chairs, and not enough people.

Damn it.