Part Two
Matthew Bradshaw’s thirty seconds were up. His stomach
suddenly did something incredibly nasty and Matthew died
in a bellow of pain, stink and fear. In a lifetime of
failure, Matthew's final half a minute was possibly the
most unique event in his fruitless life.
After he had stopped writhing, his fellow classless
colleagues got up from their places around the tiny fire
they’d made in the junkyard and cautiously poked at his
body. Each was nervous at the sudden and terrifying
events they had witness, and they collectively wondered
whether it be really that rude to comment on the new
food source had suddenly became readily available.
Before any could pass a culinary motion, Arnie Attler, a
burnt out bum from Metropolis, suddenly felt a pang in
his abdomen, and the fellowship of the fire watched in
horror as another of their group commenced a similar
dance of death.
Arnie wasn’t the first and neither would he be the last.
Death was about to make another round on Gotham and the
toll would be high.
***
"You sure you want to do this Barb?" Kara held the door
open to the refuge as her companion wheeled in. "I mean,
I can withstand infection because of, you know, that
alien thing? You might not be as lucky."
Barb confidently wheeled ahead of her young companion as
she drove her hands hard against her wheels. Bruce -
indirectly through Wayne Enterprises - had offered her a
fully automated chair. Naturally, she had refused. She
preferred the graft of a manual chair. Somehow it made
her feel less helpless, and some days she needed that
feeling more than anything.
"We need to find an answer now Kara, I refuse to be
stuck behind some computer like an over glorified
telephone operator. I was trained as a mobile detective
and I'm damned well going to stay as one."
She stopped. Her fingers clutched the metal wheel frame
tightly.
"Barbara?"
Barbara sighed. "I may... need some help. Looks like
this refuge don't have many disabled homeless people to
deal with."
Ahead, was a flight of six stairs to the main hall. She
may have been able to swing the very heights of Gotham a
few months back, but now a simple height span of a
couple of meters could halt her progress. She hated it.
As depressing as this new confined world could be, she
was damned if it would get the better of her. She was
better than that. She wasn't a brooder like Bruce. In
fact, unlike most, exposure to Gotham's dark side had
made her feel stronger and more optimistic than she was
before she put on cape and cowl.
For her, nothing could beat that feeling of doing
something proactive.
"… and there we go!"
Suddenly, she was at the top of the wooden stairs and
Kara was standing smugly beside her. It was a perk of
having a super fast, super strong best friend. Kara's
offer to move to Gotham and help Barbara settle in to
her new mode of life had been an invaluable arrangement;
nevertheless Barbara was always aware of becoming too
reliant.
"Thanks, but I could have managed," she grumbled.
They were in the main feeding hall. It was spartan and
simple. There were old wooden chairs against old wooden
benches on old wooden floors.
Gotham wasn't known for being a leading force in helping
the homeless.
Kara scratched her head and tried not to breathe.
Sometimes super smell had its disadvantages. The odor of
the twenty or vagabonds feeding on lunch wasn't
pleasing; let alone the none too fragrant smell of the
cooking itself. It wasn't doing much for Kara's super
stomach, which was at this moment being rather super
sensitive.
"Quite a few people Barb, I thought the plague would
have kept them away."
"Where have they got to go? When you are on the
breadline, you don't exactly have anywhere to hide when
you need to survive."
The Plague. Capital "P" as the newspapers had dubbed it.
It was spreading like wildfire through the homeless.
However there had not been one victim of this plague who
had come from a working home. It affected the homeless
and no one else. Barbara had been helping Dr Leslie
Thompkins deal with the victims for two months now.
Sad thing was, no one really cared, or at least, no one
who really mattered. It was a "homeless issue", and
until someone was infected who wasn't homeless, neither
the citizens nor the media were really that interested.
In fact, it was solving a major political problem. Not
that anyone would admit it openly, but Barbara could
imagine quite a few of the city’s population welcoming
such a cull; might even raise house prices in some of
their neighborhoods. As long as continued to leave the
middle class working populace alone, they seemed quite
happy to see “The Plague” as a new wing of Gotham's
environmental service.
The police as usual had been little help. Another crime
wave had hit Gotham. Rupert Thorne had decided to start
making a drive for power in the underground and once
again, Gotham was a war zone, politically and literally.
GCPD had lost many officers last year when Two Face and
Penguin had caused citywide chaos. Now, understaffed and
low on morale the police were being forced to the
frontline again. The plight of a few non tax-paying
citizens wasn't high up the agenda, and the mayor was
making sure that Barbara's father, Commissioner Gordon,
was making priority for any case that didn’t benefit
established voters.
There was some interest in the medical community, but
few had really the resources or manpower to brave the
darker alleys of Gotham. When crime runs rife, the
scientists stay at home.
All except Doctor Thompkins who remained as diligent as
ever to those who needed help; with her help, Barbara
had been trying to find a pattern to this homeless
plague.
The deaths were seemingly unconnected. A group of five
people would die in the space of one night that seemed
to have no connections to each other nor did they die in
the same place.
As for Batman... well, he had barely been in Gotham of
late. No, Batman hadn't really been about at all. With
repercussions from the recent alien invasion pulling
superhero resources away from their home cities, she
could hardly blame him. She'd tried calling Dick in
Bludhaven but as usual he didn't answer.
Dr. Thompkins had so far been unable to turn up any
reason for the deaths. Their insides were eaten up. No
sign of parasites or bacterial contagion. Leslie was now
worn out. She had the homeless at her door constantly,
naturally fearful with phantom signs of the disease or
begging for a cure. There was no cure however as no one
knew what disease was. It was fast, left no traceable
signs and a very large mess.
Barbara was sure the answer lie on the street, and with
Leslie's permission they'd brought Kara in on the
problem.
The deaths were so random; it made the chance of it
being airborne questionable. The dead were localized to
any groups of homeless and certainly no one but the
homeless had been infected. Could it be spread by touch?
It had been a matter of untangling the web of events.
Going to death scenes, finding those other unfortunates
who knew the deceased, knew their patterns. She was
finding less and less reasons to imply skin contact. In
fact, being Gotham, she smelt foul play. The fact that,
in one instance, there were four simultaneous deaths yet
all a couple of miles apart felt too artificial for it
to be a natural disease.
There was another reason for her suspicions. A note she
found on her desk. It had simply said, “Look beyond the
obvious”. It was handwritten, neatly, but she didn’t
recognize the handwriting. If it wasn’t for her own
personal perspective, she might have just thought it was
a random piece of paper. Gut instinct again told her
otherwise. Someone else thinks there is something rotten
in this epidemic.
So she and Kara had played plain clothe detectives;
locating where the deceased usually slept, where they
ate and details about their regular activities. It had
been a couple of week’s co-coordinating data and
building patterns. They had led her to here.
If it was skin contact, this was the place. A whole
group of dead victims they had traced to coming through
this refuge. If it was contracted locally, this was
possibly one of the places.
"So what are we looking for Barb..? I kinda feel I'm
being showcased here..."
Kara was right. Hungry eyes were focused on the young
Kryptonian. Despite being in her civilian clothes, her
slender and attractive physique got her as many looks as
she did when she was dressed as Supergirl.
"I'm not sure," Barbara whispered, partially in deep
thought. The only clue was that deaths would pop up in
roughly the same districts. This had brought many
doctors to the conclusion than it was viral and spread
through contact over a long period of time; that it
incubated over several months after contagion. Barbara
didn't buy that. She was becoming more and more
convinced this was something far more contrived. Again,
put it down to detective intuition maybe, but she felt
the localized pattern didn't suggest a long incubation
capacity, but someone somehow infecting groups of
homeless people in areas.
Barbara smirked. “Incubation capacity.” She sounded like
Leslie. She had indeed been learning a great deal from
the Doctor. With over 200 deaths from this plague and
various other medical needs, Barbara hadn't been
submerged in a brand new and fascinating world of
medicine. She knew she'd never be a Doctor, but through
long work hours she was learning a great deal -
especially about disease and poisons.
She looked up. Where was Kara? This was certainly a
downside of having a friend who was super fast. It was
easy to keep a tab on Tim, no matter how sneaky he
thought he was...
Damn, she missed Tim - and Alfred. They'd left for
England just before Barbara was out of hospital. Alfred
had tried his best to reach out to Bruce. He'd gone over
at Christmas but found Bruce was none to happy about him
being there. A stony silence had lead to some harsh
words and Alfred deciding it would be best to leave
Bruce to his own means. You can't help someone who
doesn't want to help himself. He'd taken Tim away from
Gotham in the hope to spare him the pain and perhaps
offer him a normal life. Deep down she knew both hoped
that Bruce would come round. Heck, they all did. She
wondered what they were up to.
"This isn't nice as bad as it smells."
Barbara looked up to see Kara sipping some soup from a
dirty bowl.
"Kara!" You can't! It’s not for you!
"I was hungry!!" She protested.
Hungry.
That might be it.
"Oh my god. The food. What if there was something being
put in the food of random refuges?"
Kara stood there mutely. Then she spat the soup out over
the floor. She looked over at the shocked and vaguely
irritated cook. "Erm, it had carrots in it," she
stuttered feebly, "I don't like carrots.”
Barbara wheeled to face her, a mix of excitement and
loathing spread across her face. "We need to check over
all the staff and get samples of that food. If I'm
right, this isn't a plague - it's a mass poisoning!"
Kara blanched and her belly gurgled in mutual concern.
TO BE CONCLUDED |
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