"And what's that one?"
The soft sound of a child's voice—and the smell of something sweet in the air—confused Linda; something was wrong, she could feel it. The teenager opened her eyes—which quickly widened in shock.
Somehow, Linda had been transported instantly to a beach, but it wasn't any beach she recognized: the sky was a light golden color and watermelon pink waves crashed against bright teal sand, washing over Linda's feet. She gasped reflexively at the cold water and quickly looked down as her bare toes sunk into the wet sand—and she saw herself wearing the clothes she had worn when she'd arrived on Earth; it took her a few moments to realize the sweet smell came from the breeze as it blew in from the ocean, whipping her loose hair around wildly. Linda furrowed her eyebrows as she tucked strands behind her ears; it all seemed alien to her, yet strangely familiar.
"That, my dear, is the immature stage of the giant malc."
Linda stiffened, her eyes slowly widening, as she recognized the deep but gentle brogue. She slowly turned to her left and saw a group of rocks in and near the edge of the water; some of the rocks formed a semicircle in the water, waves crashing over them into shallow tidal pools between the rocks. Linda inhaled sharply as she saw a dark-haired man and little blonde girl kneeling on the flat rocks, peering into one of the tidal pools. Thy both wore what appeared to be sleeveless wetsuits that stopped just above their knees—the man's was a rich coffee brown, while the girl's was a light ice blue; their hair dripped with water, indicating they had been swimming recently, but Linda focused all of her attention on the man. He looked about thirty years younger since the last time she'd seen him—when he had helped her escape to Earth—but Linda recognized him instantly.
"Rok-Var?" she asked, confused. "What's going on?"
"It takes about four amzeto for them to fully mature," Rok-Var contined, not even acknowledging Linda's presence as he grinned at the girl and ruffled her damp hair, "but you already know that, my Kara."
Furrowing her eyebrows, Linda focused on the little girl as she looked up at Rok-Var—and her eyes widened in shock as she found herself looking at an an eight-year-old version of herself. Linda was scared and confused, but she found herself slowly moving toward the two.
"Can I hold it?" the little girl asked as she plunged her hand into the tidal pool.
"Kara, watch out for the ele!" Rok-Var shouted as he reached to grab the little girl's arm. Kara shouted in pain right before her entire body convulsed; her eyes rolled back into her head as she collapsed into Rok-Var's arms; the veins on the back of her hand had already turned a sickly purple color, and her entire hand had started swelling as the poison quickly spread toward her arm. Linda watched as the color drained from Rok-Var's face, his eyes wide with fear as he held the unconscious girl in his arms like a limp ragdoll, trying to rouse her. "Kara!"
Linda watched as Rok-Var, clinging to the unresponsive girl in his arms, quickly got to his feet and hurried from the water's edge. Linda watched him head toward a group of two men and two women, who were already running in his direction; the teenager squinted and shielded her eyes with her hand, trying to make out their faces, but everything around her suddenly faded into white.
Linda opened her eyes, gasping loudly as her heart pounded in her chest. She jerked her head from side to side, trying to get her bearings. She was back in her living room, dressed in her costume, sitting on the couch, the television still on with the show still going, and Jimmy stared at Linda with more concern than she had ever remember seeing.
"What happened?" the young girl asked, trying to get her breathing back to normal, her heart racing.
"You tell me," Jimmy answered softly. "You were just sitting here, watching the movie, then you just shut your eyes tightly and grabbed the sides of your head. I thought maybe your superhearing was coming in, but you said 'Rok-Var, what's going on?' right before you grabbed your right hand and repeated 'It hurts so much' several times before you gasped and opened your eyes again."
Linda furrowed her eyebrows before she glanced down in her lap. She clutched her right hand so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. She quickly let go and saw the red impression of her fingers fade into the normal pink hue of the rest of her skin.
"What happened?" Jimmy asked.
"Nothing," Linda replied, trying to sound nonchalant. Jimmy just stared at her, not believing her; his gaze was so piercing that Linda sighed, frustrated, as she dropped her voice. "Fine, it was a vision, okay?"
"Another one?" Jimmy asked, concerned. "That's the second one in three months."
"It's no big deal," Linda answered, a little annoyed. "It's not like it was real."
"Linda, I don't care if you were floating in a tube again," Jimmy said, "the fact of the—"
"I wasn't floating in a tube," Linda interrupted. "I was a little girl, and Rok-Var and I were on a beach, and I got bitten by something—which doesn't make any sense, because I've never been to a beach in my life, and I would definitely remember pink water and teal sand and getting bitten."
Jimmy stared at her, a little confused, but he quickly shrugged it off, looking determined. "I'm gonna get Clark and your parents." He moved to stand, but Linda grabbed his arm, preventing him from moving. "Linda, let go of my arm."
"Please don't," Linda begged. "It was nothing, really."
"Linda, having visions for no reason is not nothing," Jimmy replied, trying to pull free, but not having much luck.
"Hey, is everything okay in there?" Martha called from the kitchen. "You two are being awfully quiet in there."
"Everything's fine, Mom," Linda said as she glanced at Jimmy.
Jimmy opened his mouth to protest, but Linda pleaded with her eyes; he stared at her for a second, then sighed. "Yeah, we're fine," he replied.
"Okay," Martha said.
"Thank you," Linda replied softly as she let go of his arm.
"Yeah, sure," Jimmy said, trying to sound nonchalant as he settled back against the couch and stared at the television set, his jaw set.
Linda stared at him for a few moments, knowing he was upset with her. She sighed and settled in against the couch, leaning against Jimmy's side; she was thankful he didn't pull away from her. After a few seconds, Jimmy sighed and carefully lifted his arm, allowing Linda to lean closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder as he rested his arm on hers.
The teenagers were able to enjoy the rest of the show without any more hitches; by the time the program had ended, the tension from Linda's vision had all but disappeared, and the two were going on and on as if nothing had happened as they headed into the kitchen.
"So, did the show live up to your expectations?" Martha asked, smiling as she cleaned the counters.
"Definitely," Linda answered, grinning, "and we've already made plans to watch the Christmas Special," she glanced between her parents, "if that's okay with you guys."
"We'll…discuss that closer to Christmas," Jonathan replied before he glanced at his son. "Clark, you want to tell them now?"
"Tell us what?" Jimmy asked.
"The CEO who bought out Liam Bounder's business is coming to Smallville on Tuesday," Clark explained.
"Is this the CEO who's name you refuse to tell me?" Linda asked, crossing her arms, amused.
"Us," Jimmy corrected her. "I did try to find out about him, but someone," he glanced briefly at Clark trying to look annoyed, "told me not to."
"And I thank you for actually listening to me," Clark replied, smiling slightly.
"I still don't understand the secrecy," Linda said.
"I have my reasons, trust me," Clark replied unapologetically. "Anyway, he's having a little social gathering at the Talon Tuesday night to celebrate the business's re-opening, meet prospective clients, mingle, that sort of thing."
"So, why are you telling us?" Jimmy asked, a little confused.
"Well, Perry wants us to cover the event," Clark said. "He called while you were watching your show; I get a few quotes, you get a few photos, your mother already said it was okay, since you'll be off for Thanksgiving break," he glanced at Linda, "and Mom and Dad said it was okay for you to go as well."
"Why me?" Linda asked.
"Because the CEO heard about your artistic ability," Clark answered, "and he was wondering if you could create a piece for the social, as well as bring some of your other works—and be there when they're displayed."
Linda raised her eyebrows, surprised. "Me?" she asked. "He invited me?"
Clark nodded. "Perry said he was 'apologetic for the last-minute request and hoped you would accept his offer.' He gave me the CEO's number to call once you've made your decision."
Linda furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head, trying to process what she had just been told. She wasn't worried about making something at such short notice, but she knew her parents and Clark knew more about the mysterious CEO than they were letting on—and she couldn't understand why they wouldn't just tell her.
"Is this something the CEO really requested," she asked, "or you, Clark?"
"It was all his idea, I promise," Clark replied sincerely, and Linda knew he was telling the truth. "Look, it's up to you; you don't have to do this if you don't want to."
Linda she was a little annoyed that she was being kept in the dark for whatever reason—and almost refused the offer right there, but she had to admit her curiosity was piqued. Whoever the CEO was, he was going to be working in Smallville, which meant it would be in Linda's best interest to learn more about him; if it meant making an art piece for a social gathering, then so be it.
"As long as you and Jimmy'll be there," the young girl said after a few moments, "I'll go."
"I'll let him know," Clark replied, smiling. "Oh, and Bruce and Dick will be there as well, and the attire's formal—even for the journalists."
"Great," Jimmy muttered, "another monkey suit." Linda gave him a quizzical look and opened her mouth, but she was interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Wonder who that could be," Martha said as she headed toward the door. As Clark headed over to the table where he'd put his glasses, Linda blurred up the stairs and returned to where she'd been standing in less than a second, holding her glasses; the cousins simultaneously put them on right before Martha opened the door.
Standing on the other side of the screen door was a woman about Martha's age with dark brown hair hanging loosely past her shoulders. She wore a crisp black dress and matching heels, and held a large manila envelope. Beside her stood a younger man who appeared to be in his late thirties; he wore a black suit over a wiry frame, and was bald, with wide brown eyes hidden behind a pair of thick black glasses.
"May I help you?" Martha asked politely.
"My name is Bridgette Crosby," the woman replied, "and this is Edgar Cole. We're sorry to bother you, but we'd like to speak with Clark and Linda for a few moments."
"Who are you again?" Jonathan said as he walked over and stood next to his wife, trying not to appear too suspicious.
"We're emissaries of Dr. Swann's, Mr. Kent" Crosby replied. "We have a message from him, with the explicit instructions that we deliver it personally to your children."
"Why couldn't Dr. Swann deliver it himself?" Clark asked as he joined his parents.
Bridgette looked up at Clark with a sad expression in her eyes. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this," she replied, "but Dr. Swann passed away earlier this evening."
(End of Chapter 3)
