"Clark! You're going to be late! You've already missed the bus!" Martha Kent shouted up the stairs. A minute later Clark appeared, rubbing his eyes and yawning.
"What time did you get to bed?" Martha cast him with an appraising eye.
"Too late" replied Clark. "Lana's still off sick so I kept her company for a few hours, then remembered I had to cram for the Science test today."
Clark glanced at the clock and scowled, then grabbed his bag and a bottle of water and set off running. A few moments later he appeared in the corridor beside Chloe and Pete just as the bell rang.
"Cutting it fine again, sleepy head" Chloe quipped, as they made their way towards the stairs.
"I just wish I'd had time for breakfast" grumbled Clark, "I'm hungry already."
"I can help you with that, Clark" came a voice over their shoulders. They turned to see a mousy brown-haired girl smiling sweetly up at Clark, and holding out a Tupperware box of chocolate brownies.
"Oh, hi Elizabeth. Guys, this is Elizabeth, she in my Home Ed. class" introduced Chloe.
"Would you like a brownie? I'm raising money for the Metropolis Food Bank."
"Um, thanks Elizabeth! They look great" Clark dug around in his pocket for some coins to drop into the girl's collection tin. He took a brownie and bit hungrily.
"Oh wow these are amazing!" Clark mumbled with his mouth full.
"OK you've convinced me, I'm getting in on this action" said Pete, reaching out for a brownie. Elizabeth smiled shyly and waved as they parted for class. The brownie temporarily energised Clark during 1st Period, but by 10am his eyelids were drooping.
"Maybe we can find Elizabeth again, those brownies were so damn good I could eat a hundred!" Pete said as they made their way back out into the corridor. Clark merely grunted in reply. He left Pete to make a detour to the bathroom, and when passing the vending machine, he stopped to get a sugary, own-brand cola in an attempt to stay awake, which he chugged before entering the Science lab.
-I-I-I-I-
Fifteen minutes later, Clark was staring vacantly down at his exam paper, pen held loosely in his hand. Something wasn't right. He didn't feel right. His stomach was churning painfully, and he could feel himself breaking out in sweat. Pete was distracted from his own paper by a loud gurgle from Clark's stomach. He glanced over at his desk partner, then whispered, "you ok, man? You look kind of pale."
Clark wiped sweat from his brow and swallowed. "I dunno, my stomach feels weird, I..." He hunched forward, clutching his abdomen with a low groan.
"What do you mean, 'weird'? You can't be sick, that's not possible." Pete asked quietly, but instead of responding Clark's jaw clenched and he stumbled out of his chair towards the door. Before he could reach it, however, he convulsed and vomited all over the floor. Cries of "ewww!" and the screeching of chair legs being pushed away from Clark emanated from all sides. The teacher sighed and raised his voice, "calm down, calm down. Mr Ross, take Mr Kent to the nurse. Mr Jackson, go and fetch the janitor. The rest of you, leave your papers on your desks and wait quietly in the hall. No talking!"
Pete grimaced, but went over to Clark and gripped his arm. "Come on bud."
-I-I-I-I-
Jonathan Kent jogged down the school corridor scanning doorways until he found the nurse's office. Clark was hunched on a chair, a large plastic bowl in his arms, looking miserable.
"Ah, Mr Kent, good," said the nurse. "Clark seems to have come down with stomach flu. Unfortunately, it's been going around. He needs to rest at home and drink plenty of fluids. If he is still vomiting in 24 hours, consider taking him to the ER."
Jonathan thanked the nurse and picked up Clark's bag, while the boy got gingerly to his feet and put the bowl on the chair. Jonathan put an arm around his shoulders and guided him gently out towards the car park. In a low voice, Jonathan asked "what's going on son? You've never had a stomach bug in your life."
"I don't know..." moaned Clark, "I was fine one minute, and then the next..." he cringed and screwed up his eyes "first time in my life I throw up, and the WHOLE class saw it happen. I'm going to be teased about this forever."
Jonathan gripped his son tighter, "that's the least of our concerns right now, Clark. Let's just get you home."
-I-I-I-I-
Five minutes later, they were in the truck heading out of town. Jonathan glanced sideways at his pale, sweaty son every few minutes, his thoughts swirling. How could this happen? Is it possible that some types of bacteria can get through Clark's steel-like immune system? He was jolted out of his thoughts by Clark's tense voice.
"Pull over."
"Clark?"
"Now, Dad!"
As soon as Jonathan pulled onto the embankment, Clark flung open the door and stumbled out, retching violently. Jonathan dashed around the front of the truck to grip Clark's shoulder and rub his back. "It's ok son, I've got you, I've got you..." He could feel Clark trembling and convulsing, so he slid his arm further across Clark's chest to support him and keep him upright. After what felt like several long minutes, Clark straightened slightly and pulled a sleeve across his mouth. There were tear tracks down his face, and his hair was sticking to his damp forehead. He leaned sideways into his father's embrace, feeling weaker than he could remember ever feeling without a meteor rock nearby.
"What's wrong with me?" he moaned, his voice muffled by Jonathan's shoulder.
"I don't know, son, let's just get you home and hopefully it will pass."
They managed the remainder of the short journey with no further stops, and Jonathan carefully helped Clark into the house and onto the couch. Clark curled in on himself, looking so fragile and small Jonathan's heart clenched. He draped a blanket over his son and placed a bucket and a bottle of water next to him.
"Can you manage some water, Clark? You need to stay hydrated. I'm going to call your mother and get her to come home."
-I-I-I-I-
Martha Kent had packed up her market stall at super-speed and rushed home after Jonathan's call. When she entered the house, her husband and son were nowhere to be seen. "Jonathan?" she called.
"In here..." came his voice.
Martha hurried over to the downstairs bathroom to find Clark slumped over the toilet and Jonathan leaning over him holding his forehead and directing him over the bowl, while rubbing his back.
"Oh my poor baby..." Martha rushed over to grip Clark's shoulder and stroke the back of his neck.
"Mom..." Clark muttered weakly.
"I'm here, sweetheart."
"We tried to go upstairs to his bed, but ended up here instead" Jonathan explained, matching his wife's worried expression as their eyes met. Clark seemed to have stopped vomiting, and Jonathan flushed the toilet then positioned himself so Clark could lean comfortably back against his chest. Martha rung a washcloth under the tap and crouched down to tenderly wipe Clark's face, before resting her palm on his forehead.
"You feel a little feverish. Here, sweetheart, drink some water." Martha picked up the nearby water bottle and Clark took it with trembling hands. "Do you feel up to moving to the couch or bed?" Clark shook his head vehemently.
"That's ok son, we can just rest here for a while, ok?" Jonathan soothed. "Martha, can you pass that blanket from the couch please?"
-I-I-I-I-
In the short time Martha was out of the bathroom, Clark had fallen into a doze. She tucked the blanket around him, and mutual worried questions passed unspoken as she and Jonathan made eye contact. She kissed Clark on the forehead and returned to the kitchen, just as Pete entered from the porch.
"Mrs Kent, I came as soon as I could, is Clark ok? What's wrong with him?"
"We don't know, Pete. Clark's never had any illness like this before. He's only ever been weakened by the meteor rocks, and that doesn't seem to be the problem this time. Can you tell me exactly what happened at school this morning?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary. Clark was late, as usual. We went to class, oh and before that this girl Elizabeth gave us brownies."
"What kind of brownies? Could they have caused this?" Martha interjected.
"Maybe... but I ate them and I'm fine, loads of people at school were eating them."
"What happened next?"
"Clark was fine all through first period, then we had the test and that's when he got sick. I took him to the nurse and she said there's a bug going round. Lana has been off school, so maybe she has it too."
At that moment the faint sound of retching could be heard from the direction of the bathroom.
"Sorry Pete, I need to go. You should probably get going just in case it's contagious. If you think of anything else which might have caused this, please let us know."
"Will do Mrs Kent. Tell Clark I hope he feels better soon." Pete watched Martha dash off towards her son, and left the house thinking hard. That Elizabeth girl was the one unusual thing that had happened this morning. Definitely worth investigating.
-I-I-I-I-
Jonathan had felt Clark start to squirm in discomfort before reaching for the toilet bowl. As Jonathan once again supported his vomiting son, his mind was racing. Lana was sick - could it be that some kind of meteor-infused stomach virus was going around? He wondered vaguely if Lana and Clark had been kissing the previous evening. He struggled to keep up with the teens' romantic rollercoaster. Clark tensed and shuddered as he retched. Jonathan made soothing sounds and smoothed Clark's hair back off his forehead. There seemed to be little else he could do; they'd just have to wait it out.
Clark moaned as his stomach contracted forcefully yet again. He was convinced there was nothing left inside him, but he couldn't stop gagging and retching. He'd never vomited before and would be very happy if it never happened again. He spat acid into the toilet bowl and gasped for breath, tears streaming, but before he could steady himself his stomach rolled again. When he finally leant back, he swayed dizzily, grateful that his dad was holding him firmly. He closed his eyes and felt his mother's gentle hands guide a cool washcloth across his face. Clark was sure he had never felt so tired. His whole body ached and felt heavy, and his stomach felt like it was home to tiny, angry men dancing around a fire and poking his insides with poison-tipped arrows. What the hell was wrong with him?! He thought back to what he'd eaten that day but doing so made his stomach clench. He groaned and turned to press his face into the comforting warmth of his father's plaid shirt.
"Clark?" Jonathan's voice rumbled through his chest. "Let's get you cleaned up and into bed now, son. We can't sit down here forever."
Between them, Jonathan and Martha managed to help Clark into a standing position. His face was white and his teeth were chattering, but he didn't gag, so they slowly made their way up the stairs. Clark sat on the edge of his bed and allowed his mother to remove his shirt and pull a cool, clean T shirt over his head. He managed to wriggle out of his jeans before lying back in exhaustion. Jonathan returned with the bucket and a glass of water, and Martha tucked the blankets around him before drawing the curtains. Clark was asleep before they'd tiptoed from the room.
On the landing, Jonathan sighed deeply and rubbed the muscles at the back of his neck. "What do you think, Martha?" he asked in a low voice. "Could he have caught Lana's stomach flu?"
"I think it's more likely that he's somehow ingested traces of meteor rock" Martha replied.
Jonathan looked at her sharply. The last time anything similar had happened it was an airborne pathogen, and both Clark and Martha had nearly died.
"Well then we need to find the source to make sure this never happens again" he responded, a clear note of Kent determination in his voice.
-I-I-I-I-
Pete sat in his truck looking closely at a map of Smallville which he had temporarily borrowed from the Wall of Weird. After finding out all he could about Elizabeth from Chloe, he had decided to cross-check the location of her family's farm with this map showing known meteor rock locations in the area. Sure enough, Elizabeth's home lay adjacent to a site where a significant amount of debris had landed. Pete started his truck and took a deep breath. Time to investigate.
-I-I-I-I-
Clark shifted as he awoke, realising that his T shirt was sticking to him uncomfortably and he had a bitter taste in his mouth. His mother rose from the chair in the corner and sat next to him on the bed, laying her hand on his cheek and forehead.
"How are you feeling, sweetheart?"
Clark considered, then replied "a bit better than before."
A relief washed over Martha's face. "That's good to hear. How about we try a little food and drink to give you some energy?" Clark looked doubtful. She continued "I've brought you saltines and flat cola, it's supposed to be good for settling stomachs." She helped Clark into a sitting position. As he gingerly sipped and nibbled, he asked,
"Any more ideas on what caused this?"
"I've been calling the hospital to ask about the stomach flu that's going around." Jonathan responded, entering the room and smiling at the sight of Clark sitting up. "There's a chance you caught it from Lana."
Clark flushed. "But why would I suddenly catch a common flu? It makes no sense, unless the meteor rocks were involved somehow, but how could they be?"
"I really don't know, son. I'm just glad to see you with some colour in your cheeks." Jonathan ruffled his hair, before heading back down the stairs.
Clark was relieved to be feeling stronger, and he swung his legs from the bed as he took a long chug of water from the bottle on the nightstand.
"Don't get up too quickly, Clark. You need rest," Martha fretted.
"I'm feeling much better, I want to go for a shower. I feel so gross."
-I-I-I-I-
Pete knocked at the front door. A plump, kindly-faced woman opened it, and he asked to see Elizabeth.
"Oh sure honey, come on in. I'll go get her." the woman ushered him inside. "Can I get you a drink? Something to eat? We've got freshly baked brownies! Beth's been making them for her charity fundraiser."
"No, no thanks Mrs Deacon, I'm fine." Peter's mouth began to water, but he eyed the trays suspiciously.
At that moment, Elizabeth skipped into the room and stopped short when she saw Pete. "Oh... Hi!" she said.
"Hi Elizabeth, sorry to bother you. I don't want this to sound rude, but I need to ask you about your brownie ingredients. Clark got really sick after eating one."
Elizabeth paled, eyes flicking between her mother and Pete. "Is... Is he OK?"
"Let's just say he's become a lot more familiar with the inside of a toilet bowl" replied Pete. "Did you add anything extra to the brownies?"
Elizabeth hesitated, glancing again at her mother, who was looking at her daughter in confusion. "I... Um, I... There were these mushrooms which I found in the woods. I often go mushroom collecting in autumn with my grandpa. I found them last year; they had all the signs of being edible, but I wasn't sure what they were. I dried them out anyway and stored them with my collection. Then with this bake sale... I wasn't raising enough money, people just weren't that interested in buying my baking, so I played around with ingredients and ended up adding some of the mushroom powder. Suddenly everyone was finding the brownies so delicious and buying more of them... So, I kept using it." She flushed scarlet and looked at the floor.
"Elizabeth! How could you?! That was so dangerous. I'm ashamed of you, young lady!" her mother fumed.
"Elizabeth, could I take the packet to get it tested? And could you show me on this map where you found the mushrooms, please?" Pete quickly pushed the map towards her.
-I-I-I-I-
Clark stood under the hot water, relieved to wash the disgusting feeling of illness from his skin. Once satisfied, he reached for a towel and stepped out of the bathtub. However, as he did a wave of dizziness and nausea swept over him and his stomach churned.
"No... Please not again..." Clark groaned, trying to breathe deeply and willing in vain for the feeling to go away. He fell to his knees and clutched at the toilet as his abdominal muscles contacted for what felt like the hundredth time that day and what little sustenance he had attempted to consume made a violent reappearance.
Martha, who had been waiting on the landing, called through the door to him, but he'd made the mistake of locking it. He couldn't move to unlock it; he was too busy gasping for breath in between the searing retches. Black spots were tugging at the edges of his vision, and he let out a strangled sob of fear and pain.
Jonathan, who had been about to attend to farm chores after seeing that his son was feeling better, ran upstairs the moment his wife called his name.
"Jonathan, quickly!"
He took one look at his wife and the bathroom door, then took his shoulder to it. On his second attempt it flung open, just in time to see Clark slump sideways and smack his head on the radiator before crumpling to the floor. Jonathan dashed forward and pulled Clark into his lap, looking down at the pale face with blood now welling from the gash on his temple. Martha quickly appeared with a clean towel to press firmly against the cut.
"What happened, Martha?! He was looking so much better!" Jonathan said, desperately.
"I don't know! He seemed almost back to normal when he went into the bathroom." Martha replied in a strained voice. "He had some saltines and cola..." She hurried from the room to collect the packet and can, which Jonathan inspected.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, looking closely at the cola.
"The general store has introduced its own line of drinks. They're locally made and cheaper than the branded ones... Jonathan, do you think it's the cola? Did he drink some this morning?"
"I don't know, we'll have to ask him when he wakes up. In the meantime, get on the phone with Paul at the store and find out who his supplier is." Jonathan looked down at his son again and brushed his thumb against his pale cheek. "Don't worry, Clark" he said quietly. "We'll figure this out."
-I-I-I-I-
Pete arrived at the Kent farm just as Martha was hanging up the phone.
"Mrs Kent, I spoke to the girl who made the brownies. She's been adding powdered magic mushrooms. I cross-checked where she found them with known meteor rock sites and even got the school lab technician to test the powder, but he couldn't find any trace of meteor rock. He said the dose Elizabeth was baking with would just give people good vibes and make them snacky for more."
"Thank you for looking into that, Pete. We now think it might have been the cola from the general store. Do you know if Clark drank any this morning?"
"I don't know... He went to the bathroom between classes so maybe he went to the vending machine. Wouldn't other people be showing symptoms if there was something wrong with the cola?"
Martha sighed. "We know Clark is highly sensitive to meteor rock, so maybe he's detecting it when others wouldn't, or maybe they'd need to ingest more for it to affect them. I've just got the name of the supplier, it's 'MetPower Beverages'. They have a factory on the outskirts of town."
"Chloe and I can go check it out" Pete quickly offered.
"Are you sure, Pete?"
"Absolutely. We've got to get to the bottom of this, and Chloe loves snooping!" Pete grinned as he headed towards the door. "I'll come back later this afternoon to let you know what we find."
"Thank you, Pete. Clark is lucky to have you as a friend." Martha smiled fondly at him as she made her way back upstairs.
-I-I-I-I-
Clark's head hurt. In fact, his whole body hurt. His throat was burning, his muscles ached, and he felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. Someone was stroking his hair. He wanted to fall back into oblivion, but the stroking hand paused and his father's voice said "Clark? Are you awake?" so he forced himself to open his eyes. His dad's face swam into focus over him, a worried expression etched there.
"Dad?" Clark croaked. "What...?"
"You passed out and hit your head. You've been out for 10 minutes and the cut hasn't healed" Jonathan replied.
Clark lifted a shaking hand to his head and hissed as he touched the lump, eyes widening as he looked at his fingers and saw bright blood. A shiver rattled through Clark and his teeth began to chatter again. His father wrapped his arms around him. Confusion and misery welled up in Clark. He'd been feeling much better! He'd gone for a shower, and... Then what? A sob escaped his lips. This illness seemed to have fractured his emotional defences. He hated feeling so weak and not knowing the cause. The sob was followed by another, and tears spilled down his already damp cheeks. Jonathan immediately adjusted their position on the floor so Clark found himself cradled like a baby against his father's chest. He stopped trying to resist the wave of emotions which were pushing down on him and allowed his tears to flow freely as his breath juddered and caught in his raw throat.
Jonathan gently rocked Clark and pressed kisses to the top of the unruly head of hair. He was close to tears himself - it pained him to see his strong, brave son reduced to a whimpering infant. He must be feeling so sick. "Shh, son, it's ok. I've got you. You're going to be ok. It will pass. Shh..." Jonathan found himself gently repeating platitudes. He looked up as Martha re-entered the bathroom, her face falling even further at the sight of her crying son.
"Clark, sweetie, I need to ask you - did you drink any cola this morning before you got sick?" she murmured, while stroking his hair.
Clark sniffed and gulped before nodding, "yeah, before the exam. I didn't have much cash on me, so I got the cheapest one."
Martha looked at Jonathan. "That must be it, then. Chloe and Pete have gone to investigate. We'll just have to wait to hear from them."
Jonathan nodded. "That's good of them. If the company is deliberately spiking the cola with meteor rock particles, then we're going to have to get the sheriff involved. That stuff is being sold all over town and it could do people real harm."
Clark pushed himself up. "You think I've been drinking meteor rocks?!" he clutched his stomach, wide-eyed. "What if they get into my bloodstream?!" his breathing quickened, and he felt sweat break out on his forehead.
"Clark, calm down. I'm sure this is your body's way of ejecting it, and you'll be fine once it's out of your system" Jonathan could see his son getting more and more worked up.
Clark swallowed hard, but nausea and panic washed over him. He leant forward again and gagged, but there was nothing left for him to bring up. Spitting, eyes still streaming and knuckles white on the toilet seat, he moaned in distress.
"Right, come on Clark. Up you get. Panicking isn't going to get us anywhere." Jonathan firmly lifted Clark to his feet and started to guide him back to his bedroom. "It sounds to me like this is just your version of food poisoning. It sucks, but it will pass."
Clark didn't respond, instead drawing several deep, shaky breaths in an attempt to collect himself. Despite being seventeen years old, at that moment he felt like a scared little kid. Laying back on his bed he tried to relax his tired muscles, but his thoughts were moving at super-speed. As Jonathan moved to leave the room, Clark caught his hand and looked up beseechingly, too miserable to be embarrassed about acting needy. Jonathan sighed and settled himself on the bed beside Clark, putting his arm around him and affectionately rubbing his calloused fingers through Clark's hair, just as he had done many times when his son was small. The farm could wait.
"I've never been sick before." Clark said quietly. "It's horrible."
Jonathan chuckled. "You're right about that, son. But it's a very human experience."
Clark gave a small smile and snuggled into his father's side, closing his eyes.
-I-I-I-I-
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Pete asked, peering out the car window at the forest around them.
"Yep, it should be just up here" Chloe replied.
They drove slowly uphill along the narrow, pot-holed road until a large, grey warehouse and a scattering of surrounding buildings loomed suddenly before them. The sign over the padlocked gate read 'MetPower Ltd'. Parking on the opposite verge, Chloe and Pete stared at the complex. No people were visible, but there were a couple of cars and a truck in the car park. The whole site appeared to be cut into the hillside, and the shadows cast by the surrounding trees gave the place a murky air of gloom.
"We're not going to find anything by sitting here. Come on." Chloe finally said, her voice low despite their relative distance from the buildings. Together they walked up to the gate and peered around for a bell or entry system. Finding none, Chloe bent down to the padlock, small silver tools glittering between her fingers.
"You're way too good at breaking and entering, you know that, right?" Pete muttered, as the gate creaked open.
Chloe merely smirked and pulled her camera out of her pocket. Edging up to the nearest building, they cautiously looked through the grimy windows. Inside, they saw a haphazard array of boxes, most with invoices and delivery details attached. Chloe nudged Pete and he followed her gaze; one of the boxes by the far door was open, and cans of soda were clearly visible.
"OK, we're definitely in the right place…" Chloe whispered. "Let's check out the warehouse."
Skirting around the side of the vast, single-storey building, they found an unmarked, unlocked door. Edging inside, the sound of grinding and whirring machinery masked their footsteps and they found themselves face-to-face with giant, churning vats of what looked like treacle. The dark, syrupy liquid was visible through glass windows and was clearly being pumped from one vat to the next. As Pete and Chloe moved forward, inspecting the windows and dials showing temperature and pressure, they could see the liquid became increasingly diluted and cooler. Pipes ran behind the vats, adding what appeared to be cold water at each stage. At the final vat, the dark liquid flowed into a large carbonising machine; the loud hiss of gas told them that the cola was now being made fizzy. Sure enough, the aerated and compressed liquid was finally channelled to a conveyor belt where empty cans were automatically filled and sealed.
"This doesn't seem all that weird," said Chloe. "Aside from the lax security, it all looks pretty clean and professional. I'm not loving the aroma, but all cola has that sickly, artificial smell."
Pete didn't reply. His eyes were following the thick water pipe from the vats, along the wall and into a lower section of the warehouse which backed directly onto the hillside. Over the sound of the machinery, he could hear the faint sound of running water. Stepping past the conveyor belts, he moved over to a railing and looked down into the space below.
"Chloe…"
She appeared at his side. "Whoa."
A large section of floor panels was lifted like a trapdoor, and below glittered what appeared to be a small, rocky river. Pipes were positioned to collect the water as it flowed rapidly over a small cascade, before it disappeared into a dark tunnel of rock.
"It's a natural spring… incredible," breathed Chloe. "That explains the weird location and how they keep their costs so low. They're not paying for a mains water supply!"
"Let's get a closer look," said Pete.
They descended towards the stream, Chloe snapping a few photos as they went. Leaning closer to the water, a twinkle of green caught Pete's eye and a wave of realisation washed over him.
"Chloe… the boulders in the stream are meteor rocks! Look!"
Chloe gasped. "The water will be eroding the rocks and picking up meteor particles. If they're not filtering it, they are effectively selling meteor-laced soft drinks."
"Well, well, well. What have we got here?"
A cold voice behind them caused Chloe and Pete to jump up and turn quickly. Two men were quietly observing them. One was wearing overalls with a handgun visible in a holster on his belt, and the other – the one who had spoken – was in a shirt and dark suit.
"Admiring our natural, locally-sourced mineral water, are we?" The suited man's smile didn't reach his eyes.
"It's contaminated with meteor rocks! You can't sell this to people, it could make them seriously ill!" Pete exclaimed, angrily.
Chloe was aware that their exit was being blocked by the men. "Um, maybe it's best if we just get on our way. Our families are expecting us," she ventured.
Now the suited man smiled for real. "Oh no, no. You can't leave now. You've seen too much. We will have to think about what to do with you."
Chloe and Pete backed towards the far wall in unison.
"I suppose we'll just keep you here for now." The man nodded at his colleague, who moved forward with his weapon raised, reaching into his pocket for what appeared to be cable ties. "I'm sure you understand. This venture is far too lucrative to be spoiled by nosy kids and idiot health inspectors."
Chloe squealed as the man grabbed her. Pete launched to her defence but was immediately subdued by a violent punch to the face with the butt of the gun. The man bound their wrists and pushed them to the ground. Considering his average height and build he was surprisingly strong, and his hands were slick with sweat.
"You all seem to think it's dangerous, but it's not doing anyone any harm," continued the man. I have conducted all my own tests, and the MetPower recipe is an invigorating blend of natural ingredients which energises the drinker and organically enhances performance in sports."
"If you're so sure it's safe, then why not let the health inspectors test it?!" Chloe demanded.
"Because those people LIE!" The man spat, suddenly angry. "I sent a sample to a private lab for testing and they came out with a load of rubbish about 'dangerous mineral content' and 'potential side effects'. My team have been drinking MetPower for months, and they are fine."
At these words, the man glanced up from where he was securing Pete's ankles and wrists to the railing. Despite the relative chill of the warehouse, beads of sweat were glistening on the man's forehead and a trickle ran down his temple. He caught Pete's eye, then quickly looked away.
"You two can stay here until morning, then we'll decide how to proceed. Here, have some complimentary MetPower." The man put two cans on the cold, metal floor, next to where Pete and Chloe were now bound. The next moment, both men had exited the warehouse.
-I-I-I-I-
When Clark next awoke, darkness had fallen outside and he was alone in his bedroom. Cautiously, he sat up, expecting to feel pain or discomfort, but nothing came. He raised a hand to his head and felt dried blood, but no lump or cut: he had healed. Feeling overwhelmingly relieved, he stretched his stiff limbs, pulled on the jeans which were thrown over his chair and headed downstairs. Martha spun around from where she and Jonathan had been deep in conversation at the kitchen table and jumped up to hug him and feel his forehead.
"Sweetheart! How are you feeling now? You're looking better!"
"I'm back to normal, I think", Clark replied, taking orange juice from the fridge and grabbing a glass. He took a long drink, ridding his mouth of the dry, bitter taste he had awoken with. "Any news from Pete and Chloe?"
Jonathan and Martha looked at each other.
"We were just discussing that. They should have been back hours ago; the factory isn't far away. But neither of them have returned home, and they haven't come here. It's nine o'clock now, and their parents are starting to worry. I'm thinking of heading over to the factory to check it out," said Jonathan.
"Let me go" Clark replied quickly. "I'll get there faster, and I really need some fresh air."
"I don't think that's a good idea, son. If that factory is the source of your illness, it's the last place you should be going," Jonathan frowned.
"They're there because of me. If something has happened to them, I'll never forgive myself. I just won't drink anything while I'm there!"
Martha and Jonathan looked at their determined son, and then at each other.
"If you're not back in an hour, I'm calling the sheriff and driving over there myself." Jonathan stated.
Flashing a quick grin, Clark kissed his mother on the cheek and in an instant had vanished out of the porch door.
"I've got a bad feeling about this, Jonathan…" said Martha, looking worriedly at the door her son had just bolted through.
-I-I-I-I-
Clark slowed to a jog as he approached the bend in the forest road and saw Chloe's car directly ahead. So, they were still here. The warehouse was a shadowy silhouette in the darkness, and all seemed silent. Crushing the lock, Clarke slipped through the gate and looked around. He considered calling out, but a strong gut feeling made him remain silent. Instead, he scanned the warehouse using his x-ray vision. At the very back he suddenly spotted two figures, sitting on the floor with their hands clasped behind them. In an instant, he had raced through the door, past the vats and conveyor belt and down the steps.
"Chloe! Pete! What the hell happened?!" Clark exclaimed, suddenly feeling his energy draining and the familiar pain and nausea of nearby meteor rocks swoop over him. His friends responded simultaneously:
"No… Clark! What the hell are you doing here?!" Pete sounded almost angry.
"Clark! Thank goodness. I'd almost managed to cut through this cable tie on the railing, but I'm damn relieved the cavalry is here. Clark… are you ok?" Chloe was peering up at him in concern as Clark hunched over, breathing heavily.
"Yeah, I… I've just been ill all day" Clark replied, exchanging a look with Pete. "Let's get you out of here". He ripped off the cable ties with a grunt of effort and pulled Chloe and Pete to their feet.
"Leaving so soon?" A sarcastic voice echoed through the darkness near them, and all three teens jumped. The men appeared, weapons raised. "You didn't really think we'd leave you here unattended, did you kiddies?" The suited man crooned. "It seems like we'll have to deal with you and your heroic friend sooner rather than later."
"People know we're here! They'll come looking for us!" yelled Pete.
"And unfortunately, your mangled bodies will be discovered in the machinery. Terrible accidents can happen when teenagers trespass in factories. Curiosity killed the cats."
Chloe was staring at the man, wide-eyed. "That's insane. You're insane. They'll never believe you!"
"Clark, do something…" Pete breathed out of the corner of his mouth. But Clark was now gripping Pete's shoulder in an attempt to stay upright.
"What's wrong with him?" The man in overalls spoke for the first time.
"YOUR drink made him sick, and it's probably making other people sick too. You're never going to get away with this!" Chloe shrieked.
The man glanced at his boss, and in the green light of the glowing meteor rocks reflecting on the water, Pete could again see sweat rivulets on his pale face.
The suited man cackled with maniacal laughter. "It doesn't matter what you say. This is a miracle drink and I'm going to make my fortune, and no damn kids are going to get in my way! Vince, throw them in there and put the floor back down."
In a sudden movement, the man stepped forward and forcefully shoved Chloe, Clark and Pete into the stream. Clark wanted to yell in agony as he found himself submerged in icy water, but instead he clamped his mouth tightly shut. He was so weak he could barely raise his head to breath. He felt Pete drag him into a seated position, the water surging around them. At that moment, the metal floor panels slammed into place a couple of inches above their heads and reverberated around their rocky prison. Panic surged within him. They were going to die down here, and there was nothing he could do to save them. He slumped sideways retching and clutching his chest.
"Chloe, help me! The meteor rocks are making him sick! We've got to get out of here!" Pete's voice seemed to reach Clark's ears from the end of a long tunnel. All was confusion. Green streaks flashed viciously across the inside of his eyelids, and pain shot like electricity through his limbs, making his fingers and toes curl in agony. It was almost a relief when he slipped into unconsciousness.
-I-I-I-I-
Wet grass. Cold. Stinging skin.
Clark struggled to hold on to these physical sensations and drag himself back to reality. He could hear voices over him and feel hands tugging at his clothes, rubbing his arms, stroking his face. Gradually he managed to crack open his eyes.
"Clark, oh thank god." Jonathan Kent sounded weak with relief as he embraced his son tightly from their position on the verge outside the MetPower gate. Police cars were bathing the area in flashing blue light, and the MetPower men were being led, handcuffed, towards a patrol car.
"Dad, what…?"
Chloe appeared above him, wrapped in a blanket and looking shaken but unharmed. "It was the armed goon, Vince, I think his name was. He started yelling at Boss Man that the drink was making him sick too, and that his cut of the profits wouldn't be much good to him if he dropped dead or was faced with murder charges. The suited maniac was screaming at him to shut up and do what he's told, and the next minute there was a thud and silence, then the panels above us opened. Vince had knocked him out cold. Your dad arrived just as we were dragging you out of the stream."
Clark looked up at his dad, whose face was taut with worry.
"Good thing that Vince guy cracked when he did, otherwise…" Chloe trailed off, visibly regretting starting that sentence.
"Sorry, Chloe", Clark croaked. "I came to rescue you and ended up needing rescuing myself."
"Shut up Clark", Pete interjected. "We're just glad we all got out of there in one piece. It was sheer luck."
"The sherriff says there have been a handful of reports about teens, mainly jocks from what I can gather, having strange fevers and increased strength. Luckily, the soda is being recalled as we speak. I can see the headline. 'Teens thwart poisonous cola campaign'" Chloe mused. "'Or MetPower maniac makes murderous mistake'. I wonder if I can get a quote from Vince…" she headed off towards the cop cars, but paused and looked back. "And Clark, I'm going to need the full scoop on your allergy to meteor rocks. I can't believe you never told me!" Clark averted his gaze and said nothing.
"How are you feeling, son?" Jonathan said quietly.
"Weak, and my skin hurts. I think the water is still on me." Clark became aware that his T shirt had been taken off him and his torso was wrapped in a blanket, but his sodden jeans were still sticking to his legs.
"Home." stated Jonathan, helping Clark to his feet and slowly guiding him to the truck.
"Mr Kent!" the Sheriff raised her voice over the milling group of people. Hurrying over, she said "Mr Kent, I need to take a statement from Clark."
"Clark is sick. He's been vomiting and feverish all day. I'm not keeping him out here in the cold a moment longer. You can come and speak with him at the farm tomorrow, Sherriff." Jonathan replied, firmly. The Sherriff frowned, but allowed Clark to climb wearily into the passenger seat.
They drove in silence for a while, then Clark said "sorry, dad. I didn't mean to worry you."
Jonathan kept his eyes on the road. "Clark, this isn't the first time your urge to protect the people you care about has resulted in you risking your own life. Nor, unfortunately, do I imagine it will be the last. You were lucky this time, but it could have been much worse. I need you to stop rushing into situations and start using more caution and common sense. Despite all your strength and powers, you are not indestructible."
Clark closed his eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry. It was stupid of me."
Jonathan reached over and squeezed Clark's hand. "I love you son."
Clark gave a small smile, and weakly returned the squeeze. He was very ready to put this lousy day behind him.
-I-I-I-I-
The end.