Chapter One
The walls were gray. Dull. It looked as if they were supposed to be shiny chrome, but something had gone wrong— no light pervaded them, so they had nothing to reflect back into the square room but dreariness. Insipidity. Not pain, but a doleful, aching existence. Listless. Lifeless. Gray.
The ceiling was the same. So was the floor. There were no windows in the room but for the solitary frame of glass no greater than one square foot in the center of the single door. The door was also gray. And locked. It never opened unless one of the guards with the ring of large silver keys crunched the right one into the lock, causing a metallic click to resound through the room. That was another thing. They liked to echo, the walls. Whenever a sound was created, it always continued on and on forever in the room, mocking her. But it wasn't only when the guards came in that the door opened. It was also when He came in. He had the master key. He ran all operations. He had total control over everything that happened, both inside the little room and outside it. But mostly outside it. There wasn't much that ever happened in the little room. So there wasn't much to control.
There was one other thing in the room aside from the gray walls and door. A light hung from a short chain at the ceiling, dangling precariously in the air. Its effulgence was dim. Gray. Like the walls, and the floor, and the ceiling. Like everything else in the empty, barren room. Like the heart of the sole inhabitant of the little square room.
Chloe Sullivan. Intrepid reporter— plucky, spunky, dazzling. Now a shell. A mere shell of her former witty, sarcastic, endearing self. Reporter? She couldn't even report the weather. She never saw it. Not the sun, the clouds, the rain, the stars. She never saw much of anything outside those four walls that encased the little square room. The little, square, gray room. Gray. Lifeless.
She lay in the position that was typical of her in the morning. Her unhealthily skinny frame was curled up in the furthest corner of the room; she faced the gloomy expanse of the room, her sunken eyes forever trained on the door and her left ear pressed against the cold floor to listen for the faintest reverberation of sound. One thing she hadn't forgotten from science class was that sound traveled faster through solid than gas. So she listened for the familiar tap, scuff, tap of His shoes so that she knew when he was approaching. So far it was quiet.
Though only very slightly, she was shivering. The room was always kept at a temperature just cold enough to be uncomfortable, and she was never given reprieve. The floor was colder, though. The smooth, hard surface of the floor was like ice. Yet she pressed her pale, gaunt cheek and bare arms against it anyway, welcoming the bitter cold, welcoming the numbness. The grayness.
Her caved-in stomach that now revealed the outline of her ribcage gave a depressing glimmer of a growl. She had long since become accustomed to the two-meal-a-day rule, which allowed her some snippet of food twice a day— she used to pretend that it was a steak as she chewed down the meager portion slowly. But there was no such thing as make-believe. Not anymore. Still, her rumbling stomach gave away the tardiness of her usual bowl of cold oatmeal for breakfast. Her dull eyes drifted over to the door. The little square room was like clockwork. An aberration in the schedule like that of a late meal could mean only one thing.
The Table.
Chloe felt a massive shiver overtake her body, partially from the cold's penetration into her skin and partially from the nauseating thought of the Table. Then, clear as crystal, the familiar sound crept into her left ear, resounding through the floor like footsteps on death row. Tap, scuff, tap. Tap, scuff, tap. The crunch of a key being jammed into the lock. A metallic click.
"Bring her to the Table," He ordered, His voice as slick as His casual stride that echoed down the corridor and all the way to Chloe's ear. Two large guards stepped into the room, their beefy arms swinging at their sides like chimpanzees. Chloe made no attempt to move. She simply lay there limply while the men rolled her over roughly and grabbed her by the arms. Once she was in a standing position, she tried to move her feet with the guards to walk on her own, but eventually she just let her legs hang limply. The guards lifted her high enough so that only her feet dragged on the floor, rather than being dragged along on her knees like that other guard did, the one with the crew cut.
The silver floor splashed by her like waves of liquid chrome. Her eyes drooped to the floor, staring blankly until she caught her reflection. She did not recognize the haunted, skeletal face that stared up at her with a despondent, lost gaze. The reflection had blonde hair that almost looked brown with filth. It was long and scraggly, hanging somewhere near her shoulders in greasy tangles. Unable to bear looking at that pathetic girl in the floor, Chloe closed her eyes and let herself be taken to the room. It was a bigger room than hers, and it had all sorts of equipment that looked like it might belong either in a science laboratory or a hospital. But it reminded her more of the former. It sat in the very center of the room.
The Table.
As her eyes swept over the pristine room, a memory washed into her mind like a cool, black tidal wave. She thought of the last time she saw the sun, felt fresh air on her face, felt warmth. Seeing the Table again, feeling the forever bitter air cling to her skin, being encased in those four walls that looked just the same as in her little square room… It made her think of her last memory of freedom, when she had gotten herself into this mess…
"Now, who took the element!" Lex practically screamed into her face, his own contorted with anger and frustration. Chloe stared at him fearfully, her eyes widening at his break in sanity.
"Lex, I swear I don't know what you're talking about-" He cut her off with an aggravated growl as he let go of her and turned away. Chloe ventured on, "But I think we need to get out of Smallville before the meteor shower hits."
Without even turning around, Lex spat out his resolute reply. "I'm going to find that stone, Chloe— even if it means dodging a few meteors in the process." Whirling around, he grabbed onto her once again as he muttered, "You're coming with me." Chloe tried to protest, but she didn't know what hit her.
"No, please, Lex—I don't know what you're talking about. Honestly—" She attempted to twist her wrist around so that her thumb faced the break between his fingertips and his thumb, a tactic she knew could allow her to pull free from his hold, but his grasp was too strong. She struggled harder, digging her feet into the floor as he strode quickly down the hallway, but her feet slipped on the polished floor, and she slid along behind him. They passed by a man with sunglasses and a suit, obviously one of the guards of the Luthor mansion. In a moment of panic, Chloe screamed out, "HELP! He's kidnapping me, call the police, do something!" But apparently the man only listened to Lex, for he moved about as much as the Queen's guards in England.
At last they emerged into the sunlight, Chloe still fiercely trying to escape his grip. Lex, maintaining his speed despite her protests, used his free hand to extract a key from his pocket. He hit a button, and the lights on a silver Porsche flashed once. "Lex, will you let go of me? What are you doing, are you crazy?" But Lex merely opened the passenger side door and shoved Chloe in, slamming it shut behind her. An instant later, he was in the driver's seat revving the engine and then pulling away with the squealing of tires.
"Where are we going?" Chloe asked, her voice much more timid now that they were hurtling along the highway at least forty miles over the speed limit. She quickly grabbed her seatbelt and buckled herself into the speeding car. Her back was pressed into her chair as she stared ahead at the road careening by. But Lex didn't answer her. There was a maniacal gleam in his eye that reminded her too much of when he'd had his psychotic break. He pressed the gas pedal to the floor, and Chloe felt her stomach do a flip-flop as the car gave a whine and the speedometer crept up to 100 mph… 105… 110…
As Chloe's eyes became transfixed on the slinking speedometer, she heard a deafening crash somewhere to her right. Her head swiveled to her window and she saw an immense black cloud rising from what was surely a newly formed crater. Turning her wide eyes back to the windshield, she watched as a streak of orange light cascaded through the sky and exploded on the road several hundred feet ahead of them in a burst of flame and debris. "Slow down, Lex, slow down!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. Lex swerved hard to the left, retaining his speed, the car bouncing along on the grassy field as they drove straight into a black cloud. Blinded for the moment, Chloe gripped the edges of her seat so hard that she was sure her knuckles would break off. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, her mind shouted as her heart pounded so hard against her chest she thought her ribcage would explode.
At last they emerged from the darkness and veered back onto the road. Chloe swallowed down the urge to vomit and relaxed her grip on the seat, squeezing her eyes shut at the near-fatal meteor strike. She didn't open them until she felt the car lurch as it screeched to a sudden halt. Blinking her eyes open, she looked around and saw that they had arrived at the most unexpected place; the caves. Confused and curious, Chloe sat there, unmoving. She jumped as the slam of a car door met her ears, and she looked up to see Lex striding around the front of the car and over to her side. She pushed away the urge to shrink back further into the seat and instead regained her composure and sat up defiantly. Lex swung open her door. "Get out," was all he said.
Chloe obediently unbuckled her safety belt and stepped out of the car as Lex slammed the door behind her. Without bothering to grab hold of her arm again, he led her in the direction of the caves. She followed, much more calm and subdued after having seen her life flash before her eyes in the blast of the meteor. Her gaze traveled up to the sapphire sky, which was punctuated with white streaks from falling meteors in the distance, the sky raining fire. The sun glowed brilliantly, enhancing the shadows cast on the ground. A light breeze was drifting through Smallville as if the wind hadn't yet been informed that there was a terrible natural disaster plaguing the town. The fresh air felt good on Chloe's face as it rustled her short blonde hair and blew several strands across her eyes. Then the two of them stepped through the entrance and found themselves down in the dank, eerie dimness of the caves.
"Why do I have the feeling we're not in this cave for cover?" Chloe snipped, feeling some of her old confidence return to her.
"You know as well as I do," Lex responded ambiguously. Then, throwing his arms up as he continued to walk ahead of her, he declared, "It's the epicenter!"
"Of what!"
"Come on, Chloe. You're the town purveyor of all things unexplained. You know damn well about this cave and the stones," he snapped back at her.
"Lex, what's wrong with you?" Chloe felt her confidence waver at the look in his eyes. He seemed maddened, on the brink of insanity… He came right up in front of her, his twisted face inches from hers.
"If you didn't break into my library, you know who did. Who are you trying to protect?" he accused.
"No one," Chloe replied defensively.
"Is it Clark?"
"Clark?" Chloe felt her heart skip a beat. How did he know? What all did he know about Clark, anyway? Gulping down her fear, she continued as if she had no idea what he was talking about. "Of course not. What does Clark have to do with any of this?"
"You tell me. You've known Clark a lot longer than I have. In fact," Lex paused for a very brief moment, his eyes gleaming, "you might know him better than anyone."
Chloe felt her stomach tighten. How the hell does he know all this? But her inner panic flowed out through her mouth in the form of defiance as she lied yet again. "You're right, Lex, I do. And the Clark Kent that I know would be the last person to go super-thief on your library for some stupid piece of rock." Pleased with the sincerity of her lie, Chloe sighed inwardly, praying that Lex would believe her. But instead of responding to her little speech, his gaze traveled to a break in the wall that was filled with golden light.
"What is that?" he mumbled as he stepped closer to it. Chloe's eyes nearly bulged out of her head. What had Lex said before? 'You know damn well about this cave and the stones.' The cave… the stones… Clark… CLARK! Her stomach bottomed out as it suddenly dawned on her that they were not alone in the caves. There were a million possible explanations for the strange light, but for some reason only one surfaced in her mind, and that told her that she had to stop Lex from finding out what was creating that light.
"Lex, be careful, it might be dangerous!" she called out and then dashed up behind him, grabbing him by the shoulders and smashing him as hard as she could against a nearby rocky wall. His bald head connected with the stone, and his body fell limply to the ground. Wow, I'm really on a roll today, Chloe thought sarcastically before she lifted her head to examine the light for herself. What she saw made her breath catch in her throat.
Her assumptions were confirmed, but she was even more confused now than she had been previously. She could see the familiar bulky form of Clark, but he looked like he was in pain, and he was hard to see through the glare. What she did not see was Lex slowly standing up behind her, eyeing the light with fascination and shock. Then the slightly blue-tinged light began rocketing outwards. Being the closer of the two, Chloe received the worst of the explosion.
A brilliant, blinding, resplendent blast of light exploded through the cave with energy so fierce that it shook the walls as it flared outwards in all directions. Instinctively, Chloe's arms flew up to shield her face as she was swept clear off her feet and into the rough wall behind her. There she was pinned, her feet dangling into nothingness, for a fraction of a second— the light, like the gust of a hurricane, holding her chest; the jagged, ancient wall supporting her back. Her right hand was out the furthest, still attempting to protect her vulnerable face. It felt like the light were searing her palm, burning it as if a torch were being applied to the skin.
A torch. How ironic.
When the infinitesimal yet infinite moment ended, the light receded and Chloe was dropped like a rag doll onto the ground. Her forehead came into contact with solid rock, and with a sharp crack she was out cold.
The black nothingness melted away like chocolate in a microwave. The world spun for a moment before solidifying into the metallic room. The nothingness reformed itself into the shape of the Table, which sat adamantly in the center of the room. The Table. Chloe gave an involuntary shiver. The guards stood on either side of her, still gripping her arms, and began pulling her into the center of the room. Hopeless dread ached in the pit of her stomach, and Chloe felt her eyes burn with tears. Not the Table. Only bad things happened on the Table.
Then the two guards lifted her up and slid her into position on the Table. The shiny silver metal froze her bare arms and legs. Her head was placed into the small cavity at one end of the long sheet of metal, and her ankles and wrists were secured by curved metal bars that clasped into place so that she could not escape. A similar curved strip of metal was paced over her forehead, locking her head down in the cavity. It no longer hurt her scar. Her body trembled. Ice. The table felt like ice. Her bare toes curled into her feet for warmth that she didn't have.
"Chloe," came the voice. She had been expecting it, but it froze her even more than the bitter table. Tap, scuff, tap. His damn designer shoes. He came right up next to her and bent down over the Table. Chloe impulsively closed her right hand into a fist. He caught the motion and grinned. "That's exactly what I wanted to talk about today." Chloe closed her eyes. It had happened several weeks ago or so, some time into her stay in the little square room. Why did He want to talk about it now? Blinking her eyes open, she allowed her gaze to roll over in His direction.
"What happened to your hand, Chloe?" He began smoothly, folding His arms casually. "Why would you do something like that?"
But Chloe said nothing. She merely stared at Him, her gaze lifeless and dull. Gray.
He frowned, becoming vexed. He ran a hand over His face and wiped His mouth with His open palm. Sliding His hand back into His pocket, He continued with forced calm. "Chloe, I need you to talk to me. You know what happens when you don't tell me the truth." As if to prove His point, He strode over to the table filled with equipment on one end of the room and picked up a large, lethal looking syringe filled with a bright emerald liquid. Chloe's eyes followed it, but her vision was blurring with unshed tears. He walked back over to the Table and held it up right in front of Chloe's face. "Yeah. Recognize this?" He turned it over carefully, allowing her to survey it as if it were a prized piece of gold. "I suggest you start talking."
Chloe cleared her parched throat and found her low, scratchy voice that was so rarely used now. "Moment of madness," she mumbled in explanation for what she had done. A small part of her wanted to add with a sneer, 'Surely you've had some of those yourself, or did you forget your stay at the asylum?' But that part of her was growing smaller by the day, dying a slow and painful death. She hadn't the energy for biting sarcasm, let alone merely opening her mouth and spitting out more than three words at a time.
"That's all? You plead temporary insanity?" His eyes drifted over to her clenched fist. "There was no motivation behind such a specified attack?" Chloe was silent. He held up the syringe.
"No," she coughed.
He stared at her for a moment, His eyes like two blackened coals. He went back over to the table of equipment and set the syringe down. When He returned, oddly enough, He had a piece of paper and a pen. Removing the metal bars from her wrists and head, he shoved her into a sitting position and placed the pen and paper on her legs. "Sign your name."
Chloe stared. The paper was blank. Sign her name? Three months ago, her clever brain would have picked up on his little game. But her mind was dead now. Lifeless and gray. She lifted the pen with her right hand and scratched down a warped signature. She hadn't written in months, and her hand still twinged a bit from time to time. He watched, a look on His face that said she was satisfying His hunger. He snatched the paper from her and crumpled it up as she lay back down on the metal again, lacking the strength to remain in a sitting position without support.
"I think Atticus Finch would agree that you're right-handed," He told her, the corners of His mouth twitching up into a malicious grin. "So if you were right-handed, wouldn't you have automatically picked the pole up with your right hand?" He stepped closer to her, bending low over her face and whispering into her ear, "Or are you ambidextrous?"
He waited for an answer, but He didn't receive one. Cool as the icy metal of the Table, He strolled back over to the equipment table, grabbed the syringe, and brought it back over to the center of the room. "You have five seconds to give me an answer." Chloe's breathing became heavy and labored as she stared at the syringe. But she didn't say anything. He glanced at His Rolex watch, eyeing the second hand as it ticked away. Five seconds. "Time's up."
Holding her arm in place, He inserted the long needle into her forearm and emptied the bright green contents into her veins. Chloe let out an agonized howl as her body convulsed, the searing pain ripping through her arm and into her other limbs. Her head, no longer held down by the metal bar, twisted back and forth in an effort to escape the pain but only met the sharp edges of the round cavity. Her wail echoed off the metallic walls, ringing through the room like a siren, reverberating off the walls and returning to her ears, to her pain-wracked body, to the empty shell that once enclosed the fiery spirit of Chloe Sullivan.