Chapter Three

Clark wasn't sure quite how to gauge time in a universe that didn't exist. Every so often he'd glance at the grandfather clock, but it was of little help. The hands would speed up or slow down unpredictably, and sometimes they even ran backwards. He wondered if it had anything to do with the Disruption Regulator inside the clock's face, trying to keep the void outside from realizing this little cabin didn't belong here.

How long had it been since Wells left? No way to tell for sure. Clark was pretty sure it had been at least a few hours by now. He stared out the window into the cold, empty nothingness outside. It was fascinating, and a little bit frightening.

Wells' words echoed in Clark's mind. "The problem, Clark… is you. …I cannot allow you to leave this place. The future of your world, and others, depends upon it." What did that mean? He replayed the words in his head, over and over again. He felt sick inside. Sick, and lonely.

How much longer was he going to be here? He walked away from the window. He could only stare into the emptiness for so long. He began pacing again.

He thought about something else Wells had said. Earlier, when they were still in Smallville. "Once we fix the flaw in the time stream, I'll drop you back at this very moment, and it will be as though you never left." If Wells had the ability to return at any moment he chose, then why hadn't he come back right away? He could have returned to the exact moment that he'd left, and then Clark wouldn't be here, by himself, waiting.

What if something had happened to him?

Clark stopped pacing.

What if something had happened to Wells, and that was why he didn't come back? What if he was never coming back, and Clark was trapped here, in a universe that didn't exist, forever?

He felt a surge of panic. He had to get out of here. He ran to the window. His first instinct was to smash it open. Fortunately, he resisted this urge. Even if he could get out, where was he going to go? There was literally nothing outside of the cabin. He turned back to the clock. He opened the face, like he had seen Wells do, and stared at the crystal and the laser beams. What if he ripped the crystal out? Destroyed the Regulator? For all he knew, if he did that, he and the cabin would cease to exist. Probably not a good plan, either… but he was grasping at straws to find some semblance of control, something he could do that would change something, change anything.

Clark took a deep breath. He shut the clock face and turned away from it. Think rationally. He needed to find a way out. Some way to get out of here, get home, get anywhere. Maybe Wells had a spare one of those cubes hidden somewhere? Clark focused his eyes, and searched the room with his x-ray vision.

The fire place. There was something behind it. A passageway of some kind! Clark didn't even bother looking for whatever loose brick or secret lever must trigger the fireplace to swing away. He reached in, through the flames, grabbed the sides of the fireplace, and pulled, ripping the entire fireplace right out of the wall.

Clark stepped through the passageway and into a room that was just as big as the one he'd just spent the last few hours in. However, there was only one thing in this room. A large sled-shaped vehicle with all kinds of levers and dials across the dashboard.

Something else Wells had said crept into Clark's mind now, though he'd barely been paying attention when he said it. When Wells took out the cube, he'd said it was more convenient than his previous mode of time travel.

Clark was standing before H.G. Wells' time machine.

This was his ticket out of here. Clark sat down inside the time machine, then felt his excitement vanish as he stared at the controls, which were all completely meaningless to him. Wells had used this machine not only to travel across different times, but even different realities. How could Clark possibly even begin to guess where this machine would take him, much less how to get it to take him home?

He looked over the controls. He looked at where the dials were set, trying to make heads or tails of what they all meant.

There was one dial that seemed to be for the date of destination. It was set to a year that was ten years in the future… at least, what Clark considered to be the future.

Slowly, a thought occurred to him. What if Wells had meant for him to find this time machine? If he was right, and something had happened to Wells… if he was in some kind of trouble, and that's why he hadn't come back… he knew enough about Clark and his powers to know that he would find the time machine eventually. He knew that Clark would try to use it to get out of there.

Maybe Wells had set the machine to Clark's future… the future that was in peril, the future that Wells had gone to try to stop. He knew that if he didn't make it back, that Clark would find the time machine, and could use it to come after him, maybe save him, maybe fix whatever was wrong with the future.

He looked again at the date the machine was set to. Was this where Wells had gone? Did he want Clark to follow? It would be so easy to change the dial, set it for home instead. But if there were so many different alternate realities, like Wells had said, how did he even know he would end up in his own universe?

Clark took a deep breath. Wells had left the machine set to this specific date for a reason. He must have. It was the only thing that made sense. Right?

There was a large lever near Clark's knee. He guessed that was what made the machine go.

He put his hand on the dial that he believed controlled the date of destination. What if he changed it? What if he set it for what he was pretty sure was home? He could go back to Smallville, destroy the time machine, and forget that any of this had ever happened.

But if Wells was right… if something really was wrong with the future, and it was Clark's fault… Then wasn't it his responsibility to fix it? To do what he could to make things right? If something had happened to Wells, and Clark didn't do anything to save him…

The more he looked at the settings on the machine, the more certain he was. Wells had left the machine on these settings on purpose, so that Clark could come after him if anything went wrong. He was sure of it now. Something had gone wrong. And Clark was going after him.

He closed his eyes.

He pulled the lever.

The machine gave out a low hum as it sprang to life. Clark held on tight as he felt it begin to shake. He looked around in disbelief as the room itself started to slip away, flashes of light and color taking the place of his surroundings. He felt cold again. The machine shook violently as time and space blurred and gave way around it, the very fabric of reality opening up to let them through. Clark felt a sensation of weightlessness and of wind in his face as the time machine carried him off towards his unknown destination.

Almost as soon as it had started, it was over. The wind died down, the cold sensation passed, and the machine was back on solid ground. As the light faded, things slowly came back into view.

He was outside now, no longer in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. He was in the middle of a city, but he could see no people anywhere… as though everything had been abandoned. Clark stepped out of the time machine and stumbled a bit as he did, losing his footing. He took a deep breath, and felt his lungs burn. It was then that he noticed a strange green mist hanging in the air.

He clutched at his chest, taking in huge gulps of air, trying to breathe. He felt a stinging in his eyes as they began to water. He looked up at the sky. The whole sky, as far as he could see, had a horrible burnt green tint to it.

He fell to his knees. The only time he'd ever known pain anything like this was when he was near kryptonite.

Clark quickly climbed back into the time machine. Whatever this place was, he had to get out of there, now. He turned the dials, setting them to take him somewhere else, anywhere else that wasn't here. He reached for the lever again.

"Freeze! Don't move!"

A voice cut through the air. He wasn't alone after all.

Two figures descended from the sky, covered from head to toe in some kind of protective armor. They wore jet packs strapped to their backs, and each had what looked like a laser cannon mounted on their right arm. They touched down right in front of the time machine with their weapons trained on Clark.

"Step out of the vehicle," one of them demanded.

Clark was barely able to keep conscious, his head pounding. He grabbed the lever and pulled.

The two men opened fire on the time machine, their laser beams cutting it apart like a knife through butter. The lever came off in Clark's hand as one of the beams tore right through it. Clark threw his hands over his head and dove out of the time machine as it was ripped to shreds, landing on the pavement with a thud and gasping for air.

The two men towered over Clark as his vision started to blur and the world began to go dark.

"State your name," one of the men said.

Clark could only cough and wheeze. The two men looked at each other.

"What should we do with him?"

"I don't know. Did you see that vehicle he was in? I've never seen anything like it."

"Me neither." The man knelt down beside Clark, grabbed his hair and jerked his head up. "You got a name, kid…?" His voice trailed off. "My God, he looks just like…"

The second man stared at Clark's face in awe. "What the hell? How is that possible?"

"I don't know." The first man got to his feet. "But I think we'd better take him in."

"Good idea."

Clark didn't even have the strength to resist as the two men hoisted him up by the arms. They lifted him up and carried him with them as they blasted off into the sky.

Clark blinked his eyes as they flew above the deserted city. As they soared high above the buildings, he stared in awe at what he saw below. Most of the city was in ruins, buildings demolished or decaying as if some kind of war had taken place here.

In the center of the city was a giant metallic fortress, almost like a castle. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before, and it filled him with a cold dread.

It was the last thing he saw before he blacked out.