Everything seemed still at that moment. The only sound that came from the room around him was the soft breathing of the eighteen people around the room, and the hard breathing of an angry Rev. Jim.

"What…are…you…talking…about…Jonathan?" the reverend said through his teeth as his face turned scarlet red.

Jonathan took a very deep breath as he looked at the hopeful expression of his son.

"You know what I mean, Reverend," the farmer said, teeth still clenched. "Let my boy go!"

A small smile appeared on Clark's lips while Rev. Jim's face turned into a scowl. He then put his fingers to the large ring on his pinkie before Jonathan felt a huge jolt of electricity surge through his body.

"Dad!" Clark shouted as he heard his father shout and hit the ground with a thud. The boy wanted to help, but his body wasn't in the condition to move away from the minions holding him. All he could do was hang his head and accept this last hope as a failure. He would have been more upset if he wasn't used to it.

Rev. Jim then pointed his finger toward the moaning farmer. Two men then proceeded to grab him by the arms and drag him toward the wall of the church. They used old ropes to tie him to one of the rings that was designed to hold a velvet rope before abandoning him for the reverend's side.

"I had a feeling that would happen," the reverend said with a sigh. He then looked around at the congregation surrounding him. They were silent, as was the trembling boy that they were looking to execute.

"What are you waiting for!" Rev. Jim shouted. "Get everything ready!"

Clark gulped as his holders continued to lead his weak form toward the front of the church where there was a red carpet covering a platform where the pulpit and choir rows resided. The brown cross continued to be lowered using a pulley that was attached to the ceiling.

The cross was carefully placed flat on the ground as the large group of minions threw Clark down on the floor. When they then grabbed him by the wrists, he started to struggle. He knew that the struggling wouldn't get him anywhere, but he justifiably did not want to go through this. His breaths began to speed up and his heart began to race as he was dragged onto the cross that seemed painted over recently. It had obviously been used as an instrument of execution before.

As his back began to burn from the wood he was being slid across, Clark felt the presence of the stained glass windows and heard the squealing that usually accompanied glowing kryptonite. The noise seemed to pulse with Clark's racing heart beat, injecting his body with more pain every second. It became worse as his arms were pulled straight out and tied to the horizontal beam of the cross. As Clark moaned from his agony, long nails as thick as a pencil were taken out of a small wooden box held by Rev. Jim. When he took them out, the effect of kryptonite doubled and the pain made Clark even weaker.

Clark was far too weak to scream or struggle any further for his life. All he could do was express his fear through whimpering. This made the two men closest to him laugh; the reverend, and the man clad with black clothing with a hammer in his hand. He was kneeling on one knee and had calloused hands from past executions.

"P...p…lease," Clark said as he turned his face toward where he figured his executioner was. His eyes glistened as he started to plead. "Please…don't do this. You…don't…want to do this."

The hammer-holder's scowl didn't go away and he simply growled. Clark continued to look at him with eyes pleading for mercy for from this horrible fate that he didn't deserve.

"W-w-what…is your…name?" Clark asked in a soft voice.

The boy took one of the nails in his hand and raised his eyebrows at Clark. He then put the point of the nail right in between the bones of Clark's wrist and held it there with the tips of his fingers.

When Clark felt the nail be put in place, his heart sped up even more. The boy began to wonder if it was possible for a heart to explode from anxiety as he shut his eyes and gritted his teeth in anticipation for the…

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH"

When the first pound came down, it felt like a bomb went off right on top of Clark's arm. It caused him to let out a wail that made the people around him shudder where they stood. Even the boy with the hammer almost fell back from his work as he wiped his bloody hands on the floor before continuing.Clark screamed even more as the hammer drove the nail further into his skin.

As this was happening, Jonathan tried to get himself on his feet after the ring shocked his system so badly. Every time he heard a pound, Jonathan's heart skipped a beat as to what Clark must be going through. Jonathan saw Clark's hand tense and forming the shape of a claw as it shook. He could only imagine the pain his boy now had to endure.

Jonathan's head was very groggy from the blow to his forehead and his wrists were beginning to burn from the old ropes. He felt so helpless and exhausted as he watched all hope drain away. The man didn't even notice that the ropes that tied him to the beam were becoming looser as if someone behind him was untying them.

All of a sudden, Jonathan was grabbed by the shoulder and firm hand was placed over his mouth. He was then pulled across the wall before he finally focused his eyes and recognized the face over him.

"Martha?" Jonathan breathed out.

Martha, with a very blank look on her face, put a finger over her mouth so that Jonathan would stay quiet. Jonathan just looked at his wife as she was clad in an old T-shirt and sweat pants. She also had oily hair and cuts all over her body from the vast amount of beatings she had endured since her stay here. However, the main thing that Jonathan noticed was her eyes. They looked angry and pained as they watched Clark enduring horrible pain. It looked as if she was eager to drag him away right now, but she knew a better way and had to restrain herself.

"I have a plan to get Clark out of this," Martha whispered into her husband's ear with a forced calm in her voice.

"Martha, how…?"

"I'll create a distraction, while you get Clark off that…thing…that…" Martha was beginning to choke up as she put her hand over her mouth.

"Martha…I…"

"Jonathan, just do this, okay?" Martha demanded. She then looked over to Clark once again before dropping her husband and hopping onto her feet.

"But Martha, how did you…?"

"Jonathan! I'll explain everything later, but we have to save our son!"

Before Jonathan could even respond, Martha grabbed a piece of scrap wood lying against the wall and ran out into the sanctuary. From that point on, everything seemed to happen in a split second. Martha ran over to the boy who was now pounding the second nail and hit him over the head with her wood. She then did the same thing to the reverend, only this time in the crotch. Jonathan panned his head over to the other side of the room where the very attractive girl that they met earlier was getting the crowd upset through a speech that Jonathan couldn't make out through the fog in his head.

Before long, the entire church was in chaos as the members of the congregation were scattering all over the place due to panic. The reverend was eventually in the middle of his panicked flock, unable to migrate toward his injured prey.

After a few minutes, Martha met up with the young girl that got the crowd riled up. They had a very brief conversation before Martha looked to Jonathan and made a hand motion for toward Clark.

Jonathan recognized the signal and scrambled over to his son. He grabbed the hammer out of the unconscious executioner's hand and used the spiked end to pry the large nails out of Clark's arms.

"STOP! STOP PLEASE! IT HURTS!" Clark screamed in a hoarse tone as Jonathan pulled the first nail out. Jonathan tried not to listen because he knew that this was for Clark's own good. However, yet he couldn't help but shed some tears. Jonathan had read somewhere that having nails driven into your wrist right in between the bones gave you the equivalent feeling of your funny bone being ripped out of your elbow, so he tried to treat the task with as much tender loving care as possible.

"No!" shouted Rev Jim as he finally broke away from the chaos and grabbed Jonathan by the shirt collar. Jonathan already got the last nail out, but he was still determined to stay by his son's side. Rev. Jim ended up dragging the farmer away from the cross before punching him in the face. Jonathan then felt a huge jolt of electricity surge through him with the same intensity as before. This time, however, his adrenaline seemed to keep it from becoming a handicap.

He huffed before he regained his composure and tackled the reverend to the ground. Rev. Jim then put his ring to Jonathan's arm, and the farmer felt a jolt that tossed him off of the reverend's body.

"Why don't you fight me yourself, you coward!" Jonathan shouted as he got on his knees and grabbed the man by the back of his shirt before throwing him on the ground.

The reverend then looked up at Jonathan with burning eyes and a sneer on his lip. He grabbed the farmer by the neck and held him down in the wooden floor. Jonathan tried to kick his legs up in the air, but his energy was quickly leaving him as his oxygen was cut off. Jonathan looked over at his son's frightened eyes. He was breathing hard from the pain, and looked more frightened then ever, most likely because of the chaos he was hearing. Jonathan's eyes began to tear up and let his body lie limp. This caused the reverend to smile once again and release his grip on the farmer's neck.

"No one calls me a coward!" Rev. Jim shouted with pride as he got up and turned toward Clark. He bent over and picked up the bloody spikes off the floor and gripped them in his hand. He then opened his hand to look at the failed death tools, and saw the red blood stained all over his hands.

"The blood of the devil is on my hands," the Rev. Jim growled as his grin grew larger. "Praise God."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but you failed in killing him," Jonathan huffed as he tried to catch his lost breath.

"Not yet," Rev Jim bellowed before he walked over and straddled the incapacitated boy lying on the cross. He then threw the nails across the room and grabbed Clark's forehead. Jonathan rubbed his head and tried to wake his body up as he witnessed something horrible take place. Clark let out a huge scream as every part of his body started to convulse. The reverend's head then shot back as he too let out a scream, all the while with his hand still gripping Clark's forehead. Jonathan became terrified as he tried to prop himself up on a post so that he could launch and hopefully get the reverend off Clark with a tackle.

However, that move was not necessary, since after a few minutes, the reverend fell off Clark like a rag doll. He then flopped down and lay as still as death. Clark was uncontrollably shaking as the blood continued to pour out of his new and old wounds. Jonathan was afraid to get near because he didn't know if he would make it worse once he came closer. Jonathan then saw Clark take a deep breath, and become still.

The farmer gulped and felt frozen in place as he looked at Clark's still form. He then crawled over slowly before attempting to put pressure on Clark's hands so that the heavy bleeding would stop.

Jonathan looked up and saw all of the calmed people who were scattered about begin to gather around this sight. Not knowing what to say, Jonathan looked up at them with pleading eyes.

"Oh God," Martha whispered as she pushed through the crowd. They seemed to move out of the way like a curtain as she scrambled toward her beautiful child. She knelt down to him for the first time in what seemed like an eternity and cupped his face in her hands. His face looked so serene and his skin so cold as she looked into the eyes of her baby boy. She was far too tired and emotionally drained to weep or become hysterical at the sight of her son near death, but she was certainly feeling all of the pain of the situation on the inside.

Jonathan didn't know how Martha survived. He didn't understand why she never tried to save Clark. However, he didn't care. His wife was alive. He now had a partner in the grief that he knew would be coming, even though he knew he would have to face his guilt alone.

"Baby," Martha said as she put her face close to Clark's. "We're going to get you out of here, okay? It's all over now. They're not going to hurt you anymore."

Jonathan gulped as a feeling of dread came over him. "Martha," he whispered. "I don't think he can hear…"

"I don't care what you think!" Martha snapped as she turned her wet face toward her husband. She then looked into his hurt eyes and immediately regretted her tone. She brought her face down to the ground as she realized that the man she married was the one that had returned by saving her son. She had to let the subconscious resentment go. As she started to apologize, she saw her husband look to the ground with true hurt reflected on his face. For the first time since he broke the spell, true guilt was birthing within him. He just looked away from his wife and looked at the crowd around him. They reminded the farmer more of a still-life painting than people.

"Please," he said as tears gargled his speech. "Help me. My son needs help."

They all just looked at the two in a very confused way, before their bodies migrated over to the catatonic reverend.

Martha just shook her head and touched her son's face. "They're not going to help us. Just ignore them."

Jonathan nodded as he continued putting pressure on the bleeding wrists. The warm blood continued to erupt out of the severed veins as Clark's skin grew white and cold.

"I was able to call for help, Jonathan." Martha said in a soft voice. "They should be here soon."

Jonathan smiled but that statement didn't help calm his body too much. His head seemed like it was spinning at miles per second. Seeing his son like this was like a horrible irony. Clark was the invincible one in the family. Even without his powers, it seemed like he didn't get hurt as often as somebody should when they are working on a farm.

"You have to get him outside," Martha said quickly, finally breaking the silence after clearing her grieving mind. "He has to be away from the kryptonite and get in the sun before he can heal."

Jonathan gulped and nodded. He readied himself before he grabbed his son by the elbows and dragged him toward the door on the side of the sanctuary, all the while wondering what kind of help Martha called.

XXX

Chloe Sullivan had seen her fair share of scares in her young life so far. All of the meteor freaks that had tried to take her life as well as the lives of her friends helped the blonde reporter develop quite a hard skin when it came to fear. In her current predicament, however, that skin she had developed might as well have been wax paper.

She had been trying to reach the Kent family, namely Clark, for over a week now and there had been no trace of them. She had tried calling them on every phone they owned as well as checking all over their farm for some clue as to where they might have gone. The farmhouse seemed like it had been professionally cleaned and the answering machine was blank. All the notepads in the house were also bare. Chloe was only running into dead ends, and it made her very concerned. It was not like the Kents to just up and leave without so much as evidence as to where they went. Something was going on, and someone seemed to be behind it. However, with no evidence to back up her case, there was nothing she could do, and it was killing her.

It was when Chloe had pretty much given up hope that she decided to bury herself in work while the police did their jobs. She was spending more time at the Daily Planet than was needed and her father was noticing that she was looking very pale. She had been pulling many all-nighters and she had almost fallen asleep at the wheel several times on her way home. Chloe's anxiety was always apparent because of her low mood and snippy attitude. The girl knew that that would get her nowhere, but it was all she could really feel right now as the fear of the unknown ate her up inside.

It was on one of these all-nighters that Chloe was jolted awake by a blip on her computer. She had fallen asleep at her Daily Planet desk and her coffee fix had not yet been met. It was no wonder that when she first saw the new e-mail message on her screen, she didn't pay much mind to it. She decided to take a glance and saw that the e-mail was an AOL account and the address was Chloe sighed because of the fact that it might be some nutty pastor recruiting people for a softball team or something. Chloe put her slender hand on the mouse about ready to delete the mail when something caught her eye and woke her up more than any cup of coffee ever would. The subject line read "Please Help Save Clark."