Saga One

Episode I

Chapter Six:

It Tolls For Thee

Clark leapt out of the car and tore down the street towards the gunshots, 'Control your speed.' he chanted internally, focusing his vision on the injured teen. The dark sedan made a lethal U-turn, backfiring as it sped away adding to the panic and confusion. Clark focused his sight powers on the car's license plate, making a mental note to remember the number. Clark shifted his focus to the dispersing group that had been on the receiving end of the gunfire, a single young man lay motionless on the pavement. The barriers of cotton and flesh peeled away before Clark's x-ray vision, granting him access to the two bullets lodged in the teen's gut. He'd seen this before, countless times on and off the battlefield. If he wasn't, fast this kid could die.

He couldn't let that happen, he had seen it too many times to count. Almost all of the group had fled after the first gunshot, 'call 911!' Clark yelled at a bystander in a red hoodie. Taking one frightened look at Clark the youth in the hoodie turned tail and ran in the opposite direction as fast as his two legs could go. 'We don't have time for this' Clark thought to himself as he dropped to his knees next to the teen who was now bleeding profusely. A man in his late teens was cradling the body, crying profusely 'You've got to help me! My brother's been shot'! he pleaded with Clark. 'It's ok, I can help, but we need to get your brother to a hospital quickly. What's your name?' 'Estevan' he replied 'Estevan, I need you to go to that white house at the end of the street and get a red-haired man named Jimmy to call for an ambulance.' Estevan looked at his brother hesitantly, uncertain about leaving his side. Clark placed his hand on Estevan's shoulder give him a slight shake, 'trust me if we don't act quickly he could die. Now, go!' 'Ok, ok' Estevan replied shakenly rising from the pavement, taking one last glance at his brother before racing down the street.

Taking a deep breath, Clark turned back to the wounded boy on the pavement, he could see the internal bleeding already flooding the inside of his torso. 'He hasn't got long.' He thought to himself; 'I need to slow this bleeding before he dies of blood loss.' Whipping of his coat, he tore the sleeves on his shirt to make temporary bandages. Looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was watching, Clark began to sterilise his impromptu dressings with his heat vision. Steam began rising from the torn sleeves, any bacteria clinging to the material were burned to death in the intense heat. Clark gave the bandages a cooling blow with his breath before applying them to the open wounds, instantly soaking dark red with blood.

The boy groaned as he tried to apply pressure to two gunshot wounds 'Come on son, don't die on me know' he said aloud before opening his enhanced hearing, praying for the sound of ambulance sirens. He could still remember the first time he saw someone get shot. It was on a late summer's in 1868 that Theodore Bentley had shot Tommy Harrison in the middle of main street Smallville over some gambling debt. Pa Kent had taken him along to town to buy some supplies for Ma's kitchen. He could still hear Pa adding some extra tobacco to their order, 'just between you and me' he told Clark with a wink. Then outside the store just standing, staring at Tommy Harrison's body lying lifeless in the street, Pa's strong hand on his shoulder pulling him away…

Hearing the hurried footsteps of two individuals running up behind him, Clark turned to see Estevan, covered in his brother's blood, and Jimmy racing towards him. 'The ambulance is coming! How is he? Is he gonna' make it?' Estevan said, his voice tremoring with emotion. 'I've tried to slow down some of the bleeding, but it's up to the paramedics now.' 'Aw hell!' Jimmy said as he finally caught up with Estevan, 'aw man, he's bleeding everywhere! Aw heck! Damn! He's…he's…I uh… ugh…' 'Shut up Jimmy!' Clark yelled at his stammering acquaintance. Jimmy nodded, covering his mouth with his hand, his face turning pale at the sight before him.

The ambulance arrived sooner than he thought it would. 'We'll take it from here' the paramedic told them as she aided her partner in moving Estevan's brother, Oscar, into the ambulance. 'Will you be ok going to the hospital?' Clark asked Estevan, he nodded. 'Yeah.' 'What about your parents or guardian? Is there anyone I can contact for you?' 'Nah, well…there's my uncle, but he's…' 'How can I contact him?' Clark asked as the paramedic ushered Estevan into the back of the ambulance. 'He lives in this old camper out the front of fifty seven Martin's Avenue, but he's a drunk, man, he won't care, 'less it involves getting himself wasted.'

The doors of the ambulance shut and with sirens wailing it headed towards Metropolis Central Hospital with its fragile cargo on board. Clark looked on as it rounded the corner. It was out of his hands now, he had done all that he could. Hadn't he? 'I could've had him at the hospital in less time than it took to call 911.' He thought to himself. This life of secrecy, hiding his abilities, even when they could save lives was taking its toll. 'One day I won't need this façade. One day I'm using my abilities to help, no matter the consequences.'

Jimmy walked over to Clark, 'I don't know how you do it man, stay so calm I mean. I lost it back there.' 'Violence has that effect on you.' Clark replied 'its senseless, undiscriminating, the brain doesn't know how to cope with something so…foreign.' 'You should've seen the lady when the shots went off. I thought she was gonna' die! Brought back memories about her son I suppose.' 'Is she alright?' Clark asked Jimmy, worried about the poor woman who had already suffered so much. 'Geese, I dunno', when that kid ran in the house screaming 'call 911!' she just broke into tears. I guess we should go see how she is.' Jimmy glanced at Clark's torn bloodstained clothes, 'and we should probably get you a change of clothes.'

Clark let out a long sigh as warm shower water cleansed his body of the worries of the day. After checking in on Mrs. Henderson Jimmy had given Clark a ride back to his rental…after Clark agreed to spread his coat over the car seat. He'd had to throw out his shirt and pants, both torn and dyed in Oscar's blood. Not that he cared. What were some items of clothing compared with someone's life? 'I'd better make sure the uncle knows.' He thought to himself, 'regardless of whether or not he's an alcoholic he should be informed. Whether he cares or not.' He switched of the water and stepped out of the shower. Grabbing a coffee Clark opened his laptop and attempted to continue a story he was writing on homeless statistics in Metropolis. Not front page news as far as the Daily Planet was concerned, but important information none the less. 'Pointless.' He said aloud, angrily tapping the backspace button, erasing his work so far. 'These are real people, not statistics. How can I help people see that?' he questioned himself.

Running his hands through his hair his mind drifted back over that morning's events. 'Could I have done more?' he kept asking himself. 'At the risking of raising questions about me, where I came from. Why I am the way that I am.' An image of Oscar dead on an operating table came into his mind, the more he looked into Oscar's face the more it blended into the faces of all those he couldn't save… Ma, Pa, even Lana. He couldn't prevent death, it was a fact of life, but those unnecessary deaths he had witnessed…

There had to be something more he could do.