[Chapter 10: Damage]
They had just arrived from Metropolis and, as she expected, the hospital was swarming with security (police and military) and surrounded by the press.
Lois entered beside Mav and they slowed as they approached the front desk.
"Mr. Ervin, Ms. Lane. I’m Paul Sharpshair, Hospital Administrator," a middle-aged man greeted. His completion was darker than most and his deep voice made Lois think of a mighty grizzly bear. "Please, this way."
"Thank you," Mav said.
There was no small talk, which only made Lois even more nervous.
All they knew at the moment was that Kal was alive but in critical condition. Dr. Klein was concerned about his vitals and hadn't gone into specifics over the phone about the injuries he had suffered. Lois couldn't help but feel he was hoping things would be better by the time they arrived so he wouldn't have to vocalize how bad things were.
"The whole ward has been cordoned off so please use the area as you see fit, including the break room and sleeping quarters," Sharpshair said. "We had offered to extend it further soon after he arrived, but Dr. Klein felt it best to keep with our initial perimeter unless we felt it was necessary for the safety of the other patients."
Lois blinked at that, feeling there was something behind what he was saying, but she wanted to see Dr. Klein more than she wanted to question a man about something that probably didn't matter.
Sharpshair opened a door to a room and stepped aside.
"If you need anything, please let me or one of the doctors or nurses know," he said. "I'll be across the hall."
"Thank you," she said, before following Mav into the room.
The room was a laboratory and Dr. Klein was looking through a microscope but quickly turned when he heard the door. He took a deep breath.
“Doctor?” Mav asked.
“There’s a lot to tell you both, but I’ll start by saying he’s out of danger now,” he said.
Lois and Mav both heaved a sigh of relief, but they didn’t relax as Klein continued.
"Right now, he is under special sunlamps I tweaked to maximize his absorption rate. He’ll be under those whenever he can’t get direct, natural sunlight. His temperature is 93 now, so that’s better, and his aura is, amazingly, still intact."
"Okay. What's the bad news?" Lois asked, knowing when someone was stalling.
Klein clasped his hands together.
“Due to the number of contusions he came in with, we know he was drained at least a dozen times. I say this because, while he is healing, there is substantial cellular damage throughout his body. There is one area in particular that I’m concerned about, but I’ll get to that," Klein said. It sounded to Lois like he had recited this several times to himself. "Along with his injuries, he's lost weight. We haven't weighed him yet, but I estimate that he's lost about fifty to sixty pounds. It won't appear to be that much when you see him, due to his dense molecular structure. . . ." He trailed off, recognizing now was not the time to go off on a tangent. "But anyway, we'll want him to eat as much as possible when he's awake."
Lois and Mav nodded their understanding, eager for more information.
“So, these contusions . . .” Lois asked, since Klein was not continuing. “Are they where most of the damage is?”
“Yes." He swallowed, and it was clear he wished he didn't have to go on. "I must prepare you both. His injuries are . . . traumatic, particularly the ones on his face. And while I can honestly say he has notably improved since how he was when he arrived this morning, I doubt that will reassure you much when you see him," he admitted.
"His face?" Mav asked.
Lois could hardly breathe.
They had been told some of what had happened in the final . . . confrontation, but details were still coming in and General Newcomb had not had the chance to communicate with them, although they knew the rescue teams were being debriefed and that several of them had suffered severe injuries.
"Ta'peel had gripped his head," Klein managed, before leaning back on the counter and putting his face in his hands.
"Bernie?" Mav pried carefully.
"I don't know what to do!" Klein suddenly gasped, looking up at them with frantic eyes. "The handprints are on either side of his face and upper neck and they've turned his skin black and hard. The tissue is completely dead. I don't know how deep the damage goes, but I'm afraid it's penetrated into his left eye!" He took a shuddering breath, trying to get himself under control, but his voice cracked as he continued. "I have no idea how to help. Should we leave it and see what happens or remove the dead tissue and hope his healing ability will take over? But that would mean surgery, and I don't think surgery is viable for a number of reasons, and would it even help or only make things worse? It would expose – gah! How am I going to tell him this?" He covered his face again.
"What does he know?" Lois asked, latching onto the first sensible thing she could think to ask.
Klein shook his head. "He went to sleep soon after he arrived, which reminds me of another thing you need to know. But in answer to your question, we didn't speak about his injuries at all, although I was able to collect a sample while he was asleep."
"Did you learn anything?" Mav asked.
"From the sample, nothing I didn't already suspect or know from the earlier samples I had from last week," Klein stated, before falling silent, thinking.
"What else do we need to know?" Lois asked.
"He had a seizure after they resuscitated him in the parking lot. I think it was caused by his aura reconnecting to his nervous system," he said, wiping his hand across his bald head.
" 'Resuscitated'!?" Lois gasped. "So what they're saying is true?"
"I don't know what they're saying. I'm just telling you what the leader of one of the teams said," Klein said uneasily. "According to them, the seizure was brief and he remained unconscious until he arrived here, where he used his aura to, well, ground himself.”
“Ground himself?” Mav asked.
“I’m not sure what happened, to be honest,” Klein said, visibly exhausted now.
"Can we see him?" Lois asked.
"Yes,” he said, straightening.
O o O o O
Waking to an all encompassing warmth was a welcome change to regaining consciousness on frigid mornings with a cold, dusty floor for a mattress. Even so, he tentatively stretched out his senses to verify he was really out of that place and that what he had experienced with Kindlot and his men had not been imagined.
He relaxed as he made out the hustle and bustle of what could only be a hospital. It was a bit more hectic than usual, but he didn't have to guess to figure out why. Hopefully he would be able to leave soon and let them get back to their normal routines.
With his hearing back, he was certain his other abilities would return shortly. And, really, considering how quickly they had begun to return soon after he was rescued from the factory, he couldn't help but feel hopeful, despite what had followed.
He allowed himself to focus in on the room and immediately heard her heartbeat.
"Lois," he whispered.
He heard a lot of movement and felt her hand clasp his own.
"Kal," she said, relieved as a nurse hurriedly left the room.
He opened his eyes, or rather, he tried but only succeeded in opening his right.
He frowned and moved to touch his face. Lois didn't move as she watched him. Tears filled her eyes and he tried to quell his growing alarm as his aura wrapped around her and picked up on her distress.
He felt his left cheek and eyelid with his free hand. They were . . . firm, with a texture close to leather. And they were numb. Lois squeezed his hand still in her own as he explored the rest of his face, finding that there were handprint shaped zones of . . . no sensation.
Right where Ta'peel had gripped him.
/How long have I been asleep?/ he asked, not sure how much to move.
"Two days. You've been under the sun or the lamps the entire time. How do you feel?" she asked.
/Tired./
"Dr. Klein is on his way," she said.
He shifted on the bed, the glow of the lamps making his exposed skin almost appear gold. He looked down at his bare arms and chest, finding a few monitoring wires over faded bruises and healing collections of burst capillaries. His gaze stilled, also spotting how prominent his ribs were. He had lost a startling amount of weight.
"Kal?"
He sat up and without a word pulled her into a hug. It was exceedingly clear they both needed it. He inhaled her scent by her neck, ignoring how his deadened flesh was not feeling her warmth as he lay his head against her shoulder. Her warm palms and fingers pressed into his skin on his back, and his breath caught as he couldn't help but compare her dainty hands to the greedy ones he had been brutalized by. Compare, but immediately find hers was nothing like theirs. He took in several deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart as his vision swam and his aura took in her turbulent emotions of relief, fear, love, and concern.
"Doctor, his heart rate!" he heard a nurse exclaim.
"Kal?"
It was Dr. Klein.
Lois began to pull back, and he suddenly noticed the alarms coming from the monitors by his bed.
"I'm okay," he said, letting Lois go, even though he wasn't quite ready to do so.
"Something reminded you of that place, didn't it?" Lois asked.
He nodded silently before looking at Dr. Klein.
"How bad is it?" Kal asked after a moment.
Klein sighed, but true to form, answered as best he could.
All the while Lois held his hand.
O o O o O
"General Newcomb," the nurse said, before stepping aside while holding the door open for him.
He nodded his thanks and entered the quiet but brightly lit room. He closed the door behind him. He was admittedly tired, but there was something he needed to talk to Clark about now that he had woken that morning.
"Hey, Burton," Kal said, looking at him from the bed with his one good eye.
Burton quickly took in his appearance.
Clark no longer had any bruises or marks on his arms or torso, and, other than needing a few extra pounds, his body looked to be in top shape. His face though. . . . His eye. . . .
/As bad as it looks, it doesn't hurt/ Clark thought tiredly to him.
Burton nodded and approached the bed. He passively felt Kal's aura and was relieved to find it at ease, although it did seem tinged with . . . age?
/Lois went out to get dinner and to update my parents,/ he said, continuing to use telepathy.
Burton didn't blame him. The ebony marks on his face might not hurt, but he doubted talking with them was comfortable.
"Okay, and just so you know, I've asked for privacy and placed some detectors. We won't be overheard without being forewarned," Burton said, taking a seat in the chair Lois no doubt had been using earlier.
/That's good. I have my aura up, but –/
"It's good to keep the habit of caution," Burton approved.
Clark tried to smile, though most of his face remained stubbornly fixed. "Right."
"I'm sorry we weren't able to get you out sooner and without . . . complications."
/I'm just glad I'm out of there,/ Clark said. /How is Daniels? Ta'peel had touched him./
"He's in the burn unit at the opposite end of the hospital. He's doing well, just got out of surgery. His forearm required a skin graft. He'll be in a sling for a while but that's the worst of it," Burton said confidently before adding, "He wanted me to thank you for what you did for him."
/He helped me too. After realizing what Ta'peel had done to me, I was a little afraid that Daniels. . . . Well, I'm glad he's okay,/ Clark said.
Burton nodded his understanding.
/What about the others?/ he asked.
"Some burns and broken bones, but nothing life threatening," he quickly assured.
Kal nodded, relieved, but then his aura grew hesitant. /Civilian casualties?/
Burton straightened in his chair.
"We are still gathering reports, but I feel I can confidently say astonishingly few. Suspiciously few. It’s . . . When the numbers first began to come in, I didn’t believe them, but as more have been verified. . . . The last tally for the 11 attacks was 324 injured, zero deaths."
"What? How?" Kal breathed, shakily sitting up, confused and afraid to hope.
"I've reviewed footage of some of their attacks, and it appears they were very specific in what and how they made their assaults. From what I could see, their main goal was to practice the abilities, not do the most possible amount of damage. They enjoyed the terror they induced, no question, but they limited themselves to doing specific forms of flashy destruction that scared people but did minimal collateral damage. It was only Wednesday morning, the time of your rescue, when things became notably violent, but we had a means of defense and essentially drove Ta’peel away. But anyway, I have a theory, though there's no way to verify it."
/They didn’t want to damage the future feast,/ Kal slowly supplied, looking ill.
Burton nodded. "Their evil depravity, in this case, was a blessing to us."
Kal eased back down, and Burton gave him a moment before continuing.
"I'm glad to see you awake and improving. Unfortunately, I'm not just here to see how you are. I need to update you on something else." He shifted in the chair.
Kal stilled. /Is this about the weapons?/
Burton looked relieved that he understood and leaned forward.
"Yes. I didn't want you to be surprised when the U.N. began discussing them," he said. "Due to recent events, I think it's clear precautions must be in place worldwide for outside threats."
Clark nodded gravely.
"While I don't like the idea of the world knowing how to hurt you, I don't feel this is as sensitive as it would have been a few years ago," Burton said.
/I agree. However, I doubt my parents or Lois will feel the same,/ he admitted. /Part of me is surprised it's taken this long, though./
"I understand. Well, the logistics of relocating you to the Foundation is in the works and I suspect it'll happen some time tomorrow," Burton assured.
"Thanks," he said.
"Before I go, is there anything I can do for you?" he asked.
/This might sound weird, but Lois gave me the idea. Could you grip my shoulder?/
"Sure, but why?" Burton asked.
He swallowed, and Burton felt unease and slight embarrassment creep into his aura. /I think it'll help me./
Burton straightened, suddenly understanding.
"You want to get used to hands not hurting you," he said softly.
Clark nodded, relieved that his mentor really understood. /I think if I don't address it immediately, it could sneak up on me, and I can't afford to be surprised. When my strength returns. . . ./
"I'm confident you'll overcome this," Burton said, standing up before firmly gripping Clark's bare shoulder with his wide, strong hand. "Just as sure as I was when I told you that you would do greater things after the Air Force."
Clark's aura ebbed with gratitude as he took a slow breath. In the silence, he allowed himself to focus on Burton's hand, wordlessly reminding himself of everything this man had given him.
Not all hands took.
O o O o O
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