Chapter 35: fallen
Stepping into the bullpen, Richard looks at his watch. Ten past nine pm… With Jason at Wayne Manor and Lois on a plane to Florida, he didn't feel like going back to their now empty house alone, deciding instead to spend the night in his office. Work is still waiting for him there anyway; at the eve of the shuttle launch with Superman on board, his entire international staff is in war footing already. Dragging his feet tiredly along the aisle, he suddenly notices that he's not alone; Jimmy is seated next to Lee's desk, listening to the Police radio with her and they both look concerned.
"Hey, what are you two doing here this late? Shouldn't you both be at home now? Tomorrow is the big day and Perry won't suffer any delays!" the assistant-editor says half jokingly as he lays his coat on a swivel chair nearby.
Jimmy turns to him. "Oh, Mister White! I thought you had left for the day a few hours ago."
"Well, I had to come back… Still have some work to do for tomorrow…" Richard answers quickly, not wanting to give away anything about their trip to Gotham. Taking his son to a man he doesn't know much about, apart from what he has read in the gossip news, on the sole trust of the Man of Steel is stressful enough already, but Lois seemed to be so sure about it.
Leaning slightly on Lee's desk, he points at the little radio receiver. "Why are you two listening to the police band?"
"Lee's worried about Clark; she thinks he might be in danger right now…" Jimmy says, a serious expression on his face.
"What? Clark? Where is he?"
"I don't know exactly…" Lee starts hesitantly, not sure what to say without making a faux pas. Clark has been gone for more than an hour already and right now he must be meeting that Kitty. She feels ridiculous waiting for him here, listening to the police communications. It's not exactly like they can all fly to his rescue if something bad happens anyway… I should probably be at home instead, waiting for his return, she thinks. He'll worry if he doesn't find me there.
Seeing her hesitation, Jimmy continues for her, "Kitty Kowalski called here earlier; she wanted to speak to Miss Lane."
Speechless, Richard looks at him, dumbfounded. "Luthor's girlfriend called here?!"
"Yes," Lee says. "She wanted Lois to give a message to Superman. She wanted to meet him at nine pm near the Logan Bridge. Clark took the message for her and… he went to the meeting place…" she adds uneasily.
"He… Clark went there on his own!? Is he crazy!?" Richard asks, confused. It's quite hard for him to imagine the mild-mannered reporter going to investigate in a dangerous place, alone; it's not exactly the image Lois has depicted of him, but again she seems to have missed a few things about him.
His blind colleague, a slight tint of frustration in her voice, replies, "With Lois not around, he didn't exactly know how to contact Superman to give him the message so he decided to go there to see if it could lead him to Luthor."
"What a fool…" Richard thinks aloud. "Can't you reach him, on his cell phone maybe?"
Jimmy bursts out laughing despite his will, "Mister Kent? A phone? Hmphh!!" but the glares he receives from his colleagues makes his laugh fade instantly. "Ahem… well.."
"Clark doesn't have a cell phone. It's not… his sort of thing," Lee says simply.
Why am I not surprised, the assistant-editor thinks. "Then…" but a sudden agitation on the radio stops him right away.
"All units, shots fired between 36th avenue and Logan Bridge. Code 3."
Lee grabs Jimmy's sleeve nervously while the two men look at each other.
"Ok! Let's go! I'll drive," Richard says, already grabbing his coat and heading to the elevators while Jimmy helps Lee, the pair right on his toes.
As soon as Kitty disappears behind the door, Kal-El takes a few ragged breaths, trying to gather enough strength. I can't stay here… I can't be found… If I'm taken to the hospital, he'll know it, and he'll kill them all, is all his fuzzy mind is able to think as panic seizes him. Shifting painfully on his side and careful to hide his crystal under his cape, he starts to drag his limp and agonized body by the sole force of his trembling left arm, his fingers clawing into the concrete. With his eyes fixed on the ledge a few meters away, he crawls, crossing the ridiculous distance inch after inch, and each movement, each strain, each tension on his muscles elicits unbearable bolts of pain like he's never felt before; making him moan and groan helplessly. …can't be found…
The call of sirens intensifies in his ears, echoing painfully in his head and mixing with everything else until the cacophony itself makes him cry out in agony. Finally reaching the ledge, he leans his back against it, trying to catch his breath. The frenetic pounding of his heart resonates in his head and his chest hurts, tightening as if it's about to crush him inside. His shaking hand comes mechanically to his wound in a vain attempt to stop the pain, his fingers now smeared with blood. … can't be found… He then grabs the ledge, hauling himself up to a standing position, but his shaky legs won't hold him and he instead leans heavily against the ledge, feeling frightened for the first time by the dizzy heights as the ground only a few dozen or so feet below seems to bounce back and forth. Fighting another intense wave of nausea, he tries to gather his thoughts. … can't be found… can't be helped with this tracer inside… or is it just a lure? He tries to peer through his shoulder and chest, spotting the opened bullet quickly then something much smaller moving toward his heart, and his eyes widen in shock when he realizes that the little object is seeming to move on its own. The tracer! Catherine wasn't lying…
Looking frantically out at the city, he searches for a place to go, for any solution that might present itself. Think… think! ...need to get rid of this first… to disable it… He stares a moment toward the south where the main power plant of the city lies. It could work… Inhaling sharply, he gathers all his remaining strength and pushes on his hand with all his might, trying to forget the void below. As the pressure of his fingers crushes the concrete of the ledge, it gives him enough thrust to take the air, hovering a few feet up until he starts to aim himself southward. But he doesn't get far before everything begins to blur around him and he suddenly feels the weight of gravity. As darkness mists his eyes, he plummets into a narrow alley between two buildings a few yards away. Smacking loudly onto the brick walls like the metal ball of a pinball machine, he ends his course, crashing miserably onto the dark and dirty alley and crushing the asphalt in the process in a deafening noise.
As two police cars screech to a halt on 36th avenue next to the old bridge, a third one, coming from the south, joins them in a flurry of sirens and lights. Sergeant Murdock, an average old man with gray hair and a thick mustache, gets out of his car, grabbing his radio.
"Dispatch, Units 2, 6 and 11 reporting to 36th avenue. No sign of any gunfire here," he says, motioning his men to stay cautious.
His radio receiver crackles. "Roger, Unit 2. We have witness reports that a gunshot was heard somewhere in the vicinity, maybe on the rooftops. The air support unit is on its way."
As Murdock is about to answer, a sudden thumping noise comes from a few blocks away and the ground vibrates slightly under his feet. What the… "What was that?" he asks his partner, who seems as clueless as him, but as they're about to go investigate, the M.P.D. chopper finally appears above them, emerging from behind the buildings.
"Unit 20 reporting. We see what looks like blood on that roof below. No sign of any body though. The roof seems clear," a voice crackles in Murdock's receiver.
Looking up at the helicopter hovering above the building they're parked in front of, the Sergeant pushes the "talk" button. "Roger that, Unit 20. We'll go up and take a look. Stay on alert and survey the area; we heard some commotion to the south a few block away."
"Roger."
Checking his gun, he looks back at his partner. "Ok, let's go."
In a black sedan parked further down the street, Kitty shifts nervously on the back seat. "What are we waiting for? The police are here… We'll be caught if we stay!"
Completely ignoring her rambling, Hendricks rubs the scar on his cheek absently, peering at the tiny unmoving spot blinking on the screen of the laptop placed on the passenger seat. After a moment, he opens his cell phone and dials the last number in memory. When the line answers, he speaks, his deep, rusty voice giving chills to the woman behind him.
"He didn't get far… He's not moving anymore. I think he's dead; you over-estimated him," He says.
A cynical laugher bursts from the phone. "Dead?! Ahahahaha… No… not this rat, not yet…"
"But what do we do if he doesn't move?"
"He'll move. Now, get back to the waiting point."
Hendricks furrows his brow. "We're not staying to see who will pick him up?"
At the other end of the line, the bald man leans back in his luxurious armchair, gazing at the little blinking dot on the map on the giant screen, and a wicked smile forms slowly on his face, his eyes glinting in the dimness of the room. "No… Don't give him a chance to realize that he's being followed. Beside… it will be so much more fun to try and guess where he'll want to go. Now get out of there!!" he suddenly barks into the phone, then hangs up violently.
Sighing, the mercenary tosses his cell phone onto the seat next to him, then starts the engine. The sedan soon speeds away on the Logan Bridge.
The coldness of the hard asphalt on his burning cheek feels oddly welcoming to Kal-El as he lays there, eyes closed, sprawled on his right side in the middle of the shallow crater in the alley. The only sound his ears are able to hear now is the erratic beating of his own heart, amplified and painful, mixed with the echo of his battered breathing. A general throbbing has replaced the slicing pain in his broken body and he knows that if he tries to move now it will wake it all up. For a short moment, he catches himself wishing it would all just end right here; the pain, the angst, the fear… No! I made a promise… he thinks as his eyes snap opened and his expression hardens suddenly. Gritting his teeth, he starts to crawl again, trying with all his might to forget the pain of his now broken ribs and the taste of blood filling his mouth. Can't be found… His vision now completely blurred, he aims himself at a dark shelter under a metal staircase on one side of the alley where a few garbage bags are disposed. … Just hide and wait…I just need to get my breath… he tries to convince himself, knowing deep inside that it won't get better if he just stays there. Still clutching the crystal with his now bruised hand, he finally reaches the shadows and leans back heavily on the dirty bags. What do I do now? He thinks, trying to straighten up a little to a sitting position, but he regrets it immediately as blood fills his throat and makes him choke. Sagging down into the garbage, his right hand falls back numbly on the ground, his fingers loosing slowly their grip on the crystal.
Father… help me… help me keep my promise… is the last plea that passes through Kal-El's mind as his eyes finally close, blood trickling out of his mouth. Now free from the lifeless and bloodied hand, the crystal falls to the asphalt with a faint clink and rolls a few inches away, where a soft light begins to emanate from it, pulsing with a humming sound.
"We're almost there… Look, there are already police cruisers here!" Richard says, slowing down his car. "Let's park here."
As he stops the engine, Jimmy looks around. "There's no ambulance in sight at least."
Leaned back in the rear seat, Lee tortures the fabric of her scarf nervously, a bitter feeling still in the back of her mind.
"Ok. You both stay in here while I go get some info from the cops," the assistant-editor says with an authoritative tone while he retrieves his press ID card from his wallet. Closing the door, he walks to the nearest policeman.
Gazing at the roof where he's standing, Sergeant Murdock scratches his head thoughtfully. What the heck has happened here? As his men buzz around, his radio crackles suddenly. Grabbing it, he answers, "Murdock here."
"Sergeant, we have a reporter down there wishing to speak to you."
Grumbling, he asks, "His name and the paper he works for?"
"Richard White from the Daily Planet, sir."
His expression brightening slightly, the sergeant pauses a little before answering. White from the Daily Planet? He answers finally, "All right, let him come up."
A few minutes later, Richard steps out onto the roof, immediately registering the long stain of blood on the concrete, ending on the southern ledge. In his career he has seen a lot of things but the violence underlined here grabs him by the throat. Barely able to tear his eyes away from the sight of it, he crosses the distance to the Sergeant rapidly, holding his hand to him. "Sergeant Murdock? I'm Richard White from the Daily Planet."
Responding warmly to his hand shake, the average old man says, "Are you related to Perry?"
Surprised but delighted at the same time, the young man answers, "Yes. Perry White is my uncle." This should make things easier…
"How's that old crock doing? I'm sure that he must be worse than a slaver right now with all the events to come," Murdock says, his mustache rising as he speaks.
"Err… Yeah… He is… Well…" Richard turns and points at the pool of blood on the floor. "Do you have any idea of what happened here?"
"Not a single clue. The body seems to have been dragged up to this ledge but we have no idea where it is now. I sent my men to look at the alley below without any results. There's a possibility that Superman may have witnessed the scene and taken the victim to a hospital, but so far we have no confirmation on that. The only evidences we have are this plush-toy…" He hands the toy enclosed in a plastic bag to Richard who takes it, dumbfounded. "See… it has its belly completely opened like something was hidden inside, the weapon maybe. Hopefully we'll learn more from the blood samples we just sent to the lab. Ah, we also found a few empty boxes all over the roof. We don't know what they're for or if they are related to the crime, though." Crouching beside the trail of blood, he points at the fresh holes and cracks Superman's fingers made in the concrete when he crawled to the ledge a few moments ago. "And this… is another mystery. It looks like something was trying to pin the victim down and had enough strength to crush the concrete like a jackhammer." Looking sideways at the reporter, he notices his pale face. "You're ok son?"
Gulping around the ball in his throat, Richard tries to ignore the panic that grows inside him. Clark, oh no…"Err… Yes… Actually a colleague of mine is missing. He was supposed to follow a lead to this address and left an hour ago," he says, barely able to chase away the horrible image of the body of his poor colleague crushed and ripped apart by whatever deadly machine Luthor had imagined to kill Superman with, the scene running through his head like a bad horror movie and making his stomach lurch.
The Sergeant looks at him gravely. "As long as we don't find a corpse, there's still hope for your friend, son. Give his description to this officer there and we'll try to find him."
"Thanks, Sergeant." The young man says, hypnotized by the red liquid drying on the concrete. Running his hand through his hair nervously, he thinks, what am I going to tell to Aileen…
Starting to feel the atmosphere oppressing in the back of the car, Lee slides the window down for a breath of fresh air. She's tired of waiting but knows that she can't do anything more and it kills her to no end.
Hearing her sighing soundly, Jimmy says, trying to rein in his own growing doubts, "I'm sure he's ok, Lee. Clark isn't a fool. Maybe he thought it was too dangerous to wait here and decided to go back home instead. What do you think, huh? Lee?"
But the young woman isn't listening to him, captivated by something outside the car. As she tried to strain her hearing to pick some of the cops' conversations at the other side of the road, an odd sound caught her attention. Not exactly a sound though, more like… an impression… a call… "Do you hear that?" she asks Jimmy suddenly.
The young man, clueless, looks at her. "What? The policemen?"
"No… something…" but she's totally unable to describe it... Yet she hears it, or rather, feels it. I have to sort this out, she thinks as she opens the door and gets out swiftly.
"Hey! Mister White told us to wait for him," Jimmy says, alarmed, as he gets out to join her at the other side of the car.
But she doesn't answer, grabbing his arm and starting to walk, trusting her inner hearing to guide her toward that call.
In a last futile plea, Jimmy says, "Lee, I think…"
"Shut up and help me," is the only reply he gets from the blind woman as they cross the street, aiming toward the south.
After a few minutes, and a few blocks away, they finally arrive in front of a dark alley.
"There," Lee suddenly says as she starts to enter the darkness of the filthy street.
"Oh, no you don't! Lee! This looks like a perfect hiding place for muggers and drug dealers!!" the young photographer says while trying to drag her back to the main street.
Once again, the young woman doesn't listen to him and walks in anyway, her arms stretched carefully to not bump against anything. Giving up, Jimmy finally joins her, taking her arm again to guide her, not that he can see much himself in the dim light of the alley. They walk like that until they both almost lose balance when they step down into a slight difference in height in the street.
"Whoa, careful!" the young man says as he grabs Lee to straighten her. Rummaging quickly in his pocket, he retrieves a small flashlight on his key chain and switches it on. The faint light doesn't go far but is enough to reveal the small crater they're standing in the middle of, and most of all… "Bl-blood… Lee, let's get out of here." He says as panic seizes him.
"No…" she says nervously, trying to calm her pounding heart, the metallic sent of blood coming to tease her nostrils.
Jimmy, inhaling deeply to calm his own fear, aims the flashlight at the blood and slowly follows it until the halo of light falls on a characteristic pair of red boots. "Oh my God!!"
But Lee is already on the fallen hero, guided by his faint beating heart. "Oh, no… oh no…" she keeps repeating as her hands run over his limp body. "Jimmy!" she cries. "Go get some help!"