She'd tried calling her father but there was no answer. That didn't necessarily mean anything – his social calendar might have opened up now he didn't have his daughter around.
Dead people have no need to answer phones, Chloe, piped up the old voice cheerfully. His dead eyes are looking at a photo of you right now, you know!
Following that she'd tried The Kents. No-one picked up there either. Her heart had sank. What if it was already too late? Not to mention Clark hadn't arrived yet. With his speed, he could have been there before she'd even hung up the phone after calling him. But several minutes later he wasn't here. She was sure he'd been with Memento before. God, please let him be alright.
She couldn't afford to wait for him, she knew. Summoning up all the courage she could manage she hurried down the steps, keeping her eyes on Martin. He'd asked her why she hadn't killed herself… but what about him?
She picked up the box and inspected it. It just looked to her like a plain, empty metal box. Whatever was inside had gotten loose. It was so small she couldn't imagine what that could have been. Yet apparently it was responsible for the deaths of Stephanie and Bill, and almost her own. And maybe her father's. Maybe The Kent's. She had to find the lid. She wasn't sure how that would stop it – the box was empty, after all – but Stephanie thought it would, and that was all she had to go by.
Then she almost jumped out of her skin, and it wasn't because of Martin. There had been a knock at the door. Her heart leapt in her chest, but then she realised it was unlikely to be Clark. He would probably have torn the door of it's hinges rather than knock, under the circumstances. Then she remembered the door was already open – Bill had kicked it in. Someone here to check out the disturbance?
"Howdy Chloe!" called a cheery voice from the doorway. Right round the corner from where she was standing. The voice travelled as if there were no distance between them at all. She now had a fair idea of who it might be. A man she'd sent months chasing. But she hadn't found him – he'd found her. She could hear him walking towards her right now. She spun round to face him, but the sound faded away.
There was a noise in the living room. Given that there should only be two corpses in there, she turned again. Through the door she could see a figure wrapped in a dark coat and dark denim jeans lying on the sofa. His eyes were closed. He was smiling as if in the middle of a pleasant dream. As she cautiously approached, his eyes snapped open and fell upon her. She was horrified to be looking at the two corpses again… but it was The Memento that held her attention. The grin on his face did not falter. It was exactly as she had heard it described, time after time.
"You really screwed up my dear. You didn't want to follow the script, did you? What you didn't understand was this: you can rewrite it, but you can't UNwrite it," said The Memento.
"I've got the box," she said, holding it up as if it were a weapon. "And Clark's going to stop you. Once and for all."
Memento waggled a finger at her, grin widening to expose his canine teeth.
"Listen to yourself Chloe. You try to sound strong, confident, like you know what's going on. You sound to me like a little girl boasting about her hidden lolly pop collection. The box can't stop me, and neither can it's contents. It can only affect things with souls. And my dear, I DON'T HAVE A SOUL!"
Lionel barely recognised the woman standing in front of him as Martha Kent. She was stood in The Kent's kitchen area holding a knife to her throat while he hovered over by the door. He was sure if he made any attempt to move closer she would take her life at once. There was a slight tremble in her arm, he observed, and he was certain there was something behind her eyes pleading with him to help her. These were good signs, and he took a little hope from them.
"You're disappointing me, Martha," he said firmly. "If anyone in Smallville has the strength to overcome this, it's you."
He reached his arm out slowly towards her.
"Clark's gone. He's not coming back this time," she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. "And Jonathan doesn't have long left. Once he knows what's happened to Clark… I don't know if he…"
"That's enough now. Remember when Clark went missing? When Jonathan fell into that coma? You held on for months by yourself. I don't know what's happened to Clark, but we both know he has a des… a future, a bright future ahead of him that cannot be taken away so easily."
The tremor of her hand increased and he knew he was getting through to her. That's it Martha, fight it, he thought.
"You're being controlled. Something is making you think this way, doing everything it can to turn you against yourself. In all the time you were alone you never gave up. And now this entity has you giving up within minutes. No, that's not the Martha Kent I know. Give me the knife," he said in a voice that would not be disobeyed. It was the voice of a Luthor.
He stepped forward warily, fearing she might turn on him, but instead she turned the knife over and pressed it safely into his hand. He put it down safely out of reach, his eyes resting on it momentarily. While The Memento had use for him, he was happily immune from his influence, but there was no telling how long that would last. Still, he was confident that his willpower was second to none. He would not give in. Though he did recall putting a pistol in his mouth once long ago when he had been dying of his liver disease. That might provide a way in.
"What… what was that?" asked Martha, her voice trembling.
"I don't have time to explain. There's no way of telling how much of the town is being affected. And I'm afraid not everyone will be able to overcome it. Before the night is over, a lot of people in Smallville are going to be dead," said Lionel, turning away.
"Wait – where's Jonathan? Will he be affected too?"
Lionel paused, considering for a moment.
"He's a very strong, stubborn individual. I imagine he stands as good a chance as anyone. Now, I really must go. I came here hoping to find Clark, but it appears he isn't home."
"Lionel… there was a voice. It told me that Clark wasn't ever coming back," said Martha, though she wondered what reason Lionel had for wanting to see Clark while all this was going on. She didn't like it at all. Lionel smiled softly at her.
"If I can help Clark, I will," he said, before striding out. His car was waiting. He'd be driving himself this evening of course – he didn't want his driver suddenly developing the urge to drive them both off a cliff or something. Fortunately Lex was in Metropolis with Lana, so he didn't have to worry about his son. That would have complicated matters even further. Bad luck with Clark though. It didn't ruin his plan completely, but it did make things even more difficult. And Miss Sullivan had apparently failed in her efforts too. If she wasn't dead already, he thought, she surely would be soon. Once that happened, The Memento would probably be after him.
Getting into his car, Lionel decided he had better hurry.