By nightfall he had come to more than a few educated conclusions. One –he was in California. Two –it was not a dream, and it didn't seem like it was an alien thing… or a meteor thing. Three –he was on his own.
"One" had been relatively easy to ascertain. As soon as he had left the house, he had found the newspaper in front of the neighbour's door; he had taken a peek, and discovered himself in Sunnydale, California.
"Two" was just a hunch of his, based mostly on the fact that he didn't seem to be waking up, or growing antennae, or feeling extremely sick or extremely wild. He had so far seen nobody glowing green, or exhibiting absurdly awesome powers, and people weren't looking at him funny either, so he basically thought he was covered on that front.
"Three" had been the toughest to discover. He had called Lex as soon as he had found a payphone –he didn't think his parents would be thrilled about interstate collect-calls—and hadn't been able to get a hold of him. He had tried the castle, the plant, and his private line... he had gotten no answer on the first, a message saying the number was non-existing on the second, and an old woman named Bertha on the last. They had finally agreed it was pretty much her phone number, and that he should stop calling.
He had then started campaigning for enough change to call his parents, and in a relatively short time had gathered enough; it had been a surprise when he had been informed by a recorded message that the number was disconnected. He had tried Chloe, Pete, and even Lana. By five o'clock he had found out that, apparently, Smallville, KS, did not exist.
So now it was eight o'clock, and he had nothing to do but sit on the park and wait for something to happen. He didn't really know what to expect, and he was actually afraid nothing would happen at all; he would just be stuck in that town he did not know, and surrounded by people he did not know, without any way to find his family of his friends or even Lex again…
He found it hard to believe nothing would happen, because back in Smallville strange things, like waking up in a place you don't know, didn't usually happen just randomly, without any actual killing-attempt or seduce-slash-kidnap plan. He was by now pretty sure nobody was kidnapping him.
He had used the change he had gathered to buy a hotdog from a street vendor a while ago, and now he was getting curious glances from that very same man, who did apparently not understand what reason could a boy like Clark possibly have to sit in a park bench for two hours.
As it had grown dark the people on the streets had become fewer and fewer, and even the hotdog man had left eventually, leaving him and some old stray dog the only beings on the park. A car rushed past him and the dog every once in a while, but nothing much seemed to happen at all.
By nine o'clock he had named the dog Alexander, and had discovered he was actually a very pleasant dog. By nine-thirty Alexander was lying in the bench next to Clark, his head resting over Clark's leg, and he wagging his tail as Clark patted his back carefully.
By ten o'clock even the cars had stopped passing by, and Alexander had fallen fast asleep. He was wondering if he should be panicking again, but somehow it seemed unfit to panic in such a very deserted and quiet place.
He was trying to decide if he should just stay put and wait some more, or if it was about time he got up and tried to do something, when suddenly the hairs on Alexander's back began to stand on end. He was surprised to hear footsteps approaching, and wondered how he hadn't realized any sooner; by the time Alexander started barking, the owner of the feet was right there in front of them, watching them with a mix of curiosity and disbelief.
"Lovely night to sit in the park all by your lonesome, eh?" the man said, in a tone that seemed to imply it was not a lovely night to sit in the park, all by their lonesome.
It was a strange looking man, the type of man mom had always told him not to talk to when he was a kid, and the kind of man dad would probably shake his head in disapproval of. He also looked pretty dangerous, in a very retro kind of way. It sounded like Chloe was talking inside of his head.
"Yeah…" he eloquently answered. This was the very first person to talk to him, other than the long gone hot dog man, and he really thought he should be trying to gather some information about his situation. Only he didn't know what his situation really was, and what was he supposed to ask a random guy on the street?
"What, cat got your tongue? Haven't got all night, have I?" the stranger insisted, seemingly upset by the way Clark was taking forever to figure out what to say.
"I'm kind of… lost?" Clark tried, not really sure of how to put his situation in a way that was understandable to a common passer-by, however strange that passer-by was. And however funny-talking.
"You askin' me?" the man snorted, in a way Clark thought was pretty rude "Aren't you a bit old to get lost? You funny in the head or somethin'?"
"I'm not funny in the head" he frowned "I'm from Kansas"
"Well then, that explains it all!" the man exclaimed, and Clark was pretty sure he was being mocked, somehow "What's with the dog?"
"He's… he seemed to like me well enough, and he doesn't have a collar…" Clark started to say, not really sure of what exactly the question meant.
"Oi! Do I look like your mother? Don't care where you got the bloody dog, do I?" the stranger interrupted him, giving him a look that said he couldn't believe his own ears "Might have stolen it from an old lady in a walker for all I care! Will it try and munch on my leg, is what I wonder!"
"Oh… no, I don't think he will bite or anything… I mean, he seemed like a nice enough dog so far…"
"Just hates me, then" the man seemed to brighten up suddenly "Recognizes a dangerous bloke, it does."
Clark didn't really know what to answer to that. He was about to settle for a noncommittal "okay" when, all of a sudden, the man just started walking away.
"Sir, wait?" he called out, not really sure of what to say; the man seemed a bit on the weird side, but he was the only person who had talked to him so far.
"Oh, bugger all!" the man sighed, turning back to look at him with an expression that clearly said he had expected to be called back, but hoped not to "You really lost, then? Not a hustler, not a dealer. Not waitin' for somethin' to kill." he shook his head and pulled out a cigarette "Should have known better! Don't look like type, do you? You're probably even from Kansas!" the man laughed, even as he lighted up.
"I did mention I was from Kansas?" he said, not really following the man's rant
"Thought you were bullshitting me! Sounded like a bad alibi, it did. Figured you were up to something, thought I'd keep an eye out for you… Well, you seem harmless enough" the man decided, and started off again "C'mon kid, got better places to be. Bring that dog of yours, it's not safe out here."
"It's not?" he asked, hurrying up and after the stranger with Alexander safely in his arms "Where are we going? I have nowhere to go…"
"Gonna get you some help, keep the pace up" the man told him, not looking back at him as he walked.
Clark had been told as a child not to follow strangers who told him to come along, but that had been before he had been told he was a super-strong alien from outer space, so he thought he was pretty safe so far. And staying in the park forever was not a nice prospect.
