We drove along the empty darkened streets of Smallville. The 24 hour convenience shop was still open. However, being on main street, meant parking was a block away. I popped open our red umbrella and the two of us started scurrying along towards the shop. The street lights flickered, no one else was in view, and I became rather jumpy. Frightened at the smallest sound. I rolled my eyes, Martha, Come on, Smallville's one of the safest towns in America.
But still my eyes shifted left and right, and behind me, trying to feel out into the darkness, making sure no one was there. I looked down at Clark, who unfortunately was getting splattered with rain drops because he was too far away from our umbrella. I sighed. I must be a terrible mother, to bring Clark out in the middle of a night during a storm.
He didn't shiver even if I was, he never does. My one hand felt chilled, yet the one holding Clark's hand was perfectly warm. It's like Clark's a source of heat and warmth, his temperature stays constant. He snuggled closer to me, while looking around much like I was doing. And then he looked up at me.
Caught off-guard, quickly I tried to change my worried face into a comforting smile. He saw me, and briefly I saw a twinge of fear behind those aqua eyes. But then, oddly enough he returned the comforting smile, and suddenly I felt safe inside. I felt warmth, and assurance. What is it about Clark that does this to me?
And not just me, but everyone he meets. Whenever someone comes in contact with my son, they come away feeling somewhat happier, somewhat lighter, than before.
The cashier was a very large, gruff man. He'd have to be if he worked the night shift. Not that Smallville had a high crime rate, if it ever had crimes at all. But every now and then, a nutball would pop up. And I hadn't seen any police officers close by that would be able to help if a criminal did show up, but then again, maybe that was better, with what I know about Nell's ex-boyfriend, Brian.
The man gave me a funny look as if implying he didn't approve of me taking my child out this late at night. I looked away, trying to ignore what he thought, and what he was right about. Why did I take Clark with me? He should have been perfectly fine with Nell. I mean he goes to school everyday without me, what's one hour without me? But he's never been alone at night before, and never at home. What if he was too comfortable and accidently showed Nell his powers? You know he probably wouldn't. So then why, Martha? Why would you drag this little slumbering babe out into the cold dark damp streets this late?
Walking back to our truck seemed more ominous than walking from it. For a second I thought I heard footsteps behind me. But no, my ears were playing tricks on me. Still, my pace quickens. Suddenly the flickering lamp posts finally go out completely and don't come back on. All sane reasoning left me and Clark and I began to run towards the truck through the raindrops.
And then a large figure stepped out of the alley, blocking our way. I screamed as we took several steps back. But no one could hear me, especially in the rain, even the convenience store was now too far away.
"Hey pretty lady, calm down. What'cha doing out so late?"
"N-nothing!"
I try to turn to the side and hurry past the man but he holds his arm out to block my way.
Suddenly the sound of a second raspy voice behind me uttered,
"I don't think so lady."
I snap my head around to see another figure of a man walking toward us in the dark. Beside me I hear Clark whimper. I feel my hands trembling, threatening to lose my grip on my shopping bag and umbrella. Oh Jonathan! I wish you were here!
Gulping, immediately I throw our umbrella at the man in front of me and begin to bolt.
"Hey!"
Suddenly, one of them grabs my hair and yanks it back painfully.
"AAUUuughhh!!"
I spin around and jut my elbow into one of my assailant's stomachs.
"Aauuooff!" He utters.
The other man then grabs my arms, yanking apart my connection to Clark and making me drop my bags.
"Mommy!" Clark's high pitched shriek rings out.
I try to struggle to get away but he grabs me harder and pulls me towards a black alley. The rain pours down on top of us, obscuring my vision. I scream for help, straining my throat, desperate to be heard.
The other man comes up and grabs my jaw, slamming my mouth shut. I bite my tongue in the process, bringing a sharp pain to my head. I close my eyes as tears leak out from the misery. I can taste the salty warmth of blood in my mouth.
I try to turn my head toward the opening of the alley, and shift my eyes to the side to see Clark. He's holding his hands on his head while he jumps up and down in jitters, tears streaming down his face.
"Mommy! Mommy!" He struggles to scream through his tears.
One of the men pulls me close to him and I can feel his face pressed into my hair, hear his sniffs, smell the alcohol rank on his lips. I yank away, utterly disgusted. But they hold me tight. One man's hand still covers my mouth so I try to bite down on his fingers as hard as I can.
"AAHnnh!" He screams as he jerks his hand away, dropping his grip on me.
With one desperate second I turn and yell, "Clark! Help me!"
The man I bit then retaliates with a harsh slap across my face. I'm knocked back into his friend.
They follow my gaze and my plea for help to the small boy with his hands over his mouth, crying uncontrollably. How odd to have noticed at a time like this, that this is the first time I've ever seen Clark cry. How dare they do this to me and my son! An unrecognizable anger rises within me so fierce and extreme I don't know where it comes from.
I scream and shout, and do everything I can to escape their grip. I kick one of them in the groin and try to run away. But no sooner do I get one step away from them, does one of them grab my hair again, twist me, and slam me into the muddy pavement.
All I can see are flashes of red and white in one eye as I feel the gravel on the ground scritch and scratch at my scrapped face. The pain thudding in my head is more than I can bear. I feel like vomiting. I almost do when they grab my feet and begin to drag me further down the alley.
"MOMMY!"
"Cl-Clark!" I can barely say a coherent word.
I watch him at a strange angle, from the depths of the ground, as though I'm not there but watching some terrible horror movie. Everything slows down, I can't hear Clark's screams anymore, or the rain falling. Only a constant beat that pulsates throughout my body. It overtakes my head and my mind, going slower and slower as I watch one of the men walk toward my little boy.
NOOO! I want to scream, keep away from him! But somehow I just can't control my own voice anymore.
Clark doesn't move. Run Clark! Run! I see his little eyes become wider and wider as the large man gets closer and closer. No no no no no, Jonathan, where are you? Jonathan, we need you! The man reaches out his arm and picks up Clark, who doesn't struggle, but fearfully looks at the man who abruptly throws Clark over toward me. Clark gets up and scrambles to me through the mire along the ground, his face red and blotchy from crying. He reaches out but doesn't touch me, my appearance must frighten him. I don't look like Mommy.
Recovering slightly from my fall, I raise myself by the elbow, grab Clark's shirt and pull him close to me. Weakly, I whisper in his ear, "Clark, you have to push them, just like Kevin, but harder. Push them with all your strength!"
"Bu-bu-but Mommy!"
One of the men grabbed my ankle and began to drag me backwards.
"Do it Clark!" I scream.
And then I watch as a terrified little six year old scrambles to his feet, and turn around to the man about to reach down and grab him. Clark swallows and then runs into the man arms first. He shoves him as hard as possible.
The man went flying. Everyone in that alley could hear bones cracking when he hit the brick wall behind him. The other man dropped my feet immediately.
"What the!?!"
I struggle away from him in his momentary lapse, but then he quickly he grabs my arm and tries once more to pull me away.
"Clark!"
Clark spins around watching as the man tries to drag me away. Clark's nostrils flare as he runs for my captor and hits the man with two closed fists. Immediately the man's hands are torn from my ankles and as I turn around, I see the him sailing through the air and fall onto the asphalt of main street.
I hear brakes screech as a police car almost runs the man over.
Gasping for breath, I turn to Clark, and pull him to me. He's shaking. And anger and frustration and hurt and guilt take over my mind. My face scrunches up as I try to stop the uncontrollable sobs fighting their way out of me. But come they do. I look down at Clark, who looks up at me. Tears and mud stain his face, as he looks to me for strength. I can't give it to him. I just can't. I don't have anymore to give. I cry harder. I see hopes dashed in Clark's face as he begins to gasp for air through his weeping. We sit, leaning against the alley wall. My hair is a muddy mess. My jacket's ripped, and my head stings and aches.
But I'm alive. All because of Clark. I pull him even closer to me. He holds onto my shirt and buries his face, trying to stop crying, but he can't. It's something he's not used to doing. We sit there holding each other, as if letting go would mean the end of the world. I close my eyes and rest my head on his soft black hair.