Chapter 22:
Now That’s What I Call a Bleach Job!
Downstairs, the
four Backstreet Boys were met by a frazzled-looking Dr. Flue, who had eyed them
suspiciously, wondering how they had known to come. After Nick’s rambling explanation of Jedi
powers and The Force (with a little intervention from God), Dr. Flue sat them
all down to give them the usual grave talk about AJ’s condition.
“Your friend AJ’s
liver is shot,” she told them grimly.
“AJ was shot?!”
Nick gasped. “In the liver?!”
“No, no, he wasn’t
shot.
His liver is shot – ruined. It
was the alcohol. Your friend almost
drank himself to death tonight.”
The Boys exchanged
worried glances. “I-I-Is he going to
make it?” stammered Kevin, afraid to hear the answer.
“Not without a
liver transplant,” Dr. Flue replied. “We
need to begin the search for a donor. If
one isn’t found soon… AJ will die.”
A collective round
of gasps went around the room, as the four bandmates exchanged looks of horror.
“Oh no,” Brian moaned softly,
squeezing his eyes shut. He bowed his
head, clasped his hands, and began to pray silently. “Lord…
please don’t take AJ away from us.
Please, let us find a donor so that AJ can get a new liver and live!”
And then, to his astonishment, he
heard a voice in his head. “Help him, O B-Rok… you’re his only hope.”
“Me?” Brian said out loud, and the
others looked over at him.
“You what?” asked Nick.
“I… I’m AJ’s only hope… that must mean
I’m destined to be his donor!” Brian cried, leaping out of his seat with this
revelation. He glanced heavenward. “It’s a big sacrifice to make… but AJ’s like
my brother. For him, I would do anything!” And with that, he fled the room and ran out
into the hall, nearly colliding with Chacha, the disgruntled janitor. “Oh, I’m sorry mi-“ Brian started to
apologize, but then stopped, staring at Chacha with dawning realization. “Hey… you’re a janitor here, aren’t you?”
“I prefer housekeeping employee… or
custodial technician, if you wanna get fancy.
But basically… yeah, I’m a janitor.
What’s it to you?” snapped Chacha.
“You think you could get me a bottle
of bleach? Or any other powerful
cleaning agent that would be fatal if ingested, as well as burning a person’s
esophagus and causing as much pain as possible?” Brian requested calmly.
“Oh… sure!” said Chacha, disappearing
into a janitor’s closet and returning with a bottle of liquid Clorox Bleach. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” said Brian, uncapping the
bottle. “This is for you, AJ,” he
murmured, lifting the bottle to his lips.
“Cheers.” And with that, he
tipped the bottle back and began to chug its contents. The bleach burned like fire as it ran down
his throat, and immediately, he began to gasp and choke. The empty bottle fell from his hands as he
clutched his throat. He gagged, as the
fiery pain reached his stomach, and then he began to vomit.
Meanwhile, Kevin had just emerged from
the room where the Boys had been taken, and he was the first to witness Brian
writhing in agony. “Brian!” he screamed,
running toward the younger man. He saw
the bottle of bleach on the floor and the fountain of blood that was now
spurting from Brian’s mouth and put two and two together. “Brian!” he cried. “Why did you do it?!”
“A-AJ,” Brian choked, collapsing to
the ground.
“B-b-but… you’re my cousin,” Kevin
whimpered, his emerald green eyes filling with tears.
“It was… my… destiny,” gasped Brian,
and then he fell unconscious.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
howled Kevin like a wounded animal (even though most wounded animals don’t go
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”), as Nick and Howie came
running.
“What happened?!” they cried in horror
as they looked upon Brian’s motionless form.
“M-my cousin gave up his life… for
AJ,” whispered Kevin sadly.
Howie shook his head mournfully. “But why?
Why did he have to do it that
way?”
“He didn’t have to do it at all,” said a voice behind them. The three distraught men turned to find Dr.
Flue also gazing down at Brian, her forehead creased. “He didn’t give me a chance to tell you…
liver transplants don’t have to come from dead people!”
“Huh?” the three Backstreet Boys
exclaimed in unison.
“No,” Dr. Flue continued, shaking her
head, “the liver is able to regenerate.
All we would have had to do is take half of Brian’s liver and put it in
AJ’s body, and both halves would have grown into whole livers again. But… since he went and did this, we might as
well use the whole liver. Tricia!” A nurse came scurrying over. “Let’s get Mr. Littrell on life support and
off to the OR, as well as Mr. McLean We
have a liver transplant to do!”
If only they knew what was to come…
***
