SIXTEEN
His eyes closed for several seconds taking in the brilliance that was the sun. After several self-studies and experiments, he knew it was psychological, but the yellow sun's rays upon his body felt quantitatively better when he was in space above Earth. There were no atmospheric layers separating the processing of his body's cell components with its absorption of the direct sunlight.
Clark made it a point to exercise casual space flights at least twice a week. No rush to get anywhere, just a few revolutions around the big blue marble. He did this not only for the placebo direct sun effect, but also for bearing witness to the stunning visual reminder of what he would always fight to protect.
This particular moment in 1927, he was finalizing upgrades on the lone, near decade old geostationary satellite he had in Earth's orbit. The other geosynchronous satellites were also being upgraded with new tech applications. Telecommunications and radio continued to expand into homes across the globe. The world governments continued to press forward inventing and adapting new technologies involving oscillators, amplifiers and electron tubes.
While giving all of his super-powered physical attributes to the saving and helping of lives, Clark would continue his practice of withholding knowledge that could potentially forward Earth's nations beyond their current technical limitations. If he were to backtrack on this original self-declaration, the ranks of those worshipping him would undoubtedly increase. Something he continued to fear as that number kept rising. He debated within himself frequently, sometimes seeking out his parents and Kelex as sounding boards, whether he should apply himself in other avenues. Could he save a greater number of people by devoting more time to human disease study? Or greater safety when it came to vehicles of human transportation?
His first seven years as Superman taught him that life stopped for no one. Superman would be on call at all times, day and night. Clark, however, made the "live a life" decision to shut Superman down several hours each day. He left monitoring of anything requiring his attention to Kelex. During those precious hours, Clark spent the majority of time either at the farm or the Fortress. Or when he felt really daring, he loved to watch the latest talking films in his favorite movie house located in Metropolis. He thought a disguise would never work, but a pair of non-prescription glasses and a hat proved enough for no one to recognize him.
Kelex was instructed to interrupt him only for natural, national or international disasters.
Such an interruption occurred on May 7, 1927 at 2:32pm Central Time. The Saturday had begun with Clark contemplating the world's population reaching two billion people. It took two million years of human history for the world's population to reach one billion. Only one hundred twenty-three years later it was at two billion. These were concerning numbers to Clark. He estimated the next billion could be reached in thirty years. Could the planet sustain such rapid human growth? He vowed that Earth would not be another Krypton. While Clark was in the midst of the arduous task researching the planet's natural resources capacity and human effect upon the environment, Kelex informed him of not one, but two, tornados that had formed in Kansas.
"Do you have it up?" Clark asked as thoughts of his parents jumbled in his mind with the research he was working on.
"Of course," Kelex answered.
Clark sped out of his work laboratory to the Fortress' control monitoring station. One of the satellite upgrades he had installed was new technology utilizing video signals. The video from the satellite, while not being crystal clear, had the ability to zoom in enough upon the Earth that on a clear day, cities were visible. Ten boxy monitors were aligned in two rows of five at the station. Each had a static, wavy image with superimposed text reading the satellite number and geographic location. Clark pressed several buttons and the Smallville monitor began showing a static image of the United States. Clark zoomed inward. A massive cloud cover was over Kansas, Missouri and Nebraska.
Clark gave his parents a call button device should they ever have emergency need of Superman. He confirmed that no such call had come through to the Fortress. A low-level siren would have gone off.
"Kelex. Keep me apprised," Clark said placing a device in his ear.
"Yes, Kal-El," Kelex responded.
Clark blurred out of the Fortress burning air towards North America. Thirty-three seconds later, he dropped down through heavy cloud cover near the Nebraska-Kansas border.
"Kelex, you there?" Clark asked as he hovered a mile above the ground.
"Yes," Kelex responded. "Both tornados are in the Great Plains area of Kansas. One has been downgraded to F1. The other is a F5. First reports are describing it as massive. Smallville is in its path, Kal-El."
The pit in Clark's stomach fell deep as he caught himself hyperventilating. He flew. A rainbow streak across the dreary Kansas skyline. So fast, so scared. The flatlands of central Kansas allowed him to see it one hundred miles away. A gigantic parcel of sky, the darkest shades of grey imaginable. The mammoth twister was at least three miles across at the top of its funnel. Violent wind rushed at and over Clark as he got closer. The sheer utter destruction before him sent a rippling current through his chest.
Automobiles, pick-up trucks and harvester trucks strewn to the side of the road. Some thrown hundreds of yards onto farmland. Tractors flipped over. Roads no longer discernible as dirt, stone and asphalt swirled in a volatile mixture of deadly projectiles and suffocation. Homes, barns and silos ripped apart by the mammoth, ominous tornado blasting away at everything in its path. Fence pickets springing out of the ground like thrown javelins.
Many bodies not moving.
Clark had to stop the tornado. He flew forward, debris slamming into him at over two hundred fifty miles per hour. Onward he pushed towards the tornado's eye where there was a low barometric pressure of less wind. He made it through, and marveled for only a second at the near weather serenity compared with outside the eye. It was time for Clark to really fly. And fly he did, in reverse direction of the tornado around its interior funnel's edge. From the ground touch-down of the funnel to the wide opening upwards, Clark flew in a zig up and down, circular formation against the tornado's rotation. Every few flight rotations he would expand his flight pattern pushing the eye continuously outward. Around and around he soared until the tornado began to slow its violent winds. It began to dissipate and there Clark floated, his chest heaving so heavy as he looked. And saw so much destruction in every direction.
In that moment, Clark was selfish. He knew people were hurt, or worse, dead below him. But there were only two people on his mind. And he didn't want to, but he looked in his family farm's direction.
"No," he barely got it before making a straight line to the Kent farm.
He slowed considerably reaching the gravel road leading to the farmhouse. There was more gravel in the nearby grass than on the road. Steel wire from the long stretch of fence bordering the farm, that he and his father installed so many years ago, was nowhere to be found. He tilted his head up, towards having a sightline to the farm, not wanting to see the images he had played over and over in his mind. But there his nightmare was, there was no farmhouse. Just shambles. All destroyed. The sheds. The barn where he had his first kiss with Lana Lang.
"Ma!" he roared in anguish flying up the path. "Pa!"
Clark scanned the farmhouse as he flew up the pathway settling in a hover pattern above the horror. He rotated three hundred sixty degrees scanning the area. There. Movement in the underground storm shelter. But there was only one body.
Clark dropped down quickly removing the wreckage off the shelter's door. He yanked and pulled the door off sending it sailing away into the farmhouse's rubble. Light streamed around his body into the dark shelter.
"Clark? Clark, is that you?" his mother dared.
Clark could not speak, for if his mother was here, where was his father? She ran up the hard dirt steps into her son's arms. He could feel her emotional pain with every hard sob upon his chest. He held her listening to her cry, not wanting to ask, but needing to know. He stroked the top of her head.
"Ma?" he asked. "Where is he?"
Her cries grew heavier. He slowly pushed her away from him, holding her carefully by the arms.
"Oh, Clark," she could barely say.
"Tell me," Clark said.
"It came out of nowhere," she said. "No warning. We misplaced your button. We spent too much time looking for it. Jonathan. Your father told me to head for the shelter. I, I…"
"It's okay, Ma," Clark assured. "I got you."
"I made it to the shelter," Martha Kent continued. "I thought Jonathan was right behind me. Oh, Clark, it was so loud. I was standing inside the shelter, on the top step. I could see Jonathan. He was on the porch. And then he wasn't. Everything became black. And loud. I couldn't see, Clark. I couldn't hear."
"Ma. Ma," Clark said taking her in his arms.
"Jonathan," is all Clark would hear her repeat.
Clark flew his mother to the nearest hospital just North of Smallville. Despite the hospital being on full alert overseeing the wounded from both tornados, the site of Superman landing in front of the hospital, holding his mother, stopped all who could see in their tracks. He locked eyes with a nurse, and no words were needed.
"Let me help you," she said.
She and two orderlies rushed over.
"My mother," he said placing her sleeping body down on the gurney. "No broken bones, internal injuries."
"We'll take care of her," the nurse promised.
"Thank you," Clark said giving his mother a kiss on the cheek, lingering to touch his cheek to hers. "I will be back."
Clark lifted off and flew back to Smallville. He passed over the F5 wreckage where people below were helping others. He wanted to stop and help, but thirty-eight years as the son of a missing father overwhelmed him.
He had to find him. It did not take long.
His x-ray vision found Jonathan Kent's body nearly a mile away under farmhouse siding wreckage. Clark could hear no heartbeat from his father. No inhale, exhale of breathing. Clark drifted down to the ground many steps away. His body finally listened to his mind to take a step. Then another. And another.
With each step, Clark remembered. Chasing chickens together early in the morning. Practical jokes with his father at his mother's expense. Christmas mornings. Learning to saddle a horse. Tie his first pair of shoelaces. Driving a tractor. Playing catch. Figuring out how he could shave. Baseball games on the radio. His father telling Clark that he was his son, no matter what.
Clark's eyes would not stop blinking as stinging tears pooled around his eyelids, released in warm rivulets down his face. He reached the wooden siding that covered his father.
He lifted up and Superman fell to his knees.
Six days later, Clark Kent sat in a front row pew with his mother at his side. Her hand gripped his so tightly as the church pastor spoke of Jonathan Kent. The perfume that his mother had on, his father loved so much. Clark's mind wandered to thoughts of Heaven and Hell. God. Is there truly a place his Earth father and Kryptonian parents are where he will see them one day? His heart swelled hoping so, his mind analyzing everything he has come to know about Earth, the universe and God's place in it.
Mourners greeted Clark and Martha Kent as they walked out of the small, brick-faced church. It was one of the few buildings not affected by the tornado. Several downed trees could be seen, but the church remained standing. Among those waiting for the Kents were Peter and Lois Ross.
Peter was the first to embrace Clark and Martha.
"Thank you for being here, Peter," Martha said, her wet face against his suit lapel.
"I had to be," he replied. "Mr. Kent always treated me like family."
Martha slightly pulled away to place her black, gloved hand on Peter's cheek.
"You are," she said.
Peter couldn't hold back his tears as Martha hugged him. Clark stepped back to see his friend hold out one of his hands to him. Clark tried to maintain his composure, but his eyes and twitching mouth betrayed him. He took Pete's hand, and nodded his thank you for being there.
Clark stood, a little lost in the moment, when he felt Lois' hand on his arm. He looked down at her and soon found himself in her arms.
"I'm so sorry, Clark," she said. "I'm so sorry."
"Thank you, Lois," Clark managed.
"How is she doing?" Lois asked.
"Ma is Ma," Clark said releasing Lois. "She's strong. But, it's surreal, Lois. Like I'm walking in a movie from which I can't escape."
"Clark, I know you," she said. "Please don't blame yourself."
"I don't, actually," he said. "Maybe, when I was first starting out, I would have. But I've seen so much pain. And death. Bad things can just happen, and I have no control over that. What's in front of me? Yeah, that I can do something about. But this? I don't feel guilty, Lois. I just, so wish I could have been there."
"Your mother, the farm?" Lois asked. "What's going to happen?"
"I don't know," Clark said. "If she wants to rebuild, I'll rebuild it for her. If she doesn't, I hope she'll move to the Fortress with me. At least temporarily."
"Any other family?" Lois asked.
"Yes," Clark said. "My aunt, her sister, is coming this way. I'll talk to you and Pete a little later, okay?"
"Of course," Lois said as Clark met an older woman taking him in for a warm hug.
Jonathan Kent was one of fifty-three people who lost their lives from those Kansas tornados. He would have turned sixty-eight the next month of 1927.
Martha Kent asked Clark to make any and all arrangements regarding the farm's future. In the end, Clark choose not to sell it. He received plenty of overtures from outside interests who wanted to own the farm Superman grew up on. Rather, Clark cleared the little debt the farm had incurred, and it became his latest rebuilding project. Not to what it once was, but what it could be as a touchstone in his life. He should not have been, but he was overwhelmed by Smallville residents who volunteered to watch over the property while he was away. That they, inclusive of those who lost their homes and, in some cases, loved ones, would still reach out in such a manner. Such love and caring fueled Clark in wanting to make the world a better place.
His mother would share her time between the Fortress and living with her sister. She enjoyed spending time with Clark at the Fortress, but Superman took up much of his time. Moreover, Kelex was not the greatest conversationalist. The realization was harder for Clark than Martha, but they agreed, she staying with her sister would be the better solution.
Christmas of that year would come, and Clark had just returned to the Fortress from spending time with his mother and extended family in Nebraska. His first without his father. He and his mother shared a quick cry and pledged to enjoy the time together with complete and utter joy. And for the most part, they did. Clark's aunt, uncle and their small kids were great to be around. Clark even capitulated to his cousins' begging for super tricks, but truth be told, Clark loved to indulge them. Martha even convinced her superhero son to wear a knit sweater he found most garish and ridiculous, but what could Clark do while still choosing to wear it on his flight home to the Fortress?
He found Kelex floating motionless in front of the surveillance monitors.
"Anything going on?" Clark asked.
"Looking into an anomaly, nothing else to report planet wide," Kelex said. "How is your mother?"
"We got through the day," Clark said. "That was most important. What's the anomaly?"
"Involves the Earth's moon," Kelex said.
"And that would be?" Clark asked taking off the green shaded, checkered sweater his mother persuaded him to wear.
"Something moving through space. Most likely a meteor," Kelex said. "Hard to calculate size."
"Your best estimate?" Clark asked.
"Thirty-five to forty meters," Kelex answered.
"That's sizeable," Clark responded. "How far out is it?"
"This may not be an accurate assessment," Kelex said.
"Kelex, how far from the moon?" Clark asked again.
"Thirty minutes at most," Kelex said.
"Impact on the moon?" Clark looked to confirm.
"Yes," Kelex responded.
"Do you know where?" Clark asked.
"The South Pole," Kelex responded. "My best assessment would be near Shackleton crater."
"Shackleton?" Clark repeated. "I know that. Okay, I'll head up and determine a course of action."
"No rest for the weary, Kal-El," Kelex pontificated while moving to a storage unit.
"You get more and more human every day," Clark responded. "Your five-year charge is coming up. You have everything?"
"Just need your eyes," Kelex responded bringing to Clark a breathing type device.
"You really think I need this?" Clark asked taking the mask and breathing unit. "I can hold my breath for hours."
"One thing I have been taught these last two thousand nine hundred twenty-two days," Kelex stated. "Better to be overprepared than underprepared."
"Fair enough," Clark said.
He did a quick change into his flying out of Superman uniform – work boots, jeans and a black t-shirt. He placed the breathing device over his nose and mouth, a device he tinkered with for traveling out of Earth's atmosphere. His breathing and lung capacity were such, that the air supply container attached to the device, via a plastic tube, could sustain him for a considerably long time. Clark hooked the supply container over his belt.
"I shouldn't be long," Clark said.
Clark walked through the Fortress' entrance way. The large doors, nearly impossible to detect from the outside, closed behind him. Without coordinates, the Fortress was near impossible to locate. Clark raised his face to the always shining sun that is Antarctica from the months of September to March. He lifted off, gaining more speed as he travelled higher to make the quarter of a million miles journey. One of his favorite moments in leaving Earth's atmosphere was the loud rush of wind around him instantly being silenced when entering space. He took a quick glance behind him towards his home and then kicked in his flight afterburners.
He made his way to the southern pole of the moon. As he approached, a strange new sensation came over him. He felt disoriented. Sluggish. As he flew past the horizon of the pole, he saw an object approaching the moon's surface. He was struck by its large size. It was much larger than Kelex's estimate. It was the size of a large building. Even more incredible, it had a bright green hue to it. Clark analyzed its structure with his x-ray vision, but detected no anomalies.
It was maybe a minute from impact. Clark thought to get close enough and push it safely away, and of course, break off a piece for sample testing. What he did not expect was the disorientation to worsen. He started to feel actual physical pain as he neared the meteorite. Natural instinct pulled him back.
Thirty seconds from impact.
Maybe impact will not damage the moon he debated. Or maybe it would he countered.
Fifteen seconds from impact.
Clark took a gulp as his throat felt constricted. It was now or never for him. He pushed through the disorientation and pain. He commanded his eyes to release heat upon the meteor, but it was a weak effort barely making contact a football field away. Clark took a deep breath.
Five seconds to impact.
Clark flew as fast as he could, straight for the meteor. Each second he felt his body trembling harder. He neared the gigantic rock while flying so close to the moon's surface.
Impact.
Clark smashed into the meteorite. It exploded into a storm of smaller pieces raining down upon the moon's surface. Clark's body was pelted relentlessly downward by the smaller fragments. He touched down on the moon barely able to control his body. The fluorescent green, meteor fallout was all around him. On him. Pierced him. He felt himself losing consciousness. His breathing slowed. His body's violent shaking slowed to a twitch of his fingers. And that too soon slowed and ceased. Slightly bulbous, dark green, vein-like trickles flowed under his skin. Clark's eyes, half closed, could see Mother Earth and the beyond sun.
And there Clark lay.
Worry was never a component of Kelex's algorithms, but two days of not hearing from Kal-El sent his functions into an approximation of concern. It did everything in its capacity to figure out what happened to him. Scans of the moon and surrounding space were inconclusive other than the disappearance of the object that was to impact with the moon. Kelex worked relentlessly to discover Clark's whereabouts, but was unsuccessful.
Kelex's thrusters were the first to go as his energy charge was near depletion. Its body fell to the Fortress' floor with a loud clank. The lit, red orb that was Kelex's face flickered and subsequently went out. The lone monitor above still showed grainy images of the moon.
On December 31, 1927, Marth Kent had not heard from her son as the New Year approached. Clark never failed to celebrate the incoming year at her side. It was 11:30pm, and she pulled out the newer device Clark gave her should she need him. There were two buttons - one colored green, the other red. She pressed the green button, which meant Clark would contact her via telephone or come to her in person.
She tried to hide her concern at 11:55pm while celebrating in her sister's home. Her nephews and niece were in the room just as excited to be staying up so late as they were to bring in the new year.
"You okay?" her sister, Mary asked.
Martha smiled. "Yeah," she responded.
"Don't worry," Mary said. "He'll contact you. My nephew is assuredly stopping something ghastly as we speak."
Marth Kent smiled, but she didn't hear from Clark that night.
He felt awareness. His blurry vision began to focus as he saw Earth in the distance. The influx of air in his lungs jolted his body upright. The breathing apparatus was still securely covering his mouth and nose. But there was no more oxygen. Clark only had the little air he had just breathed into his lungs. He staggered to his feet as tiny pieces of the green meteorite slowly drifted off of him. All around him, the moon's landscape was littered with it. Clark had trouble maintaining his balance as he walked. His thoughts were dizzy as he picked up a good size chunk of the green rock. He recalled that his location on the moon was where the sun's light never dimmed.
Clark continued to walk until he felt his strength returning. He so wanted to take a deep breath as he took off towards Earth. Minutes later he broke into Earth's atmosphere and promptly took off the breathing apparatus. Air never tasted so good to him as it filled his lungs.
He landed outside his Fortress doors as a heavy snow was coming down. He was confused when the entry door did not open.
"Where is, Kelex?" Clark thought.
Clark manually opened one of the doors, and flew inside. There were no lights on. No steady hum of the machinery that should be. It was much colder than it should have been. Clark found Kelex on the floor inside the monitoring station. A continuing confused Clark placed the meteorite he brought back onto a nearby table while lifting Kelex into a better position.
Everything in the Fortress was off.
Clark went to the Fortress' generator, of all things power in his home. He re-started the power mechanisms with some assistance from his heat vision. The familiar whirring of his home kicked into gear as power, lighting and heat started to come back on. He returned to the monitoring station to find a lone monitor powered on showing the moon. Clark turned on all the remaining monitors capturing images of places around the world.
"Seems okay," he muttered to himself.
Clark then turned on radio transmissions for the United States eastern seaboard.
"We're soon to enter the New Year," he heard a male voice state. "And the world braces for the next attack by the Axis powers as we churn up war production."
"What?" Clark queried out loud.
Clark had a radio node that automatically provided the date and time, via one of the monitors, for the twenty-four time zones across the planet. He clicked it on, and could only stare at the readout. Not so much the month and day that showed December 29.
It was the year that followed.
1941.
Clark took a step back, looking at the down-powered Kelex. His home that was shut down when he arrived.
"No," he whispered looking at the soft-ball size, green rock. He picked it up, scanning it with his super-vision. He rolled it in his hand.
"Can't be," he continued as he further listened on the radio transmissions to the sounds and words of 1941.
And Clark flew.
He landed during the night at his aunt's house. He gently knocked on the front door as his mind raced unabated with the possibility of having lost the last fourteen years. He still did not fully believe. Not until his uncle opened the door.
He looked decidedly older from when Clark last saw him.
"Uncle John," Clark said.
"Clark? Clark," John managed.
"John, who is it this time of night?" Clark heard his Aunt Mary's voice.
She placed her hand on her husband's arm before looking to see who was at their door. Seeing Clark, her hands went up to her mouth as her eyes began to glisten.
"Oh my, God!" she said wrapping her arms around Clark's neck.
Clark closed his eyes wrapping his arms around his aunt.
"Is she here?" Clark asked.
"No, honey," she said looking up to Clark. "She's home. Where have you been?"
"I, I have to see her, Aunt Mary," Clark said kissing her hands. "I'll be back. Teddy? Jack? Sally? Okay?"
"Sally's married. Teddy and Jack," she said her sons' names with apprehension.
"What?" Clark expressed concern. "Are they okay?"
"The war," Uncle John said. "They signed up. Ted in the Navy. Jack, the Army."
Clark's mind was calculating not knowing the equations. "I've been away," he said. "I have to see Ma, but I will figure this out."
Once again, Clark was up in the air on his way to Smallville. It took little time for him to land several meters from the farmhouse porch. An American flag was waving in the stiff, Winter wind. Several lights inside the farmhouse were on. He walked up the steps and tried the front door handle.
He walked into his home.
The smell of his mother's apple pie touched pleasure points in Clark's mind as he stood just inside the doorway. Looking around, he noticed his mother's decorative touches throughout the rebuilt farmhouse. Not just the sights, but also the sounds as he heard Christmas music being played from the living room. Clark listened for several seconds, unable to recognize the song being played about a white Christmas. He heard shuffling noises in the kitchen.
A white, short-furred dog came looping out towards Clark. It barked several times at this intruder. The two stared each other down.
"Krypto," Martha Kent called after. "What are you barking at, boy?"
Martha Kent had imagined her son, Clark many times over the past fourteen years. It got to the point where she would have full conversations with these hallucinations.
"I haven't seen you in a couple of months," she said to Clark while holding a mixing bowl.
"Ma?" Clark uttered. Seeing his mother aged seemingly more than fourteen years hurt, and scared him to know end.
"Usually I do all the talking. You've never talked before," Martha said as Krypto went up to Clark. He barked an excited yelp while sniffing Clark's hand.
"Krypto?" Martha said unsure. She looked into Clark's eyes. "Clark?"
"It's me, Ma," Clark said rushing to his mother to capture the bowl slipping out of her hands.
She touched his face, staring at a face she thought never to be real again, as he placed the bowl down on the nearby table. "Clark?"
"Yeah," he said gently placing his hands on her face.
"Clark!" she yelled pulling him so tightly into her body. "You're here! Please speak! Please speak and tell me you're here."
"I'm here. I'm here," he said hugging her, feeling head of hair that was more grey than brown.
"Where have you been?" she said losing her breath. "I thought so many horrible things. I thought, I thought..."
"Let's sit down, Ma," Clark said. "Your heart is racing."
"A few more seconds," she said not wanting to let her son go.
"Is that apple pie, I smell?" Clark asked.
His mother's familiar laugh was a tonic of joy to Clark.
"A Kent family tradition," she said pressing her fingers as tightly as she could against Clark's back. "Apple pie for the holidays. You used to eat two whole pies yourself between Thanksgiving and Christmas."
"I could definitely go for a slice, or two right now," Clark said.
She slowly let go of her returned son. "You do look terribly thin," she observed. "I could almost touch my fingers behind you."
"Yes, Ma," Clark said. "You're staring."
Martha could not speak in that moment. The pain and heartache of fourteen years, that had invaded and taken over her body. A sensation that she never realized its full extent, until this moment. Because now that pain. That heartache. Was pouring out of her.
She took his hand leading them into the kitchen. Clark grabbed a seat at the table.
"When you rebuilt the house, there were so many things, still are so many things that I don't know how they work," she commented.
"I never expected you to be back here," Clark said.
"Neither did I," Martha stated. "When you disappeared, I checked in with Peter and he told me of what you had been doing to the farm. You did a lovely job. Your father would be so proud."
She carried a saucer that held a huge chunk of apple pie.
The analytics of Clark's mind began to emotionally process the mentioning of his father. For Clark, he has only been gone for a year. Yet, for everyone else, nearly fifteen.
"Thanks," he said taking the plate and fork. He took little time in stuffing a large piece into his mouth. His jaws ached for several chews having not eaten anything in over a decade.
"Milk or ginger ale?" she asked holding both from the refrigerator.
"Let's do ginger ale," he said. "The pie per usual. Excellent."
She handed him the glass filled with soda and could not help herself. She stepped behind his chair and wrapped her arms around Clark's neck. Clark placed a free hand on her mother's arm.
"I know, ma," he said. "I know."
Five minutes later, Martha Kent sat opposite her son, trying to reconcile in her mind what she just heard. Her eyes could not stop welling up. She eventually gave up wiping her face.
"All this time," she quivered. "You were on the moon. Unconscious?"
"I don't really understand yet what happened," Clark said. "I've never felt so weak when I got near the meteor."
"How are you still alive, Clark?" she asked. "You had no food, water, air?"
"I don't know," he said. "On the moon, I went down where sunshine is almost always present. My only conclusion, so far, is that it was the sun keeping me alive all this time. Whatever this rock is, my Kryptonian…speaking of, Krypto?"
Martha laughed. "Your Aunt Mary got him for me," she said. "If I were going to come out here by myself, I should have a companion and protector she ordered. Krypto seemed an appropriate name. I must look a fright to you."
"You look like my mother," Clark said.
"And you barely look half your age," she responded. "So, you think being Kryptonian saved you?"
"I do," Clark said. "Whatever was poisoning my system, the sun was fighting it off. It. Just took fourteen years."
"I'll be right back," Martha said getting up from the table and heading into the living room.
Krypto got up from his resting spot basket on the kitchen floor. He made his way to Clark's legs.
"Krypto, ehh?" Clark smiled.
"I've collected these ever since your disappearance," Martha said placing a large scrapbook in front of Clark.
"Ma?" Clark asked. "When I got back to the Fortress, I heard reports about a war? What's going on? Teddy and Jack?"
Martha sat back down with a sigh at the kitchen table.
"It's bad, Clark," she said. "Another world war. World War Two it's being called. Teddy's still in training at Great Lakes."
"Illinois?" Clark asked.
Martha nodded. "Jack's not that far at Camp Grant."
"How long has the war been going on?" Clark asked.
"For us, the States," she said. "A couple of weeks. The rest of the world, two years."
"Two years? Who?" Clark asked.
"Germany," she said.
"Again?" Clark asked perplexed. "How is that possible?"
"His name is Adolf Hitler," she said. "He leads Germany. Italy and Japan have joined him. And what Japan did."
"Japan, what?" Clark asked.
"They bombed our naval base in Hawaii, Pearl Harbor," she said. "Bodies are still being counted, but the number is over two thousand. Most of our ships were damaged, some totally destroyed."
"Hawaii? Did the fighting reach the states?" he asked.
"No," she said. "That was the only attack near the country. It's mostly the other side of the world. But so many are dying, Clark. And, Clark, hearing horrible things about German arresting Jews throughout Europe. And killing them."
"Killing?" Clark could barely get out.
"And the machines," she said.
"Machines?" he was trying to take in.
"New footage out of Europe," she said. "Like something from science fiction. War of the worlds."
"War of the worlds?" Clark said perplexed.
"Oh, Clark," Martha said taking his hand. "That was a radio show a few years ago. Aliens invaded the planet using these fantastical war machines. This Hitler. His machines are moving across Europe, the Soviet Union, everywhere."
"This, this is overwhelming," Clark said. "I need to get information."
Clark opened the well-worn, red cover scrapbook. The first thing he saw was a "Daily Planet" article dated February 3, 1928. The headline read "Where is Superman?" written by Lois.
"The stock market crashed?" Clark mentioned flipping through the pages. "Great Depression. Franklin Roosevelt is president. Relation to Teddy?"
"Distant cousins. It's a lot, son," Martha said.
"Ma, I'm about to say something hard for you to hear," he said.
"You need to go," she said.
"Yeah," Clark said. "I need to understand the state of the world. And then do something."
"You're alive," she said. "The world is dreadful right now, but this is one of the happiest days of my life."
"You staying here?" he asked. "I kinda' would like you to come to the Fortress. Krypto too, of course?"
She looked at her son, then Krypto. "What do you think, boy? You up for a change of scenery?"
Krypto was too busy, or lack thereof, sleeping in his comfortable bedding.