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The Brave and the Bold
Batman & Doctor Mid-Nite
Times Past, 1942
Death Has Many Doorsby HarveyKent
Chapter 1
It was a bleak evening in October as Dr. Charles McNider sat in his study, listening to the radio. America had been embroiled in World War Two for nearly a year now, and Dr. McNider was fully involved in the conflict in both of his identities. As Dr. McNider, he provided medical consultation to all branches of the Armed Services. As Dr. Mid-Nite, member of the Justice Society of America, he fought to keep America's home front safe from the menaces conventional law enforcement were unequipped to deal with.
Dr. McNider was listening to a news broadcast; half-listening, really, as he pored over a paper on tropical diseases submitted by the U.S. Army for his consideration. As McNider pretended to be completely blind, the paper was in braille. McNider studied the report, with the news broadcast in the background. Suddenly, the broadcast had McNider's full attention.
"Colonel Martin Cripps, chief medical officer at Fort Meade, Maryland, passed away in his sleep last night. Colonel Cripps served his country for forty years, and is deeply mourned. General Whitlock, commander of Fort Meade, has stated that he will announce the new chief medical officer at a press conference Monday."
McNider switched off the radio. Colonel Cripps, dead? He was an old family friend. He had gone to medical school with McNider's father. McNider couldn't believe he was gone. Passed away in his sleep? It didn't seem likely. It had been some months since McNider had seen Cripps last, but he had seemed in excellent health. If there were some question about Cripps' death, it would not have been in a regular news broadcast; the Army would be investigating it themselves, keeping it mum. McNider decided he would look into the situation the very next day.
"General Whitlock? Dr. Charles McNider here. I heard about Colonel Cripps."
"Yes, tragic. He was a good man and an excellent physician. I'm truly saddened by his loss."
"I don't know if you're aware, General, but the Colonel was an old friend of mine. Went to medical school with my father. I wondered if there were anything I could do."
"An old friend, was he? I didn't know. Well, don't worry, Dr. McNider, everything is being handled."
"Handled? What, exactly, is there to handle?"
"Eh? Why -- funeral arrangements, and all that. You know. I'm certain you'll be made aware of the particulars. I know you'll want to attend. Er, please excuse me, Doctor. There is still a war on, and I have a lot on my plate today."
"Yes, of course. Goodbye, General."
McNider frowned as he hung up the phone. The General had let it slip that something needed "handling". So there are some loose ends connected to Colonel Cripps' death. Well, if General Whitlock didn't feel comfortable discussing them with Dr. Charles McNider, perhaps he will be more apt to confide in Dr. Mid-Nite.
Chapter 2
"Yes, may I help -- oh!" The WAC secretary gasped as she looked up and saw that the man standing before her desk was a famous member of the JSA.
"I am Dr. Mid-Nite," he told her. "I'd like to see General Whitlock, if he is available."
"I -- of course! Yes! One moment, please," the star-struck WAC stammered, before pressing the button on her intercom. "General Whitlock, there's a -- I mean -- Dr. Mid-Nite is here to see you!"
"Send him in," the General said, without hesitation or, apparently, surprise.
"Thank you," Dr. Mid-Nite smiled to the WAC, as he approached the door to General Whitlock's office. When he opened it, however, Mid-Nite got a surprise as big as the WAC's.
"You see, you're the second mystery-man to pay me a visit today," General Whitlock said to Dr. Mid-Nite. "At least you had the courtesy to use the door."
"Hello, Doctor," Batman said affably. "It's been awhile."
"The last All-Star Squadron general meeting, I believe," Dr. Mid-Nite said, recovering from the surprise. "I won't bother to ask what brings you here, Batman; I suspect your reason is the same as mine."
"Colonel Cripps," General Whitlock said. "I don't know what was in that radio broadcast to put you long-john boys on the trail, but frankly I can use the help." Just then, the General's phone rang. He picked it up, spoke his name into it, listened, then put it down. "Excuse me a moment, gentlemen. Duty calls. I'll be right back."
The General left his office, giving Batman and Dr. Mid-Nite freedom to speak.
"So what was it about Cripps' death that seemed odd to you, Batman?" Dr. Mid-Nite asked.
"Nothing at first," Batman admitted. "He's an old friend of mine. My father went to medical school with him. But when I phoned to inquire about his death, General Whitlock's dodgy attitude sent up a red flag."
Dr. Mid-Nite gaped a bit. "Your father? Wait; was he Dr. Thomas Wayne?"
"Why, yes," Batman said. "How did you know?"
"My father was in that medical class, too," Dr. Mid-Nite said. "Matthew McNider."
"McNider, of course!" Batman exclaimed. "And I never made the connection! Some 'world's greatest detective' I am!"
"Well, you had no reason to make a connection," Mid-Nite said. "So what did General Whitlock tell you about Colonel Cripps?"
Batman's expression became grim. "First of all, the Colonel's death seemed to be from natural causes."
Mid-Nite raised an eyebrow under his mask. "Seemed to be? Wasn't there an autopsy done?"
"I'm coming to that," Batman said. "Before an autopsy could be done, Cripps' body was stolen from the base hospital."
Chapter 3
Mid-Nite did a double take. "Stolen? How? Why?"
"In that order: Yes, I don't know, and I don't know," Batman quipped. "When his body was found in his bed, it was immediately taken to the morgue area of the base hospital. Two hours later, when the on-duty physician went to examine it, it was gone. Poof."
"From a guarded military base? In wartime?"
"Perhaps they thought there were areas that required more intense guarding than a roomful of corpses," Batman pointed out.
"I see what you mean," Dr. Mid-Nite admitted. "Who would want to steal a corpse, though? This isn't nineteenth-century London, for crying out loud."
"No, I doubt John Gray is behind it," Batman extended the metaphor. "I suspect it's someone who held a strong grudge against Cripps. So strong, mere death wasn't enough."
"You mean they took the body to -- oh, that's sick," Mid-Nite commented.
"I agree," Batman said. "How close were you to Cripps? Did he ever mention any enemies?"
"I wasn't all that close to him," Mid-Nite said. "He was just an old friend of my father's. I hadn't seen him in months."
"Me neither," Batman said. "The last time I saw him was just about a month ago, at Dan Knowles' funeral."
"I remember," Mid-Nite said. "He was another of Dad's classmates. I missed the funeral because I was in Norway on a JSA mission. I--"
Silence fell on the General's office for a moment. Dr. Mid-Nite broke it.
"Batman, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"I probably am," Batman said. "I'm thinking that two members of our fathers' medical school class dying within a month of each other may be more than coincidence."
"But Knowles' body wasn't stolen," Mid-Nite pointed out. After a moment, he added, "Was it?"
"I wouldn't have thought so," Batman said. "Now, I'm not so sure. Tell you what: why don't we split up. I'll visit Knowles' grave and make sure he sleeps with kings and councillors."
"Okay," Mid-Nite said. "I'll do some checking, find out what other members of the class are unaccounted for. Where and when shall we meet?"
"Do you know the Aragon Diner?" Batman asked. "I use it as a meeting-place sometimes. Informants, and such."
"I think so; corner of 10th and Orange?" Mid-Nite asked.
"That's the one. Meet me there at eleven-thirty, in civilian clothes."
Mid-Nite smiled. "Not at midnight?"
Batman returned the smile grimly, then shook Mid-Nite's hand and left by the window. Dr. Mid-Nite walked out the door, and after granting the star-struck secretary an autograph, left the base.
Chapter 4
At eleven-thirty on the dot, Charles McNider walked into the Aragon Diner. It was a small place, but clean. It seemed empty at the moment; apart from the counterman, a short squat fellow with very hairy forearms, the only other person in the place was a Chinaman in the uniform of a hospital porter, probably on his break from a late shift at the nearby hospital.
"What'll it be, fella?" the counterman asked McNider.
McNider hadn't planned on ordering, but who knew how long it would be until Batman arrived? "Well, let's see. I guess I'll have a glass of milk and a hamburger, no onions, please."
"No such thing," the counterman replied.
"I beg your pardon?" McNider asked, confused.
"No such thing," the counterman repeated. "Hamburger is chopped steak with onions. Chopped steak without onions is salisbury. You want hamburger or salisbury?"
"Salisbury, please," McNider said. The counterman nodded, and turned away to make it.
"The peach pie is very good here," McNider heard Batman's familiar voice. He turned, but there was no one new in the diner. The only other patron was the Chinaman.
"Batman?" McNider whispered, staring at the Chinaman through his infra-red glasses.
"Not so loud," the "Chinaman" whispered. "My disguise fooled you, eh?"
"I'll say," McNider said, impressed, as he walked over to Batman's counter. "What'd you find?"
"An empty box," Batman said. "The coffin buried in Dan Knowles' grave is minus one corpus delicti. You?"
"Apart from Knowles and Cripps, there were three other men in our fathers' medical class. Two of them died within the last six months."
Batman nodded. "And the third?"
"Dr. Thornton Blake, Cincinnati, Ohio," McNider said. "You know, Batman, I just had a very disturbing thought."
"What's that?"
"Well, if some grudge-holding madman is not only killing the members of our fathers' medical school class but also stealing their bodies..." McNider wasn't sure he wanted to finish his thought, but there was no turning back now. "...can we be sure our fathers' bodies are in their graves?"
Through the disguise, McNider saw Batman's eyes suddenly narrow. Batman did not move, but McNider heard a sound, something very much like metal bending.
"Batman? What do you say we head to Ohio? At this point it's safe to assume Blake is either the one behind it, or the next victim."
"I think a short plane ride would do us both a world of good," Batman replied. Very slowly and deliberately, he lifted a spoonful of soup to his lips. McNider glanced at the ruined napkin dispenser.
Chapter 5
Three hours later, the Batplane landed at a small airfield west of Cincinnati. Batman and Dr. Mid-Nite acquired a hangar for the specially-built plane, and commandeered a private car to drive to Dr. Blake's home. They arrived just in time to see the body being loaded into a hearse bearing the legend ASHTON FUNERAL HOME.
"Well, that's the last of them," Mid-Nite said, watching the hearse pull away. "I guess I know what our next move is."
"Right," Batman said. "Stake out the funeral home, wait for any body-snatchers. I don't mind telling you, Mid-Nite; I'm supposed to be the terrifying creature of the night, but this case is giving me the willies."
"Me, too," Mid-Nite admitted. "And I work with a ghost, a sorcerer, and a reincarnated Egyptian prince on a regular basis."
***
Later that night, Ashton Funeral Home in downtown Cincinnati was dark and deserted. The owner and proprietor, Clark Ashton, had closed up and went home hours earlier. Cincinnati was not the bustling twenty-four hour city that New York, Metropolis, and Gotham were; the streets were dark and virtually deserted. No one noticed five men in overcoats and slouch hats ambling furtively through the rear alleyways of the street, approaching the back entrance of Ashton Funeral Home.
No one, that is, except the caped figure perched atop the department store across the street. Dr. Mid-Nite huddled in the shadow of the rooftop entrance; in this deeper pocket of darkness, he was invisible to most eyes, although the nighttime street was as brightest day to him. He saw the five men approaching the funeral home, picked up a large walkie-talkie device, and spoke into it.
"Owl to Bat. Customers approaching by rear. Five. Almost at your door."
"Roger, Owl," Batman's voice came through the walkie-talkie. "I'll be ready for them."
"Try to save me a couple," Mid-Nite quipped. "I'll be there in three minutes."
Chapter 6
It actually took Dr. Mid-Nite four minutes to leap from the third-story roof to the awning and from there to the street, run across the street, and dash into the funeral parlor. He fully expected to see Batman standing over the unconscious bodies of five intruders. What he saw was two intruders holding Batman by the arms while a third punched him in the stomach. To Batman's credit, he barely winced as the blow struck. The other two intruders were hauling a corpse, presumably Blake's, from its drawer.
"Hold it!" Mid-Nite shouted impulsively, and quickly realized how stupid that was. He noticed that the intruders all wore full-face masks under their hats. He threw down a blackout bomb, and instantly the room was plunged into total darkness. The intruders stopped assaulting Batman, confused by the abrupt plunge into darkness. Batman took advantage of the confusion to twist free of their grasp.
Mid-Nite made for the one who had been hitting Batman, and delivered a solid punch with all his strength behind it to the man's temple. Mid-Nite figured these men must be very strong, to get the upper hand of Batman. His punch connected with so much force, he felt the sting through his gloves. The intruder did not even flinch. He then lashed out with his right hand, striking blindly in the dark. Mid-Nite ducked the blow.
He saw Batman pick up a chair and lash out at one of the men with all his strength. The chair splintered against the man's arm and shoulder; he did not even flinch. Mid-Nite briefly wondered how that was medically possible, before he joined the battle.
In minutes, the battle was over, and the intruders gone. Batman and Dr. Mid-Nite lay in corners of the room, dazed and barely conscious.
Chapter 7
Batman was the first to awaken, and he helped Dr. Mid-Nite to consciousness. The blackout bomb's effects had long since cleared, and the room was dimly lit by the street lamps outside the window.
"My aching head," Dr. Mid-Nite complained. "I may have sustained a mild concussion. Batman -- what the devil were those things?"
"I don't know," Batman admitted. "I haven't fought the likes of them since Hugo Strange's monster-men. I hit them as hard as I could and they didn't seem to feel a thing."
"Hugo Strange? Do you think he's behind this?"
"Doubtful; I watched him fall to his death," Batman said. "But we should be able to find out who is behind it very soon."
"What do you mean?"
"During the fight I managed to plant a radio tracker on one of them. It wasn't hard; since they couldn't feel a chair broken on their shoulders, they probably couldn't feel an object the size of a package of cigarettes being slipped into their coat pocket, either."
"What happens if they find the tracker before we find them?"
"We'll just have to be ready for a trap, that's all," Batman said. "Say... what's that, on the floor?"
Dr. Mid-Nite looked where Batman was pointing, and saw a small shiny object lying in the dust.
"It looks like a ring," Dr. Mid-Nite said, moving to pick it up. "They usually keep morgues pretty clean, so I doubt very much if it was here before. I'll bet it came off one of the men during the fight."
Mid-Nite showed it to Batman. He watched his friend suddenly stiffen, become very tense. Batman stared at the ring as if it were some sort of unholy sigil.
"Batman? What's wrong?" Mid-Nite asked.
Batman was silent for a long moment, and when he finally spoke it was in hushed, sepulchral tones. "That is my father's wedding ring. He was buried with it."
Chapter 8
When Batman and Dr. Mid-Nite reached the radio signal finder in the Batplane, the signal was very weak. The intruders had gone a long distance away, which probably meant they too were travelling by plane. The heroes took to the air and followed the beam, and it grew stronger as the distance between them closed. After awhile the signal locked direction and grew steadily stronger and stronger, which probably meant that their quarry had arrived at their destination. Dr. Mid-Nite calculated the distance and direction, and concluded that the men were somewhere in Rhode Island.
Batman was grimly silent the entire trip. Mid-Nite understood why. It had been the murder of Bruce Wayne's parents that had driven him to become the Batman. To learn that his father's grave had been violated was understandably enraging to him. Mid-Nite realized that his own father's grave had probably been vandalized also, but somehow it did not inspire the same rage in him that it did in Batman. Probably because his father had died peacefully of natural causes. But, of course, Mid-Nite still wanted to see the criminals punished.
Chapter 9
The signal led the heroes to an old house in Rhode Island, seemingly deserted from the outside. Batman put the plane down five miles away in an empty field, and he and Mid-Nite went the rest of the way on foot. The house was dark, but of course this presented no problem to Dr. Mid-Nite.
"I don't see anything through the windows," he whispered to Batman. "Of course, they're so dirty my night-vision isn't much help. The place doesn't look like anyone's lived in it in years."
"This is where the radio tracker is," Batman whispered back. "Either our men are in there, or it's a trap. Or both. Come on."
The two heroes moved around to the back of the house. As they cautiously approached the back door, however, it suddenly swung wide open, and they found themselves staring into the barrels of three rifles.
"Do come in," someone said, in a strong German accent.
Chapter 10
The captive heroes were ushered into a small room, where a blond man in Luftwaffe uniform awaited them. He smiled with unconcealed glee at the sight of his captives.
"Ah, Herr Fledermaus!" he cackled. "So good to see you again! It has been too long! And you, Herr Doktor Mitternacht, is it not? We have not had the pleasure. I am Helmut Streicher!"
"Batman, you know this nutsy Nazi?" Dr. Mid-Nite asked.
"We've met," Batman said. "Flash, Green Lantern and I fought him in Scotland, in the case that gave birth to the Justice Society."
"And you were defeated in that battle," Streicher added. "Had the thrice-damned Doktor Schicksel not rescued you -- but that is another matter for another day. So good of you to drop in on my newest endeavor for the Thousand-Year Reich."
"Robbing graves?" Dr. Mid-Nite asked. "Killing innocent doctors?"
"Hardly that, Herr Doktor," Streicher said. "Come, and meet the Third Reich's newest ally. I'm certain he, a fellow medical man, can explain it better than I can."
At gunpoint, the heroes were led down a flight of stairs to the basement. It had been converted into a medical laboratory, and Dr. Mid-Nite marveled at the expanse of equipment. Near the center of the room was a strange-looking device, a large sphere of glass that housed a glowing filament of energy that bathed the room in an eerie purple light. Batman noticed their five opponents from Ohio standing against one wall. A small, frail-looking man in a laboratory coat labored over a body on a metal table, presumably the body they had stolen from the morgue in Ohio.
"Herr Doktor West," Streicher said, "we have company. Please come and greet them."
"Streicher," the little man said wearily, "I have told you time and again that I am not a doctor. The narrow-minded fools in my country who control the licensing procedure for medical practitioners--"
"Yes, Herr West, I know," Streicher cut him off. "But come and meet our distinguished guests."
Dr. Mid-Nite suppressed a gasp. West? His father had mentioned to him a couple of times about a student in his medical school class named West. He hadn't graduated; he had been expelled from the school. When young Charles had asked his father why, the elder McNider had awkwardly changed the subject.
The little man strode up to the captive heroes, and peered at them through thick glasses like he was examining specimens.
"Are these the genuine Batman and Dr. Mid-Nite?" he asked Streicher. "I have, of course, heard of them."
"None other," Streicher said proudly. "Gentlemen, I present to you Mr. Herbert West, the man who will win the war for the Third Reich."
Chapter 11
"You're an American," Batman said to West. "How can you aid the Nazis? Where is your loyalty?"
"Loyalty?" West spat the word. "In medical school, I wanted to bring new hope to the ill. I wanted to wipe out the fear of death forever. What was my repayment? Ridicule, scorn, and finally dismissal. I was denied a license to practice medicine, simply because I refused to parrot what my instructors said and preferred to explore new paths. So what loyalty do I owe America, or anyone?"
"Wipe out the fear of death?" Mid-Nite repeated. "What do you mean?"
"Simply that," West said. "I discovered a way to reverse the effects of death itself. To reanimate a dead body. It was this kind of experimentation that led to my dismissal from medical school. I continued my research in private, for years after my break with the medical community. Finally, I succeeded."
Batman and Dr. Mid-Nite both felt a cold horror creeping up their spines. Those men they fought in Ohio, that seemed to feel no pain... that dropped ring...
"By the time I had successfully completed my experiments," West continued, "my funds were depleted. And I had not solved every problem. In every case but one, the reanimated corpses were mindless hulks, capable of following simple instructions but no independent thought, no personality. I can solve this problem with further experimentation, but that will be costly. Herr Streicher has promised to supply me with everything I need."
"Think of it, gentlemen," Streicher said. "An army of soldiers who cannot die! As we all know, wars are won or lost because one side is able to kill the other side's soldiers more quickly and efficiently. With an army of soldiers who cannot be killed, Germany's victory is assured!"
"Of course, to secure funding and an ample supply of corpses for my experiments, we must convince Field Marshal Goering of its success," West added. "It amused me to use my old classmates from medical school, the ones who laughed at me, as test subjects. Two or three of them had already been many years dead, so they proved a bit difficult to animate; but plastic surgery does wonders these days, does it not?"
Dr. Mid-Nite could feel Batman's rage growing, standing next to him. His own outrage at the violation of his father's remains was mounting, as well.
"But now, we will have more than doddering old doctors to present to the Field Marshal as examples of Herr West's work," Streicher said evocatively. "Think how impressed he will be when we present him with two mighty members of the Justice Society of America as reanimated slaves!"
Chapter 12
Batman almost lost control of his rage then, and coiled to spring at Streicher. Dr. Mid-Nite restrained him with a warning hand on his arm; Batman regained his composure then.
"Tell me, West," Dr. Mid-Nite said. "Your experiments fascinate me. How were you able to do it? To reanimate the dead?"
"There are two components to my process," West said. Dr. Mid-Nite had correctly guessed that he would seize the chance to brag, after having been ridiculed so long. "First, my re-agent formula, which I inject directly into the heart. Second, the revita-rays, a discovery of my own; a combination of wavelengths of the electromagnetic spectrum, similar to those that first created life on this planet. The device you see there generates the waves."
"Interesting," Mid-Nite said sincerely. "And merely bathing in those rays does the trick?"
"At first, yes," West said. "Unfortunately, a constant supply of the revita-rays is needed to maintain animation. This isn't much of a problem, however; the rays seem to have no distance limits."
"You mean, the rays traveled from this laboratory, to empower your reanimated men all the way in Ohio and Washington?" Mid-Nite asked, genuinely astonished.
"Why not?" West shrugged. "The rays of the sun travel millions of miles. I do not know the range limits of the revita-rays, if any; that is something we will test in the field."
"Enough!" Streicher snapped. "This is not a medical symposium! It is time Herr Fledermaus and Doktor Mitternacht joined the ranks of the reanimated!"
Then, without warning, Batman struck with the speed of a cobra. In one fluid motion he drew a batarang and hurled it, with all his might, at the glass sphere of the revita-ray projector.
Chapter 13
Every breath in the room held as the batarang struck the glass... and bounced harmlessly off.
"Hah!" Streicher roared with laughter. "Stupid American! Did you think something so vital would be housed in ordinary glass? That is special shatter-resistant glass! It would take an explosion great enough to wreck this entire room to break it! But I must salute you for a valiant try. And now--"
Just then, the room was plunged into darkness. Dr. Mid-Nite had taken advantage of Streicher's gloating to palm a blackout bomb and hurl it to the floor. Batman was wearing a set of infra-red lenses Dr. Mid-Nite had given him, so the two heroes were equally efficient in the dark. They waded into the guards, throwing punches. One guard fired his rifle, and Streicher's voice barked out of the gloom.
"You fool! Do you want to destroy the equipment? Or worse, hit West? No gunfire until the lights come back on!"
But before Streicher even finished his rant, all the guards were unconscious. In the dark, Streicher felt Batman's mighty arms grasping his own and forcing them behind his back.
"West!" Streicher screamed in terror. "Help me! Your reanimations -- make them save me!"
Dr. Mid-Nite and Batman watched as the mindless monsters moved towards them through the darkness.
Chapter 14
Batman tensed as the reanimated men approached. Their faces were masked, presumably to hide their death-twisted features from Streicher and his soldiers; but Batman knew that his father was among them. Dr. Mid-Nite's, too.
"Mid-Nite," Batman hissed. "There's one way out of this. Can you dispel your blackout bomb?"
"I can," Mid-Nite said. He tossed a yellowish capsule to the floor. It dispelled a chemical spray that congealed the dark inky cloud into a sticky black film that coated much of everything in the room, but cleared the air and let light shine again.
Batman strode up to the advancing reanimations, and threw back his cowl. One of the mindless monster-men halted in mid-stride.
Dr. Mid-Nite mimicked Batman's action, exposing his face to the reanimations. Another stopped, staring at his features. Their fellows halted too, questioning their actions for the first time.
"What are you doing?" West demanded. "Get them! Kill them!"
The reanimations turned their heads to stare at West. Only their eyes showed through their masks, but pure hatred burned in them. They advanced on West, moving more rapidly than before.
"No!" West cried out in horror. "Stay back!"
Batman and Dr. Mid-Nite quickly replaced their masks. Two of the reanimations attacked Streicher and West, and the other three started wrecking the lab. Streicher, fearfully trying to escape his assailant, watched as one of them pulled a lever on the wall.
"No!" Streicher screamed. "The detonation switch!"
"Detonation?" Dr. Mid-Nite gasped.
"Sure, he's probably got the whole place wired," Batman said. "In case of discovery, so as not to leave any trace. Come on, we've got to get out of here!"
West had managed to escape his assailant and was fleeing for the door. Batman grabbed him and raced out of the room with him. Dr. Mid-Nite tried to pry Streicher away from the reanimation, but the dead man's grip was too strong. The monster-man waved Dr. Mid-Nite away, urging him to save himself. Mid-Nite decided to do so, and left a screaming Streicher to his fate.
Conclusion
Batman, carrying West, and Dr. Mid-Nite did not stop running until they heard the explosion. The entire house vaporized in the blast.
"Wow, that must have been some charge he had wired in there!" Mid-Nite said, impressed. "I guess you're right; he really didn't want to leave a trace."
"And the reanimated men have been put to rest," Batman said. "With the revita-ray generator destroyed, they'll die again; their bodies have probably been vaporized, as well."
"Batman... look at West!" Mid-Nite said in a trembling voice.
Batman looked down. West was sprawled on the ground, his eyes open and glazed over. Batman checked his pulse, his heartbeat.
"He's dead," Batman said.
"What happened to him?" Mid-Nite asked. "Fear?"
"I don't think so," Batman said. "His body is cold, much colder than it could already get."
"Wait a minute," Mid-Nite said. "He did say that his reanimations were mindless hulks... in every case but one."
"You don't think--" Batman began. He and Mid-Nite stared at West's body, then back at the burning ruin that once was a house, and a laboratory of madness.
Neither of them said a word on the long walk back to the Batplane.