Panic and fear flew through the bodies of Pete and Martha as they sat on each side of Clark, who was rolling his head back and forth moaning miserably in pain while they continued to wait for Jonathan to come back and save the boy from any more anguish that he was suffering during the moment. As tears dropped down from the mother's eyes and slid down her cheeks, she tried to calm her son down by running her hand through his soft, brown hair that was damp with sweat all as she kept her head looking to the side of her waiting for her husband to come back. Where he could be? What was taking him so long? So many questions wandered in her mind but she couldn't take the time out to answer them. She had to keep her son alive.
Biting his lower lip until it was close to cracking, the other teen gulped loudly as he looked down at his friend, wincing when he saw his face crumbled up in pure agony that made guilt plunge into his body for trying to keep him awake through all the hurting he was going through. "Mrs. Kent, I don't think he can stay conscious any longer." Pete told Martha, seeing her turn her head over and another teardrop fall down her cheek as she shakily took an inhale of air to prepare herself to look down at the boy. When she did, she wanted to die herself. He was in so much pain, so much torture. She felt a loud sob escape her lips as another surge of red liquid fell out of his stomach and soaked his blue shirt even more, causing her to cover her hand with her mouth as she watched his face relax and slowly sink into oblivion.
"Martha! Pete!" Snapping their heads over to the sudden sound, Martha and Pete found Jonathan running into the barn with the sun beaming down on his body and lighting him up like an angel as a large brown bag laid in his hands, overflowing with things which got the woman to quickly get up and scamper over to him. Her red hair flew in the air as she sprinted over to him, grabbing the bag and gulping back the rest of the tears down her throat when as soon as she did, he ran away from her and over to the other side of the barn, which got her both angry and sad at the same time.
"Jonathan, Clark's dieing! What are we going to do?!" She exclaimed, her voice hoarse while she observed him throw all the drawers at the tool table open, looking for something obviously when abruptly her watch was cut off when she heard the noise of her son's friend bellow back at her in a worried and panicked tone.
"Mrs. Kent!" Pete yelled at the top of his lungs, getting both parent's attention when they looked over at him to find him with his fingers on Clark's neck and his face looking at both of them with an alarmed expression. Dashing back over to him, the mother brushed away the tears on her cheeks, falling down to her knees and keeping the yelp in her mouth when she did so as she grabbed the boy's wrist with quivering hands and placed her two fingers to his veins before letting a loud cry out of her mouth.
"Jonathan, hurry! He hardly has a pulse!" Martha sobbed, still feeling for a pulsation and barely even finding one. It was so weak she had to hold her breath to keep herself from moving. And the moment stayed like that too with her sitting by her semi-unconscious son that was bleeding heavily by the stomach and chest among his friend next to him.
Over on the other side of the barn, Jonathan moved faster by the second as he threw drawers open and searched through them for the one last thing he needed. He couldn't find it though. Swearing loudly and slamming the one he had opened shut, the father placed his head in his hands when suddenly and rapidly a thought miraculously came charging back into his mind through the panic and fear that was clogging up his considerations.
Stumbling over to the red toolbox that was on the right side of the tool table he was by, the father opened up all three drawers and threw everything they had in them on the desk, rummaging through them all and freezing in his spot when he found something he didn't want but stopped him anyway. The sliver, rectangular case that had his son's blood in it. It was the case he was holding less then a day ago.
Taking notice of the fact that his hands were now trembling, he gulped loudly, the saliva forced down his throat as he let one deliberation enter his mind to get the rest of the anger and rage out of him. Morgan Edge had all the blood he wanted right behind him. And with that saying thought, he threw the case aside, spotting a pair of black pliers afterwards and grabbing them instantaneously to spin around so he could run back over to the fallen boy on the ground. With the mother and a friend on each side of him, he plummeted to his knees for the second time that day and drop the tool on the floor while he inhaled to catch his breath.
As his wife scooted over to the boy's head, placing her fingers in his hair and smoothing it back gently, Jonathan grabbed the brown grocery bag next to him and dumped it out on the floor before looking back over at his son and freezing once more suddenly. Both the mother and dark colored boy saw this. "Jonathan, what are you going to do?" Martha asked with a lump in her throat, looking up at her husband as he braced himself for what he was about to say.
"The only thing I can do Martha." Dropping her jaw open in shock that he was actually going to do what Pete had told her he was going to do, the woman shook her head with her eyes wide as she let two more tears fall down from her gorgeous eyes that were filled with water. "It's too risky Jonathan, it could kill him!" Martha cried out, getting him more irritated as he snapped his head over to her and tilted his head to the side.
"Damn it Martha, I know! But we don't have a choice. The bullet is made out of Kryptonite, if we don't get it out it's going to kill him!" Jonathan retorted, silence creeping around the air after he said that with the reaction Pete and Martha held. Both did not know that he was dieing because his only weakness was in his body. Putting his head in his hands, Pete sighed sadly when his mind accepted what the father was going to have to do, and slowly, the fear he once held left and returned with another kind of terror. Instead of feeling panicked of what was going to happen next, he knew what was going to occur now, and it's what frightened him. Martha simply sucked in both of her lips again and sunk down to her knees all while she tried to keep herself from sobbing. She could not break down. She had to be strong no matter how hard it was going to be.
Jonathan bowed his head to the ground as he clutched the pliers he retrieved in his hands, feeling like he was about to break them almost as he listened to the stillness that was soon interrupted by a feeble, anemic whisper. "Dad..." Bringing his head up immediately, Jonathan felt three fingers wrap around his hand as he looked down at Clark, who had his eyes hardly open with his head two inches up from the ground and his sight looking straight ahead at his father. Jonathan saw the pain he was going through as his face was as white as a sheet, making it clear so he could see the hint of jade on his skin and his brown hair drooping back with sweat.
"I-It's okay son, it's going to be okay. You just hang in there." He softly reassured him, not believing his words one bit as he let the pliers jump down to the wooden base below him when his hands went almost numb. Knowing that time was being wasted, Jonathan grabbed the top of Clark's blue shirt that was dark red in the middle, gathering up the strength left in his body as with force, he ripped the chemise opened to hear buttons fly across the floor and his wife gasp in fright to what was revealed to them.
A nasty, painful wound laid a inch or two from Clark's chest and near his stomach, blood drenching his torso and his sides as pulsing green veins covered his skin while Jonathan had never swore so much in his whole life then he was that very moment. "Dad." Clark wheezed loudly as he brought his head up as much as he could so he could look at his injury with fear and then gaze up at his father in anguish.
"It's okay Clark; I'm going to get that bullet out." Jonathan said, watching his son drop his head down in his mother's lap as he searched for the tool he needed that was on the ground with his eyes staring at the abrasion that his son had received. Finally finding it, he picked it up and placed it in front of his eyes with a loud gulp before looking back down at his son's body, the muscles tensing up now that he knew what was going to happen as the father took a deep breath and then exhaled it despondently. He didn't even remember the second he lowered the pliers down to his son's chest and with might, stuck them deep down into the wound. All he remembered during that moment was the strident roar that Clark gave out.
"Pete, hold him down!" Jonathan shouted when he noticed that his son was trying to get away with cries, attempting his best to move the pliers around as Pete did what he said by grabbing his friend's shoulders and pushing them down on the ground while looking behind him at the father. Trying to move the pliers was like moving a stick in wood. It was extremely hard to do and the hollers Clark gave out were not making it easier. He could hear the sound of his wife calling out his name to stop over the yells though, and that just drove him to try harder. He had to save his son. He wasn't going to lose him, he couldn't lose him. Because he lost him once, and it wasn't going to happen again. It was the moment realization dropped down in his body that he realized he might not have a choice when it came to fate's plans.
"I can't find it Martha." Jonathan panicked, not knowing over three minutes had gone by he had been looking for the slug as Martha let a sob out of her mouth and Pete slowly let go of Clark's shoulders when be began to relax since the man had stopped. Letting go of the pliers that were deep in the wound, Jonathan stared at the lesion for a second as he tried to find a way to figure out how to get the Kryptonite bullet out. The wound was small, but it was smack in the middle of Clark's chest and stomach. He knew so because every time he tried to move the pliers, he felt his son's rib bones with the tool. The pulsing green veins were bold by the center of his upper body and slowly crept down to his abdomen where they eventually faded out by his belly button. It meant that the bullet wasn't deep down in the wound in his chest. It had somehow moved down to his stomach at least three inches telling by the bolder the veins got.
"I'm going to have to cut three inches." Jonathan whispered accidentally to them all, not even knowing he had spoke those words as Martha gasped louder then she ever had and Pete covered his mouth with both of his hands. The silence that the room held was thick and full of tension as no one dared to speak or move, only sit there in worry of what was going to happen next. Martha was the first to open her mouth and say what they were all wondering though.
"Are you positive Jonathan?" She inquired, saying what he had said in her head and feeling like it was a murder to do to the boy. None of them were doctors or surgeons which made the situation even worst as Clark laid down on the ground groaning in tenderness from what his father had just done to him. Shakily nodding his head, the older man ran his fingers through his dirty blonde hair and gulped loudly as he moved his sight away from the wound he could not stop staring at.
"We...we have choice Martha. It's the only way to get it out." Jonathan informed her, knowing it didn't make her feel any better as she smoothed back the boy's hair to get him to stop whimpering in pain as he tried to stay conscious with the darkness overflowing his mind. Finding his voice that had been lost ever since he first spoke to Martha when she entered the barn they were all in, Pete looked up at Jonathan and darted his eyebrows up as he sniffed to get the tears from falling out of his eyes.
"Mr. Kent, t-that could really kill Clark." He reminded him, regretting his words afterwards when he remembered the shout he had given Martha when she had something like that. In too much shock and trepidation however, the father sat still in stillness before shakily moving his arm over to his son's chest and clutching the pliers with force so he could pull them out and hear the boy yelp in agony. It killed him to know that he was putting Clark through all the pain. He could stop most of it if he just threw the tools he had away. He also had no choice too though. The bullet was poisoning him by the second, and if he did not get it out soon, he would die one way or another. Nevertheless would things be so much easier if the slug was straight in the wound.
"I know Pete...I know." Jonathan replied, dropping the pliers that were soaked in blood to the ground as he turned around and grabbed a dishcloth from the bag, shakily handing it over to his wife who understood what he wanted her to do even if he didn't say a word while he took her spot by the boy's head. Through the corner of his eyes, he watched Martha leisurely wipe away all the blood that was on the teen's chest and Pete sit in silence as he slowly put his fingers in the boy's crown, combing it gently as sweat glistened his face and his eyes stayed shut tenderly.
"Clark?" He whispered in his ear, bending down to his face as Clark cracked his heavy eyelids open the best he could, rolling his head over to him gradually and smiling wearily to get him to grin back.
"Everything's going to be all right Clark. Everything's going to be all right." Jonathan lied, not understanding why he had just said those words when everything wasn't going to be all right. The dieing boy had a right to know he could breathe his last breath because of what he was going to have to do. Sniffing, he inhaled loudly and placed his ruff hand on his soft cheek, stroking it and holding back the tears in his eyes as the boy closed his eyes for a second and then opened them back up to show the water that was floating around in his eyes.
"I'm sorry son. I'm sorry for everything I said--I didn't mean. I swear to God I didn't mean it." Jonathan blurted out when he saw a tear slide down his son's face, closing his eyes and letting a silent sob out of his mouth as he struggled to find his composure so he could make the boy feel safe and unharmed. Taking his shaking hand off his face, he placed it back in his head full of hair, trying to do anything to keep himself from crying as Clark started to get worried through the pain and agony that was in his body.
With the throbbing in his stomach from the pliers that had dug deep inside his skin, and each wipe his mother gave on his chest causing more ache, he could feel the fear that everyone else was feeling because of the way his father was acting. And the words he spoke next made all of his emotions gather up into one and scare him more then ever.
"I-...I'm going to have to do something to get the bullet out Clark. And...." Stopping to keep himself from breaking down, Jonathan closed his eyes tightly as he finished speaking, biting his tongue and choking out a sob when he saw another teardrop down his son's face. He was crying. His son was actually crying. He wanted to stop time and make all the twinge he was feeling go away now because he was in fact crying.
"And it's going to hurt. It's going to hurt real badly. But I need you to just hang in there, okay? Promise me you'll hang in there." Jonathan asked him, letting out a trembling breath as he wearily saw Clark nod his head, a disenchanted grin slipping onto his face as he moved his head up and down the best he could.
"I will...dad. I...will." Clark choked out, letting his head fall to the ground in exhaustion afterwards as he felt all his energy sucked out of his body and showing that now he had no control over what happened next. He didn't have control over falling unconscious anymore. And it scared him. It scared him a lot, because he didn't want to die. No one wants to die during the moment they really are. No one deserves to die either. And those were his last thoughts before he closed his eyes and let his ears do everything for him. He listened to his parents talk, his friend speak, and fear haunted his mind. It was all he could do.
"Mr. Kent, I think you're going to have to do this soon." Pete told him, his voice shaking a bit as he looked down at his insipid and feeble friend while he nibbled on his tongue wanting to crunch down into it so he could feel the pain the boy was feeling during that moment. He lay there so helpless, dieing in agony, as the torment he was experiencing was new and never suffered before because of his invulnerability. The only time he felt pain was when he was around Kryptonite, and now Kryptonite was inside his body and defiling him to death. Bringing his head up and looking at Martha, he felt his face soften in sadness when he saw more fresh tears streaking down her face, and he knew that she had to be going through as much emotional grief as he was. There her son was, his head in her lap as he tried to stay alive for them.
Exhaling one shaky breath at a time, Jonathan clutched the black pliers he held in his hands tightly, the handles cutting into his palm as he gazed at Clark's chest where the horrid, grave wound was and green veins pulsed around his stomach. He could not stop shaking. His whole body was trembling in fear. He was going to have to cause his son pain and anguish to save him. The only thing keeping him from not doing it was knowing that it was the one thing he had to do to save him. He had to save him. If not, he could lose him forever. And life without the boy would be too hard. He didn't even want to think about what it would be like. Right now, all he had to do was concentrate on taking the bullet out. He had to take the bullet out.
Closing his eyes softly and looking down, he gulped loudly and leisurely took one of his hands off of the tool wrapped around his fingers, placing it on the cold, hard ground and searching around for the one thing he was going to need until he found it. And when he did, he opened his eyes and brought it up to his face to look at it in fear. There it was, a sliver, Tucson knife that his father had passed down to him years ago. It was the strongest metal in the world too. It was what he was going to use to get the bullet out of his son.
Swallowing down the lump in his throat, Jonathan inhaled and ran his hand through his hair, looking at his wife who was shedding tears and brushing the boy's hair with her fingers. He could faintly hear over the faint moaning of the teen and the panic breaths of Pete, Martha whisper the words 'Save him Jonathan' with a weary grin that simply made him choke up even more. He didn't want to do what he had to do.
Honestly, he wanted to creep into a ball and sit there doing nothing, just wait for someone to do it all themselves. But he couldn't. He had to do this himself. Because no one was there to tell him what to do, and it showed him it was all up to him to save his son. "I love you Clark." Jonathan said aloud, gripping the knife in his hands as he gave one glance to Pete and one glance to Martha before lowering his hand down and gradually goring the point of the blade in the boy's gash.
A loud, vociferous yell from the boy filled their ears immediately as Jonathan bit his lower lip and slapped his other hand on the knife, forcing it to go down through the shouts as he swore in his mind over and over again to keep himself from ignoring the roars. "Grab him Pete!" He hollered over the shouts, getting Pete to grasp one of his friend's shoulders and overpower him by pushing him back down on the ground and groaning as he tried to keep him that way. Martha soon came in and helped him by taking the other shoulder and placing both of her hands down on it to keep him down, even though it was hardly any relief. Clark continued to try to get away from the piercing pain that was afflicted on him.
With one last push, Jonathan was able to get the dagger deep down in his son's chest, hitting his ribs and breathlessly stopping to close his eyes and guzzle saliva down his dry throat. He couldn't waste time though. He had to keep going. Holding the knife firmer, he pulled it down with all his strength and grunted loudly as he clutched his teeth together and blocked the raucous, sorrowful scream that Clark gave out from his ears. The screams wouldn't stop as he dragged the stiletto further down his torso and into his stomach with the cries of his wife, the panicked shouts of his friend's son, and the repeating words in his mind.
"Damn it!" Jonathan rumbled, closing his eyes tightly as he felt himself getting weak and the force to pull the knife down the last inch becoming impossible as the reflection of the fight he had with is son came rushing back into his mind. He had told Clark he did not care. He had told him that he didn't bear in mind about his problems. And the thought drew all his vigor away. Just when he was so close to coming to the last inch, he felt himself drained out. In fact, if it weren't for his wife's shriek, then he would have given up right then.
"Jonathan!" Martha screeched, looking up at him to see him looking down at his son's face only to see that his eyes were closed gently and his body had relaxed. He didn't have the time to cheek if he was breathing though. Quickly forcing himself to heave the strong knife down, he hit the last spot and yanked the switchblade out, hearing a loud spurt sound when he did as he took time to look at what he had done to his son. Blood gushed out of Clark's stomach and chest, pouring onto his skin and dripping down his sides as an eerie almost glowing green radiance came from the middle of his upper body and abdomen.
Swiftly catching the black pair of pliers, Jonathan instantly placed them inside the wound where the gleaming was coming from, grunting a little as he searched around for the pellet while he kept his eyes closed from looking at anything around him. He could have sworn during the moment that he had hit the bullet he thanked God over a million times. Simply pulling the ends of the pliers open some, he swallowed back the vomit in his throat from both the fear in his body and the sight of so much blood when he finally caught hold of the buckshot and closed the tool to bring it out of the wound with a slight smile.
The grin faded however as soon as he got a good look at the bullet. Through the blood that it was drenched with, it shined a bright green blaze, and his eyes went wide when he saw that the man who had shot his son wasn't kidding. It was a Kryptonite bullet. Gulping, he lowered his shaking arm down to his side and joined Pete and Martha in gazing at Clark, who was unconscious with his head dangling in his mother's lap and blood making a torrent on his stomach. As they all sat in silence, every one of them stared at the fatal, ghastly wound while Jonathan couldn't help but wonder what had merely happened.
Somehow, he knew there would be consequences to what he had just done.
To be continued...