Chloe leaned on her elbows, listening for all she was worth. While scared out of her ever-loving mind, she realized that now was not the time to loose her cool. Clark was lying half-dead, face down in the mud beside her while a lunatic was firing off rounds at the both of them. 'Hunting accident?' she wondered, and eerie calm enveloping her, her mind flicking through possiblities. 'It has to be an accident, right? Who'd shoot at us? A school reporter and a farm boy for godsake.' Suddenly, a thought struck her. 'Or are they shooting because of what he was going to tell me...Does Clark know more than I think? Is he more than he appears? He did kiss me because he thought we were being followed...Apparently, he was right.'
She'd often puzzled over the mystery of Clark. His constant appearing and disappearing, saving people right and left, and always being at the scene of one accident, fire, or death or another. It seemed that barily a week passed when something wasn't going on with him getting into mortal danger and escaping with some story or another that always seemed off. And he had a knack for getting out unscathed. In fact, if she remembered right, she'd only seen him sick once and wounded once with a broken rib that had been mysteriously healed a week later. It had all made her wonder, naturally, but it never raised any red flags until Lionel asked her to investigate. And even then was so much conflicting evidence everywhere. Sometimes, she sincerely doubted she would ever understand her friend, much less why he was how he was or how he'd saved her life all those times in the last couple of years. 'And now, he's saved your life again, and this time he might really have to pay for it,' she realized, wondering if Clark was lying dead next to her. He always seemed so industructible. Now, here he was, helpless, with only Chloe to help him and she was distracted with trying to solve one of the great mysteries of all time. Chloe sighed, turning her attention back where it belonged, trying to figure out if it was his heartbeat she was feeling on her arm or if it was her own. Shaking her head to clear away the vast mirage of thoughts clouding her focus, she fine-tuned her hearing, blocking out the rest of the world. 'Hang on, Clark.'
The world melted away and she was overwhelmed by the sounds of the creatures in the forest, scuttling around through the bushes. Most were probably running away from the ruckus. Pausing, she listened more closely. In the far off distance, she thought she heard metal against metal, a rough scratching sound, a few clanks, and a snap. She waited, ears perked, and after hearing no more queer sounds for about two more minutes, she decided it was safe.
Carefully, she crouched next to Clarks motionless body, peering intently through the woods without moving her protective postion over his body. After a full minute of searching the dark oblivion that was the forest and yeilding no results, she finally allowed herself to breathe. Her whole body was tense with every movement in the clearing around her, and all she wanted was to be free of the wretched place. But friendship, even the diminished version she now shared with Clark kept her stationed over his body, guarding him from the world, gently checking his pluse and resperation before struggling to turn his almost lifeless body over.
He was covered with muck all down his front, oozing over his shoes, work jeans, and blue plaid shirt. His face was slathered with mud after his dive toward her and the harsh landing he'd taken only feet away from her. 'Protecting me,' she though, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her hair. 'Saving me.' Leaning back on the heels of her dark boots, she didn't even think about the fact that she didn't look much better after her nose dive into the ground next to him, her black jeans caked with mud and her red blouse almost unrecognizable. She had half of the forest floor in her blonde locks, and absently she rubbed most of the dirt off her face. Clark filled her senses as leaned closer, disreguarding anything but him.
Chloe examined him closer, brushing his face clean with the one clean sleeve of her shirt and brushing her fingers through his fine hair. Momentarily, she lost herself in his smell and the feeling of stroking his hair, almost convinced that he was sleeping peacefully and she was waking him after a nap. He looked so serene, Chloe almost forgot about the tranq in his side, snapping back to reality by a soft moan and nearly imperceptible shake in his head. 'Focus, damn it,' she lectured herself, 'back to business now.'
She plucked the dart out of his side from a gaping wound, and looking closer at the tranq, she realized that while the case was now empty, it had a strange, iradesent green glow to the tip. In fact, the metal case seemed to shine from some inner green light, like emeralds. 'Or meteor rocks,' the thought dawned on her, causing her the reporters side of her brain to prickle with interest. Poking at the hole in his shirt where it had entered, her finger tips gingerly proded his torso, looking for the entry wound she'd overlooked moments ago. The tip was pretty cumbersome for dart, and the tranq itself was much larger than she would have expected to take out a teenage boy, even one as large as Clark. Chloe's worry spiked as the tips of her fingers scaled his body without result. The skin was flawless with no trace of the wound as big as her pinky was round anywhere on his chest. Frowning, Chloe turned the dart over in her hand once again. 'I saw the hole, I took this from his skin. I felt that hole. Where is it?' Thinking along those lines, she turned his hands and arms over, searching for scraps from the frantic landing near her. Not a single mark marred them, despite the fact he'd splashed so much mud up he'd hit the hard earth below. 'So where are the cuts?' Pushing her reporters' instincts down, she pulled her cell out of her pocket, unlocked the keypad. She dialed Pete first, briefly surmising the situation, explaining they had the Kent's only car. Then she called the Kent's, explaining Pete was on the way pick them up, and that Clark was in a bad way. Neither had asked that many questions, which surprised her, but she tried not to think about all that was wrong with the situation, even though she couldn't help but wonder. Focusing at the task at hand, she squelched her curiousity until the calvery could arrive and she could be certain Clark was okay. Nonetheless, the questions dancing through the back of her mind refused to be ushered away and she gave up trying to banish them.
The calls made, Chloe statisfied herself once more that Clark's vitals were stable. Convinced that he was just knocked out, she straightened up and pulled a second tranq out of a tree behind where Clark had been standing. Turning to where she had been just minutes ago, she pulled two more shells out of the ground near the log she'd been stationed at. Flipping them over in her hand, she memorized their every detail with a trained eye. These were filled with red goo rather than the green one that she'd found near Clark. They were much smaller and looked like the kind Chloe always saw in the movies; silver, long, the point of a needle and with only a minute amount of liquid in them. And no meteor rocks tainting them. 'Why were they using two different types of tranqs, one meteor-tipped?' joined the growing mass of questions in her mind, the most pressing being 'Why were they shooting at US?' Growning more concerned by the second, she put the unused tranqs in the pocket of her jacket and fished Clark's keys out of his jeans. Sticking them in her jeans so they wouldn't get lost, she tried to settle the boy in a sitting position against a log to his left. No luck. Slightly amused, she wondered how much he weighed. 'Well I always knew Martha was a good cook...'
A few minutes later, Pete showed up after picking up Mr. Kent and the pair lifted Clark into the back of Pete's convertible. Chloe clambered in the truck beside Mr. Kent at his request without fuss, though she really wanted to sittinig with Pete, discussing the situation. Wondering if Jonathan knew that, she spent the trip collecting her thoughts silently, dazed by how much a situation could change all in few minutes time, and sneaking appraising looks at Clark's dad through out the ride, catching him repeatedly doing the same but ignoring it. After he'd reassured her Clark would be just fine, he hadn't spoken again. And now more and more questions were formulating in her sharp mind. Something wasn't adding up, and Chloe was determined to find out what.
'Well, Clark, you've got some explaining to do. And this time, I'm getting the truth.'
Thoughts? Feelings? Rant on.
She'd often puzzled over the mystery of Clark. His constant appearing and disappearing, saving people right and left, and always being at the scene of one accident, fire, or death or another. It seemed that barily a week passed when something wasn't going on with him getting into mortal danger and escaping with some story or another that always seemed off. And he had a knack for getting out unscathed. In fact, if she remembered right, she'd only seen him sick once and wounded once with a broken rib that had been mysteriously healed a week later. It had all made her wonder, naturally, but it never raised any red flags until Lionel asked her to investigate. And even then was so much conflicting evidence everywhere. Sometimes, she sincerely doubted she would ever understand her friend, much less why he was how he was or how he'd saved her life all those times in the last couple of years. 'And now, he's saved your life again, and this time he might really have to pay for it,' she realized, wondering if Clark was lying dead next to her. He always seemed so industructible. Now, here he was, helpless, with only Chloe to help him and she was distracted with trying to solve one of the great mysteries of all time. Chloe sighed, turning her attention back where it belonged, trying to figure out if it was his heartbeat she was feeling on her arm or if it was her own. Shaking her head to clear away the vast mirage of thoughts clouding her focus, she fine-tuned her hearing, blocking out the rest of the world. 'Hang on, Clark.'
The world melted away and she was overwhelmed by the sounds of the creatures in the forest, scuttling around through the bushes. Most were probably running away from the ruckus. Pausing, she listened more closely. In the far off distance, she thought she heard metal against metal, a rough scratching sound, a few clanks, and a snap. She waited, ears perked, and after hearing no more queer sounds for about two more minutes, she decided it was safe.
Carefully, she crouched next to Clarks motionless body, peering intently through the woods without moving her protective postion over his body. After a full minute of searching the dark oblivion that was the forest and yeilding no results, she finally allowed herself to breathe. Her whole body was tense with every movement in the clearing around her, and all she wanted was to be free of the wretched place. But friendship, even the diminished version she now shared with Clark kept her stationed over his body, guarding him from the world, gently checking his pluse and resperation before struggling to turn his almost lifeless body over.
He was covered with muck all down his front, oozing over his shoes, work jeans, and blue plaid shirt. His face was slathered with mud after his dive toward her and the harsh landing he'd taken only feet away from her. 'Protecting me,' she though, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her hair. 'Saving me.' Leaning back on the heels of her dark boots, she didn't even think about the fact that she didn't look much better after her nose dive into the ground next to him, her black jeans caked with mud and her red blouse almost unrecognizable. She had half of the forest floor in her blonde locks, and absently she rubbed most of the dirt off her face. Clark filled her senses as leaned closer, disreguarding anything but him.
Chloe examined him closer, brushing his face clean with the one clean sleeve of her shirt and brushing her fingers through his fine hair. Momentarily, she lost herself in his smell and the feeling of stroking his hair, almost convinced that he was sleeping peacefully and she was waking him after a nap. He looked so serene, Chloe almost forgot about the tranq in his side, snapping back to reality by a soft moan and nearly imperceptible shake in his head. 'Focus, damn it,' she lectured herself, 'back to business now.'
She plucked the dart out of his side from a gaping wound, and looking closer at the tranq, she realized that while the case was now empty, it had a strange, iradesent green glow to the tip. In fact, the metal case seemed to shine from some inner green light, like emeralds. 'Or meteor rocks,' the thought dawned on her, causing her the reporters side of her brain to prickle with interest. Poking at the hole in his shirt where it had entered, her finger tips gingerly proded his torso, looking for the entry wound she'd overlooked moments ago. The tip was pretty cumbersome for dart, and the tranq itself was much larger than she would have expected to take out a teenage boy, even one as large as Clark. Chloe's worry spiked as the tips of her fingers scaled his body without result. The skin was flawless with no trace of the wound as big as her pinky was round anywhere on his chest. Frowning, Chloe turned the dart over in her hand once again. 'I saw the hole, I took this from his skin. I felt that hole. Where is it?' Thinking along those lines, she turned his hands and arms over, searching for scraps from the frantic landing near her. Not a single mark marred them, despite the fact he'd splashed so much mud up he'd hit the hard earth below. 'So where are the cuts?' Pushing her reporters' instincts down, she pulled her cell out of her pocket, unlocked the keypad. She dialed Pete first, briefly surmising the situation, explaining they had the Kent's only car. Then she called the Kent's, explaining Pete was on the way pick them up, and that Clark was in a bad way. Neither had asked that many questions, which surprised her, but she tried not to think about all that was wrong with the situation, even though she couldn't help but wonder. Focusing at the task at hand, she squelched her curiousity until the calvery could arrive and she could be certain Clark was okay. Nonetheless, the questions dancing through the back of her mind refused to be ushered away and she gave up trying to banish them.
The calls made, Chloe statisfied herself once more that Clark's vitals were stable. Convinced that he was just knocked out, she straightened up and pulled a second tranq out of a tree behind where Clark had been standing. Turning to where she had been just minutes ago, she pulled two more shells out of the ground near the log she'd been stationed at. Flipping them over in her hand, she memorized their every detail with a trained eye. These were filled with red goo rather than the green one that she'd found near Clark. They were much smaller and looked like the kind Chloe always saw in the movies; silver, long, the point of a needle and with only a minute amount of liquid in them. And no meteor rocks tainting them. 'Why were they using two different types of tranqs, one meteor-tipped?' joined the growing mass of questions in her mind, the most pressing being 'Why were they shooting at US?' Growning more concerned by the second, she put the unused tranqs in the pocket of her jacket and fished Clark's keys out of his jeans. Sticking them in her jeans so they wouldn't get lost, she tried to settle the boy in a sitting position against a log to his left. No luck. Slightly amused, she wondered how much he weighed. 'Well I always knew Martha was a good cook...'
A few minutes later, Pete showed up after picking up Mr. Kent and the pair lifted Clark into the back of Pete's convertible. Chloe clambered in the truck beside Mr. Kent at his request without fuss, though she really wanted to sittinig with Pete, discussing the situation. Wondering if Jonathan knew that, she spent the trip collecting her thoughts silently, dazed by how much a situation could change all in few minutes time, and sneaking appraising looks at Clark's dad through out the ride, catching him repeatedly doing the same but ignoring it. After he'd reassured her Clark would be just fine, he hadn't spoken again. And now more and more questions were formulating in her sharp mind. Something wasn't adding up, and Chloe was determined to find out what.
'Well, Clark, you've got some explaining to do. And this time, I'm getting the truth.'
Thoughts? Feelings? Rant on.