It was Sunday morning and she was still sleepy. Chloe wandered into the Talon and, sure enough, there he was. Sitting innocently at a table as if nothing had happened.

'Clark,' she began, as she approached the table.

'Hey, Chloe. What's up?' Clark said cheerfully, then frowned. 'You look like you've seen a ghost.'

'Maybe I just did,' she replied. Clark displayed no indication that he'd seen her earlier that morning. 'Clark, don't you remember coming to my house this morning?'

'What?' Said Clark, puzzled. Hmm, she did remember he had said he probably wouldn't recall their conversation. That's why he'd asked her to remind him about his meeting. This was odd.

'Listen, Clark. You came to my house this morning looking like death warmed up. You told me to go to the Talon and ask you to meet a guy called Hugh Jameson at the warehouse over on Temp Street. You also said that you probably wouldn't remember telling me.'

Clark looked at her as if she'd just been speaking in Japanese.

'Chloe, I've been here for the last half hour, and I came here straight from doing my chores on the farm. I've been nowhere near your house.'

Chloe paused. It was beginning to seem like she'd have to clear another space on the wall of weird. An electric thrill travelled down her spine. 'Who could it have been then?'

'Tina Greer, perhaps?' Suggested Clark with a teasing grin.

'Clark! Be serious,' Chloe hit him on the arm. 'This is freaking me out. We need to find out what's going on here.'

'Hey, it could be her. Tell you what – I'll go meet this Jameson guy. You try to find out what happened to Tina, OK?'

'Sure, Clark. Whatever you say,' she said with exaggerated obedience. Clark got up to leave. 'Clark,' she called after him. 'Be careful, OK?'

'I'll be fine,' Clark smiled, and left. Chloe worried about him briefly, particularly since the other Clark had looked so ill. She doubted it was Tina Greer, but it would take just moments to find out if she was still in the secure hospital. After that, she had something else to do. She had neglected to mention that Clark's other self had made a point of warning her not to go anywhere near the warehouse. Indeed, he had seemed quite concerned about it. But Chloe Sullivan, intrepid reporter, was not to be hindered by anyone. Not even Clark, or his look-alike.

She made up her mind and left the Talon.

*          *          *

Clark arrived at the warehouse and approached the open doors. He made a note to run more carefully in future – he'd almost knocked down a cyclist on the way there.

'Hello?' He called. His voice echoed through the empty warehouse. A door sat innocuously in the far wall. Clark X-rayed it and saw a skeleton inching along the floor on its stomach. He ran to the door, found it was locked, and opened it anyway. The room behind it contained a desk, two swivel chairs, a filing cabinet and Hugh Jameson, now lying on his back gurgling blood.

'You!' Jameson gasped. 'How did you find me?'

Clark was taken aback. He had been hoping Jameson could tell him what was going on, but not only was he not expecting Clark; he was dying of bullet wounds.

'Don't worry,' he said. 'I'm gonna get you to a hospital.'

'No!' breathed the man. 'Too late… too late. Listen.' He hacked out a dreadful cough that caused fresh blood to stream from the hole in his abdomen. 'Justin Webb must be stopped.'

'How? What is he doing?'

'There are two of him,' Jameson wheezed. 'Later this afternoon he will travel back in time to yesterday morning.'

Clark boggled. Jameson tried to sit up, his face strained with urgency.

'You have to believe me! The man is dangerous.' Another coughing fit came and went. 'He sent me back first to test the process. You must stop him!'

'How?' Urged Clark again. 'Where is he?'

'I don't know where the later version of him is. He is the one that shot me. He could still be around here for all I know.'

Clark scanned the area. He was nowhere to be seen.

'But that is not important!' Jameson insisted. It's the earlier version we… you… must stop. Even now he is at Dr Hamilton's lab torturing him for information on that damn machine.'

'Machine? A time machine?' Clark hazarded.

'Yes!' Replied Jameson, sinking back to the floor. 'You must prevent him from getting the information he needs to use the machine. Then he will not be able to cause any of this mess.'

Clark could see he was getting weaker. 'What if I can't stop him?'

'You must! It is the only way. Unless…' He commenced another coughing fit. Clark waited for it to pass. 'Unless you were to use the machine yourself. That might work.' He looked thoughtful, as if contemplating the possibilities this presented.

Clark didn't like the sound of that, but felt a creeping inevitability about it. Chloe's message took on a new significance.

'Right,' he said. 'Where do I find this machine and how do I use it? Just in case.'

But Jameson had already uttered his last words. With a faint sigh he passed away.

Damn, thought Clark. He wondered briefly what to do with the body. Then considered that there might not even be a body if he got to Webb in time.

Hamilton's lab was on the other side of town. It would take even Clark some time to get there. He sped off immediately.

*          *          *

Chloe pulled up outside the warehouse and started snooping. She had confirmed that, as she suspected, Tina was exactly where she should be. So that left the mystery of Clark's doppelganger still to be solved. She entered the warehouse and looked around. The smell of mouldy cardboard and rat faeces conspired to produce an olfactory deterrent, but she persevered. The main area yielded nothing to a cursory inspection, but there was a door set into the far wall. It was ajar. She crept over to it and pushed it gently open, whereupon her heart leapt up and hit the base of her brain.

Lying on the floor in front of her, in a congealing pool of its own blood, was the dead body of a man. She took a step back, fighting a wave of nausea. She'd always thought she'd be stronger than this, but seeing your first dead body is always a shocking experience, especially when you are not prepared. Her thoughts turned immediately to Clark. She prayed that he was not lying somewhere in a similar condition. As she began backing out of the room, the skin on the back of her neck started to prickle, a sure sign that someone was standing behind her. Sure enough she turned round to see a man holding a gun. He grinned at her.

'Well, aren't you just the slightest bit inconvenient,' he said condescendingly. Chloe tried to stammer a reply, but her vocal chords had seized. 'I'm afraid I can't let you tell anyone about this,' the man continued. 'It might make me look bad.' He raised the gun a little higher, and Chloe's knees began to buckle. A thin rivulet of cold sweat insisted on making its way down her back. The man paused to reflect on the deed he was about to commit.

'I suppose if I were a cartoon villain I might be inclined to tie you up and leave you somewhere conducive to rescue,' he mused. 'Unfortunately for you, this is the real world.'

He fired the gun, and Chloe's last thoughts were that it seemed a remarkably long time between him pulling the trigger and the sound of the blast reaching her ears.

*          *          *