The boy

  just laid there when they brought him in, someone had written on a "report". 

  "That guy's tweaking or something," a self-defined "frazzled Twinkie" told people who'd shown up at a County Jail looking for someone. 

  Within another forty-five minutes an ambulance was allowed access.  Gloves and swabs.  Packaged plastic tubing.  A chain of paperwork proving identity. 

  Neck braced.  Crying healthcare people. 

  It was one of the chemicals on a short list of stolen evidence.  "Get so-and-so on the phone.  Now please, and thank you."  

  "But how could that have happened?" The man re-cowered in a corner. 

  "Chemical warfare." 

  "Oh, they did?" On speaker phone so even a phone call could be witnessed and documented. 

  "Condition?" 

  "NanananaNOT good," the boy managed to say through clenched teeth. 

  "Is he conscious????" A Detective dropped the cellphone and bent over him.  "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me!!!!!" 

  The hand was frozen spastic.  "Doesn't count," a jail person said. 

  "Let's get him out of here!" 

  People with the stretcher noisely dropped the legs with wheels. 

  On the way to hospital, relay teams of people called out the names of people to locate.  Other teams of people analyzed "material":  unaccounted for; known to be missing; matches with symptoms of weapons used in "hot war" areas.  Medical people were also networking in secure conversations.  "Antidotes?" 

  "How long ago was it thrown at the person?" 

  The question pivoted some reporting to try and get the "backstory" on the case.