Astounding Superman #001

Clark was flying through the air, as close as one could get anyway; he sat with his head out the window, letting the wind ravage his thick black hair. They had gotten away with it; four high school boys had snuck into Mister Hunt's barn and lifted the exquisite electric blue corvette they were now careening over the countryside in.

"It's just a little joyride." Bruno said when he ripped off the white tarp unveiling the machine. "Besides," he said with a grin, "That old geezer won't know a thing. We'll leave it right where we found it."

Clark was reluctant at first, but these guys were the first friends he had in a while. Most of the other kids didn't like him; he almost killed Jeremy Benson in the fourth grade, after that he spent his days by himself reading, or helping his dad on the farm. He wasn't going to get back into sports after that, but even after he stopped playing football they were still wary of his physical presence. He remembered shaking the dean's hand when he graduated eighth grade, and seeing the man holding back tears the rest of the ceremony. He tried to keep a lid on his strength, but he regularly had to come home with a note for detention, and a bill for opening his locker too roughly.

"Just like a bull in a china shop." His dad would laugh; but Clark hated it. Always feeling out of control, he wouldn't allow himself to relax for a minute during gym in case he put another boy in the hospital for three weeks. He felt like a monster half of the time and that is when Bruno had found him.

He invited Clark to sit with his gang at lunch one day; both had been in the same Boy Scout troop when they were younger. Bruno remembered stories about the football game years ago involving the Kent kid, and he thought it would be of interest to check him out.

Clark was over the moon, he had people who sat with him and didn't cringe when he waved or got too close. They were a little rough around the edges sometimes, but he decided that if people were going to talk to him he would grin and bear it.

Kent could smell the telltale signs of smoke on her boy's jacket and she didn't like the hungry eyes of that Bruno boy when he came around the farm. But she knew that they would have to let him make his own decisions, they raised him right. Ultimately she knew he was a good boy. She didn't think twice when she heard the car zooming past the farm so late at night. And the hoot and holler of boys being boys was carried elsewhere by the wind.

"Ugh" Bruno grunted, he had cut a turn to sharply, and he could feel the vehicle tipping over. He caught a glance at Clark, whose eyes had already registered the horror that was about to unfold and looked at Bruno with an expression that pleaded with him to fix it.

But it was too late; they were rolling down the side of the hill. Chuckie and Hue were bouncing around like bowling pins getting hit head on by a ball. As quickly as it happened, it was over. Bruno checked his face in the mirror; there were some scratches but nothing too serious. Hue was groaning in the backseat. Clark was shivering in the front, he was shouting words, but they didn't register.

Oh well.

He unbuckled and slid out, having to move acrobatically because the wreck was tipped onto its side. "That was a nice care."

Clark was already outside, "Bruno, help! The car is pinned on Chuckie!"

He looked over and saw Chuckie unconscious with two tons of Mercedes pinning him down. He didn't look dead, but he was pretty limp. Hue was already running down the road.

"Clark, take care of this. I'm going home." He dusted off his shirt and lit a cigarette.

"We can't leave him here!"

"Well, when the cops come. I won't be around to answer their questions. It's done, Kent. Mass is over. I'm out of here."

Clark watched his friend leave walking down the road and pocketing the cigarette when it was down to the stump.

"So the cops can't get anything." Clark whispered to himself, quoting Bruno from earlier when he showed him that trick.

He was alone now, with the limp body of Chuckie at his feet. He grunted and struggled to lift the car, he could feel his muscles shake and burn but he had the part pinning Chuckie to the ground up enough for someone to drag Chuckie out of harm's way. But both of those cowards had run away.

Oh god, I'm going to drop this on him I can't lift it anymore.

Before he could give up though, a voice called out from above the ridge where they crashed through the guardrail, "Is anyone hurt down there?"

Clark shouted, "Yes! Please help I can't hold this much longer!"

He waited what felt like an eternity, but was only a few moments. He saw the figure pull Chuckie out of the way and finally, when all the strength seemed to have run out Clark dropped the car and panted on the ground.

"So, that's where my car went." Clark looked up and saw the familiar face of farmer Olson; lines were etched deep into his face. He was the town's angry alcoholic old man that could be seen most nights under the dim lights of the local tavern.

"Clean up the kid, make sure he is breathing. We are going to get our story straight for the police. Clark, listen to me carefully…"

"Of course, Clark, I may not have told the cops, but your parent's should be waiting for you inside."

"Right. Thanks again, Mister Hunt…I just wanted to say I'm Sor..."

"Isn't anything to be sorry for. Just be at my farm early Monday. You will be working it off."

With that Clark mumbled more apologies and faced the longest walk to the front door of his home in his life. His stomach flipped and churned. He wasn't sure what his parents were going to say, but he wasn't expecting what his father did say at all.

"Son, we love you more than anything… But, we know you have questions. We believe it is time to tell you were you come from."