August 16, 0410h

	Leslie Thompkins pulled her surgical mask down as she stepped through the 
curtain.  Her exit was immediately met by the wordless, desperate stares of 
Dick's wife and son, still sitting practically against the curtain wall.  Leslie 
stripped off her gloves and brushed her hands self-consciously across her 
bloodstained scrubs.  She glanced across the warehouse floor to where Dinah and 
a few superhero types still waited.  They weren't her concern, but she was glad 
that Babs and Spud were not here alone.
	She cleared her throat.  "They're closing him up," she said, knowing that 
didn't answer any questions.  She sighed as her words were met only with 
silence. She took a few steps to grab one of the five gallon pails scattered 
around the operating theatre, then set it down and sat on it, facing Dick's 
family.
	"Barbara.  Spud.  He's hurt very badly.  There are three serious cuts - a 
stab at kidney level on his left side, then a slash starting just below that and 
cutting across his abdomen, then a bone deep slash the length of his left arm."  
Spud had seen that, of course, but Babs closed her eyes against Leslie's news.
	"How - what -?"
	"We've managed to isolate the obvious bleeders and stitch him back 
together as best we can - at least enough to stabilize him enough to move him.  
He's a mess, Barbara."
	"Chances?"  Leslie could tell Babs didn't want to ask but felt she had to.
	"Hey," she said gently, reaching out to touch Babs' hand.  "He's made it 
this far.  We're going to have to go back in at some point, keep an eye on him 
in case we've missed a vein that was cauterized and wasn't obviously bleeding.  
We didn't pay enough attention to the arm right now - low priority.  And we'll 
at least want to do some cosmetic restitching."  Leslie was so tired she wasn't 
sure she was making any sense.  "But right now, if you've got a way to move him, 
we should probably get him out of the warehouse before dawn."
	Babs nodded.  "The tunnels.  There's a cart."
	"I can get it," Dinah interrupted, coming up beside Babs and squeezing her 
friend's shoulder encouragingly.
	"A cart?" Leslie questioned uncertainly.
	"Like a golf cart," Dinah explained.  "We can get him back to the basement 
lair."
	"That's good," Leslie agreed, her eyes drifting down to the boy still 
hugging at Babs' leg.  "You doin' okay there, Spud?" she asked gently.
	Spud only stared at her - or rather through her in the direction of the 
opening in the curtain wall.  She laid a hand softly on his head for a moment, 
then stood.  
	"If you can get that cart soon, Dinah," she suggested, turning away from 
the haunted eyes of a little boy and hoping against hope that his father would 
live to see the dawn.