Gotc: Wow….two years huh? Shame on me for making you all wait this long. Still, take heart. I do plan on finishing this story. Hopefully soon…..ish? I at least plan on making some of you out there cry/sob/lament/insert appropriate synonym here. But enough of this. I have made you wait long enough!
Disclaimer: Gotc does not own JL or "The Hot Zone". All quotes from the aforementioned book do not belong to me and will be in bold italicized font.
Warnings: Ebola is a disease not for the faint of heart. Out of respect for Richard Preston's work, and of the nature of the virus itself, I will be describing its effects, both in my own words and Mr. Preston's. While I will attempt to keep this tasteful, I have no intention of downplaying the effects of this disease.
Quarantine
CHAPTER 10: Fact
They'd gone through 4 bags of blood before J'onn was forced to start a mix of synthetic hemoglobin dripping into Batman's system. Blood ran down his arm and dripped over his fingers from a failed attempt at placing a new IV catheter.
At every place in the patient's arm where he stuck the needle, the vein broke apart like cooked macaroni and spilled blood, and the blood ran from the punctures down the patient's arm and wouldn't coagulate.
J'onn gave up after that, opting to switch out the lines instead. It was far from ideal, but a far cry better than having Batman bleed out from a tiny hole in his arm.
He absentmindedly reached out to fiddle with one of the drip sets, convinced it was not flowing properly. He pressed a number of buttons on the attached pump, before he entered the settings back the exact same way again. He turned and reached for a syringe to flush the line, thinking that perhaps the line itself had become plugged, when he finally looked at Batman.
No. Not Batman. The Batman he knew possessed the kind of spirit his people would have called, Aeri'sthi. Unbreakable. He was the kind of man that the will of the universe itself could not possibly deter him from his task.
He wasn't looking at Batman. Not even at Bruce Wayne. The arrogant persona of his, however necessarily distasteful he might have been, was still a man that radiated life.
The man on the bed before him was little more than a shell.
Behind a cowl, Batman's face had always been hard to read, if not downright impossible. Even without a mask, emotions were always something the Dark Knight kept closely guarded. The sunken face of this man had nothing to hide. Dull red eyes gazed at the ceiling above. They no longer acknowledged J'onn's presence with a familiar, fleeting glance. They simply stared.
They showed no facial expression, not even pain or agony. The connective tissue under the skin had been destroyed by the virus, causing a subtle distortion of the face. The masklike face, the red eyes, and the bloody nose were classic signs of Ebola that appear in all primates infected with the virus, both monkeys and humans. It hinted at a vicious combination of brain damage and soft-tissue destruction under the skin. The classic Ebola face makes them look as if they have seen something beyond comprehension. It is not a vision of heaven.
J'onn had to force himself to step away, to realize that there was nothing wrong with the lines or the equipment. He had to make himself take a step back and look at all the wires and machines connected to the man there on the bed. He had to scan the makeshift staging area and lay eyes on the half dozen bottles of clearly labeled medications and biohazard boxes threatening to overflow with spent syringes and disposable gowns.
He had to reach out, despite every threat and warning, to brush against the mind of this man. To see for himself the once impenetrable wall that had crumbled to dust, and the always churning thoughts behind it all laying dead and silent.
J'onn sank into a chair next to the bed, the strength in his legs no longer enough to keep him upright under the weight of the truth he saw in those empty eyes. A truth he simply could not bear to share. Perhaps they all knew it at some level already.
"No." Batman's firm voice echoed in J'onn's own mind as his last coherent conversation with the Dark Knight repeated itself.
"They should know."
"If they're doing their jobs right, they'll figure it out for themselves eventually."
"Is that how you want them to find out? Is that how you want Diana to-"
"What I want, is for them to do the job I can't!" His voice was firm, even through the fatigue, "If I have to be the poster child that motivates them to save the rest of the world from this then so be it!"
Batman already knew. He'd known the instant the tests had come back positive for Ebola. The expressionless face and blank eyes that stared up at the ceiling now had one simple fact written all over them.
Preventing the virus would be the easy part. Getting rid of it, nearly impossible and even if some miracle happened and they could cure Batman…
His personality is being wiped away by brain damage. This is called depersonalization, in which the liveliness and details of character seem to vanish. He is becoming an automaton.
There might not be anything left of him to save.
Gotc: I'm evil. Straight up. Not a full chapter, but just enough to whet your appetite for more I hope! Besides, I hadn't done much from J'onn's point of view yet. Anyway, I felt this needed to be on its own rather than tagging along on another chapter. So sorry it's short, but hopefully some of you will still think it merits a review? Yes? Please? They make me happy, you know! I'll shut up now, but be looking for a full chapter here within the next few days! See ya then!