By StoryMaker8931
Clarke found herself almost completely frozen. Her lips were frosty and hardened together, with her tied up hands frozen and stung every time she tried to move them. It was so cold where she was, even with the infinitesimal amount of warmth her jacket gave off, it hardly felt like she was even wearing it.
Her neck cramped as she tried to reposition herself, so she could be more comfortable. But every time she tried and moved even a few inches from the pole she'd been bounded too, the tape keeping her head in place, only pulled on his hair and skin. If it hadn't been for the large piece of green kryponite aped around his head, and the even smaller piece of the rock, hiding in her breast pocket, she'd been free of this cold mess. The bits of snow on her lap and shoulders, only continued to fall down, and further down into her coat, every time she tried and moved. She could feel the wet snow melting, as it sat gently on her stomach. From the last remaining warmth she had left, the snow was nothing more than wet liquid, which made her body even colder as eventually the liquid snow dripped, rolling down her skin.
Clarke never guessed this was how she'd be spending her Monday, tied up in some warehouse, surrounded by nothing but snow, ice, and frozen over tools, and rusty machinery. Whoever had gone through all the trouble of setting her up like she was, had really thought of everything. Above her head was the enormous hole where the roof should've been, she could tell from how damaged and old the place appeared, the building most likely had been abandon years ago. The walls covered in brown rust, and the areas around it, still coated with plain light white and green paint. Under the giant hole in the roof, which allowed pieces of falling snow to come down upon her, some falling onto her head, and even into her hair, as it melted after a few seconds, every time she tried to move to get free, she still only felt the stiff pain of her muscles, and the headache from the kryptonite, as it affected her.
She felt her muscles crying out for relive as minuets felt like hours, she'd been tied up like that. With the piece of kryponite taped forcefully around her head, and the pole keeping her hands bounded painfully above her head, only made things worse. In a few hours, she'd lose consciousness, and her body would no longer have any warmth to keep her alive. She'd be dead, from the kryptonite, before hypothermia ever became a problem.
She wasn't going anywhere, even if she wanted too, her strength didn't work, and her face felt so cold, she knew her heat vision couldn't function with the low cold temperatures. She was powerless, and out of options. Even though through all the madness she had to bare, the one question bouncing from her mind, was who'd been the one behind everything? Who had brought her here, with the intention to kill her? But not show up, leaving her alone? Surely her kidnapper would've wanted to watch in person as she dies, right?
...
(Hours Before)
Clarke started the morning just like she always did. Waking up at 6.30 every morning, starting off by getting dressed. Gathering what she needed for school second, and heading down the stairs as she heard her mother calling for her. She went with a normal outfit that morning. Same as she always had. Since it had snowed the previous night, she went with something not flashy, but comfortable even to keep her warm throughout the harsh temperatures, as the wind would only grow worse the closer December pushed on. She saw nothing wrong with her normal red jacket, and decided just to keep it on a second time, even though she'd worn it the previous day to the same place. School. Underneath the jacket she decided on a bright red shirt, with a white buttoned up shirt to go underneath, and proceeded to use the jacket to complete the look. By 6.45 she was dressed, and had gathered her backpack, dangling around on her wrist, as she finally headed down the stairs.
Slowly coming down the stairs, and into the kitchen, she was surprised when she heard nothing, silence. Nothing but silence, aside from the slight creaks of the floor boards when she walked on it. Her shoes were the easiest part of her morning wardrobe, for she only owned a single pair, and they were always in the same place, every time she needed them. Under the bed, her covers acted as a shield, so her mother, Martha, couldn't track them down, and throw them out, replacing them with a whole new pair. She loved the single pair of shoes, and refused to let her mother throw them away. As Clarke took in the surroundings all around her, she noticed a perfectly sized letter hanging from the fridge. Dangling down from a yellow magnet on the top of the piece of paper, she reached for her. The note read.
Clarke, your father and I had to leave early this morning, but we'll both see you at home afterwards. Make sure you do your best, and be home on time! Your Dad had something he wants to share with us. something important...
Clarke studied the piece of paper for longer than he should've, but once he was done, he placed the note on the counter, face down so she wouldn't forget she'd already seen it, and reached slowly for a toasted piece of bread, from a fresh plate, left in the middle of the kitchen table. She didn't question why it'd been there, and not put away, she wasn't surprised though, and was able to push the thought from his mind, as he finished toasting the leftover sides of the piece of bread. She took one medium sized bite, before her eyes drew down to her watch. The time now read 7.10. She knew if she didn't leave now, she was going to be late. Even with super-speed, she knew the snow would still get in her way, most importantly the icy roads, and sidewalks, leading the entire way she'd needed to go. She had most of the period of that morning, but since that talk she'd had with her parents about appearing late, she'd promised them, she'd never be late again.
As Clarke took her last few minuets, she quickly finished the last bit of her crispy toast, and took off out the front door. On her way though, she was surprised when she'd just about landed on a small mountain of snow, looking as if it had been waiting for the perfect moment to pile right on her. Ready to ambush her, and ruin her morning by getting her entire clothing completely wet with cold water.
As much as she loved her old pair of shoes, they weren't exactly built to withstand the icy roads in Smallville, meaning she'd spent many winters falling on ice and landing in the snow. And never once had she had any reason to change her shoes till now. Sighing remotely, she knew she would have to keep her pace slow, if she wanted to make it on time, and not get herself all wet, and cranky. She took off in a light jog to start, then just when she thought she was in the clear, tried to pick up the pace. She was surely mistaken-ed however, when right on cue a sizable piece of ice had gotten right into her face, blew in from the gust of wind suddenly brushing through her. Landing right on her bottom, her backpack falling right out of her hands, and was now, lying a few feet on the ground, in front of her. Sighing annoyingly, she picked herself up, making sure she didn't miss even a single bit of snow from her jeans, she quickly cleaned up the little bits remaining from off her knees. All wet, and finally read to give up running that morning, Clarke walked her normal, slow, and safe pace. Which wasn't even close to how fast she could go, if she were able to use her super-speed like she always had. To save herself from anymore embarrassment at that school. she knew walking was the better way to go. Surely, she could be insured for a safe arrival. Making sure she had a much better grip on her belongings, which consisted of her backpack, she threw it over her shoulder, and took off down the road. She knew she'd be late now, because of all the difficult choices she had to make, on how to get off her driveway, but at least she had something to save her, once she got home. An excuse would do, just fine. She thought.
Unaware to her though, that someone had been watching her the entire time. And closely too.
When she finally found herself safely at school, she almost felt completely dry again. It was if her falling act, hadn't even happened. However, her clothing was almost dried, her backpack and most of what was inside of it, textbooks, homework, and her spare P.E. clothing, desperately was in need of a dryer or two. It was a relief to her, that she wasn't going to be attending P.E that morning, for the organized, planned, winter activities, for they'd been pushed further up into the season. for lack of equipment, seeing as her school seemed to be troubled with money issues, since the giant budget spend on the late second prom, thrown that year. Seeing as she wasn't going to need them, she safely placed her half wet P.E clothes into the top shelf of her locker, as she proceeded to save the remains of her textbooks, and sheet homework. Her mother, had advised to her to bring spare clothing for days like these, when something had happened, that demanded them. Since she'd already missed the first classes, she knew she'd need to go to the office, and let them know she'd just arrived, but thought to visit the gym fro a little while first. Now was the perfect time to practice her basketball skills, while no one was using the gym, before she was needed to visit Chloe, in order to have her latest Torch article, revised and edited. As she was walking down the hall, towards the gym, she took a short cut from the office, back to her locket, seeing as she'd been handed a late slip, which was needed to be seen and signed by a guardian. Clarke knew she was in deep trouble for that one, but proceeded to plan out her excuse, rather than be angry.
Heading back towards her locker, with the snow of her squeaky wet shoes, guiding her, she purposely tired to walk a little slower. It was always more embarrassing walking alone with squeaky shoes, seeing as there was never anyone else to blame it on. As she headed down the long, narrow hallway, she began to notice less and less people in the hall with her. She wasn't sure why that was, seeing as it was only the start of second period, and the bell had yet to be rung, she expected to see many more faces then the few there were. When she finally made it back to her locker, she was surprised to see someone standing there, waiting for her, she guessed. The person defiantly didn't look like he belonged there, seeing from the way he appeared, he was to old to be in high school again. And nothing about the stranger looked even remorseless familiar to her. From what she could make out of him, from the view she had of his back, he was wearing a light brown flannel, with light blue jeans, and tall black boots, which made him look a few inches taller than he was. His hair was dirty blonde with a little hint of brown, his neck looked tanner than the rest of his skin. and with his arm hanging loosely down at one of his sides, she was sure he'd been standing there for a few minuets.
Clearing her throat to get her attention, Clarke found the strangers eyes, which were a mix of blue, and green blending together.
''Hello, is there anything I can do for you?'' She asked nicely. The stranger seemed to look Clarke up and down, before a smile appeared on his old face.
''You are Clarke Kent? Right?'' He asked.
''Yes? may I ask how you got my name?'' She asked, interested in the man.
''Oh, I don't know if I should be just springing this on you. but I'm your father's brother, I'm here visiting for a little while, and thought it'd be nice to come meet you, seeing as you are my niece.''
''My dad never mentioned anything about him having a brother? How do I know this isn't just some trick?'' With both her eyebrows raised, Clarke waited for the man in front of her, to respond. Her curiosity was peeking at his moment, never once had her Dad ever mentioned he had a brother, yet alone any other siblings. She'd at least have heard her parents mention it at least once, if the case was for sure. But none of them had ever spoken of it.
''I promise, Clarke, I'm not lying to you, your dad probably didn't mention me, cause we aren't exactly close. I got into trouble a lot when we were kids, things I think still embarrass him...I guess Jonathan just thought since we haven't spoken for a while, he didn't want to get your hopes up, by talking to you about me? Oh, are my manners? Kenneth Kent, I'm your uncle...'' He said holding out his hand to Clarke, the man stood with the brightest smile she'd ever seen on a person. The man knew her fathers name, and seemed to have a moral reason to explain his absent in her life, so surely if she allowed him to follow her back to the farm, she could hear the full story from her father in person? Returning to center, Clarke put her thoughts aside and shook his hand. Immediately though, something seemed off. Her hand stung for a second, as her muscles felt sore and weak. She let out from the handshake pretty quickly, not trying to be rude, as she tried to shake the feeling of weak.
''Clarke? Something the matter?'' Kenneth asked, staring at her with confused eyes.
''No, I'm fine, just a little sore.'' She laughed. ''Amazing grip you got there.''
''Yeah, well, I've always been the stronger sibling out of the two of us, your father was always picked on back in school, for being one of the weak boys. I used to always make fun of him for it. but nothing but harmless jokes and games...'' Kenneth replied.
''Well, I'm sure he'd be happy to see you again. why don't you follow me back to the farm, you two can see each other...and say hello, I'm sure he'd be happy to see you again. after so long.''
''That sounds like a wonderful idea, but I wouldn't want to intrude. John did always have a problem with people showing up, uninvited, especially family members. I remember how many times he tried to flee, the one time our mother's sister came by for an unexpected visit. Couldn't get away from her then, can't get away from her now. She taught us how to play chess, so that was a bonus! Sadly though, she wasn't able to teach us any other games.''
''Did she pass?'' Clarke asked.
''Three years ago, yeah, sweet old lady, a heart like a bull, and a brain, well? Like a human...Anyway! Enough about the past, get your dad to tell you some of his old fishing trip stories!? We used to have a blast when we were kids. We should all go one day, just the guys. I'm sure it'd be fun!'' Kenneth shouted happily.
''Yeah...I'm sure it would be.'' The entire walk back down the hallway, Clarke couldn't help but stare at her hand, every so often. That feeling? She couldn't seem to get it to shake. Whatever had set her off, hurt her a tiny bit. But as to why, or what caused it, she still wasn't sure about...
Clarke finished school rather quickly that day. During her classes, the students had all been informed that because of the recent, large piles of snow that had fallen previous that night, the roads and streets, weren't sage to drive a car on, in some areas, so half of the students and teachers had been forced to walk. Once the bell rang for the end of the day, she hurried down the hallway, her backpack danging to one side, of her body, as it practically was about to to slide right off her shoulder. She positioned the bag, just before it could fall, and once she did this, she found the room she'd been looking for, able to slow down her pace, a smile came to her face. Leaning against the hard, medal, door, waiting for her, with a patient expressionless face, was the man she'd met earlier. The man who claimed to be her uncle. She suddenly felt a little nervous, as she walked slowly up to him. Unaware on how to get past him without specking to him, she decided just to go in for it, and escape into the Torch.
''Hey! Clarke! I thought I'd be seeing you here? I asked a few people around your school, where I might find you, and they pointed me here.''Kenneth said as he read the name on the door. ''The Torch? Seems cool, what is it?'' he asked.
''The school newspaper, my friend runs in, while I help with some articles sometimes.'' Clarke replied. ''Shouldn't you be meeting me back at the farm?'' She asked.
''Well, you didn't exactly give me directions? Besides, I don't think I'd be welcomed, if you weren't there. Your father and I, aren't exactly on specking terms, like I told you before... just kind of happened after those long years, I went away.'' Kenneth drawled, his voice growing a little deeper than his cheerful glare vanished for a second. ''Anyway, why don't you just come with me, I can drive, if you'd like?'' He offered.
''That's be nice, but the teachers warned all the students that the roads are dangerous. and shouldn't be driven on. Most of the kids just walked here today, so I think I'd rather be safe, walking.''
''Aren't you gonna say goodbye to your friend, before you leave?'' Kenneth asked, as he stopped Clarke before she could leave him.
''What?'' She asked, surprised by his strong hold on her, pulling her back.
''Your friend? You said your friend runs the newspapers, well, I saw her enter just a few seconds ago, seems really nice, Clarke? I can see why you like hanging around her?'' Kenneth replied. ''Anyway, if you'd like I can walk with you, I'll just wait till later, and pick up my truck then...sure it won't be a problem for anyone. if my truck stays here for a little while longer...'' He added.
''Actually, I was gonna walk with another friend of mine, I'm sorry.'' She said nervously.
''Really? If I didn't know any better, Clarke? I'd say you were almost trying to avoid spending time with me.'' Kenneth growled.
''It's not that at all!'' Clarke responded. ''I just want to see what my parents say at dinner, before I do anything.''
''Why would you need to do that?! I'm your uncle, I'm allowed to hang out with my niece aren't I?!'' Kenneth shouted.
''We'll finish this at the farm later.'' Clarke cut the conversation short, before hurrying away, passing Kenneth slowly, and continuing on down the hallway. And for a moment, the pain returned. Confused and dazed, she hurried out of the front doors. With angered eyes, Kenneth followed.
...
(Later)
It only took her a few minuets to get home, the roads around the farm looked much better than they had been, earlier that morning, and this time, she didn't have to worry about falling from the ice. She walked up the driveway, her backpack falling slowly to the floor, as she laid it up against the side of the barn, her eyes wandered, surprised for a second, when she saw her father's figure, out in the field. As she went to join him. With tools and extra equipment next to him, Jonathan Kent, laid down the hammer he'd been using, and turned to face Clarke, the minuet he saw her.
''Glad to see you made it back, alright, the roads are awful.'' He said as he moved the hammer down along the line of separate tools, laid out on the snowy grass next to him, as he removed a pair of gloves from his hands.
''Yeah, thank goodness, can't say the same for this morning though.'' She laughed, as she remembered the accident from that morning.
''Why, something happen?'' Jonathan asked, his eyes soft, as he awaited her answer.
''Don't be angry, dad, I tried to make it to school on time, but while I was about to run, I almost tripped, lucky I caught myself, but I had to miss first period! But it was okay, cause the teacher for that class didn't even show today, so I would've missed it, anyway.'' Clarke tried to smooth things over the best she could, and to her surprise her father nodded, and replied with a calm voice.
''It's fine, as long as you don't make a habit out of it, Clarke. No harm done, your mother has hot chocolate waiting in the house, why don't you go get one.''' Jonathon suggested.
''Actually, there's something else I need to talk to you about.'' Just as Clarke was about to get the words out, about what happened that morning, with the man who claimed to be her uncle, a set of wheels screeching, was enough to turn both her and Jonathon's heads, straight in the driveway's direction. It was a truck, a large black one. It didn't match the same size as the red one they owned, and the paint job on the black one certainty didn't match any other truck she'd ever seen before.
''Are you expecting someone?'' Jonathon asked as he passed Clarke slowly. Rushing up to her father's side, Clarke whispered as quietly as she could.
''That's what I wanted to tell you.''s he replied. Jonathon stared at her with a confused glare, until the both of them came into the middle of the driveway, with the black truck parked a few inches away from them, and the door to the house, opening and closing, as Jonathon met the eyes of his wife, as she too, came to see what was happening.
Everyone watched closely as the car door kicked opened, and slammed shut. Then watched as a pair of tall, pure black boots came towards them. Mushing and crunching pieces of large ice. As the stranger came towards them, Clarke couldn't help herself but shallow, and lose her breath as she stared at the face, the face of the man she'd seen twice that day.
''Man, took me a while to find this place, but I did! How's everyone?! Would've been nice to have had those directions, Clarke?'' Said Kenneth as he placed his shoulder around Clarke, pulling her towards him, and shaking her a little. Jonathon and Martha shared the same expression, but before Jonathon could do anything, Kenneth noticed him. Releasing his arm from around Clarke, he moved towards Jonathon. A serious look for a second, then a cheerful smile, as he held his arms out, wrapping them around Jonathon, pulling him into a hug.
''Johnny! It been too long!'' He shouted.
''Clarke, what's going on here?'' Martha whispered. ''Who is that man?''
''He's my uncle, apparently?'' Clarke whispered, a small bit of uncertainly in his face, ass he and Martha shared the same expression. Confusion.
''Your uncle? I'm afraid I don't understand.'' Martha whispered. ''Jonathan?''
''What're you doing here! I thought I told you never to bother me, or my family ever again! Why didn't you listen to me!'' Jonathan shouted, as he came out, shoving Kenneth violently.
''I just wanted to see you, get to meet you lovely wife, and my niece?! I miss you, brother, why don't you feel the same?!'' Kenneth responded in a small, soft, tone.
''We aren't bothers anymore, I told you that the day you were sent away! And you showing up here, after all those years? What gives you the right to act like nothing happened?! Where do you even get off!'' Jonathan shouted.
''But they are fine! I'm not the same person anymore, John! I've changed, I got a second chance, I'm not like that anymore.'' Kenneth said, before his face softened. ''I asked around town about you, where I could find you, and someone told me about Clarke? Can't believe you never told me about my niece?''
''I didn't tell you, cause you don't matter! Not anymore! I didn't tell you, because you may think you're her uncle, but you aren't! She has no business with you, and you don't have any business with her.''
''I just wanted to speck to her, get to know her, learn something about her, learn something about you, brother, I mean't no harm to her, or to your wife, not you, or anyone...I sweat it!'' Kenneth barked.
''I wish I could say it was nice to see you, but you need to leave. Take your truck and get outta here.'' Jonathan said, as he turned his back to Kenneth.
''Dad, he only wants a second chance with you, why can't you give him that? What happened between you two?'' Clarke yelled.
''Clarke Kent! Stay out of this! This is between him and I! Now get back in the house, I'll explain everything, once he's gone!'' Jonathon shouted. Martha was the first to leave, guiding Clarke back to the house. With her, Clarke couldn't help but look back, where she caught Kenneth's eyes.
''If you're going to be explaining everything, make sure you tell them EVERYTHING! Wouldn't want Clarke hearing it from me.'' Kenneth threatened before turning his back to Jonathon. Before Jonathon turned to head back inside, he took a much-needed breath of air. Unaware to him, that someone or something was lurking,... lurking somewhere in their barn...
...
(Later)
''What was that all about, Dad? He only wanted a second chance to make things right with you?!'' Clarke argued. Johnathon sat the kitchen table, his back turned to Clarke, as Martha sat next to him.
''Clarke, I don't want to talk about this right now...'' Jonathon replied.
''Honey, you're going to have to tell us eventually...'' Martha said.
''I know, just I can't right now, I just need a minute.'' Jonathon said as he got up from the table. ''You probably should get started on your chores, Clarke. The faster you're done, the faster we can talk. All right?'' Clarke nodded slowly, even though she was still angry towards her father, for what had just happened, she wanted to know the truth, the truth behind everything. There had to be something more, then just what she'd heard. Something deeper? Clarke thought as she left the house, walking down the steps, as bits of fresh snow fell on her from above.
She slipped out of his red jacket for a moment, quickly brushing the small bits of snow. Once she was finished she put her arms through it and adjusted it so it was comfortable on her back. First, before starting anything, she knew there was some repairs that need attending to in her loft. A few broken planks she noticed one day, when she almost tripped over them. Sticking out parts of nails along the steps, and some broken rafts that need replacing with fresh ones. The job didn't seem too much work, and since there wasn't any snow, or pieces of ice around her she didn't need to worry about tripping or almost falling again.
She knew that memory of these morning's events were going to haunt her every winter. If not haunting her then at least of the thought lurking in the back of her mind, every time she tried to go somewhere in the winter.
She walked into the barn, unaware that anyone had been in there, and quickly put together some pieces of fresh wood, and with a hammer in her hand, got ready to go. She started with the pointed out nails. Quickly laying the hammer down next to her so to whoever walked in, it looked like she would use it; she pushed her hand down on the first nail, making sure it was perfectly launched back in place, and wouldn't immediately stick out again, after she thought the job had been done.
Getting ready to push down the second nail, something felt odd. She didn't feel quiet alone, but she was alone. There wasn't anyone else in there with her? Surely she was just hearing things? She wasn't expecting anyone from school to come over, and her parents would think twice about spooking her, when they were seconds away from being heat blasted by her heat-vision. Kenneth, her uncle had been forced to leave seconds before, so she was never expecting him to show up again. She couldn't see his truck anywhere, for a truck like his, wasn't so easily hidden. Once she was finished with all the nails, she moved the hammer to the other side of the barn where the few plants in needing of replacing were, and quickly as she could, practiced up and down the stairs, in order to make sure all the nails were safely secured. Happy with herself, and her work. Clarke quickly went up the rest of the way, and with knowledge of what she was looking for, reached to open one of the drawers in the loft. Her throat felt tight the moment the drawer opened. What she was doing was going to hurt her, she knew that for a fact, but needed to be done, just in case. The one thing she knew had to be done, she swore to herself, she'd never open the drawer again. unless it was an emergency, but she needed to make sure no one had moved her weakness. Turning around without a second thought, with her guard set down, she wasn't at all prepared for what had come for her next.
''You? What're you doing here, Dad told you to leave, and I respect his choice!'' Clarke's voice went traveling through the barn's walls, as what came next was nothing but pain for her, as the green rock she'd been looking for moments before, now had found the stranger, as a new owner...
Before her eyes could shut completely, she knew her mind wasn't playing tricks on her, when she saw him. But not just him, just just a single, but three other versions of him, panicked, Kenneth stared down at her, glaring at her with the same eyes. But lurking with evil, past the innocent shade of light green.
Martha and Jonathan Kent sat quietly at the kitchen table. The meal had already been dished out, and was now ready to be consumed, with everything done and ready, all that had to be done now, was wait for their daughter, to be finished with the chores, and come into the house. Jonathan had promised once she was done, the three of them would finally have that talk, he'd promised. But that had been five hours ago, and it was about to be six o clock in a few minuets. Martha, who sat down without a worry in her mind, had plenty to worry about now. And Jonathan had just the same amount. Jonathan was the first to rise from his spot at the table, quickly he moved along the floor, and over to the door. He lifted his hand up and over, where he returned with a loaded shotgun. Something wasn't right about his brothers sudden appearance after so many years. The shotgun was absolutely necessary.
''She should've been done by now, Jonathan? Right?'' Martha whispered towards him.
''I know, yes your right.'' Jonathan replied. He was the first to leave the house. It was dark, and depressing out now, just the sounds of crickets and insects all around, as he went down the stairs and headed straight for the barn. He knew Clarke had chores to do in the loft, so it made sense that would be the best, and first place to check for her. The snow fall came slowly down all around him, as it poured from every direction. He didn't seem bothered by it, though, for most important matters awaited him.
''Jonathan, the truck is still here? Which means she didn't leave!'' He heard Martha shout at him. ''Is he in there?'' She asked. Glancing around at every single corner, he found nothing. No signs of Clarke. Nothing but his small hammer that was lying peacefully on the desk, at top of the stairs. Once he noticed the first drawer had been randomly opened, his eyes found the familiar, medal, box from all those times, and worry came onto his face.
''Find anything?'' Martha shouted as she joined her husband in the barn, coming up the stairs. Jonathan didn't reply to her though, he just continued staring at the broken parts of the square gray box.
''Someone opened the drawer, someone took what was inside it...'' Jonathon said as he turned to show Martha what contained in the box now. Which was nothing?
''Somebody took Clarke, they must have! She wouldn't run away, and she wouldn't take the meter rock with her! Clarke wouldn't even be able to pick it up without getting sick!'' Martha shouted, her eyes filling with sadness towards her daughters disappearance.
''I should've just came right out with it, I should've told her about Kenneth, then she'd at least know to keep her guard up.'' Jonathon whispered.
''Kenneth? Your brother? Clarke's uncle? What would he want with Clarke?'' Martha asked, staring at her husband with sad eyes.
''When we were kids, Kenneth was forced to leave Smallville, he was taken away, and placed into a faculty for the criminally insane. He wanted to burn down the houses of some townspeople, while he stood outside, watching as they had no way to escape. He must have just gotten out, or he escaped, either way, he's here for revenge!''
''I don't understand, why does he want revenge on you? And why did he take Clarke?''
''I stood by and watched as they took him away, even with him shouting my name, begging for me to help him, I knew it was better for him if he left, better for everyone. Now, he's acting on revenge, and thinks if he takes Clarke, he'd be getting his revenge on me, by hurting her...and now, he must've figured out about the meter rocks, Clarke's in so much danger! I'm going to call the sheriff, tell her to organize every officer she can to organize a search for her!'' Jonathon shouted as he picked up the gun by the tip, holding it in both his hands as he kissed Martha softly on the cheek. As Martha watched her husband leave her sight, she felt a small pinch in her lower, side, then as if on cue, her knees gave out from underneath her, and the pain moved along her body, as she tried to keep herself calm, as to limit the pain she felt. Everything went hazy and dark...
...
(Later)
Martha was startled awake when she suddenly felt super cold, her arms felt sore, as she tried to brush off whatever cold thing that had just landed on her, once she realized she couldn't move her arms, her eyes opened and she could take in everything around her. She was sitting in the corner of a warehouse, her hands tied behind her back, and a small amount of snow that had been dumped on her, from a hole above her, in the ceiling. She shivered every few seconds, and as she tried to keep herself warm, she noticed the jacket she'd been wearing before she got there, was now a few feet away from her, so close to her, in face, with her legs stretched out in front of her, she could try to grab it. Her knees were tied together, but her feet were not, and if she acted quickly she could grab it, and keep herself warm with it.
The inside of the warehouse looked much larger from her corner. The walls were spread out, and covered in dust, rust, and leftover paint from the first time someone had painted it. Leftover lime green, and bits of ice covered the top and bottom. From the many holes in the ceiling the horrible breeze from outside blew past her face, almost instantly, as it did, tiny, sizable bits of ice, hit her cheeks, and cause tiny amounts of pain.
The side of her body was still a little sore, as she tried to struggle against the tape, binding her hands around one of the many metal pipes. She struggled and struggled, try as she may to rip the tape, but the temperature in the room was too low, that she thought the tape was hardening.
As she struggled, pulling at the tape, parts of it pulled at her skin, the fear she was not just ripping the tape, but her skin as well, scared enough to stop. She was miserable and terrified. She'd been taken from her home, and left to die, tied up, and alone, to freeze like a Popsicle.
Holding her head up, only brought more pain, and exhaustion to her, so instead of continuing to hold herself, she just allowed her head to rest on her chest, where she could feel a little warmer, from the fabric of her shirt. Even pressing her already tied knees together brought tension but also a tiny amount of warmth. She was thankful for the tiny amount she'd been able to get. It only mean't she had given herself a few more hours.
''That's right, you got the idea, Martha, just focus on keeping yourself warm.'' The drown out ringing of the voice, spread-ed out along through the halls, and the echo came back to her, much louder than it sounded.
''Who are you?!'' she shouted, bringing her head up, as her eyes bounced from every place she could think of. The person, belonging to the voice, had to be close by to her, he had to be watching her, how else could he have seen her? From where she was sitting, there weren't any cameras, nor was there any screens, for her to look at. All that time, she thought she was alone.
''Show yourself, coward!'' she screamed. Flinching quickly, she wasn't prepared for what came next. A larger pile of snow had been dumped through the hole...and she was now covered with freezing cold snow. She was up to her knees in snow, and as the snow attached its self to every part of her body, the warmth she once had, from her clothing, had completely vanished. Her body shivered, as she tried to move herself a bit, as she did, she got a little of the snow off, but as she moved, the snow around her chest, and arms fell down her shirt, and onto her chest, as it remained there, hoping she could melt it with her body heat, was the only thing she had to hope for now. But as she kept trying to fight the urge to fall asleep again, an important thought came to her.
''Clarke...where's Clarke? Where is my daughter!'' her body was so cold her voice came out weak and soft from all the snow? Shivering uncontrollably, she stopped pressing her knees together, and allowed herself to become lose. The tension she was spreading only made herself hurt more. She didn't have anymore places or ideas on how to keep herself warm. Her bare hands hung loosely behind her, as it got harder and harder for her to move her fingertips.
''She's with you? Can't you see her? Would you like me, to help you see better?'' The voice taunted. As angry as she was, she knew better than to pass up the chance to see Clarke. If it mean't she had to keep herself calm, and keep herself collected, she hated the fact that she would accept his help, but Clarke was too much of a priority to her, how could she refuse?
The doors to the warehouse slammed open, allowing more snow and wind to travel around the room. Martha with a fresh gust of wind, blowing past her face, had to close her eyes for a second, before opening them again, to avoid her eyelashes freezing. She heard the door slam shut again, and as they did, the blow of wind seemed a little lighter now. She could see better now. Not as clear as she could, before all the snow had been dumped onto her, but from what she could, there, in front of her view, was a couple of enormous boxes. They had been smashed and torn in many places, most likely used to travel and carry items, but since they had abandoned the place, the boxes had been crushed and were no longer used.
She watched as a few of the boxes had been pushed aside, and as her heart broke into million pieces, she saw a horrific sight. Her child...Clarke...
''What have you done to her?!'' she shouted. As she tried to keep herself from crying, her voice broke and cracked as she leaned into herself, using the pole. Heartbroken, she couldn't even bring herself to look ahead of her. She knew what she's seen. Her daughters frozen and motionless body.
''She hasn't even been here that long, and already she resembles a Popsicle? Guess the cold has a greater affect on her, then it does on us? Who would've thought?'' The voice taunted again.
''You don't have to hide yourself from me! I know its you, Kenneth! Jonathon told me what happened to you, when you were kids! You wanted to set those innocent people's houses on fire, and you paid the price for it! You were sent away while Jonathon watched. Now you think you have to take revenge on him, by hurting his family! Well, you don't!'' Martha took a deep breath every time the words came out of her mouth. She couldn't help herself, the image of Clarke was still fresh in her mind. Every time she felt the tape around her hands, harden more and more...her heart broke.
''Please...I'm begging you! At least let Clarke go!'' She begged. ''Let my daughter go...'' Letting her tears finally fall, she felt them harden and turn to ice, right under her eyes, and down along her cheeks. She couldn't even wipe them away.
''Tell you what, Martha, I won't let her go, but I'll try to give him a few more hours of life, by covering you both with jackets.'' Kenneth said, as his footsteps echoed off the walls. Being able to see the face, the voice belonged too, Martha knew she'd been right. Kenneth Kent, Jonathon's brother, was the true mastermind behind everything. The one who kidnapped her, and Clarke, and all because he thought he wanted revenge, for a part in committing a criminal offense, at attempted murder.
She watched as he approached her, knelt down slowly beside her, reaching slowly for her jacket, holding on to it by the tag in the back. He slowly turned to leave her. Watching as he walked away from her, she slowly kept her eyes focused upon his back. He moved out of the way, quickly, as he reached for Clarke's red jacket, that too, had been taken off her body, and left on the ground, a few feet away from him. Being able to see her a bit cleariler now, didn't help in keeping her tears from rolling down her cheeks.
Clarke's skin resembled blue, her hair was covered with snow, and her nose and cheeks were rosy red. She was tied up in the same fashion as she was, but with a piece of meter rock secured around her head, with a sizable piece of tape, that was wrapped around the surface of the pole to keep her head in place. The fresh image of her once the snow in her eyes finally melted, only brought more tears down her cheeks.
She looked like she'd been tied up like that for hours, her body could be seen shivering uncontrollably, and with her knees taped together in the same fashion, tons of snow, was left sitting on her lap, and chest, from the time she too had, had snow dumped on her. Kenneth laid the two jackets over her body, the red one was laid out on her lap covering up the snow.
As for her jacket, Kenneth made sure her jacket was wrapped around Clarke's shoulders, and with the bit of warmth Clarke had revived, Martha almost thought she saw her trying to move. Flinching from being startled by the weight of the jackets, Martha had a deep hope she'd open her eyes. Open her eyes and see that she wasn't alone. But she never did. With her head leaning to one side, Martha knew she'd fallen asleep again.
''There? Happy now?'' Kenneth said, annoyance in his voice, as he turned around, Martha's eyes glued straight on him.
''I'll be happy when you let us both go.'' she replied.
''You'd better watch your mouth, if you know what's good for ya! Those jackets I placed on her, will only keep her warm for so long?! Imagine how much less time she'll have if I dump another clean amount of snow on her! Your daughter is here as well, . Don't forget that...your threats will only get you another pile of snow.''
''Jonathan has already called the police, they're looking for us as we speak! They'll find you.''
''The police don't even know about this place, I didn't just pick any old location to hold up in, after my escape, no. I've been planning this for a long time, ever since I learned about you and Clarke, I knew I couldn't just bring you anywhere, so I brought you to the one place, only I would know about. This used to be a house, and it used to belong to one couple that I set fire to, when I was a kid. No one will find you, not unless I want them too.''
Martha's eyes grew restless the more she fought her desire to sleep. The cold was only making things worse. Her lips had hardened, and as she tried licking them, they felt so dry. She felt her fingers tense up as she tried to move them. No response, they were frozen. Only a miracle, could her and Clarke get out safely. praying Jonathon would find and rescue them, Martha's eyes couldn't stay open anymore. Closing them tightly, Martha's body fell limp.
...
Jonathon sat alone in the kitchen. The house was silent as the snowfall continued falling, outside the window. The house was so silent, in fact, he almost thought he was in the wrong one. Without his wife, and without Clarke, he felt so lonely. Kidnapped and been exposed to who knows what, Jonathon couldn't help himself but feel responsible. He was responsible. Kenneth was his brother, which made him no one else's responsibility expect his own. Now his family is in trouble, he can't even do anything. He sat in a chair, at the kitchen table, the food from yesterday's dinner was still sitting, there, mocking him from how good it smelled...his stomach had craved food, but no longer gave him anymore messages. He knew he'd never be able to eat, so long as his family was still in danger.
Holding the shotgun tightly towards him, on his lap, he thought about going out one last time, he'd been out for hours, in the morning, and a few more in the afternoon, this was the first time he'd been able to sit since everything that has happened. The sheriff had promised, she'd have every available officer how searching, but he didn't have too much faith, she would report back to him, with pleasant news.
His brother was smart, very smart. If he didn't want to be found, no one would find him. Even being related to him. Jonathon had never mapped out his plans, even sharing a room with Kenneth, he still wasn't able to understand him. Jonathon had spent all those years, Kenneth was locked away, wondering and feeling guilty, that he should've done more. He was the older brother. As an older brother he failed, as a husband he failed, and as a father, he failed, just as badly.
Kenneth had dangerous information on his hands. He knew of Clarke's weakness. And since Clarke hadn't returned to the farm yet, mean't Kenneth must have her weakened. Which mean't Kenneth was killing her...in a wave of horrible anger, Jonathon couldn't stare at the shotgun in his lap any longer, throwing it across the room, where it came in contact with the living room wall. He rose from his chair and fought back his anger to throw it again.
At the moment, he didn't even seem to notice when a few picture frames had fallen from the table next to him. He couldn't bring his eyes to stare down at them. So choosing to ignore them, he left them there, laying on the ground with cracks. And small bits of broken glass all around the frame.
He returned to his spot, but changed positions. With his back facing the wall, and the shotgun placed down by his feet, with the tip pointed against the chair leg, he waited in silence.
10 minutes had gone by, as his body had told him, it was tired. With his eyes starting to become sensitive, from all the bright lights, and his stomach developing cramps, from not being fed for a long time, he felt like a mess. The only time he allowed himself, was when he was searching for his family, and when he needed to go to the bathroom. Everything else wasn't important. Keeping himself healthy wasn't important. Finding his family, and stopping his brother, was. And right now, he couldn't do any of those things, so no bothering was what he intended to do.
He'd spent most of the remaining sunlight driving around town. Looking for any signs of Kenneth's tire tracks, but there were so many tracks, most from other drivers, others, he could recognize as his own. It hadn't been too long since he'd been through already.
Hanging his head in the palm of his hand, he was unfazed when the sound of ringing washed over him. He turned his attention towards the sound. It was the phone. Thinking about leaving it, had only lasted a few seconds...and in a few seconds, he was up, and holding the phone to his ear.
''Hello?'' he said tiredly.
''Johnny? Glad to see you haven't left the house, could've sworn you'd be out and about right now? You know, you were always so busy when we were growing up. I remember how hard it was for Mom and Dad to keep you indoors, even when it was storming, you still fought against staying home! Always such a rebel, you were back then, Johnny.'' Clenching the phone with all his strength, he bit down on his tongue. He had to keep as calm as he could, he couldn't afford to make himself angrier, who knew what would come out of his mouth, and anything, Kenneth didn't like, mean't pain for his family.
''Where are they? Let me speak to them, please, Kenneth.'' Jonathon whispered. ''Where's my family?''
''I'm surprised to hear you so calm. Johnny? What happened to that fiery anger I always admired? Real shame,...as for your family, your wife seems fine...I can't say the same for your girl though...seems a little, blue?'' Kenneth let out a stupid laugh, as Jonathon wished for just a moment, he could punch him across the face. But as calm as he tried to be, he just continued biting down on his tongue. Which seemed to do the trick. His words were stopped.
''Kenneth please, its going to be below 20 degrees tonight, if you have them outside, they won't make it through the night! Please! Tell me where you are, and we can settle this, you and me! Face to face!''
Kenneth's voice on the other end, paused for a few seconds, and Jonathon almost had the fear, he'd hung up. But once he heard his voice again, he drew a deep breath.
''Don't worry Johnny, I didn't hang up, I'm not rude...I'll tell you where we are, but you come alone! If I even feel you didn't come alone, or that you called the police, both your wife and daughter suffocate under a mountain of snow. Understand?''
''I understand...now tell me where you are.'' Jonathon replied.
''The old warehouse, a couple hours out of Smallville. You'll see it, its hard to miss.''
''Kenneth, wait? If you have my family somewhere dangerous, please move them! They have nothing to do with this! I'm begging you, please, keep them safe.''
''Get here, Jonathon.'' As Kenneth's voice rang through Jonathon's mind, the sound of the phone disconnecting stalled his breathing. And for a minute, no oxygen came in or out. He could not breathe for a minute. Once he could collect his thoughts, he wrote the address down on a piece of paper, and tucked it in his back pants pocket. With his shotgun in his hand, he headed towards the front door. Leaving his home in the middle of the night, as the snowfall continued around him, picking up quick pace, as the engine to his truck turned on, roaring loudly, as the snow surrounded it and Jonathon. As he left the farm, Jonathon had It startled Martha awake for the second time, when she felt something warm and heavy over her shoulders. As the surrounding temperature seemed to have dropped more since she'd been asleep, she'd just about missed it when she saw Kenneth. In his arms was a large blanket, white with black stripes running down the middle. As Kenneth struggled to carry it, he threw it to the ground. With a thud, the blanket fell to the ground, which reminded Martha of a brick. The blanket didn't seem heavy, but it certainty seemed warm. As she shifted, she noticed a blanket that resembled the black and white one placed over her. The blanket was big enough to cover her entire body, and it did. Melting into it, she tried her best to get her face covered. Every breath she took came out frosty and cold. So, she was happy to get the chance to breathe, and have it come out warm. As she sat there, she noticed the feeling returning to her fingertips, and as she felt less tired, she kept her eyes in front of her.
Where she saw Kenneth standing over Clarke, with the warm, cozy, blanket. Kneeling down next to Clarke with the blanket in his arms, he placed it on top of her. The blanket covered most of her body, expect her shoulders, chest, and face. Her shoulders still had bits of snow on them, and her shoes stuck out from under the blanket, since her legs were too long to be covered, completely, from the angle the blanket had been positioned.
''Why are you helping us?'' Martha asked. Kenneth turned to look at her past his shoulder and sighed.
''I didn't think you'd be awake...I was trying to be quiet, so you wouldn't notice me.'' he replied. ''Go back to sleep.''
''Why are you helping us?'' Martha repeated.
''Don't you ever stop talking? I liked you better when you were unconscious.'' Kenneth rolled his eyes before standing up.
''Since you seem to be helping us, could you please take the meteor away from my daughter, she's been exposed for so many hours, I fear she'll die, if it stays there for any longer.'' Martha pleaded.
''Just because I'm keeping you warm, doesn't mean I'm a good guy. You seemed to have forgotten who brought you here, who caused all of this, who dumped snow on you, and kept you tied up in a freezing cold warehouse. I intend to have Jonathon watch both of you die, if his daughter is first to go? Even better.'' Kenneth chuckled. ''Don't forget who the captor here is, .''
As warm as she felt now, Martha felt half of her energy returning, her breath was still just as frosty as it had been, before the blanket had been placed on her, but she felt a little more aware of herself, and her surroundings. Since most of the feeling had returned to her fingers, she tried to rip the tape again. Twisting her wrists, left and right, as the tape around her hands seemed less hard now, she fought against her restraints. It was now or never if she wanted to escape.
And as she kept on twisting and twisting, hoping the tape would break, her eyes were glued on Clarke. His condition was only growing worse by the minute. The longer he stayed with the piece of meter taped around his head, the worse he'd get. The sweat around his face, neck, and cheeks would only freeze, the colder it got...and once that happened, the blanket, and the two jackets would become useless. Clarke wouldn't be there anymore to use them. she'd be dead...
Twisting and twisting till her fingers became numb, she felt an even stronger breeze of air pour down on her from the ceiling. And mixed in with the breeze was heavy snow. It landed all around her, even some that had landed in her eye, which caused her to blind rapidly, as she tried to reclaim her vision. Pressing her knees together, she tried twisting the tape. Somewhere where there was tape, one piece had to break? There had to be at least one piece that was weaker than all the others.
''What're you doing?''
Martha looked up painfully as she caught Kenneth's blue/green eyes. Staring at her with an odd expression, he approached her slowly.
''My daughter is dying...did you just expect me to sit here and allow that to happen?'' Martha shouted.
''No, not at all. I'm just surprised you don't seem bothered by the temperature anymore. Could it be because of the blanket? Really must be working...but how well do you think Clarke's will continue keeping her warm, with a new mountain of snow? Give it five, maybe even ten minutes?''
''Stop, just stop! Leave Clarke alone! If you want someone to test your theory on, use me! Just leave her alone!'' Martha shouted, her voice breaking as she sobbed slowly. ''Just leave us alone...''
Martha's eyes widened when she heard the sound of screeching tires come to a stop. and roaring headlights came pouring in through the small windows on top of the door. Kenneth, who looked impressed with himself, slowly walked the rest of the way, towards Martha. Standing right next to her, a piece of the large blanket, in his hand, like he was going to pull it all on her, at any moment. Watching with both eyes, on the door, she prayed, it was Jonathon. How she prayed deeply, that her husband had finally found her.
''Here comes the excuse to throw a welcome back party.'' Kenneth whispered.
no regrets...
Jonathon held onto his shotgun so tightly, his knuckles were losing color, resembling a rather bright white, Jonathon saw a pair of doors. The truck's headlights turned off after a few seconds, and as he drew a breath, he cleared all the thoughts he had from his mind, as he got himself ready to go inside. He wasn't sure what'd he see, but no matter how horrible, he had only one reason. To push on ahead. His family. His family was in danger because of a mistake, he was too scared to take care of as a child, now as an adult, he had no choice, but to face it. Grabbing onto to the handle as gently as he could, the door opened. Tightening his hand on the shotgun, until a wave of pain shot through his body, he stepped inside. The inside of the warehouse was large, and incredibility worn down. Rust, dust, and bits of ice, frozen over one coat of paint walls, filled his vision. In the middle of the room were enormous amounts of big and small boxes. Some had been stepped in, others had tears and cuts on them, and they were all gathered to the middle of the warehouse.
As he waked along the floor, bringing himself further and further away from the doors, it startled him when he felt cold snowflakes land on each of his shoulders. Glaring up at the ceiling, he noticed many types of holes, which was allowing the cold air and snow to come in. Once he felt the freezing frosty air, he feared for the worst. What state was his family in? So many questions were circling around in his head. As he took another look around at his surroundings, his eyes widened. Dropping the shotgun to the floor, he knelt down so fast, his knees had burns, that ripped through his jeans.
''Clarke!'' he shouted, wrapping his arms around his daughters freezing unconscious body. She was cold at the touch, even with all the layers on top of her. Her face was blue, and er lips were dry and cracked. Grabbing Clarke's face, and holding his hands on both hercheeks, he brushed his thumbs up and down as he tried to wake her.
''Jonathon!''
''Martha?'' Jonathon's eyes turned to look behind him. He rose slowly, as he saw his wife and Kenneth. With an evil expression, Kenneth walked a few feet away from her, impressed with himself, Jonathon remained still.
''Martha? He didn't hurt you, did he?!''
''No...but Clarke? Take care of the kryptonite!'' Martha shouted in a panicked voice. Jonathon turned his body around, but with his eyes still glued to Kenneth, he grabbed the rock with his hand, carefully ripping the tape from Clarke's forehead. He struggled to remove the tape, because of how hard and frozen it was, but once he finally got it free, he twisted the tape from around Clarke's forehead, holding the rock in his hand now, Clarke's body instantly fell to the side, his muscles felt like they were on fire, as Jonathon reacted quickly. With his hand under Clarke's neck, supporting her, Jonathon clenched his teeth as he ripped the tape that kept Clarke's hands bound to the pole. Freeing him.
Bleeding and severely swollen, Jonathon laid Clarke's head down on the floor, as gently as he could. Making sure she was wrapped up with the blanket, aware that she was out of danger, he could proceed to dealing with Kenneth.
''I should kill you, for what you put er through, what you put my wife through! You're lucky I still care for you, little brother.'' Jonathon growled.
''Care about me? ''You care about me'' where was all that care when I was taken away, in the back of a police car?! Where were you then!'' Kenneth shouted.
''You got what you deserved, Kenneth! You attempted to murder so many people! You had to be stopped! You wouldn't listen to me when I tried to stop you! Remember that? I tried to stop you, but you fought me, you fought against me! Knowing there wasn't anything anyone could do for you, I knew you'd be safe at that facility. You needed help, Kenneth! After all you've done, I don't think you're through, you need more help.'' Jonathon whispered.
''I won't go back. Jonathon! I'd rather die, then go back! You hear me?!''
''I don't think you have a choice here, Kenneth! The police are on there way, you severally underestimated me.''
''How could you?! I told you not too! I warned you what would happen, if you didn't listen to me. I warned you!'' Kenneth's face grew with fury. As a small remote control appeared, it stunned Jonathon when he saw it.
''Now, now, Kenneth, they have nothing to do with this, you want me, I'm here, you have me here, there's no need to push that button.''
''You can't reach both of them, Jonathon, which deserves to live? And which one deserves to die? You choose.'' Kenneth's finger pressed down on the button, and in seconds, two piles of enormous amounts of snow was dumped down both holes. The one hole below Martha, and the hole below Clarke. With only a few seconds to spare, it left Jonathon at a loss. He couldn't choose between the two people he cared for the most, but he wasn't faster enough to save both.
''You'd better choose quickly, Jonathon.'' Jonathon twisted around. Behind him was another Kenneth. Both of them stood, eyeing him with the stupidest expression he'd ever seen. Kenneth somehow had either made a clone, or had been infected during the meter shower. With the same piece of kryptonite, stolen from the barn, in Kenneth's hand, Jonathon watched slowly, as the clone placed the kryptonite, right next to Clarke's shoulder, and throwing himself out of the way, as both mountains of snow, buried both Clarke and Martha. Overpowered by adrenaline, Jonathon raced towards his wife, dashing his hands, he raced to move all the snow away, once he saw Martha's face, he moved his hands around the pole where he reached her hands. Without caution, he twisted the tape till it broke right in the middle, freeing her.
Making sure he had her; he carried her over to the second pole, with his heart beating the entire time, he laid her down beside him, making sure she had a pulse and was breathing. He dove his arms down into the second mountain of snow. Once he felt Clarke's body in his arms, he pulled her up. Holding his daughters body up to his chest, leaning his ear along her chest, listening for a pulse. And once he felt one. Clarke took a large gasp of air.
She was startled awake, fighting and moving around in her father's arms. Until she met his eyes.
''Dad?'' Her voice was nothing but a whisper, and as Jonathon stared into his daughters tired eyes, she felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning his head, he saw his wife's lovely face. Martha placed her hand around both of them, and the three embraced one another. As their faces touched, Jonathon shivered from the touch of their icy faces. Johnathon, having laid eyes upon Clarke's jacket, then Martha's jacket, brought the two jackets over to them, and as Clarke and Martha stood beside one another, supporting each other as their muscles ached. Clarke had her jacket on and hugged herself tightly by wrapping both her arms around himself. She felt the warmth instantly, and without the effects of the meter rock, no longer effecting her, she instantly felt her body temperature increasing.
''Dad? He got away? Should we go after him?'' Clarke asked. ''I'm well enough.''
''No, your not. Besides, that's enough excitement to last a lifetime. Let's just get you both home, where its warm.'' Jonathon said as he pulled both Clarke and Martha towards him.
''That kryptonite really had me losing it there, I'd never felt colder.'' Clarke said, her voice still shaky.
''I'm just glad you're all right, I hated seeing you like that, Clarke. It broke my heart.'' Martha said as she quickly snuck a hug.
''I'm just glad no one got hurt...I don't know what I would've done if something happened to you both...I promise, I'll hide nothing from my family ever again.'' Jonathon promised.
''You better...otherwise, your sleeping outside.'' Martha laughed.
''I'll make sure he can't use the door.'' Clarke shared a slight laugh.
''How will you do that?'' Jonathon asked, staring at his daughter, with one eyebrow raised.
''You'll think twice about opening the door, when it is heated by heat vision, dad.'' Clarke said.
''You're probably right, Clarke.'' Johnathon said, scratching the back of his head nervously. As the truck was started, and took off down the road, the snowflakes fell more sweetly...and as the cold wind slowly died down. A distant shadow peered out through the black trees...casting a dark wickedness past the warehouse, as broken glass, and frozen ice covered it, like a blanket...the warehouse had been swallowed almost immediately...