"Code Blue"
By I am a good fighter
Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network
Waldman and Vora were waiting for him, in a small office adjacent to one of the operating rooms.
"Professor, this is Dr. Vora." Waldman said as the professor again shook hands with him, and then shook the woman's hand. "She'll be doing the surgery."
"You must show me how it works, Professor."
"Oh, there's nothing to it, but this is wonderful! You really think this will help you remove the tumors?"
"It may, but I won't know until I see them first hand." Dr. Vora said. "Perhaps you should sit down, Professor."
He didn't understand the grave looks he was getting from the two physicians. He took a seat.
"Professor," Waldman began. "I'm sorry. We are too late to be able to do anything for Bubbles."
His mouth fell open; he was unable to say anything more than "But…". Waldman explained as gently as he could that his little girl was now essentially brain-dead and what was going to happen in the next few hours. He told him about how she had rejected any sort of mechanical assistance, and how that had seemed to him.
"Yes, I know she wouldn't want that." the professor said softly. "But if it's too late, why do you still want to operate? Can you learn something from her? I'm not sure I want you doing that…"
Vora sat in a chair and pulled it up to face his, and she took both his hands.
"Professor," Waldman said quietly, moving around to put his hands on the professor's shoulders, "we aren't going to do this procedure on Bubbles. We need to see if we can save Blossom."
As expected, they had to hold him down but still he bucked in the chair. Moments passed as his face registered shock, angry denial and finally, acceptance. They wouldn't lie about something like this. He slumped forward and put his head in his hands. Then he looked up at them. "Does she know?"
"Yes." Waldman said. "We thought it best to wait for you, but she was very insistent on being told. She's scared, but she's taking it pretty well. I explained to her what we're hoping to accomplish and she's more concerned about her sisters."
"Yes, that's Blossom. Things upset her at first, but when she's had time to consider, she handles it better than most anyone I've ever met, and she's always thinking of others." Suddenly getting the implication of what they'd said, he sat up sharply. "Buttercup! Not her, too?"
"We won't know for another half-hour at least. She's being tested now."
He seemed to be sinking into a trance-like state. "No…no…"
Vora squeezed his hands tightly and spoke sharply. "Professor, please!"
He looked up, then gave his head a shake. "Sorry. What are we going to do about it?"
Waldman was happy to see that. Many family members were zombies and of no use, and they needed him to be alert and coherent. The professor's setback seemed momentary, and it was.
"Professor, here is what we know. We asked Blossom if she could remember when Bubbles first showed signs of head pain. She thought it was about a week before Bubbles first became ill. That makes it around two weeks ago. Here…" Waldman walked to the desk and Vora stood, allowing the Professor to get up and follow. Waldman pointed to six printed-out scans on plain paper laying flat on the desk, three each of views of the top of the head and from the side. Not as detailed as the transparencies he had seen in the morning, they still showed the affected areas of the brain in shades of gray. The centers of the tumors were black.
He recognized two of the top-view scans as being Bubbles'. He hadn't seen the side-views before. The one was dated the day before at 6:47 P.M. and the second at 7:03 A.M. that morning. The third was dated just a short time ago, at 11:50 A.M., and was Blossom's. He could see a small dark spot toward the lower rear portion of the brain on Blossom's side-view, and on the top-view there were five very small dark spots arranged around the perimeter in an almost perfectly spaced circular pattern.
"You can see," Waldman began, "assuming that Blossom is two weeks behind, that this appears to be just starting. This larger dark area is the brain stem. This is where we want to see if we can successfully remove the tumor. Brain stem tumors are difficult because they have a way of wrapping themselves around the various nerve pathways, making it tough to get all of them without causing further damage. We generally only treat brain stem tumors with radiation and chemo because of that but by using your enlarging ray, we may be able to improve on that. The other tumors, here, are small enough that we may be able to kill them with radiation."
"Well, I guess I better show you how this thing works." The professor bent down to pick up the bag holding the gun, then straightened up, a question furrowing his brow. "I forgot. How are you going to get at the tumor? I brought-"
Vora held up her hand. "No need. Someone, I don't know who, recognized that the girls might have special needs someday and thought to order some duranium-tipped blades for the bone saw, along with the needles and sutures we have."
He smiled, knowing that if anyone could help his daughter, it would be the people in this hospital. "Can I see her?"
"Right this way." Waldman said, indicating the door with his hand. "She's been asking for you."
It had worked once, why not again? LeBeau slowly pushed the mop pail along the corridor, with his head down and a grungy cap he'd found in the closet pulled low over his ears. No one had seen him and as he passed the media room he noticed that it was still empty. They were keeping a tight lid on this one and it was his job to pry it loose. The imaging center was just down the hall to the left from the intersection he was approaching, and the operating rooms were not far from there. But he'd get nowhere near there dressed as a janitor. A plan was already forming to cover that, but it meant doing some more research. First things first. What was going on with Blossom and Buttercup?
"How long does this stupid thing take?" Buttercup asked for the third time as the clock on the wall read half past noon. "Where's Blossom? Where's the professor?" she asked for the umpteenth time. "When can I go see Bubbles?"
"Just as soon as we're finished with you here." the young technician smiled at her. Now, hop up here on the table."
Buttercup didn't like the looks of the thing. It looked like a big rectangular metal-and-plastic doughnut. A huge white box with a big hole in the middle, and it had control panels on the front, on both sides of the hole near the top. In front of it stood a long, padded table on a big black base. The tabletop moved and once she was lying on it, it would feed her through that thing, but her head would be stuck in the middle of it first.
She floated up to the table and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. "This better not hurt."
The young woman smiled down at her. "It won't hurt, but it may be a little uncomfortable. You have to keep your head VERY still. I've got something to help you do that, but I don't want you talking during the procedure. That means NO MORE QUESTIONS!" But she smiled as she said it.
"OK." Buttercup grumbled. The technician pushed a button and the table slid until Buttercup's head was nearly all the way inside the imaging chamber. She removed a special head holder, designed especially for scans of the brain and to keep the head immobile, from a compartment under the table and gently slid it under the girl's head. She placed a soft strap across Buttercup's chin and fastened both ends to the sides of the holder. Then she pushed the button and the table moved a few more inches and stopped. The woman used the guide lights inside the chamber to line up her target in the 'crosshairs' and stepped back.
"Now, you are going to feel the table move just a tiny bit at a time. It will take about twenty minutes. I'm going to be in the next room watching the whole thing. It's very important that you keep very still. If you don't, you'll have to go through again, and I'm sure you'd rather not."
Buttercup saw the woman leave her field of vision with a smile and she heard a door open and close.
"You got THAT right! This stinks!"
LeBeau quickly stuck his head into rooms, having a 'Sorry, heard there was a spill down here. Guess not.' routine all worked out in case he needed it, keeping his head down the whole time. He had to use it just once, where a young woman was looking out through a window into another room. The sign on that door read 'Imaging Control Room'. Was that next room where the Powerpuff Girls were being examined? Was one of them in there now? Well, that was really unimportant. Finding out the results was what mattered, and he moved on. Using this scheme, he had found Blossom. She was in the prep room in a bed and Sara Bellum was holding her hand. He ducked quickly out and headed back for the closet to dump his disguise. He had just learned two important things from that brief sighting. First, Blossom wouldn't be in the prep room unless she was about to head into the O.R. for something. Second, Bubbles was not in that room. That told him that the little girl was beyond surgery and was probably back in her room, or another, awaiting the end. He realized that might not be the case. She COULD be in surgery at that very moment and he was heading back toward the operating rooms when he heard voices. He waited until their owners came into view. It was Utonium and that Waldman fellow, along with a short, dark-skinned woman with black hair. They were headed straight toward him, in the direction he had just come from. He slipped into the nearest room and shut the door all but an inch, then peeked out. Sure enough, they went into the prep room. Now, it WAS time to get out of there, but not before calling Stanley.
Whitfield was furious. He'd been waiting over an hour for Johns to get back to him. He and his video man had already gone over to the other two sitting in the car and they'd all gone for a quick bite. Now, at nearly quarter to one, he'd sent the reporter back to the station and the two technicians were working on setting up their equipment in the west parking lot. He stood in the lot, drumming his fingers on the roof of his car. Suddenly, his cell phone buzzed and he hopped in and pulled the receiver out of its holder.
"Whitfield."
"LeBeau. Stan, I'm on my way to find out more about some of these doctors. But what I can tell you is this. Blossom is at this minute being prepped for surgery and that cancer doctor was going in to see her as I was leaving."
"What?! Blossom?!"
"Yeah. And guess what. When Buttercup and Utonium first got back here, they sent her down to get a CAT scan, too, and I think she's back there now. Stan, it looks to me like they ALL might have this whatever it is."
"Dear God, Matt, I hope you're wrong."
"I don't think so, Stan. And get this. Utonium had this rifle that looked like a laser of some sort. Sounds like they're desperate to try anything. I don't know yet where they moved Bubbles to, but I'm pretty sure they've lost all hope. Looks like she's on the way out."
Whitfield winced at hearing that. All of Townsville loved the girls and he was no different. But something about the WAY LeBeau had said it bothered him. The youngster had seemed too cavalier about it. Yes, it was a hot story and he himself knew the excitement of being in on something big. But this, if it was true, was the makings of a tragedy of the first magnitude. He hoped that LeBeau had some sense of that and some feeling for the PEOPLE behind the story. They weren't just names and faces.
"What's your number on that phone you've got?"
LeBeau gave it to him.
"Look, find out what you need to, but don't do any more poking around. Johns has been putting me off and if this is true, I can't say as I blame him. We have to be careful with this one, Matt. Don't go anywhere until I get back to you."
Whitfield hung up.
"If what is true, Stanley? Who wouldn't you blame?"
He whipped his head to the side to see a shapely, raven-haired woman of about thirty, dressed in a black skirt and a bright red blouse, leaning in the window and grinning at him. Maria Santiago, the lead anchor at KCMC-TV, KZIX' nearest competitor in the ratings wars and a fine reporter herself. She was a former self-described 'rescue theorist' who his station and others had consulted in hostage situations, and when newcomer KCMC started up operations, they were looking for a talented on-air personality to give them instant credibility. It had paid off handsomely and the new station was second in the news ratings only to the undisputed king of the hill, KZIX. He chided himself for he and his crew hanging around outside and being so obvious. Before long, she'd have her own crew down here. He sighed and got out. She backed up to give him room.
"Maria, how good to see you."
"Cut the crap, Stanley." she said in her Hispanic accented English. "What is going on?"
"They're about to announce a major expansion."
"I see. And for this, KZIX gets exclusive coverage? No press releases to the rest of us?" She tapped a black-sandaled foot. "I am not buying what you are selling, amigo. This is about Bubbles, no?"
He frowned at her. "All right, look. My crew, just you and me, we try to keep this quiet."
"No deal. My boys go with me." He looked over to see the van with the competition's call letters emblazoned on the side, and two scruffy looking young men looking their way from the front seat.
"All right, but tell them to get their butts inside and park that truck out back where no one sees it. A circus is exactly what we don't need right now."
"Agreed. Move your car too, Stanley."
He grunted in annoyance. While she walked over to the van to give her crew instructions, he trotted over to his guys, told them to head inside and wait. Maria met him back at his car and got in, and as he drove to the back lot, he began to fill her in on what he knew. Together, they would put a little pressure on Townsville General to let a little SOMETHING out before it blew up in their faces.
It was ten after one. Whitfield and Santiago sat in chairs across from Johns' desk. Johns stared at Whitfield. "Where the hell did you get THAT from?"
The report on Blossom had just been faxed to his office. Buttercup's scan was being read at that moment. He had been working on a statement regarding Bubbles' condition and was finding it difficult. At some point, and soon, the public would have to be told. They would feel rightfully angry to learn, after the fact, that one of their beloved heroes had passed on and that they had been denied the chance to say goodbye. There would be a vigil kept outside, but he wanted to avoid a circus atmosphere at all costs.
"Never mind where I got it from, Tim." Whitfield answered. "Is it true?"
Johns put his elbows on the desk and leaned forward, massaging his forehead. He sat back sharply and tossed a pencil onto his blotter. "Yes, it's true, but I want to know where you got this information! I just found out about Blossom not five minutes ago!"
Whitfield narrowed his eyes. "Look, Tim, we are not your enemies here. I understand your concerns but we can't help you if we're in the dark. Now, let's have it!"
Johns smirked, "In the dark, eh? You seem to know more about this than I do."
"All unconfirmed, which is why we're here."
"All right. You know Bubbles was admitted last night. At nine this morning, she was diagnosed with inoperable brain cancer, in a form like no one's ever seen. Its rate of growth is beyond belief. She's hanging on, but it won't be much longer I'm afraid…"
Santiago stifled a sob. She already knew from Whitfield but had been hoping that it was all wrong.
"There was some hope for a radical procedure involving a device Professor Utonium has that can enlarge or shrink things. We were hoping that by enlarging Bubbles, she could still be operated on. That, unfortunately, is no longer possible. Later this morning, Blossom began to have headaches, which were thought to be from stress, but a CAT scan was done as a precaution. As you now know, the results were positive. It looks like the cell growth is about two weeks behind Bubbles', and a favorable outcome for her is expected. She will be undergoing surgery shortly, with Dr. Ravi Vora doing the procedure…Buttercup, we are still waiting to hear…"
"Thank you, Tim. Now, here's how we help you. We go down to the room and you issue a short statement. You have to let the people know about Bubbles, Tim, we owe them that. You ask that everyone that wishes to, to come down and keep a quiet, orderly vigil. No one will be allowed inside. Maria and I will stay outside with our crews and all we ask is that you keep us informed."
"And Blossom?"
The two reporters exchanged glances. Santiago spoke. "Getting her well is what is important. If there is a good chance that she will make a full recovery, there is no need to say anything about that now. It will only cause panic."
"Thank you." Johns said, quite relieved. "Now, Stan, where-"
"We have a young investigative reporter somewhere in the hospital. I'm in contact with him and I'll call him off. All we wanted was the truth, Tim."
The three stood and shook hands. Johns said, "Give me twenty minutes and I'll meet you downstairs."
He watched them leave, then made a fast call to the head of security, who was already aware of the gravity of Bubbles' condition. He quickly explained what was going to happen and asked the chief to make the necessary arrangements in conjunction with the Townsville police department, to keep things orderly out on the sidewalk and street in front of the hospital.
Outside Johns' office, Santiago stared at her colleague. "Someone is running around in here posing as a doctor?"
"I don't know exactly WHAT he's doing, Maria, but he's good. That's over now, though. I need to call him, so head on downstairs and get the guys outside setting up. You might want to call your boss, let him know the score."
She smiled, showing off her even, white teeth. "The score is tied, Stanley, and we are the only ones playing the game."
He watched her stride off, thinking, "Yes, indeed. But I wish I was sitting this one out." He walked to a window overlooking the parking lot as he pulled out his phone.
"LeBeau."
"Matt, we got things squared away with Johns. We'll be covering the conference in about twenty. You can head on back to the station. Great work, Matt, I'm not going to forget this."
"Uh, thanks, but what's he going to say?"
"He'll be announcing the situation with Bubbles, the truth, Matt, thanks to you. We expect a crowd to show up and I'll be covering that. I expect we'll broadcast regular updates and break in when they make the announcement later tonight sometime, from the way it's sounding."
"What about the other one?"
"Other one?"
"You know, the other one. Are they saying anything about her being sick, too?"
"She has a name, you dork!" He was beginning to have misgivings about LeBeau's sensitivity, but then again, maybe he was too close to the girls. "Uh, right now, Matt, there is no need to run with that. Things may turn out well and the hospital doesn't want to give out anything about Blossom right now. I'm concurring with that."
"Uh, sure, Stan, OK. See you later." He hung up and put the phone back in his pocket.
"The hell with that!" he thought. " This one's too big. I don't trust them; if they held out on us this long, what else might they be holding back on? I can't believe Whitfield can't see that!"
Twenty minutes to the press conference, eh? He'd be there. But he had a stop to make first.