Chapter 2

Ambush, that was the only word for what Clark found at home. His mom and dad were sitting in the kitchen with his dream journal between them. Had they read it? Surely they hadn't. It was private. They'd probably want him to see a psychiatrist if they'd read it. Those dreams weren't pretty, or easy to explain away. "Hi."

"Clark, baby, you're home early," Martha said. She pushed the little notebook across the table guiltily. "I ran across this little book when I was making your bed this morning. Aside from the fact that I shouldn't have had to make your bed, it concerned me that you started a dream journal. Have you been sleeping well? You can talk to us."

"You read it didn't you. I can't believe you'd read that," Clark said. He snatched the notebook up and curled it in his fist. "This isn't any of your business. If I wanted to talk about it, I'd have come to you."

Jonathan shook his head and held his hands up in surrender. "Hey, I just walked in the door. From what I understand no one has read anything. Your mother's just a little worried about you. With all this defensiveness, I have to wonder if she's justified." Jonathan arched his eyebrow speculatively.

Clark's shoulders slumped and he shrugged. He was defensive. The dreams scared him. He didn't understand how those images could play inside his head, and he was ashamed for anyone to know about them. "I'm sorry. This is just something I'm dealing with myself. I've been having a few nightmares, and I decided to research dreaming a little to learn about them. A website recommended the journal. That's the whole story." Clark stared at the notebook and his mother's repair job. Maybe his dad hadn't read the thing, but his mom had obviously been fiddling around with it. "As much as I'd love to chat about my stupid little journal, I have to meet Chloe soon, so I better get started on my chores."

Clark was gone before Martha could even reply to his explanation. "I don't like it. He's really upset for just a couple of nightmares. Maybe you should try talking to him without me, father to son, you know?"

Jonathan nodded. "I think that might be a good idea."

Clark stuffed his journal in his back pocket and just stood in the sun for a long moment. He let the warm rays bake through him. With the sun on his skin and the wind tugging at his clothes, Clark always felt better, stronger, clearer. With a deep sigh, he headed for the cows in the back pasture.


Chloe sat alone in her booth at the Talon. With a grimace, she took up her notepad and sketched a hole with a flag sticking out of it. "There, I contributed." Clark would hopefully be more into the whole, create a golf hole project. She drank down a gulp of coffee and moved on to her literature homework.

"Chloe, girl, what are you doing?" Pete said. He plopped down in the seat opposite her beverage in hand. He scanned her doodle critically. "I hope this isn't your creation for Mr. Carter's infamous miniature-golf-hole-assignment. There's a reason I'm in trigonometry this year. He's a real Nazi about this thing by all reports."

Chloe looked up and shrugged. "I'm actually hoping Clark will be the captain of this particular project. He's aced every test in there, and I don't think he even takes notes. I swear it makes me sick sometimes."

"Yet somehow we remain friends," Pete said.

Chloe tossed her pencil down and frowned speculatively. "I'm a little worried about Clark. He seems a little exhausted lately, you know? Am I just imagining things?"

Pete froze, frappicino halfway to his mouth. Clark, tired? That wasn't terribly likely. Aliens didn't get tired that often in Pete's limited experience. "I imagine you're imagining it."

When she spotted Clark making his way toward them she had to agree with Pete. He looked just fine, practically glowing. "Hey Clark, you feeling inspired?"

"Inspired about miniature golf? Not really, but I'll fake it," Clark said. He took the seat by Pete. "I'm not late am I?"

"Nah, I just arrived early," Chloe said. "I thought I might get a little studying done before the golf-hole nonsense, no offense Clark."

Clark held his hands up in mock surrender. "I didn't come up with the project. You can't offend me. Any ideas for a theme?"

"Well, I considered meteor madness. We could have a bevy of red and green meteor rocks to decorate whatever geometric nonsense you come up with, but then I thought, nah. That much meteor rock together in one place is an accident waiting to happen," Chloe said.

Pete almost choked on his beverage and barely kept a knowing grin off his face at Clark's blanched expression. The boy was probably having a waking nightmare at the mention of that much meteor rock. "You have any better ideas Clark, man?" Pete asked. "Otherwise I think you'll have to go with that one."

Clark frowned at Pete's subtle ribbing and turned to Chloe. "How about a farm theme? That's all I've come up with so far."

"Corn or cow?" Chloe deadpanned. "Come on Clark, all I get is the artistic contribution. How about a Daily Planet hole?"

As long as it isn't a meteor madness hole... "That's great," Clark said. "I could work with that."


The light shining from the kitchen window illuminated Martha and Jonathan sitting down to dinner. Clark watched his parents from the yard, but he didn't go in. He had resolutely not thought about the ambush his parents had sprung that afternoon, but now he sort of had to face it. Clark pulled out his journal and tapped it in his hand. His mom had read at least part of it. It was a wonder she hadn't freaked out more.

"I am not a homicidal maniac in the making, so why am I dreaming about death and destruction?" Clark pulled out his now infamous dream journal and started flipping through its heavily scribbled pages. "Maybe there's something psychologically wrong with me?" Red meteor rock had shown what kind of danger a conscienceless psychopathic version of Clark Kent was capable of. "But I'm not going crazy. This is just a couple of dreams." I'm not crazy. I'm not. I'd get help if this were really a problem.

It was stupid of him, lingering on the porch. He should just go in and have dinner. There wasn't any reason to stress over this. With a sigh, he headed in. "Hey."

Martha looked up and pointed a serving spoon at Clark. "You're late young man. I assume you and Chloe got a lot of work done?"

Clark shrugged and nodded quickly. Didn't she think he was a psycho? "I'm sorry about being late. We got busy." Washing up without even being asked, Clark refrained from meeting his mom's eyes.

"That's not a crime," Jonathan said.

NO THAT's nOt a CRimE, iS IT?

"What?" Clark said. His heart had jumped into his throat. That voice was straight out of his dreams.

"I said, it's not a crime, being a little late," Jonathan said. He smiled quizzically and continued serving himself.

Clark nodded and turned off the water. They hadn't heard it. His parents were just going on like nothing had happened. It's just because you're tired... but he wasn't tired. Maybe he was dreaming? Clark could hear his breaths coming short and shallow. He just imagined it because he was thinking about the stupid dreams all the time.

"Are you okay, son? You're white as a sheet," Jonathan said.

Clark shook his head and backed slowly toward the door. "I have to..."

rUn away? i tHInk yOu sHoulD ruN, but YOu caN't geT aWAy frOm me bY ruNNInG.

"God, help me," Clark whispered. In the shadows, it was moving. The tapping footsteps were approaching. "You don't hear that?"

"What is it?" Martha asked. She turned to slowly listening, but she didn't hear anything. "What does it sound like?"

"I don't hear anything," Jonathan said. "Sit down son and we'll talk."

The tapping stopped and the hint of motion in the shadows faded back. Am I going insane? "I'm not hungry. I have to get out of here," Clark said. "I promise, I won't stay out too late."

"Wait, what's wrong?" Martha said. She stepped toward Clark but he ran away too quickly. "I've never seen him like that. He was absolutely spooked."

"I'm officially concerned," Jonathan said. "Did you read any of that dream journal? Was it anything to be concerned about?"

"I didn't really read anything. I caught a word here or there," Martha said. "It didn't sound pleasant, but I don't know the substance. I really didn't read it."

Jonathan threw his napkin onto the table and headed out onto the porch, but Clark was nowhere to be seen.


In the south pasture, surrounded by cows, Clark stopped running. Am I crazy? I heard him, clear as day, standing in the Kitchen. "It wasn't real. I imagined it." It couldn't have been real. One of the cows bellowed at him and Clark jumped. "You scared me there, Alice." With a nervous laugh, Clark patted at the Holstein's flank.

I dON't liKe coWs.


Author's Note:

Okay, there were a lot of good questions, almost none of which I can answer, except to say, read on. The one question I can answer, "Whatever happened to Clark Kent, the Wanton and Fair?" grin Methinks you haven't read Chapter 4 dear becs :)

Otherwise, there will definitely be another chapter of this one soon. I wrote most of chapter 3 right after writing this one.