Kaleidoscope
by Lener
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in Smallville.
Chapter Two
He watched the boy make his way slowly down the street.
He had been following the boy since he stepped out from the glass doors of Smallville High and into the polluted streets of the city. The boy was about 15 or 16 years of age, with a curly mop of auburn hair, a freckly face and twinkling blue eyes.
He had seen the adoring stares from some of the girls standing by the doors and on the steps when the boy came down with a group of friends, all wearing the same red, black and yellow jacket over shirts and pants.
No doubt the boy would know who he was after…
Jerry waved goodbye to the last of his friends including Whitney Fordman and his girlfriend Lana Lang. Seriously, that girl is drop-dead gorgeous and she doesn't even want to admit it. Jerry thought to himself as he crossed a junction and made his way to the block of apartments just outside the city centre. Jerry knew that Lana was his friend's (and teammate's) girlfriend but so what- a guy could dream, right?
Anyway there was no point hankering after Lana Lang ever since he'd made that spectacular pass and a touchdown in the latest football game, girls he did not even know had been coming up to him and asking for his number.
Perhaps life was not so bad after all.
The sun had already begun to set, leaving the clouds in a whirl of lazy swirls of lavender and rose. By now the streets of Smallville were almost empty, as its inhabitants settled down for evening dinner.
The man knew it was time to step out of the shadows.
It was time for the kill.
Jerry glanced at his watch.
7:23 PM, the lighted clock face read.
The shadows were starting to come out now, and he quickened his pace a little.
Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled, and Jerry felt the strangest sensation- as though someone… or something was watching him. Watching his every move.
"Who's there?" Jerry called out sharply. He craned his neck to look behind him, but there was no sign of anyone. Maybe it was just his imagination. Or maybe some girls were stalking him! That would be the first time that ever happened.
Swish… swish…
Okay now that was not from his imagination. Jerry stopped, frowning. He was certain he had heard the swishing sound. Who could have made it?
And then something lurched out of the shadows, slamming him into the brick wall of a nearby building. The breath was knocked out of Jerry as he felt as though his back was broken.
Clammy cold hands were gripping his neck, threatening to strangle him then and there. Jerry struggled for breath, gasping and wheezing. He tried to kick out with his legs, but the strength seemed to be departing from his limbs.
"Where is the boy…" a voice rasped out.
"I… I don't… know what… you're talk… talking about…" Jerry coughed in between his sentences. His heart was suddenly seized in fear's icy grip.
"The boy… Clark… Kent…" the voice seemed to be coming from the dark space in front of him. Something invisible was standing there choking him.
"Clark?" Jerry coughed, and struggled. "Kent Farm… H… Hickory Lane... please… let me… go… now…"
He was enjoying this now. The look of pure terror and fear from the boy, the sheer sense of that pulsating from his very being. He fed on that, drinking in the boy's fears.
"Let you go? I don't think I can do that…"
He studied the quavering face, eyes roving down to the wide expanse of tanned neck. Then with one swoop he was upon the boy, piercing through the thin skin and drinking his very life essence.
Jerry's inert body rested for a while without any help against the wall, then slowly it slumped down to the floor, leaving a trail of slick blood.
The wide, shocked eyes of the 15-year-old football player stared unseeingly out at the horizon as the night swept over Smallville.
*
Clark stood in his loft behind the telescope, gazing at Nell Potter's front porch, where Lana Lang was settled on the rattan chair with a book of poetry in her hand. Staring into the telescope lenses, Clark smiled to himself as he watched Lana.
The loud thump of footsteps alerted him that someone was coming.
Surreptitiously moving the telescope away from its focus, Clark turned around to find Chloe standing behind him.
"Chloe… what are you doing here?" he asked.
"I know what you're doing, Clark," all she did was glare.
"What… you don't know what you're talking about," Clark could feel himself stiffen. He stepped in front of his telescope, as if protecting it from Chloe's penetrating gaze. He knew she had her Reporter Gaze on.
"She's totally wrong for you, Clark," Chloe insisted.
"What?!" Clark spat.
Chloe took a step closer to Clark, looking into his eyes. He felt a jolt as he stared into her eyes- eyes that were almost like his, except darker.
"You and Lana Lang will never be together, because she's not right for you," Chloe said.
Shocked and dazed for a few seconds, Clark finally found his voice and said angrily, "You have no right to tell me who's right for me and who's not." He took a step towards her, seething in fury. Clark had never felt this angry in his life. Chloe's eyes flashed darkly, but she hardly seemed frightened- it was as though she seemed prepared for whatever he was going to do.
"I'm only doing what's best for you…" she said.
"No! You don't know me at all! Go away! Leave me alone!" Without thinking, Clark grabbed Chloe by the shoulders and hurled her out of the wall. She crashed through the wood and fell down… down…
Then with a flash Clark was kneeling down in a graveyard, with the rain coming down in torrents. The raindrops were wetting his shirt and pants and he was drenched, but his gaze was fixed on the 5 tombstones surrounding him, offering no way out.
He had been here before… a feeling of dread seemed to pass over him. Clark didn't want to look at the words carved on the cold faces of the tombstones, but somehow he could not tear his eyes away from them.
In memory of Jonathan Kent. Beloved Husband and Father.
In memory of Martha Kent. Beloved Wife and Mother.
Pete Ross.
And then…
Chloe Sullivan.
Lana Lang.
"NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"
Clark bolted up from bed, sweat covering his entire body. The soft shirt he slept in clung to his chest, and it was drenched in his sweat. Strange, in the dim morning light it seemed as though the rain from his nightmare had been real, and that his shirt was actually drenched by the rain and not his sweat.
It was one of those nights when dreams muddled up his sleep, riddling him with confusion and mixed feelings.
Breathing heavily, he lay in bed for a while, letting the noises of his everyday farm life sink comfortingly in. Down below he could hear his mother pottering around the kitchen, baking bread or something that smelt really sweet from where he was. Somewhere in the farm the distant whirring of the clipper told Clark that his father was already up and working.
Feeling much better, Clark took a peek at his alarm clock… and immediately felt worst.
He was late for school.
Clark slung his red backpack over his shoulders and bounded down the stairs two at a time. His mother was bent over the stove, removing a pan from it.
Hoping that his mother would not see him, Clark opened the fridge, picked up the huge glass bottle of milk and gulped down its contents. Just at that moment Martha turned around, and Clark gave her his big-eyed gaze, turning on the Kent Charm to full blast.
"Okay, I'll close an eye just this once, Clark. Besides, you're running late as it is already," Mrs. Kent grinned.
Clark set down the bottle of milk, engulfed his mom in a bear hug, then rushed out of the door.
"Tell Dad I said hi!" he called after him, before super-speeding off to school.
"Clark…" the first person to rush up to him was Chloe. Clark glanced down at her and smiled, relieved that it was all a dream. He would never, ever throw his best friend off the Fortress of Solitude.
"Chloe… hey, what's going on?" Clark frowned when he saw her ashen face. Something was definitely not working out for Chloe, because he rarely saw her lose her composure.
"It's Jerry, Clark. Jerry Fields. Clark… he… he's dead," Chloe began to cry. Her hands flew up to her face to hide the tears, but Clark could see the salty drops leaking through her slim fingers. Clark had never seen Chloe this devastated before.
He did the only thing he could think of. He pulled Chloe against him and gently pressed her head on his shoulder. "It's okay, Chloe… everything's going to be okay…" he said.
"N… no, C… Clark. He's... he's dead..." Chloe's muffled sobs pierced his heart.
Author's Note: Okay this Jerry Fields guy is an original character. He's in the football team, if you haven't already figured that out. Why Chloe's do devastated about his death will be revealed in the next chapter! Hope you liked this chapter. Special thanks to:
Megan
Stepsters
deanine
Starburst
Suz
derrick
Thanks for reviewing!