<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;"><strong>WILLIAM "HARLEY" BURPLESON, BEING WHEELED INTO THE WARD AND PARKED IN BED 2</strong></span><br/><br/>The trauma surgeons had done all they could; Bill Burpleson would last the next few hours at least. Now it was up to B Ward to see if they could keep him alive for any longer than that. Too bad the Fat Man was handling his own emergency.<br/><br/><strong>"Doctor Harris? Bill Burpleson here to see you. Handle with care,"</strong>the men manhandling him into the ward announced to Mox. The orderlies pushed the fat one-legged biker into B Ward, without there being much chance to warn the inmates that they might want to look away. Surgical tubing stuck out of so many parts of him he looked like a chemistry experiment. Four IVs dripped blood, medication, glucose and saline into him as other tubes drained various wastes out into different bags. One tube hanging out of the swollen bandaged stump of his right thigh looked particularly grim. The orderlies arranged Burpleson and his vital plumbing in Bed 2.<br/><br/>The top half of his face was bandaged in gauze and hideously abraded and burnt, leaving only his mouth looking more or less normal. He could see out of holes in the gauze, but he was barely conscious anyway.<br/><br/><strong>"Whaddafuck... whasappeningdoc?"</strong>the large human mass of plaster casts, bandages and tubing groaned.<br/>