In the darkness of the Metropolis night Clark carefully slid around the
corner of the Summerholt Institute. It was close to midnight, and he knew
most of the staff would be long gone. In fact, downtown Metropolis itself
was deserted, with its daytime population now either safely at home in the
suburbs or hidden behind security fences in high rise condominium
complexes.
But he still didn't see the need to take any unnecessary chances. What he was doing was chance enough.
He'd left a note for his parents and Dr. Iverson to find on the kitchen table for them to find when they woke up. He hadn't been able to explain himself very well, but he had tried. He knew they probably wouldn't understand, which was why he'd waited until everyone was in bed.
He carefully scanned the building, but didn't see any figures moving inside of it. While the front façade gave the Institute an appearance of glamour and elegance, Clark knew from personal experience the building was built much more like a hospital than a regular office building. Finding Jenna, or some evidence of her presence, in the rabbit warren of rooms wouldn't be easy.
But he knew he simply couldn't live with his conscience if he didn't at least try.
At the back of the building Clark found a narrow alley. He'd checked the area earlier, and now with one hand he carefully bent out the air vent cover he'd found. Only about a foot of the ground, his x-ray vision had told him this section of the vent would be wide enough to get him into the building.
The last time he'd been here he'd simple broken in through a side door, but he was willing to bet Garner had improved his security measures since then.
But then Clark had yet to find a security system he couldn't circumvent. In a strange way he was actually kind of proud of that.
The air vent went into the building for a few dozen yards and then sloped sharply upward. Clark instead punched out another vent cover, and found himself in what looked like a janitor's storage closet.
He stepped carefully out into the main hallway. Just as he remembered the place was spotlessly clean and smelled of disinfectant. Most of the lights had been shut off for the night, leaving only the dim glow of emergency lighting. The whole building was cool and as still as death.
Clark looked through the walls to make sure there were no signs of security guards before preceding. As he moved he looked into each room, but saw no signs of anything or anyone on that floor. Using the back staircase rather than the main one he proceeding upstairs, making his way towards the main lab and the treatment room where he had once found Ryan. Once there he bent back the handle on the door until it snapped, and let himself in.
Inside he found nothing of interest, just a row of lab desks and empty chairs. Along the left wall, however, he saw filing cabinets. He quickly he thumbed through the contents, creating a blur of paper, but still couldn't find anything incriminating.
Clark glanced quickly at his watch. Almost a half and hour has passed, and still nothing. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stay without significantly increasing the risk of getting caught.
Finally, in the very bottom of a filing cabinet, shoved way in the back, he found a folded set of blueprints.
Jackpot.
Clark carefully unrolled them, and scanned them as quickly as he could. The police claimed to have searched thoroughly, so Garner must be hiding his actual work. But where? And why hadn't Clark found it with his x-ray vision? Still, he knew from personal experience that whole sections of buildings could be hidden if a builder was determined enough to do it.
Finally he spotted what he was looking for. With a grim smile he hastily rolled the blueprints back up and stuffed them away.
Garner had been clever. But not clever enough.
******************************************
Clark stood at the bottom of a cheaply made metal staircase. Before him was a narrow hallway with a steel door blocking his path.
The Institute's architectural plans had made one fatal error. On the southwest corner of the second floor there had been a single door marked "Emergency Exit." Which would have been fine, except that that corner was designated as storage, not labs.
It was like a riddle.
Why put a door no one would need in a place no one would go?
Because somebody wanted it put there.
Clark could tell from the dingy yellow paint and the low ceiling that this part of the building was considerably older that the rest of the Institute. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd say it was left over from whatever building had stood on the site before. And he still couldn't look back through the ceiling to the upper floors. This space, whatever it was, had been encased in metal, probably steel coated with lead, to shelter the people inside it from a bomb blast.
The architects had saved the Cold War relic and merely grafted a new building on top of it.
Clark couldn't scan through the walls, either, but he was able to easily push the heavy door off its hinges. He did the same with a second one. There were only a few rooms off the narrow, twisting corridors and it didn't take him long to search.
Finally he came to an ordinary wooden door, also locked, and slammed his fist through it just above the lock, splintering it so it could be opened.
He sucked in his breath.
Jenna was lying on a table, her head turned to one side. Her eyes were open, but she didn't acknowledge his presence.
He went to her and laid a hand on her throat, feeling a slow but steady pulse. Her heart was still beating.
"Jenna? Can you hear me?"
Clark tried to get her to focus, but she only moaned slightly. He noticed a drip IV attached to her and hastily unhooked it from the plastic shunt in her arm. Blood-flecked gauze was wrapped around the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet, but looking though the bandages Clark couldn't see any visible injuries. A tray of scalpels sat nearby, and Clark angrily knocked them to the floor.
He put one arm under Jenna's neck, and one under her knees, so he could lift her off the table.
"Jenna, everything's all right now. I'm going to get you out of here."
Her head rolled to one side, and her eyes seemed to focus for a moment.
"Clark, no," she murmured incoherently. "Not.safe."
"Don't worry about that now," he told her. "I came to get you and that's what I'm going to do."
Relieved he had most of his strength back, he balanced her in his arms and stepped back through the doorway. He paused for a moment, trying to decide his next move.
"Clark."
"Ssshhhh," Clark told her. "Just hang in there, ok?"
He opted for turning right instead of left, hoping he'd find a quicker way out of the building than the way in. He felt exultant, relieved.
He turned left, and then right again, and finally found a door that led out into a new hallway, this one ending in another staircase.
And waiting for him was Dr. Garner.
He was between Clark and the staircase, but this time Clark felt no fear. He was long past the point of Garner intimidating him.
The other man, however, seemed strangely unsurprised to see him.
"Now, now, Mr. Kent, you know better than to trespass on private property. I thought our friend Detective Greely warned you about that. But then you always had a way of getting in where you don't belong."
He glanced at Jenna's limp form.
"You know, I wouldn't have moved her if I were you. You might have caused her permanent injury."
"I saw the bandages," Clark said through gritted teeth. "What did you do to her?"
"Just an experiment. She's an extraordinary person, Clark, just like you are." Garner smiled sweetly and took a step forward. Clark inched forward towards the stairs.
"You're upset, Clark," Garner continued in a soothing tone. "You've misunderstood my intentions completely. Why don't you put her down and we'll talk."
"I have no intention of talking to you. You killed Ryan. You took Jack."
Garner looked genuinely puzzled for a moment.
"Jack? Ah, yes, Mr. Williams. I'd heard he'd gone missing. Believe it or not, I had nothing to do with that."
Clark shifted Jenna in his arms; she looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes.
"I don't think I'll take your word on that, doctor."
"Suit yourself. Now I've done about all the talking I intend to do, young man." Garner reached into the pocket of his lab coat and produced a small chunk of green rock.
Meteor rock.
Clark felt the searing pain in his body, worse now because he hadn't yet healed from his injuries. He felt to his knees, dropping Jenna to the floor, as his arms could no longer support her weight. He clutched at his shoulder--he could feel fluid seeping from the old wound. The meteor rock had reopened it.
Garner smiled, circling behind Clark.
"It really does have an extraordinary effect on you, doesn't it? I wonder why? Well, no matter, we'll have plenty of time to work that out, you and I."
Clark knew he was writhing in pain; he could hear Garner's footsteps growing closer, but he could no longer see clearly.
He heard Jenna's voice coming from a great distance, just as he had that night. But this time instead of sounding reassuring it was weak and pleading. Pleading for Clark's life.
"Stop, you're killing him!"
"Am I? Tell me, Clark, does it feel like you're dying? Can you describe the pain?"
Clark rolled over on to his back as best he could.
"I'm not going to let you kill me like you did those others. I'm not going to let you kill Jenna." He was having great difficulty speaking. "I'm not going to be more blood on your hands."
"Blood on my hands? What on earth are you talking about? You and Miss Iverson and people like you need to be studied and understood, for the good of mankind. Blood on my hands, indeed. Does the researcher cry over a lab rat, Mr. Kent?"
Clark struggled to make his eyes focus on the lump of meteor rock in Garner's hands. His fevered brain wondered idly if it was the same piece used in that first attack, or if Garner had laid up an endless supply with which to torment him. He watched that evil green glow grow brighter and brighter as it sucked the very life out of his lungs.
And then suddenly the rock was no longer in Garner's hands. It arced over Clark's head, and he heard it shatter as it hit the steel stairs.
Garner let out a cry of rage and anger, and Clark, suddenly able to pull himself into a sitting position again, looked over his shoulder.
In the semi-darkness Clark thought for a moment he was seeing a ghost.
But Garner recognized what was happening much faster than Clark did.
"Jack, what are you doing? Stop that this instant!"
The figure was indeed Jack Williams. Grimy, bare footed, and still wearing the white pajamas issued to him by the State Hospital, the young man stood at the bottom of the stairs, facing his tormentor at the other end of the hallway. But while before Clark had only seen emptiness in Jack's eyes, now they were alive with an unholy light.
Clark, still struggling against the lingering effects of exposure to the meteor rock, pulled himself over to where Jenna lay. Yet he couldn't help but watch as Williams took a step forward, and then another, moving past the two people on the floor as if he didn't even see them. And maybe, Clark thought, he didn't.
There was genuine fear in Garner's voice when he spoke again. Clark realized what Garner himself must already have: that he had been so confident in his capture of Clark than Garner was now cornered in a dead- end hallway. The only way out was past Jack.
Jack continued to walk slowly forward, and raised his arms slightly. Garner seemed rooted to the spot, but whether this was Jack's telekinesis at work or simply fear Clark couldn't judge.
"Jack, now, don't do anything foolish." Garner was gulping air like a fish.
Jack smiled, a ghastly, ghostly smile. "Or what, you'll kill me?"
"Jack, you know I was only trying to help you. Your abilities were making you suffer.I was trying to help you!"
This must have been the wrong thing to say, because Garner's body suddenly lifted into the air and slammed into the back wall, where he remained pined like a butterfly.
"Help me? By torturing me? By experimenting on me?" Jack shook his head slowly. "You should have killed me when you had the chance. Now there's nothing you can do to stop me. It's over."
Clark realized a second too late what Jack intended to do. He cried out, but Jack had already raised his arms over his head.
A wall of orange-red flames appeared, separating Clark from Jack and Garner. As if they had a life of their own the flames curled and licked up the walls, somehow finding enough fuel to keep going of their own accord, spreading inexorably towards the two men.
Even though Clark could no longer see him through the flames and thick smoke, he could hear Garner's cries becoming frantic. The flames hadn't reached him yet, but in a matter of seconds they would.
Jack looked back at Clark, and for a moment their eyes locked. Clark could see a clear expression of satisfaction on the other boy's face.
"Take Jenna out of here," Jack told him, his voice somehow still audible over the fire. "I can only control it for so long."
In a haze, Clark pulled up Jenna's body with his own. She was unconscious again, and his muscles protested vigorously under the dead weight. Still he managed to pick her up again, struggling not to stagger under the combined effects of the smoke and the Kryptonite. He reached the stairs, half-dragging Jenna with him. Overhead he could here ominous sounds of cracking and shifting as Jack's fire worked its way into the very heart of the Institute.
One step up. Then two.
"Kent, please! Help me!" He heard Garner cry.
And then with a rending sound a beam collapsed into the hallway, sending a plume of black smoke spiraling into the stairwell.
Clark could no longer see through the smoke, and he could hear nothing but the crackle of flames and his own labored breathing. But he kept his feet moving, not knowing where he was going but knowing that the only way out was up.
Finally, just as he thought his heart would burst with fear and pain, his shoulder slammed into a hard vertical object. A door.
He opened it, and found to his tremendous relief he was back in Summerholt's elegant lobby. Through the glass front doors he could see the cool night sky and the lights of downtown Metropolis, but flames were already licking across the ceiling. The fire sprinklers could not fight Jack's inferno, and trickles of water ran through flames as if made of gasoline. Clark had never seen anything like it.
He rammed his other shoulder into the glass doors, shattering them and enabling him to step out onto the pavement.
The air felt blessedly cool and he staggered only a few feet before dropping both Jenna and himself on the street.
"Clark?" He heard Jenna ask feebly.
"It's all right, Jenna, we're out." In the distance he could hear the wail of sirens, but the roar of the fire deafened even those as it gnawed at what was left of Garner's empire.
"It's all right," he repeated, more to himself than to the girl. "It's over now."
But he still didn't see the need to take any unnecessary chances. What he was doing was chance enough.
He'd left a note for his parents and Dr. Iverson to find on the kitchen table for them to find when they woke up. He hadn't been able to explain himself very well, but he had tried. He knew they probably wouldn't understand, which was why he'd waited until everyone was in bed.
He carefully scanned the building, but didn't see any figures moving inside of it. While the front façade gave the Institute an appearance of glamour and elegance, Clark knew from personal experience the building was built much more like a hospital than a regular office building. Finding Jenna, or some evidence of her presence, in the rabbit warren of rooms wouldn't be easy.
But he knew he simply couldn't live with his conscience if he didn't at least try.
At the back of the building Clark found a narrow alley. He'd checked the area earlier, and now with one hand he carefully bent out the air vent cover he'd found. Only about a foot of the ground, his x-ray vision had told him this section of the vent would be wide enough to get him into the building.
The last time he'd been here he'd simple broken in through a side door, but he was willing to bet Garner had improved his security measures since then.
But then Clark had yet to find a security system he couldn't circumvent. In a strange way he was actually kind of proud of that.
The air vent went into the building for a few dozen yards and then sloped sharply upward. Clark instead punched out another vent cover, and found himself in what looked like a janitor's storage closet.
He stepped carefully out into the main hallway. Just as he remembered the place was spotlessly clean and smelled of disinfectant. Most of the lights had been shut off for the night, leaving only the dim glow of emergency lighting. The whole building was cool and as still as death.
Clark looked through the walls to make sure there were no signs of security guards before preceding. As he moved he looked into each room, but saw no signs of anything or anyone on that floor. Using the back staircase rather than the main one he proceeding upstairs, making his way towards the main lab and the treatment room where he had once found Ryan. Once there he bent back the handle on the door until it snapped, and let himself in.
Inside he found nothing of interest, just a row of lab desks and empty chairs. Along the left wall, however, he saw filing cabinets. He quickly he thumbed through the contents, creating a blur of paper, but still couldn't find anything incriminating.
Clark glanced quickly at his watch. Almost a half and hour has passed, and still nothing. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stay without significantly increasing the risk of getting caught.
Finally, in the very bottom of a filing cabinet, shoved way in the back, he found a folded set of blueprints.
Jackpot.
Clark carefully unrolled them, and scanned them as quickly as he could. The police claimed to have searched thoroughly, so Garner must be hiding his actual work. But where? And why hadn't Clark found it with his x-ray vision? Still, he knew from personal experience that whole sections of buildings could be hidden if a builder was determined enough to do it.
Finally he spotted what he was looking for. With a grim smile he hastily rolled the blueprints back up and stuffed them away.
Garner had been clever. But not clever enough.
******************************************
Clark stood at the bottom of a cheaply made metal staircase. Before him was a narrow hallway with a steel door blocking his path.
The Institute's architectural plans had made one fatal error. On the southwest corner of the second floor there had been a single door marked "Emergency Exit." Which would have been fine, except that that corner was designated as storage, not labs.
It was like a riddle.
Why put a door no one would need in a place no one would go?
Because somebody wanted it put there.
Clark could tell from the dingy yellow paint and the low ceiling that this part of the building was considerably older that the rest of the Institute. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd say it was left over from whatever building had stood on the site before. And he still couldn't look back through the ceiling to the upper floors. This space, whatever it was, had been encased in metal, probably steel coated with lead, to shelter the people inside it from a bomb blast.
The architects had saved the Cold War relic and merely grafted a new building on top of it.
Clark couldn't scan through the walls, either, but he was able to easily push the heavy door off its hinges. He did the same with a second one. There were only a few rooms off the narrow, twisting corridors and it didn't take him long to search.
Finally he came to an ordinary wooden door, also locked, and slammed his fist through it just above the lock, splintering it so it could be opened.
He sucked in his breath.
Jenna was lying on a table, her head turned to one side. Her eyes were open, but she didn't acknowledge his presence.
He went to her and laid a hand on her throat, feeling a slow but steady pulse. Her heart was still beating.
"Jenna? Can you hear me?"
Clark tried to get her to focus, but she only moaned slightly. He noticed a drip IV attached to her and hastily unhooked it from the plastic shunt in her arm. Blood-flecked gauze was wrapped around the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet, but looking though the bandages Clark couldn't see any visible injuries. A tray of scalpels sat nearby, and Clark angrily knocked them to the floor.
He put one arm under Jenna's neck, and one under her knees, so he could lift her off the table.
"Jenna, everything's all right now. I'm going to get you out of here."
Her head rolled to one side, and her eyes seemed to focus for a moment.
"Clark, no," she murmured incoherently. "Not.safe."
"Don't worry about that now," he told her. "I came to get you and that's what I'm going to do."
Relieved he had most of his strength back, he balanced her in his arms and stepped back through the doorway. He paused for a moment, trying to decide his next move.
"Clark."
"Ssshhhh," Clark told her. "Just hang in there, ok?"
He opted for turning right instead of left, hoping he'd find a quicker way out of the building than the way in. He felt exultant, relieved.
He turned left, and then right again, and finally found a door that led out into a new hallway, this one ending in another staircase.
And waiting for him was Dr. Garner.
He was between Clark and the staircase, but this time Clark felt no fear. He was long past the point of Garner intimidating him.
The other man, however, seemed strangely unsurprised to see him.
"Now, now, Mr. Kent, you know better than to trespass on private property. I thought our friend Detective Greely warned you about that. But then you always had a way of getting in where you don't belong."
He glanced at Jenna's limp form.
"You know, I wouldn't have moved her if I were you. You might have caused her permanent injury."
"I saw the bandages," Clark said through gritted teeth. "What did you do to her?"
"Just an experiment. She's an extraordinary person, Clark, just like you are." Garner smiled sweetly and took a step forward. Clark inched forward towards the stairs.
"You're upset, Clark," Garner continued in a soothing tone. "You've misunderstood my intentions completely. Why don't you put her down and we'll talk."
"I have no intention of talking to you. You killed Ryan. You took Jack."
Garner looked genuinely puzzled for a moment.
"Jack? Ah, yes, Mr. Williams. I'd heard he'd gone missing. Believe it or not, I had nothing to do with that."
Clark shifted Jenna in his arms; she looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes.
"I don't think I'll take your word on that, doctor."
"Suit yourself. Now I've done about all the talking I intend to do, young man." Garner reached into the pocket of his lab coat and produced a small chunk of green rock.
Meteor rock.
Clark felt the searing pain in his body, worse now because he hadn't yet healed from his injuries. He felt to his knees, dropping Jenna to the floor, as his arms could no longer support her weight. He clutched at his shoulder--he could feel fluid seeping from the old wound. The meteor rock had reopened it.
Garner smiled, circling behind Clark.
"It really does have an extraordinary effect on you, doesn't it? I wonder why? Well, no matter, we'll have plenty of time to work that out, you and I."
Clark knew he was writhing in pain; he could hear Garner's footsteps growing closer, but he could no longer see clearly.
He heard Jenna's voice coming from a great distance, just as he had that night. But this time instead of sounding reassuring it was weak and pleading. Pleading for Clark's life.
"Stop, you're killing him!"
"Am I? Tell me, Clark, does it feel like you're dying? Can you describe the pain?"
Clark rolled over on to his back as best he could.
"I'm not going to let you kill me like you did those others. I'm not going to let you kill Jenna." He was having great difficulty speaking. "I'm not going to be more blood on your hands."
"Blood on my hands? What on earth are you talking about? You and Miss Iverson and people like you need to be studied and understood, for the good of mankind. Blood on my hands, indeed. Does the researcher cry over a lab rat, Mr. Kent?"
Clark struggled to make his eyes focus on the lump of meteor rock in Garner's hands. His fevered brain wondered idly if it was the same piece used in that first attack, or if Garner had laid up an endless supply with which to torment him. He watched that evil green glow grow brighter and brighter as it sucked the very life out of his lungs.
And then suddenly the rock was no longer in Garner's hands. It arced over Clark's head, and he heard it shatter as it hit the steel stairs.
Garner let out a cry of rage and anger, and Clark, suddenly able to pull himself into a sitting position again, looked over his shoulder.
In the semi-darkness Clark thought for a moment he was seeing a ghost.
But Garner recognized what was happening much faster than Clark did.
"Jack, what are you doing? Stop that this instant!"
The figure was indeed Jack Williams. Grimy, bare footed, and still wearing the white pajamas issued to him by the State Hospital, the young man stood at the bottom of the stairs, facing his tormentor at the other end of the hallway. But while before Clark had only seen emptiness in Jack's eyes, now they were alive with an unholy light.
Clark, still struggling against the lingering effects of exposure to the meteor rock, pulled himself over to where Jenna lay. Yet he couldn't help but watch as Williams took a step forward, and then another, moving past the two people on the floor as if he didn't even see them. And maybe, Clark thought, he didn't.
There was genuine fear in Garner's voice when he spoke again. Clark realized what Garner himself must already have: that he had been so confident in his capture of Clark than Garner was now cornered in a dead- end hallway. The only way out was past Jack.
Jack continued to walk slowly forward, and raised his arms slightly. Garner seemed rooted to the spot, but whether this was Jack's telekinesis at work or simply fear Clark couldn't judge.
"Jack, now, don't do anything foolish." Garner was gulping air like a fish.
Jack smiled, a ghastly, ghostly smile. "Or what, you'll kill me?"
"Jack, you know I was only trying to help you. Your abilities were making you suffer.I was trying to help you!"
This must have been the wrong thing to say, because Garner's body suddenly lifted into the air and slammed into the back wall, where he remained pined like a butterfly.
"Help me? By torturing me? By experimenting on me?" Jack shook his head slowly. "You should have killed me when you had the chance. Now there's nothing you can do to stop me. It's over."
Clark realized a second too late what Jack intended to do. He cried out, but Jack had already raised his arms over his head.
A wall of orange-red flames appeared, separating Clark from Jack and Garner. As if they had a life of their own the flames curled and licked up the walls, somehow finding enough fuel to keep going of their own accord, spreading inexorably towards the two men.
Even though Clark could no longer see him through the flames and thick smoke, he could hear Garner's cries becoming frantic. The flames hadn't reached him yet, but in a matter of seconds they would.
Jack looked back at Clark, and for a moment their eyes locked. Clark could see a clear expression of satisfaction on the other boy's face.
"Take Jenna out of here," Jack told him, his voice somehow still audible over the fire. "I can only control it for so long."
In a haze, Clark pulled up Jenna's body with his own. She was unconscious again, and his muscles protested vigorously under the dead weight. Still he managed to pick her up again, struggling not to stagger under the combined effects of the smoke and the Kryptonite. He reached the stairs, half-dragging Jenna with him. Overhead he could here ominous sounds of cracking and shifting as Jack's fire worked its way into the very heart of the Institute.
One step up. Then two.
"Kent, please! Help me!" He heard Garner cry.
And then with a rending sound a beam collapsed into the hallway, sending a plume of black smoke spiraling into the stairwell.
Clark could no longer see through the smoke, and he could hear nothing but the crackle of flames and his own labored breathing. But he kept his feet moving, not knowing where he was going but knowing that the only way out was up.
Finally, just as he thought his heart would burst with fear and pain, his shoulder slammed into a hard vertical object. A door.
He opened it, and found to his tremendous relief he was back in Summerholt's elegant lobby. Through the glass front doors he could see the cool night sky and the lights of downtown Metropolis, but flames were already licking across the ceiling. The fire sprinklers could not fight Jack's inferno, and trickles of water ran through flames as if made of gasoline. Clark had never seen anything like it.
He rammed his other shoulder into the glass doors, shattering them and enabling him to step out onto the pavement.
The air felt blessedly cool and he staggered only a few feet before dropping both Jenna and himself on the street.
"Clark?" He heard Jenna ask feebly.
"It's all right, Jenna, we're out." In the distance he could hear the wail of sirens, but the roar of the fire deafened even those as it gnawed at what was left of Garner's empire.
"It's all right," he repeated, more to himself than to the girl. "It's over now."