An Introduction into Earth-72
"The interesting place about history is, that if you dig deep enough- in the places you are not suppose to look, you'll find something else entirely. Things you didn't even know existed," said Jonathan Kent.
"Is that the way you believe Kansas is?" asked a younger woman, "is that why you believe we should have the Kansas Histortical Society—to learn forgotten things about our own state."
"Part of the reason, yes. Kansas has a very interesting history—I think we all share this belief, that is why we all elected to be apart of the Smallville chapter of the Kansas Historical Society. Kansas is now one of the safest places in the US, and multiple towns and cities in the state have been voted by numerous magazines as 'the best place to live.' But it wasn't always like this. We have an interesting history—we are the descendants of desperate, but dangerous people: exodusters, political refugees, people escaping a destroyed economic system, cowboys, and outlaws. We owe it to ourselves to continue to search for the past. These events from the past…..will shape the future."
"Mr. Kent, you said we must discover forgotten things- that is part of the reason why we are here. What was the other reason you had?" asked Lucy Lane.
"Curiosity," he said smiling, "alright- enough pontification. I am ready to eat."
The Kansas historical society met every Thursday at 7 PM, in the "Real China Buffet"- the only Taiwanese Restaurant in Midvale. The routine had gone on for about a year now. Mr. Jonathan Kent was a well-respected man around Midvale, Kansas. He had worked as a social worker, and supplemented himself as a farmer for over thirty years. He was well-respected in the community. From years of working and wise investment he had finally been able to retire. After his retirement from a lifetime of self-less service, he had time for another passion: history.
Jonathan Kent started the Midvale chapter of the Kansas Historical Society, he put money into founding it, and worked to establish its priorities and schedule its events. For a subject that was not normally founding to be exciting, people were attracted to Jonathan and his passion. With the new interest, in the Kansas Historical Society, and it's now known timeline and location, more people in the community started attending the events. Many people in the town knew Jonathan Kent, but those closest to him also knew that he was a very private person. Jonathan Kent had been married to his Martha for over thirty years, but to their despair, they had never had any children. Being private people, this matter remained private, and no one knew how much their hearts were broken.
Midvale also knew that he was not gifted with technological abilities. He had no computer, and was largely ignorant of social media. If he had been more savvy, he would have prevented his picture and the times for their meetings from being posted. He would have felt uncomfortable about this, because now it was no longer just Midvale who knew about the meeting, but the entire world.
But the entire world did not come tonight. Horrible weather had kept most members in today. Only Lucy Lane met him today at the restaurant. He had talked briefly, but overall they both felt uncomfortable. Mr. Kent was a very decent man, and did not want to give the impression that a man of his age was dating a girl in her earlier twenties. They both had gotten food from their buffet, and then quickly consumed their meal. They made small talk, but both were self-conscious the entire time.
"Well, that was good," said Lucy Lane.
"It always is."
"I've got to go get ready for work tomorrow, thanks again."
"No thank you! You keep this history stuff exciting!"
Lucy Lane left the restaurant, and Jonathan watched her leave. As soon as she opened the door, and went outside he took of his glasses, and pulled out an old tattered book.
"Bleeding Kansas: A True Tale of the West"
He sat in silence as he read. He enjoyed the company of Lucy Lane and the others in the chapter, but it was also nice to be alone in peace and quiet. Over thirty years of work he knew that it was hard. Living in a small town, in his line of work he knew so much history, so many things about people that he did not want to know. He looked around the restaurant. There was no one inside except for the waiters at the front desk, no one to remind him of the history that he did not want to remember. The weather had gotten worse since they had had their meeting.
Rain beat down hard against the glass of the restaurant. Midvale was submerged in rain, and traffic had died to a minimum. The teenagers who worked in the restaurant, who had a good reputation for their strong Protestant work-ethic now pulled out their smart phones, and play on them absent-mindedly. Jonathan Kent was old, hardworking man who was irritated when he saw the youth playing with their phones, but he, now with his glasses removed, could not see them from where he was. He could see very little.
He did not see the tall figure come in from the rain. The teenage girls at the front did, however did. They were in awe of him, he stood over six feet tall, and dressed like something from a heavy metal music video, with long dark hair that went to his shoulders, and dark eyes.
"The Kansas Historical Society?" asked the man. His voice was deep, which only added to their attraction for him.
"Back there, sir," said the waitress pointing to Jonathan , whose head was down reading, "that man right there."
"Thank you."
"So," said the waitresses working up the courage to flirt with the man, "are you interested in history?"
"Why, yes, I am. In fact, that's the reason why I am here."
"Do you want me to let him now you are coming?"
"No, I think I can take it from here."
The world outside of his book was fuzzy and distorted. He felt safe and relaxed. Something caught his attention, he looked up from his book. A large identifiable dark shape came towards him. He could not tell what it was, but somehow he knew it was for him. He reached for his glasses. Putting the spectacles to his face, the dark shape became a man.
"Mr. Jonathan Kent," said the man, still walking forward.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?"
"No, but we have a mutual…what's the word? 'Acquaintance," he said as he sat down at the booth directly across from Jonathan.
"Is that so? I'm sorry you've caught me a little off guard- who is this mutual acquaintance, and how can I help you?"
"Well, Mr. Kent, for someone who speaks so much, about their love of history, you seem to be forgetting your own. And as for the second part of that question- don't worry, I'm about to get to that."
"I don't think I do-"
"Is this your book, Mr. Kent?" he asked, while reaching across the table and picking up his book, "Bleeding Kansas: A True Tale of the West . This will not be news to a love of history like yourself, but some historians have said that acts against the railroads and banks, were not criminal acts, but act of unconventional warfare in another phase of the American Civil War. What do you say to that?"
"Like you said, boy, nothing you've said is new to me. You just have no appreciation for good manners."
"I don't really think manners matter that much-"
"They do, they make a statement all of their own-"
"Ah- a statement, yes! In your book, there are acts of violence, but that is not what it is about. There are acts of murder, but that is not what it is about. It is as you said, it is about a statement. Yes, that is what this is about. Making a statement is what unconventional ware is about."
"Boy, let me tell you something. You are not intimidating me at all. Now what statement do you wish to make?"
"Mr. Kent, you're confused this conversation is about a statement, yes, but not a statement that I have made, no. It's about a statement that you made, do you remember?"
The man brought his hands to the table, revealing two large hands covered in tactical gloves.
"It's been almost thirty years- do you remember your statement, now Old Man?"
Jonathan Kent face grew pale- the dark figure smiled as he remembered. Jonathan Kent looked across the table, felt for his concealed weapon in his suit.
"You see, I like to do research too."
Jonathan Kent always carried a weapon on him, but the restaurant had a sign with no weapons. Out-of-respect for the owners he had followed their request, and at the restaurant he never brought his weapon.
"And no, Mr. Kent, unlike you, I did not feel like honoring the owner's wishes."
Jonathan Kent slowly got up from the table. He threw on his old leather blazer, and pulled out a money clip from his pocket. The dark figure continued to talk to Jonathan, but he did not even acknowledge his voice, but continued to look through his bills.
"There, that pays for the meal, that pays for Dinah's courtesy as a waitress, and that," he said laying down another bill, "pays for the foul stench that disrupted this fine establishment."
He did not even look at the armed figure sitting in front of him, but walked towards the door.
"Mr. Kent," said Dinah, "you—"
She stopped in mid-sentence as she stared at the man. In an instant he seemed to be transformed from the burly, old man who she had grown accustomed to, to something strong, masculine, and surprisingly intimidating. She could tell that he knew she was intimidated, and he then smiled broadly.
"Now, Dinah, you take care. Be a good girl, and get home as fast as you can, okay?"
She stared at him, concerned for his response, but obediently she nodded in agreement. Instead of finding his tone condescending, she found it comforting.
"Yes, sir—"
He placed his hat on his head, and then walked out into the rain. The dark figure came up to Dinah, who stood in confused.
"Sir, Mr. Kent, I don't think he paid," said Dinah, "can you let him know?"
"I think you're mistaken, but don't worry, Dinah, I'm going to make him pay."
The words hung there in the air, and Dinah, stared in confusion on what he just said. The dark figure pulled a smart phone from his pocket, and with tactical gloves showing he stood in front of Dinah and texted. He then put the device back into his pocket, and walked out into the rain.
Jonathan went into the deluge, not running, but a quick pace. He quickly jumped into El Camino. He quickly checked the glove box.
It was empty.
He pulled out his cell phone from his pocket. It was a large phone, as he was not fond of new technology. He dialed a number, and then started his car.
"Curry, I don't know who they are- but whoever they are- they've done their research. Take care of what you've got to take care of. I think you and your boys might have some work cut out for you."
He peered out the window, seeing the dark figure walking out from the restaurant. Jonathan Kent started the car, and relayed the events to the other person on the other end of the phone. Still talking he drove onto the darkness. The weather and the archaic phone made the conversation difficult, and decreased his focus on the road. Drops of rain covering his glasses also made it difficult to see. He put the windshield wipers on their highest setting, but it did very little. He yelled into the phone trying to keep the other person informed, but now had to focus on the blinding rain in which he tried to drive.
The rain on his windshield built into a pattern.
Rain, windshield, rain.
Rain, winshield, rain.
Rain, windshield, breaklights!
Red brake-lights screamed into view, and he slammed onto his brakes. His vehicle slid on the dangerous combination of oil, and moisture. The El Camino slammed into the car in front of him. Jonathan Kent, not being a man to cuss, spewed multiple euphuisms to articulate his frustration. Understanding he had hit another vehicle, he rolled down his windows.
Cries came from the vehicle.
He paused briefly.
The cries were louder, loud and clearly a feminine voice.
Without thinking, he got out of his vehicle, and move toward the feminine cry.
"Ma'am, are you alright?"
The woman's voice cried out louder. He ran back to his car and grabbed his cell phone to call for help, and started running to the woman's direction.
"Ma'am," he cried as he ran towards her, "ma'am, I'm calling now—"
Suddenly he slammed forward, body prostrate on the road. Looking down toward his feet, he saw a man-hole cover open.
"What in tar-nation?"
He got to his knees, and began to grab the cover.
"You know, you're a pathetically predictable," the Dark figure came from the other side of the car, "just an old cowboy come to help out a damsel in distress-"
"I'm about to force you spend the next few months eating your meals out of a straw, and in doing so teach you some manners!"
Jonathan Kent stood up, fist clenched, and started to walk towards the dark figure.
Jonathan tried to move, but felt pressure on his ankle. Looking down below, there was a hand with black, distorted fingernails grabbing onto him!
With his free foot, he smashed into the hand, directly onto the fingers.
One blow, then two.
He could feel the break beneath the blows.
Two hands leapt from the darkness of the man-hole and latched on to one ankle. Viciously it twisted, and Jonathan screamed as he felt the tendons in his foot distorted, with his free he brought the back of his boot down in between the hands, and then after striking the top of the head, he thrust his free foot into what he assumed was the attacker's face.
The hands dropped from his broken ankle and onto his free foot. As they did so, Jonathan Kent wielded pocket knife from his trench coat, and dug the blade into a wrist, twisted, and then pulled back to deliver another blow. He swung down again, feeling the blade piercing something, but another pair of hands reached onto his hand. An immense weight and strength grabbed the blade. With his free foot, he kicked against the unseen attacker.
Jonathan Kent screamed out again, unseen hands reached up, grabbing his broken ankle, pulling him downward. In the agonizing pain, he felt his weapon drop from his hand. Both hands free, he grabbed onto either side of the man-hole cover, and pressed up, trying to keep from the pull down into the man-hole.
The dark figure came forward, picking up the man-hole cover.
"You can inflict pain, but you cannot force submission—"Jonathan interrupted himself with his own scream.
"Allow me to introduce myself, I am Mr. Steppenwolf. We have some old business that we must attend to. Old man, a long time ago- do you remember the statement you made?"
Jonathan cried out, this time more pitful.
"Yes, yes, I remember!"
Now, only from his sternum up remained above the man-hole.
"I remember my statement, and I have- I have something to tell you."
"And what is that old man?"
"I've got another statement coming."
"Really, and what is that?"
The social worker spat, a mixture of saliva, mint snuff, and hatred landed in the right eye of the Steppenwolf. The Steppenwolf smiled, and with his gloved fingers whipped the tobacco from his eyeball.
"Very well, you've made your statement, now we make ours."
Jonathan Kent though unyielding to Steppenwolf, could not hold back his screams of agony, as he felt his body being pulled into the man-hole. The dark figure grabbed the lid, patiently waited as Jonathan was pulled under. The dark figure, then placed the lid over the hole, and laughed at the last mortal efforts of Jonathan Kent.
Part I: The Walking Man
Chapter: Friends You Can Depend On
Social Media Message
From: Linda Lee
To: Father Leone
What do you do all day?
You have been asked to be present in the clothing room, and that is clearly not one of your priorities.
So I am curious, what do you do all day in that office of yours, Father Leone?
Multiple women have complained about the clothing room, and personally requested you to go down there, to make them feel safer.
This means nothing to you.
Social Media Message
From: Father Leone
To: Linda Lee
Linda Lee,
My apologies, I will be down their more often. I have been stuck doing some research on some old friends, and I will bring my work down with me. I have been stuck doing phone calls for a high school reunion, and talking to some parents of a teen.
I will make sure I am down there.
Social Media Message
From: Linda Lee
To: Father Leone
Ah, well if you're high school reunion has any impact on the real world, please let me know.
But, I don't it will have as much importance as security does.
Social Media Message
From: Father Leone
To: Linda Lee
Security?
Social Media Message
From: Linda Lee
To: Father Leone
Yes, security. You were asked to be there because of that homeless men that's been showing up. There are homeless men all over the town, and of course they are taking advantage of our charity, instead of getting jobs! The women asked you to be there, because they were making them uncomfortable, and you ignored them.
But if you can actual find purpose in a high school reunion, that's great, please let me know that goes! (That's sarcasm by the way….just in case you were too slow on the up-take!)
Social Media Friend Request – Hanna Henshaw to Father Leone
Social Media Message
From: Hanna Henshaw
To: Father Leone
Gavan, you do not know me, but we have a mutual friend in Linda Lee. I am her best friend, and I am concerned about her. If she is not practicing for her audition, we usually grab lunch, and since I've been in Midvale we have been inseperable. Recently, however, I have not seen her outside of her classroom, and I have not been able to talk to her. I know she goes to your church, and I wanted to see if she was okay. Have you seen her, has she said anything to you?
Social Media Message
From: Father Leone
To: Hanna Henshaw
I will check up on her.
No, I have not seen her in awhile, but, yes, she has definitely had some things to say to me.
Social Media Message
From: Hanna Henshaw
To: Father Leone
Does everthing seem okay to you? I've only seen glimpses of her at work, and she seems very off.
Please don't tell her I called you, but I am very concerned that something is wrong.
Again, PLEASE, don't tell her I contacted you about her, I would be embarrassed.
Social Media Message
From: Father Leone
To: Linda Lee
Linda Lee, I am very sorry I had not been diligent in be in the clothing room. I wanted to let you know that I have been very consistent in being in the clothing room. You were right! I definitely need to be in there. I also wanted to see how you were doing. I have seen glimpses of you at church, but you drop ninja smoke, and bounce out of there pretty quick. I know you are not a super-outgoing person, but you usually socialize with people at church, and I have not seen you do that in a few weeks.
Is everything okay?
Is something bothering you?
Social Media Message
From: Linda Lee
To: Father Leone
I'm so sorry for the way I responded to you. Yes, something was bothering me, when I wrote you. I went to drop of canned goods at the clothing room, and there was a homeless man, that made me very uncomfortable. He is a short, stocky man, with a dark tan complexion, and long, shoulder-length jet black hair. I have seen him before around town, and both times, he has stared at me in a really creepy manner! That was bothering me, I'm sorry. I had clothes I needed to drop off, and did not want to see him. Now that you are down there, I will bring the clothes in tomorrow.
Social Media Message
From: Father Leone
To: Linda Lee
Linda Lee, I have all your old clothes still in the box. Lois told me she looked through them, and felt very uncomfortable giving them away.
Are you sure you want to give those clothes away?
They look very expensive.
By the way…..what is the story behind the shirt that has a giant Viking with a cello that says "THIS IS MY TRAINING SHIRT"
Social Media Message
From: Linda Lee
To: Father Leone
What? That old thing?
That was a gift from an old friend. He had it customized for me. He said when you workout out, you need one really good "workout shirt", something loud and obnoxious, to show your confidence when you are training. He said I needed one for when I practiced the cello.
….he was a little conceited, because everyone said he looked like a Viking, so that was his way of putting a picture of himself on my t-shirt, but it was very sweet.
But it is old, just like the other items in the box. Please give them away, and do not ask me again.
(That sounds harsh, but I need to give those clothes away.)
Social Media Message
From: Father Leone
To: Linda Lee
Well, you should feel wanted! Your big box, that had "Linda Lee's clothes" written in permanent marker, we put it out in the clothing room, and someone picked them up within an hour of us dropping them off! Lois said, you actually had more to give away. She said you seemed a little sad. Is everything okay?
Social Media Message
From: Linda Lee
To: Father Leone
Great! I am glad someone found some good use for those old clothes!
And yes, I was not being completely truthful. That creepy guy does frighten me, but there was something else that was bothering me.
Some girl drama—I'm sorry.
Social Media Message
From: Father Leone
To: Linda Lee
I have helped many before, to include "girl drama"….as a matter of fact I would rather discuss that then the drama I am currently dealing with. My-son-is-attracted/obsessed-with-his-teacher-and-I-don't-know-what-to-about-it-drama, yeah, guess who gets to deal with that? But, if you don't want to talk to me, I would suggest your friend, Hanna Henshaw. She told me not to tell you this, but she contacted me to see if you were okay. If you can't talk to me, I understand, but think about sharing your burdens with her. I am sure she will help you to take of these things things from you.
Remember, it is good to have good friends.
Social Media Message
From: Linda Lee
To: Father Leone
I'm 2 for 2! Both days my clothing donation was picked up with an hour after it was finally dropped off! Unfortunately, I was not lucky in avoiding that creepy guy. After I talked to you, I left the building, and on my way out, I saw that creepy guy looking through an old church directory. He didn't see me, and I high-tailed it out of there, so I wouldn't have to endure that super-scary stare of his!
Surely you saw him this time, right?
Social Media Message
From: Father Leone
To: Linda Lee
No! I didn't see him! He must be scared of me, because he avoids me, LOL!
Social Media Message
From: Linda Lee Doolin
To: Father Leone
ROFL! Yeah he must be terrified! How are you always missing that guy? You know he's like a local celebrity, right? He is the most famous hobo in all of Madville. They have a nickname for him, "The Walking-Man." I like it, it's simple and catchy.
I have been so out of it! I talk to Hanna Henshawall the time, but I don't ever remember mentioning you to her.
She must have done a little bit of research, just to see how I was doing! How nice! You are right, it is good to have good friends, and I am glad to have Hanna Henshaw. Hanna Henshaw is out there watching out for me! I'm going to do what you suggested, and I will talk to her tomorrow!