"You really think this is a good idea?" Jimmy asked as he and Linda walked down the empty hall of Smallville High.
"It's Saturday," Linda said, "it's early and no one saw us come in."
"And I distinctly remember last night that Clark and your folks told us to stay out of this," Jimmy pointed out. "Clark was especially vehement about not investigating those boys or that guy."
"And, yet, here we are," Linda smirked, "traipsing through my high school on a Saturday morning to rendezvous with Wally and Cutter instead of heading back to Metropolis." She paused, folding her arms. "So, why didn't you nix this?"
Jimmy froze. "Uh, well," he stammered nervously, "I mean...it's not like I could really stop you if I wanted to." Linda raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "I mean, the guy was able to throw you around like a ragdoll-"
"Don't remind me," Linda muttered, her face darkening.
Jimmy winced. "Sorry."
"Don't be," Linda replied as they continued their walk. "Whoever that guy was, rest assured that I will not be underestimating him the next time we meet." They stopped just outside the door to the Torch and gave an odd look. "So, you wanna tell me why you looked like you'd seen a ghost last night?"
"Good morning, sunshines."
Linda and Jimmy both looked over as Wally waved to them from his desk. Cutter was at the filing cabinet, a handful of papers in his hands. Linda and Jimmy walked in and over to the desk.
"So, what do we owe this Saturday morning visit?" Wally asked. "Your call this morning was a wee bit cryptic-and urgent."
"And early," Cutter said as he finished his filing and quickly joined them. "Even for someone who gets up at the crack of dawn every day."
"Yeah, sorry," Linda replied, "but we needed your help...and we're not exactly supposed to be involved-anymore."
"And he's not supposed to be here at all," Wally eyed Jimmy with a smirk, "which means we're really intrigued." He cracked his fingers and readied them over the keyboard. "So, give us all the juicy details."
"Some teenage boys were hanging in our barn," Linda explained. "Then this guy shows up, dressed like Robocop in riot gear saying he was there to retrieve them. I tried to find out what was going on, but he decided that using his shield like a battering ram against us was a better idea."
"He attacked you?" Cutter asked, worried. "Are you okay?"
"We're fine," Jimmy replied. "Got the upper hand for a while, but he managed to escape-along with the boys."
"So, you got a description?" Wally asked. "Get a look at his face?"
"I wish," Linda replied, "but he was wearing a helmet, lead-lined."
"How did you know it was lead-lined?" Cutter asked, confused.
"Uh, it looked like it was lead-lined," Jimmy answered quickly. "You know, the way the lighting was and the thickness." Cutter and Wally gave them odd glances, but they shook their heads slightly and focused their attention on the computer. Linda gave Jimmy a grateful look, and he nodded slightly.
"Well, anyway, that's not really much to go on," Cutter said, slightly disappointed.
"That's nothing to go on," Wally retorted. "Unless we have a description or something, we got zilch."
"Try looking up the Guardian," Jimmy said suddenly. Everyone looked at him strangely. "Just do it."
Wally typed on the keyboard, inputting the information. The screen came up with multiple links. Wally clicked on the first one, and a grainy photo of the five teenagers and the man-wearing a similar out outfit-appeared on the screen; there were some other teenage boys and another man in a military uniform there as well, but Linda didn't recognize any of them.
"That's them," Linda said, almost stunned.
"You mean it looks like them," Cutter pointed out.
"No, I mean that looks exactly like them," Linda retorted. "All five of the boys looked exactly like that," she pointed to the red-headed kid with the newsboys hat, "right down to that kid's hat." She noticed their names in the bottom caption. "Gabby, Scrapper, Tommy, Big Words, and Flip. Names match the names-and faces-from last night." She pointed to the man. "His outfit's a little different, but that looks like our guy." She read his name. "The Guardian of Suicide Slums." She looked at Jimmy curiously. "You recognized them last night, didn't you?"
"Well, growing up in Suicide Slums you hear things," Jimmy replied, "and then when I started at the Planet, I got bored one day and researched things in the Archives."
"And?" Linda asked, furrowing her eyebrows.
"Well, uh, there wasn't much," Jimmy said slowly. "All anyone really knows is the Guardian showed up in Metropolis in the eighties. He was a vigilante, mainly against organized crime and espionage."
"And the boys?" Linda asked.
"Not much on them," Jimmy replied. "They used to live on the streets, hawking papers and committing petty crimes."
"When was this photo taken?" Linda asked.
Wally peered at the screen. "Uh, nineteen eighty-six," he said.
"Twenty-eight years ago," Linda replied. "Not too long ago. So, if we can find out what happened to these guys, maybe we can track them down, and they can tell us why their doppelgangers-and that Guardian wannabe-were in my barn last night."
"Well, that's gonna be a little hard," Wally said, scrolling down, reading the text underneath. "Says all of these guys have dropped off the radar since the mid nineties."
"Not all of them," Jimmy said. "Go back up." Wally scrolled back up to the photo, and Jimmy tapped the screen over the face of one of the unknown teenagers in the picture; his face was a mixture of a smirk and scowl, and he wore a fedora hat. "We might be able to get something out of him. He was mentioned in the Archives as well."
Cutter peered at the teenager's name. "You know who 'Brooklyn' is?" he asked.
"Yeah," Jimmy answered. "We all do. That's Inspector Turpin of the S.C.U.."
"That's 'Terrible Turpin'?" Cutter asked incredulously.
"The one and only," Jimmy replied. "Can you send that photo to my phone?" Wally hit a few keys on the keyboard, and a couple of seconds later Jimmy's phone. Jimmy quickly pulled his phone out and checked it. "Thanks." He put it back, then glanced at Linda, who looked troubled. "What?"
"Hey, guys, thanks for the help," Linda replied cheerfully. "We're gonna go check this out. Let you know what we find. Thanks again!" She grabbed Jimmy's hand and gently pulled him out of the room..
"Okay, so we go to Metropolis and talk to Turpin," Jimmy said as they walked quickly down the hall. "Maybe he can shed some light on this whole thing."
"I'm not going," Linda said.
"Okay, just a few minutes ago, you were all for hunting these people down," Jimmy said, "and now you've turned one-eighty. Why?" He eyed her curiously. "You're not scared, are you?"
"Why would I be scared?" Linda bristled.
"Well, he kinda threw you around like a ragdoll," Jimmy said. Linda glared at him, and he held up his hands defensively. "Not that that means anything, but I can understand if you're not...enthusiastic about facing him again."
"Oh, believe me," Linda replied defensively, "I'm quite enthusiastic about meeting our friend once more."
"So," Jimmy continued cautiously, "then why don't you want to come to Metropolis all of a sudden?"
"I just think it's best if I don't go with you to meet with Turpin."
"Why not?" Jimmy asked as they headed out the double doors of the building to the parking lot and over to his car.
"Because I don't need him getting suspicious of me," Linda replied. "From what Clark's told me, Inspector Turpin and Captain Sawyer still suspect Superman's hiding the Girl of Metropolis somewhere. I don't need to go there and add fuel to those suspicions."
"He won't recognize you," Jimmy said. "He's been around both Clark and Superman for two years and still hasn't made the connection."
"All the same," Linda replied, "I think it's best if you talk to him, and I'll meet up with you later."
"And where are you going in the meantime?" Jimmy asked, curious.
"Not sure," Linda replied. "Maybe I'll spend the day in the studio. I've had a few ideas running around my head, but not much time to work on them. And with me being here and you being in Metropolis, no one will suspect us from investigating things while we're investigating things."
Jimmy pursed his lips, thinking, then he slowly smiled. "That...is actually pretty smart." He opened the driver's side door of his car. "Okay, I'll get to Metropolis, talk to Turpin, and call you when I get some answers." He started to lean forward toward her, but then he stopped when he realized what he was doing. Blushing, he quickly got in, closed the door behind him, and started the engine; he didn't even look at Linda as he drove off.
"Bye," Linda said softly, not hiding her disappointment. She waited until his car had disappeared around the building before facing town. She was about to take off toward town when a loud car horn jarred her. She turned as a red Ford Focus sped over and stopped nearby; the driver's side door opened and Mattie got out, leaving the engine running.
"What's the point of having a phone if you don't answer it?" the teenager demanded as she walked over.
"Sorry," Linda apologized. "Been busy." She paused. "Wait, how did you know I was here?"
"Well, went by the farm, but your folks said you were heading to Metropolis with Jimmy. Tried calling you, but went to voicemail-several times. So, I called Wally and Cutter to see if they could get Jimmy's number so I could try calling him, but they said the two of you were on your way over, so I figured I'd just come here instead." She glanced around. "Where's Jimmy?"
"He's on his way to Metropolis," Linda replied.
"And he just left you?" Mattie asked incredulously. Linda stammered, trying to come up with an excuse but Mattie waved a hand. "Forget it. Just glad I found you."
"What is it?" Linda asked.
"You know Dick's been sick the past few days?" Mattie asked.
Linda nodded. "Yeah, he missed school all this week," she replied. "His mom said he wasn't up for visitors. Mattie, you know this." She tilted her head, sensing something was off. "What is it?"
"Look, please don't hate me for this," Mattie said, "but Dick didn't want any of us to tell you earlier."
"Tell me what?" Linda asked warily.
"Why he's been sick," Mattie replied. "He still wasn't too happy, but I told him you needed to know, and if he didn't I was going to, so he said to find you so you could come and talk to him."
"A bit theatrical for a bad case of the flu," Linda joked. She saw Mattie's expression hadn't changed, and her smile slowly faded. "It's not the flu, is it?" Mattie shook her head. "Mattie, what's wrong with Dick?"
Mattie took in a deep breath. "Linda, Dick has cancer."
# # # #
Linda's head was swimming as she followed behind Lacy Malverne down the familiar hallway toward Dick's room. She hadn't been over to the house often, but in all the times she had visited she had never failed to notice the warm and loving atmosphere of the house, but now it seemed solemn and somber-almost as if the family was planning an execution. The teenager quickly pushed that thought from her head, not even wanting to consider that possibility.
"Linda?"
Linda looked up as Lacy turned around. She looked tired, with dark circles under her eyes, like she hadn't slept in days. "Yes, ma'am?" she asked quietly.
"Are you sure you don't have any questions?" Lacy asked. "About anything?"
"No, ma'am," Linda said, trying to keep her voice from wavering.
Lacy nodded and reached for the knob, opening the door and peeking in. "Dick, you have a visitor." She stood aside, and Linda hesitated briefly before slowly walking in; Lacy closed the door behind her.
Even with what Linda had been told about Dick's condition, the teenager was still startled by the set up in Dick's room. The posters and most everything that Linda remembered from her last visit was there, but it wasn't hard to miss the hospital bed where Dick's old bed had been; on his nightstand were various prescription bottles, a tissue box, and a glass of water. Dick lay in bed, propped at an incline, dressed in pajama pants and a navy shirt, the sheets tucked under his arms. Linda could see wires attached from his arm and chest leading to a heart monitor, and an IV needle from his left hand leading to a drip bag attached on a stand near the bed. He was pale and looked very thin, and there were dark circles around his sunken eyes, but he still managed a tired smile.
"Hey, there," he said, his voice soft and raspy. He shifted a bit into a better sitting position, wincing a bit. He sighed and leaned back, nodding at the chair beside the bed. "You can sit down, if you'd like." Linda walked over and sat down, but she remained silent as she stared at him. "So, now you know my secret."
"Advanced stage acute lymphocytic leukemia," Linda said quietly.
"Yeah, bone marrow cancer," Dick replied
"How long have you had it?"
"Couple of years," Dick answered. "Eighth grade. Caught it early, did the whole radiation and chemo thing, lost my hair, grew it back, went into remission...at least until recently." He sighed. "You know, they said I might have red hair, but," he shrugged slightly, "no luck."
"I'm sure you would have looked great with red hair," Linda replied, smiling slightly.
Dick's smile faded. "So, uh...how mad are you?"
"Not mad," Linda replied. "How long?"
"Doctors say a few months, at best," Dick replied.
"Do the others know?" Linda asked.
"Yeah, and believe me, they all gave me flack for waiting so long to tell you."
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Linda asked, looking hurt. "Do I really mean that little to you?"
"No," Dick said. He sighed. "I just," he looked down, embarrassed, "I didn't want to worry you."
"I'm your friend, Dick."
"Yeah, and for as long as I've known you, you've always looked like you got the weight of the world on your shoulders...more so lately." He shrugged. "I just didn't want to add to that. I'm sorry."
Linda sighed, not sure if she should feel guilty or frustrated. "Dick," she said softly. "I...I don't know what to say to that." She glanced at the prescriptions. "How are you feeling right now?"
Dick shrugged. "I'm okay, I guess. They're just trying to keep me comfortable right now."
Linda looked at the different prescriptions, reading their labels. "'Methadone'," she read, "'acetaminophen…'fentanyl'?"
"I even get a morphine injection if the pain gets really bad," Dick joked.
"How bad is it?" Linda asked. "Really?"
Dick opened his mouth, but as he looked her in the eye and paused. After a few moments, he sighed. "It hurts," he admitted. "A lot."
"And there's nothing the doctors can do?" Linda asked. "No treatment?" Dick shook his head, and Linda tried to fight back the tears. "Oh, Dick, I wish there was something I could do."
Dick took in a deep breath and slowly sat up, gently taking her hand. "Having you here now is enough," he said.
Linda smiled, touched, and squeezed his hand gently. "And I'll stay here as long as you want."
(End of Chapter 3)