PT2.
The little boy watched as the string of adults got into their cars and drove away. From his perch in the large oak tree, he could see the cars travel down the long driveway of the Boy's Home and imagined that they were like ants, carrying their prizes back to the ant headquarters. His analogy made him smile but he knew those cars weren't ants, and they weren't carrying any prizes. When people came to take little boys home with them, they didn't come en masse. It was always one car, one family, and one little boy.
"Hey Freak! You can stop hiding. The Parent Party is over."
Lucas looked down and saw Billy and his two cronies, Porter and Jake, standing at the base of his tree.
"None of 'em wanted you anyway," Billy continued spitefully.
Lucas knew that any response he would have given would be grounds for more attacks from Billy, so he just remained quiet, returning his focus to the disappearing cars. The Parent Parties were what the kids called the Open House events that the Harris House for Boys ran every two months. The counselors would line up the pictures of all the boys on the bulletin board and prospective parents would come and meet prospective candidates for adoption.
For a lot of the boys, the events were stressful. Getting their hopes up as kindly-looking adults came and ate lunch with them was the cause for many stomachaches and restless nights in the days leading up to the party. The stomachaches only got worse in the days following as each boy who'd thought he'd made a connection waited for the follow-up call to come in.
Lucas was different though. He didn't wait at the doors with baited breath like the little kids did, and he didn't sit back and cautiously observe, only to eventually give in, like the big boys did. He just sat in his tree and waited for it all to end. Once upon a time, he'd been happy to meet the parents, but that was before he started breaking things on accident. Later, he'd learned to use the accidents to his advantage, so the people would leave him alone.
Unlike the other boys – even Billy, who would never admit it – Lucas didn't want to leave the House. The other boys were looking for somewhere to belong – someone to belong too, but Lucas knew he was special. He knew that he belonged to somewhere and to someone – he just had to stay put until they came back for him. It had to have been a terrible mistake that he'd gotten separated from his parents in the first place. He was special.
Sometimes he heard things that he shouldn't have been able to – like the pipes groaning at night and his roommates breathing – but he had learned to concentrate on one sound until the rest faded. And there was one time when he'd been running and had knocked himself out against a wall that he hadn't seen. All of that on top of how he sometimes didn't know his own strength…
Those things were scary, and he knew that ordinary people wouldn't understand. He needed his parents, and he would wait for them to come and get him because they were just as special as he was.
"Do you hear me, Freak?" Billy called.
The first rock hit the trunk of the tree behind him and caused him to loosen his grip on the branches in surprise. The second rock hit him on the side of the head. The pain from that was not nearly as shocking or as jarring as the pain he felt in his right leg when he hit the ground with a sickening crunch.
Lois walked down 5th street without bothering to look up at the building on the corner of Concord Lane. At one point in her life, that building and the iconic symbol that sat upon it had been a beacon for her – a lighthouse in the choppy sea that was her life. Now it was just a reminder of loss and pain. She hurried to cross the street and put the building and all of its false hopes behind her.
Even as she increased her distance from the Daily Planet building, she wondered why she did this to herself. There were other ways she could get home from work, and still she always walked down 5th street. She left the building that housed the Scoop! offices – the popular tabloid magazine she worked for – and purposely walked past the one place she had always wanted to work. Every day.
She reminded herself that she did it so that she would never forget. She did it so the pain wouldn't go away.
It was a pain she refused to let go of, even though it had dulled somewhat over the course of ten years… as pain tended to do. The first year had been the worse.
She had woken up in a hospital, confused, scared, and feeling incomplete. Her father had held her hand as he recounted the car accident… and everything had come rushing back to her like a flood, leaving her gasping for air as if she were really drowning. She had asked for her baby then, but her father had only shaken his head sadly and told her that he was gone.
At that moment she'd felt as if her mind had gone too.
It hadn't escaped her that the outcome was one that her father was okay with, and she couldn't look at him after that. Withdrawn and numb, she had run away from her father for the last and final time when the hospital had released her. She had gathered her possessions together and moved to a medium-sized town named Grandview to live with her mother's brother.
When she arrived at the apartment she shared with the cousin that had become the sister she'd never had, the petite blonde was waiting for her at the door.
"How was your day?" Chloe Sullivan asked carefully. Usually they arrived together, leaving their joint place of employment together. It had been Chloe who had coaxed Lois back into the news business – even if what they did wasn't quite recognized as news. That day had been Chloe's day off though, so she was already home waiting for her cousin's return.
"Perry was on a rampage. I keep telling him that we're Scoop, not the Daily Planet," Lois complained as she stepped through the front door. She stopped short when the look on Chloe's face registered. "What's wrong?"
Another figure entering the hallway from the direction of their living room caught her attention. "Uncle Gabe? I didn't know you were in town." She looked quizzically from her uncle to her cousin, feeling a sense of dread settle in the air. "Chlo?"
"Lois… why don't you come and sit down," Gabriel Sullivan suggested gently.
It was the gentleness that made Lois's heckles finally come all the way to attention. People had been really gentle with her that first year. She knew what it meant. "I don't want to sit down," she countered. "Tell me now."
Running a hand through his thinning hair, Gabriel sighed heavily. "It's your father. He's dying, and he wants to see you."
Lucas hobbled into the office and slung himself into the big chair in front of the desk, shifting so that his casted leg could lie comfortably.
"You must be Lucas," the man seated at the desk said in greeting.
"Yes Sir." Lucas said, nodding. The man had caramel colored skin and looked to have a pleasant demeanor. "You must have a really great job," he commented.
The man tilted his head to the side. "What makes you say that?"
"Because everyone wants to do it," Lucas responded. The man didn't seem to understand what he meant, so he explained, "You're the 14th social worker who's come up to see us from the city. I figure that we must be popular."
The man studied Lucas for a few minutes trying to judge if this boy really believed what he was saying or if he was being sarcastic. He finally decided that if Lucas was being facetious, he was really good at it. "Maybe you guys are that popular, but hopefully I'll be able to stick around for awhile." He rose a little from his seat and reached across the table with an outstretched hand. "I'm Harold Tillman."
"Hello, Sir." Lucas returned the handshake. "You already know that I'm Lucas."
Harold lowered back into his chair. "Do you have a last name, Lucas?"
The boy frowned for a moment before responding. "It's…Harris."
Harold's eyes narrowed slightly. "Isn't that the name of the center…?"
"Yes Sir," Lucas answered with a shrug. "They always call us the Harris boys."
"How long have you been here?"
"Ten years, three months, and eight days," Lucas quipped. At the older man's surprised look he smiled. "I've been counting."
Harold chuckled. "How would you even know when to begin counting?" he asked, a little charmed by the child's naivety.
Lucas began to doubt the man's smile a little, knowing that his answers to these types of questions were often what led to the other boys picking on him. "I saw my folder once. It had the date I came here to stay," he said quietly.
Harold looked down at the file on the desk in front of him and flipped back a couple of pages. Amazingly enough, the boy was right – about both the date being listed and the amount of time that had passed. He turned back to the page he'd been look at before. "It says here that you don't want to be adopted. Why is that? Don't you want to leave?"
Lucas looked down and began picking at his cast. This was certainly one of those questions that led him into trouble. In fact, it was the biggest question of them all.
"Lucas?"
"My parents are coming back for me," the small boy muttered. When Mr. Tillman didn't immediately respond, he ventured a chance to look up and see his expression.
"And you think that if you leave the only place you've ever been, then they won't be able to find you."
The way Mr. Tillman said it made it sound like a statement and not a question. Lucas felt himself relax at the idea that he'd met an adult who would finally believe him.
"Let's talk about your leg, Lucas. How did that happen?"
Lucas looked down again. "I fell out of the big tree last week."
"And you had a slight concussion?"
Lucas nodded. "I hit my head on something… when I fell."
Harold sighed. "If someone is bothering you here, there are things we can do to fix that. You don't have to stay in an environment where you aren't safe."
Lucas looked up with a start. The man was talking about making him leave. He hadn't believed him about his parents after all. "I told you. I fell."
They locked gazes for a silent moment before the social worker sighed once again. "Okay, Lucas." Harold reached down and pulled a business card from the briefcase that was on the floor next to his chair.
"I happen to think that I have a pretty great job," he told the boy. "I get to help children find their homes." He picked up a pen and scribbled something on the back of the card. "This is not something I ever do, but I'm going to give you my personal cell phone number. If you need anything – if you decide you need to tell me anything – you give me a call. Okay?"
Lucas took the card from the man and nodded. "Yes Sir."
Later that night, long after lights out had been called, Lucas started to feel that restless feeling that meant something strange was going to happen. Usually he got that feeling right before he started to hear things, so he carefully and quietly got out of his bed on the lower bunk. When his hearing started to go berserk it usually helped to go outside. Outside he could concentrate on small sounds – the wind in the grass, the leaves rustling in the trees – and wait it out.
Standing beside his bed, he eyed his crutches for a moment before deciding to go without them. It was a little awkward to walk while swinging his right leg stiffly so it could remain straight, but he found that it didn't hurt like the doctors had warned him it would. By the time he got outside, he felt good enough to do his awkward shuffle a little faster. Pretty soon after that, he gave into the urge to go a little faster and was utterly shocked when the cast broke apart at his attempt to bend his knees.
Shocked as he was, he didn't stop running; instead he found that he ran faster – so fast that the stuff he was passing blended into each other until he couldn't even tell what they were. When he finally came to a stop, he was in the middle of a large city. Cars were zooming up and down the streets in a blazing pattern of white and red lights, and he realized that he had no idea how to get back to the House.
He was wearing only the gray sweatshirt and pants he'd started sleeping in and one shoe. The right leg of his sweat pants had been cut to allow room for his cast, and now without the bulky object surrounding his leg, the sweats looked tattered and out of place… exactly the way Lucas was feeling at that moment. He looked right and looked left, but nothing made any sense to him in any direction… then in his panicked state, the restless feeling returned with a vengeance and suddenly every sound in the city got louder.
With hands pressed against his ears, Lucas spun in a circle and caught sight of a large park on the other side of the block. It wasn't the same as the open fields that surrounded the Harris House, but he decided that it couldn't hurt. He just needed to find some grass… then he would be able to make all the scary sounds go away.
The park, he realized once he was inside, was not only not the same as the fields at the House, it was nothing like the fields at the House. First of all, the park was a huge parcel of grassy alcoves lined with trees that separated it from the busy streets. Afraid of the unfamiliar surroundings, Lucas found a small cave-like structure and curled into a ball right inside the entrance. Eventually the sounds faded and he fell asleep.
"This is my house! Get out of my house!"
The angry yelling startled Lucas and he scrambled on his hands and knees toward the back of the cave and away from the monster that was undoubtedly going to eat him.
"This is my house!" the monster growled again.
Lucas screamed when the mass of rags shuffled came toward him menacingly. The screaming seemed to be the magic that broke the spell because the monster stopped moving and suddenly became a man – a really dirty and smelly man, but a man nonetheless.
"Is a kid?" the ragman asked, seeming to talk to himself – or someone who wasn't there. Then he answered himself. "Is a little kid."
Lucas swallowed and willed his heart to stop pounding so hard. Using the dim morning light that was streaming into the cave, he began crawling toward the mouth of the cave, hesitating a bit when he realized he would have to pass the ragman closely to get by.
"Why's a kid only got one shoe?" the ragman asked.
Lucas waited expectantly for the ragman's alter-ego to respond and yelped when the man suddenly crouched in front of him. "Why's a kid only got one shoe?" he asked again.
"I… lost it," he stammered in reply.
"He lost it," the ragman repeated. "It's not good to have only one shoe."
When the man reached out for his foot, Lucas flinched and tried to make a break for it, but before he could move, the man had his leg in a tight grip and was peering at his foot. With a grunt, the man shuffled to the back of the cave and dug through a pile of bags he had in the corner.
Lucas began steadily sliding toward the exit of the cave now that the ragman's attention was off of him. He turned at the brink of making his escape only to feel something bulky hit the back of his leg. It turned out to be a pair of beat-up black Converse shoes that were tied together by the strings.
"There. Two shoes now."
Lucas looked at the shoes and then back up at the ragman. "Th…thank you, Sir."
The man nodded. "Good. It's a gift. Now you give me something."
Lucas's eyes widened. "I don't have anything."
The ragman frowned and dropped into a crouching position again. "You have one shoe," he pointed out.
Lucas pulled off his one shoe and held it out to the man before slipping the Converse on. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that they fit perfectly.
Once the ragman had seen that both shoes were on his feet and tied snugly, he started yelling again. "This is my house! Get out of my house!"
Once again frightened out of his mind, Lucas scrambled for the exit of the cave and sprinted into the park.
Feeling lost, confused, hungry, and dirty, Lucas made his way down the sidewalks of the big city, having nowhere special to go and crossing streets at the crosswalks when the crowd pressed forward. Whatever novelty he'd once assigned to stories he'd heard about the city disappeared as he experienced more and more of what the place had to offer.
After walking aimlessly for a while, he found himself following the smell of grilled meat to a street vendor's cart. Standing to the side, he watched as a line of people exchanged money for polish sausages in a bun. Holding a hand to his stomach, he approached the vendor when all of the people had gotten their food and walked away.
"Excuse me, Sir, how much does your food cost?"
The vendor looked around blankly before realizing that the owner of the voice was shorter than the ordering ledge of his cart. Stepping from behind the cart, the vendor took in the appearance of the young boy.
"Two dollars for a dog and bun," he replied. He looked the boy up and down – disheveled hair, torn grey sweats, and scuffed black Converse shoes. His politeness was out of place with both his surroundings and his dress. "I've got a special going for people under four and a half feet. A dollar'll get you both."
Lucas grinned up at him. "They smell real good." Then he started to walk away.
"You don't want one?" the confused cart vendor called out.
"Oh, yes Sir, I do," Lucas replied, turning to address the vendor. "I just have to go get a dollar."
Lucas returned to a fountain he'd seen during his trails, hopped up on the ledge, took off his shoes and rolled his pant legs up. "I'm sorry about this," he said, addressing the naked cherub that was guarding the waters and the coins within. "I'll pay you back I swear."
When he returned to the hot dog vendor with a handful of wet coins and his pant legs still rolled up, the man just shook his head and handed him the foil-wrapped food. "Where are your parents, kid?"
"I'm on my way to find them," Lucas pertly answered while helping himself to the toppings laid out on the side of the hot dog cart.
"Well, you may want to get a hold of them real quick," the vendor suggested. "The truancy officers have stepped up their rounds lately. If you're not in school when you're supposed to be, it could spell trouble."
"Truancy officers?" Lucas questioned around a large bite.
"Yeah," the vendor replied, nodding in the direction of a uniformed police officer who was approaching some skateboarding teenagers. "Best bet is to stay out of their sights until you get back to your parents."
The vendor didn't hear a response so he leaned over his cart to look at the kid… but he was no longer standing there. With a confused expression, the man turned his head to the right and saw the boy sprinting down the street. "Don't run, kid," he muttered to himself. "You'll only draw their attention."
A shout coming from the other direction caused him to turn his head to the left, and he saw as the skateboarders hopped on their boards and fled from the chasing officer.
Lucas accidentally dropped the last bite of his hotdog as he ran past a large woman walking down the street.
"Hey! Watch it!"
"Sorry, Ma'am." Halting in his sprint, Lucas bent down with the intention of picking up his trash. As he did, though, he was passed by four boys on skateboards and saw that the police officer wasn't far behind.
Jumping up, Lucas ran after the skateboarders and followed when they jumped off of their boards and ran up steps to the El-train entrance. At the top of the stairs, the bigger boys hopped the turnstiles and ran to the platform. Lucas hesitated at the turnstile, judging from the reaction of the screaming ticket attendant that the other boys had been wrong in their actions. The appearance of the police officer having reached the top of the stairs spurred him into action, and he hurriedly scrambled over the turnstile as he had seen the other boys do.
Lucas made it the platform just as the doors of the nearest train were beginning to close, and he squeezed inside. The train started to move and Lucas released a breath, looking around to see where the other boys had gone. He caught sight of them as they disappeared through the rear door of the train, laughing and slapping each other's hands in congratulations for their escape.
It took Lucas a few minutes to reach the back door as he had to move around the other patrons in the El-train car. When he got there and slid the door open, the sight of the tracks speeding underneath the train caused him to retreat in fear. He securely closed the door and grabbed onto one of the metal poles, dejectedly realizing that he was really on his own.
The boy rode the train all day, eventually moving to sit down in one of the seats as people came and went throughout the numerous stops. He sat in a window seat and watched the city change beneath him, ignoring the pinch of hunger in his stomach as the morning shifted to day, and then again to night. Scared and feeling even more lost than ever, Lucas had decided to get on a train going the opposite direction at some point, hoping that at least he would make it back to the part of the city he had first arrived in.
After he switched trains, the only other person in the car was a man wearing a cowboy hat. The man's head was tilted down, and it appeared to Lucas that he was sleeping. Settling next to a window, Lucas gazed out at the scenery hoping that something would start looking familiar.
An hour later, the sound of people entering the car from the connecting door drew his attention and he turned to see three rough looking teenage boys entering the car. Lucas glanced toward the man in the cowboy hat, but he was still sleeping. His eyes flicked back to the big boys as they came to sit in the seats right surrounding his.
"Hey Buddy," the nearest one said. "Where are you going?"
Lucas studied the big boy's face. Something about the way the look in his eyes meshed with the smirk on his face reminded him of Billy. "…Home," he finally answered softly.
"Home, eh?" the boy seated behind Lucas asked. He was wearing a leather jacket and something that looked liked a spiked dog collar around his neck. "You've been riding this train for a while by yourself. I'm guessing you ditched school today, right?"
A strange feeling in Lucas's stomach made him feel that it was best not to answer.
"Hey, Dodge," Big Billy said, addressing the boy sitting across the aisle – the one who hadn't said anything yet. "What do you think? Will Cagne like him?"
The big boy named Dodge gave Lucas a considering look. Finally he smiled. "Yeah, he'll like him. A lot of people will like him."
Lucas didn't know what that meant but it didn't like the way it sounded like Dodge was telling a dirty joke.
"Hear that, kid? We have a friend we'd like you to meet," Big Billy said. "You'll like him. We have lots of fun and you don't have to go to school."
"I… I have to go home. My parents are looking for me."
Dog Collar leaned over the back of Lucas's seat. "We'll help you get home."
Lucas swallowed and started to slide toward the inner seat of his row. "That's okay… the next stop is mine."
When he moved to stand up in the aisle, the three big boys stood up too.
"Lucky day, that's our stop too. We'll walk with you," Dodge said, placing a hand on Lucas shoulder and leading him toward the middle of the train where the door was.
Lucas grabbed onto one of the metal poles and held on tight. He didn't want to go anywhere with these boys. Seeing his resistance, Dodge reached down to grab him around the waist. Panicked, Lucas kicked out and landed a blow squarely in the center of Dodge's chest.
Dodge flew back into a nearby aisle of seats and his two partners looked down at Lucas angrily. Big Billy grabbed Lucas's legs so he couldn't kick anymore and Dog Collar started working on loosening his fingers from around the pole. Lucas felt like he was being pulled in two as he struggled to keep both of his hands wrapped around the pole while Big Billy pulled on his legs.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Dodge pull himself out of the seats and knew that he would be no match for the three boys put together. Still, he held onto that pole with everything he had and was surprised when Big Billy yelped and suddenly let go of his legs.
A small knife had become embedded in the toe of Big Billy's boot. On the far end of the train car, the man with the cowboy hat was standing with his arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look the least threatened by the three thugs.
"Watch where you drop your stuff, old man," Dodge growled, leaving Lucas's hands alone while he turned to confront the older man.
"Old man," the man scoffed. "The boy doesn't appear to want to go you, fellas. I think you should leave him alone."
"Well, I think you should mind your own business," Dodge replied, sliding his jacket aside and reaching inside menacingly.
In the span of a blink, another small knife flew across the distance between the man in the cowboy hat and Dodge, and in the next instant, Dodge's arm was pinned against the wall of the car – held there by the knife point through his sleeve.
As the other two boys began to posture, the uninjured Big Billy having pulled the knife out of his boot, the man pulled open the two sides of his coat to show that the insides of was lined with more small knives. "We can do this dance all night if you want, but just so you know… those other two weren't misses. They were warnings."
The two boys looked over to Dodge, who was having a little trouble freeing himself from the deeply embedded knife, and he shook his head subtly. Big Billy moved over to help Dodge pull the knife from the wall and when they were done, the three boys stepped back from Lucas, all keeping their eyes on the man with the knives.
"Leave my tools, would you boys?"
Big Billy dropped both knives onto the ground and he and his friends left through the door and entered the next car.
The man walked past the pole Lucas was still holding onto and picked up his knives, all without saying anything to the young boy he had saved. After retrieving the knives from the floor and sliding them back into his coat, the man stepped past Lucas again, pausing only for a second when he noticed that the metal pole was slightly bowed out in the area Lucas was holding. The train slowed to a stop and when the doors opened, the man moved to exit.
"You're not riding the train anymore?" Lucas asked. Through the window over the rear door of the car, he could see the big boys watching him, seemingly waiting for their opportunity to get him alone.
"Nope," the man threw over his shoulder as he stepped out of the car. "I only ride until I find what I'm looking for."
With that cryptic answer he was gone and Lucas was left alone in the car. Right before the doors closed again, Lucas dashed out of the train and sighed in relief when the car pulled out with the big boys still on it.
The man in the hat walked to the door of an all-night diner and pulled it open. "Well, are you coming in?" he called out to the boy that had been trying to discreetly follow him since leaving the train station.
Lucas stepped from behind a parked car and looked up at him sheepishly.
"The name's Cowboy," the man said, pointing at the hat on his head. "Now come on in."
Following the directions on the sign, they seated themselves at an empty booth in an empty corner of the dining area. Lucas tried to look disinterested in the placemat menu that was on the table in front of him.
"You got a name, kid?"
Lucas looked across the table at Cowboy and swallowed. The man's face looked pleasant enough. His hair was hidden beneath the hat and he was clean shaven except for a brownish triangle of hair on his chin. Lucas glanced out of the window they were seated next to and then back to the man across the table. "It's Lucas, Sir," he finally said.
"Hmmm. Got a last name?" Cowboy asked.
Lucas thought about the way Mr. Tillman had responded to his answer to that question and just shrugged. As out of place as he felt in that moment, he wasn't sure he wanted to be sent back to the Harris House.
A waitress arrived at the table, chewing a wad of gum and brandishing a green order pad. "What can I get you gentlemen?"
"I'll just have a coffee," Cowboy answered, flashing the waitress a smile.
"Sure thing," she answered, scribbling on her pad. "What about you, Sweetie?"
Lucas pulled his eyes from the placemat and glanced at Cowboy. The man nodded and Lucas cleared his throat. "I'll… just have a coffee," he repeated awkwardly.
The waitress chuckled and put the hand that wasn't holding the green pad on her hip. "Your dad lets you drink coffee?" she asked in an amused tone before turning her gaze on Cowboy.
Seeing that Cowboy was laughing too and looking at him, Lucas slid down a little in his seat, embarrassed.
"Tell you what, Gracie," he said, reading the woman's name tag. "Make that one coffee, and bring Captain a BLT and a strawberry milkshake. We'll take two slices of Blueberry pie as well."
Grace made a few more scratches on the pad and then tapped it with her pencil. "You got it." She smiled at Lucas again. "Be right back."
She stepped over to the counter and returned with a glass of water for Lucas and a cup of coffee for Cowboy.
When she was gone, Lucas frowned at Cowboy. "Captain?"
"Captain Dick Sands." Cowboy said with a nod. "It comes from a Jules Verne story I read once. A young boy has to take control of his own destiny. Every time you start out on a new journey, you should get a new name. You don't look like a Dick though. We'll have to come up with something else."
"I'm not on a journey," Lucas corrected.
"No? Looks to me like you left some place and are on your way to the next. Am I right?"
Lucas thought about it. "Yeah, I guess so."
"Then you're on a journey," Cowboy surmised, reaching for the sugar container and adding some to his cup. "In my day, little boys ran away to join the circus."
"I've never been to a circus."
Cowboy chuckled. "I'm not surprised. Times have changed. People don't go to circuses anymore – they go to shows. That's what I told my dad when I left the family business."
"You were in a circus?" Lucas asked with wide interested eyes. "Is that where you learned to throw knives like that?"
"Throwing knives is just one of the things I do," Cowboy revealed with a mischievous smile. He reached over and unrolled the napkin-wrapped silverware setting that was in front of Lucas. He took out the spoon and wiggled it a little to make it look bendable. Then he brought his other hand to the bowl of the spoon and proceeded to bend it. After straightening it out, he handed it back to Lucas.
Cowboy chuckled at the child's wide-eyed wonder and watched as Lucas inspected the spoon. Then as expected, the boy tried to bend it himself. When he was unsuccessful, Cowboy expected him to put it down and ask for the secret behind the trick, but instead, the boy's face took on a determined expression. Then, to the older man's shock, the spoon bent.
Cowboy forced himself to blink and refocus, taking the spoon back from the boy. He then looked at the sawed off top of a spoon that had been hidden in the palm of his other hand.
"Captain," the man said, lowering the bent spoon into his lap. "You really are special, you know that?"
Lucas looked up at the man feeling greatly pleased but hesitant to show it. Perhaps this was the adult that was finally going to believe him.
The waitress returned with his sandwich and fries and milkshake.
"Thank you, ma'am."
"You are very welcome, young man. Ya'll enjoy, now. Holler if you need anything." After refilling Cowboy's cup, she turned and left.
Cowboy fiddled with the spoon under the table while thoughtfully watching the boy tear in to his food as if he hadn't eaten in a while. "Cap, remember how I was telling you that people don't go to circuses anymore?"
Lucas looked up from his plate and nodded.
"The magic has gone out of them. It's all about illusionists now. Doing little tricks to make people think they're seeing things. They call them illusions instead of magic because people have become so cynical that they can't accept that magic is real. That's what my journey is all about. I've been searching for a way to bring the magic back."
Lucas listened to the older man's speech without really understanding what he was getting at. Even though it didn't mean much to him, he guessed from his tone that it was personal. Feeling the need to repay the man for saving him on the train and now for feeding him, Lucas decided to offer something personal in return. "I'm looking for my parents," he said softly. "They kinda got lost."
Cowboy was quiet for a minute. "Of course they did," he said, "because if they knew how special you were, they wouldn't have let you out of their sight."
Lucas did let his happiness show that time. Sharing with Cowboy was such a welcome change from always having to hide back at the Harris House. "Yeah. When they see what I can do, they'll know it's me and we'll be back together again."
Cowboy smiled softly at the child's naïve logic. "October," he said after some thought.
Lucas frowned at him in confusion.
"Captain October Sands. October represents revolution, and that fits because your life is about to change."
"It is?"
"It most certainly is.," Cowboy answered sagely and stole a fry from Lucas's plate. "See, Cap, we're going to help each other find what we're looking for."
Musical Interlude 2.3:
http: / www. / watch?vUZb1M2L71wA
Lois stood a ways back from the green tent and wondered why it was always raining or snowing on the days that funerals were held. In her arms was the folded American flag that had been presented to her on behalf of her father's service to his country. Amazing that it hadn't been an enemy bullet that had finally stopped his career, but a silent assassin named cancer.
"Are you okay?"
Lois turned around at her uncle's voice and wondered how she was supposed to answer that. She was an orphan… but then, she had been living as one for ten years. "It's not fair," she said when her cousin stepped beside her and took her hand.
"I know," Gabriel sympathized, placing a hand on his niece's shoulder. "Cancer is…"
"No, not the cancer… Well, yes, the cancer, but… the whole thing. It's not fair that I can't be angry with him right now – right now when I should have every right to be."
Chloe glanced up at her father and squeezed her cousin's hand. "I don't think anyone would blame you for being angry right now. It's better than keeping it all in."
Lois looked into her cousin's worried eyes and knew what she meant. None of them wanted her to go back to the dark place in her mind like last time, but Lois didn't think she would ever go back there. She was stronger now, and she was better equipped. Plus… she simply couldn't afford to.
"How could he have done that to me? How could he have made a decision to give my baby away and then let me believe that he'd died?" The words came out evenly but the tears that she hadn't been able to loose all throughout the graveside service spilled freely.
The tears turned into sobs as her uncle gathered her against his chest. "Your father made some questionable choices, Lois, there's no argument about that, but he was human. Even I thought he was a bit strong armed with you after my sister died, but I never questioned how much he loved you – how much he wanted to protect you and keep from losing you the way he did your mother and sister. What he did to you… He never forgave himself. In the end, he lost you anyway."
He held her until her tears subsided knowing that the sting of the pain she was feeling would take much longer to heal – the wound she had worked so long to allow to scab over once again fresh.
Lois distractedly wiped at the tear tracks and took a deep breath. "I have to find him."
"Lois…" Gabriel started, but she shook her head and turned to Chloe.
"I have to find him," she repeated, pleading with her eyes for her cousin to understand what she was saying… and what she wasn't. "Will you help me?"
Chloe glanced up at her father's doubtful expression and then looked back to her cousin – her closest friend. "Of course, I will."
Clark wiped his hands on a dish towel and took a final assessing look around the kitchen. When he had gotten Lana's message about coming in town that evening, he had burst into action. She had been in Paris for the last year and a half and was now coming home. He wanted everything to be perfect – whatever perfect was when you were going to propose… or co-propose.
Lana Lang had lived next door to him as they'd grown up. They had dated briefly in college, but had been best friends both before and after that. One lazy summer day when they were about to part ways for college, they'd lain in the East field of his father's farm and promised that if neither of them had married anyone by the time they were 28, they'd marry each other.
Lana's 28th birthday was in two months, and the message she had left on the machine said that she was coming home… and they needed to talk.
Clark's immediate reaction had been to panic, but then as he'd thought about it, he'd accepted the idea. While he was setting up the kitchen, it had even occurred to him that it was really what he'd been counting on.
Hearing a car coming up the gravel drive, he dropped the towel on the kitchen counter and went out to wait on the porch.
"I could have come to the airport to get you," Clark said as they embraced.
"No need," she breathed, pulling his head down so she could place a kiss on his lips. "I wanted to have my wheels."
Clark sighed in relief, grateful that like always, time and distance didn't make them awkward around one another.
"What is that wonderful smell?" Lana asked, releasing him and going through the door to the house. Her face fell as she entered the kitchen and saw the roses and champagne he'd situated on the counter. In front of the vase was a small black jeweler's box.
Clark saw her expression and glanced around to see what was out of place.
"Oh, Clark, I should have been clearer on that message, but I didn't think you would…"
Clark reached out and palmed the black box, hiding it in his realization that he'd somehow misjudged the situation. "When you said we needed to talk, I thought you meant our deal…"
"I did," she said, cutting him off. "But I didn't mean for you to…" She let out a laugh and shook her head. "I came to let you of the hook," she confessed.
He frowned. "Let me off the hook?"
Sighing, she raised her hand to show him the ring that graced her left ring finger. "I'm engaged. That's what I was coming to tell you."
Clark looked at the ring and nodded numbly. "Oh. Ok."
"You look like you should sit down," Lana said, taking his arm and leading him to the stool next to the kitchen island. "You want some water or something?"
"No. I'm fine… just surprised."
Lana leaned her elbows on the island's surface and smirked. "We really need to work on not waiting to talk to each other every six months."
Clark felt his brain kick start again and laughed at his own expense. "I probably should have waited to talk to you before jumping to conclusions."
Lana tilted her head to the side. "Well, in your defense, we did make that deal almost ten years ago… but in my defense, we made that deal almost ten years ago, Clark!" She swatted him on the shoulder. "Why are you waiting around for me?"
Clark reached for his shoulder in mocked pain. "What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean." She interlaced her fingers together and rested her chin on the backs of her hands. "You remember the day we made that deal? You were getting ready to set off on your world tour and instead of excited, you were depressed and moody."
"I thought you said I was always depressed and moody," Clark teased back.
"Broody," Lana corrected, "and not always. There was one time when you positively glowed."
Clark looked away, trying to hide the flinch at the knowledge of the time she was referring to.
She saw it anyway. "Umm-hmm. Like I said, you know exactly what I mean." She sighed and pulled out one of the roses to smell. "What makes me sad, Clark, is that you stopped living. You never told me what happened, and I never pushed, but something changed you. And at first, it was for the good. I even thought that you going around the world would help… but you came back to do what? Be a farmer who writes travel articles on the side?"
"With mom practically running the Senate, someone had to take care of the farm…" he responded weakly.
"Martha Kent has been flawlessly handling the senate seat since she took it over for your father. While you were gone, she flawlessly handled both that and the management of the farm. You didn't have to come back to do that."
"My father would have preferred me take care of his land over some strangers," Clark argued.
Lana placed a hand over his. "With what you are capable of, your father would have preferred you to make a difference in the world. And when I sat that, I'm not talking about your abilities."
She squeezed his hand to make him look at her. "What are you doing here, Clark? What were you thinking you were going to do tonight? Wait for me to bail you out?"
"Lana, that's not…"
She shook her head. "Yes it is… or, yes it would have been," she inserted. "You've got to stop hiding from your life, Clark. The one is out there for you somewhere, but she's not going to magically appear on your doorstep."
Clark looked into her eyes, knowing that even though he had never told her about what had happened to him all those years ago, she had somehow guessed. Shaking his head at her omniscience, he smiled. "Speaking of the one, who is this guy I'm going to have beat up?"
Harold Tillman was having a bad day.
He loved his job, but it was days like this that made all the good days pale in comparison. One of the group homes he worked with had reported a runaway, and what made it worse was the fact that they had waited three days before even calling the county office to report it. Which then meant that even though he was supposedly the assigned overseer for that particular house, the news didn't reach him until 5 days later… counting the two weekend days that no one saw fit to work on.
So, yeah. He was having a bad day - and on top of that, some woman was creating a raging ruckus out in the reception area. He hadn't seen her, but he could sure hear her... and just when he thought his day was finally coming to a close.
Sighing, he rose from his desk and went to help Belinda out of this mess. When he walked into the outer office he saw a dark-haired woman sitting on the reception's couch silently crying while a petite blonde was going to task with Belinda. Harold sucked in a deep breath and prepared to intervene with a calm demeanor. One of the first things they taught you in this position was that you remove heat from fire with ice.
"Belinda, is everything okay?"
Belinda turned to face Harold with an expression that told him that her reservoir of ice had melted. "I've tried to explain to these women that we are closed, but they are insisting on speaking to my supervisor." The receptionist's eyes widened as she said the last part, indicating that she had gone through all of the trouble to abide by his wishes.
Harold turned to address the blonde woman. "I'm sorry, but the offices are closed for the day."
"They can't be closed if we're in here," the woman countered. "We're in here, and you're in here, so you're not closed. All we're asking is that you help us locate a child."
Harold caught the pointed look Belinda gave him out of the corner of his eye. "As I'm sure Belinda informed you, that type of request is a, not allowed, and b, in the rare cases that it is, could take months or years to process."
"We don't have that long."
Harold looked over at the woman on the couch who had spoken up. Her voice was soft but strong… determined, yet pained, as if she had come through something horrific and made it to the other side.
Harold blinked, unable to break the pull the woman's eyes had on him for a moment, but then finally looking back at the blonde. "I'm sorry if we seem a little calloused to your situation, but it is our jobs to protect children, and the way we do that is through the rules and regulations we have in place."
"I don't give a damn about your rules and regulations," the blonde returned. "Your rules and regulations didn't work the first time around."
Harold stiffened. "Now listen Ms…"
"Sullivan," the blonde supplied perkily, not at all intimidated by his displeasure.
"Ms. Sullivan, I don't know your situation, but if you would come back in the morning…"
"No. We're here now."
With her stubborn protest, Harold's day finally caught up to him and all of his attempts at remaining calm dissipated. "What's so important about now?" he demanded hotly. "Why now? Why couldn't you have decided that you wanted the child before you gave it up? Why should we want to help you now?"
The blonde took in his outburst without flinching but turned to gage the other woman's reaction before responding. "Because she waited ten years to just now learn that her son is alive."
"Ten years, three months, and 14 days," the brunette's soft voice inserted. Her quiet strength was even more apparent now that she was standing. She apparently noticed the way her statement made Harold pause, so she added, "I've been counting."
tbc