Chapter Five
When I come downstairs, the Kents offer me breakfast. And by breakfast, I do not mean a pop tart or something. There is bacon, eggs, pancakes, waffles, orange juice (fresh squeezed). Did I pick the wrong people to bunk with?
Clark comes down stairs and smiles at me awkwardly, "It's not always like this," he whispers, "But they really go all out for company." I can tell he is a little embarrassed. Who would of thought that Superman could be embarrassed by his parents just like the rest of us? I smile sympathetically and grab a waffle and some eggs.
"Clark." Mr. Kent says, and we both turn at his voice, "You're up early son."
"I, uh, got in kind of late." He says. He is squirming. Superman squirms! I know, I keep getting all weird every time he does something un-Superman-like, but come on! Who would have guessed?
Mr. Kent nods. I watch them, and they are having one of those conversation with their eyes things that people sometimes have. I can tell that the only reason Mr. Kent is not letting Clark have it is because I am there. I guess that is a good thing.
When breakfast is over, we head over to the barn.
I take out the latest issue of The Torch. "So," I say, trying to sound casual, "Do you want to help me with the layout?"
"Uh, the what?" he says with a laugh.
I smirk. Boy, does he need my help. Hey, it's a plus for me. I get to help shape a legend. ""The layout. It's how the paper is set up, which articles go where…" he continues to stare at me dumbly, "Here, let me show you." I open up an old copy of The Torch and scoot next to him on the couch. "See, this is the cover page." I say pointing. He leans in and listens intently, "This article, here above the fold, that is what you call a cover story. It is the most interesting article in the paper. It is the first thing a reader sees when they are deciding to buy the paper, so it has to sort of … pop out at you. So the first thing you do when deciding layout is deciding which article pops out the most, so you know what goes on the front." I place some of the articles my practically nonexistent staff typed up. There is stuff about the homecoming game and the dance, and not much more exciting. Clark looks over the articles, seriously considering each option. "I know, there's not much to pick from," I say apologetically, "I guess this town is not the most news-conscious in the world."
Clark smiles, "It's not that, people just don't want to be depressed by things. What's wrong with good news."
I shrug, "Nothing, if that really was all that was going on out there. But there is so much more. And some of it is bad, sure, but it is exiting, and mysterious, and crazy."
"I know. Geez, you sound like that kid in Pleasantville."
I cannot help but burst out laughing at this. He has no clue how close to the truth he is.
When I finally calm down, I say, "Well, am I in Pleasantville?"
"Meaning?"
"Does bad stuff ever happen around here? Is this really all there is to report on?"
He gets kind of mournful look on his face, "Yeah, of course. Bad stuff's happened." I wait, but he just stays silent.
"Such as …"
He sighs, "About twelve years ago, there was this huge meteor shower. It killed hundreds of people. Injured some. Not to mention what it did to the land. Of course, I was only three at the time, and my parents had just adopted me, so I didn't really know what was going on. I don't … remember much. But tons of people are still suffering from the effects of that day. You know Lana?" I nod, listening silently to his tale of woe, "Her parents were killed that day. Right in front of her. She was only three."
"Wow." I say. I do not remember this from the mythology. Doing the math, I figure that was around when Clark landed, seeing as he said he was three and his parents just brought him home. I suppose it made sense. A planet explodes; the debris has to go somewhere. And everybody who knows about Superman knows about kryptonite, his one weakness, a radioactive piece of meteorite from his home planet. But I always figured it was just a couple chucks here and there. Not enough to devastate a town. I think about Lana, everything she has said to me since I showed up on her doorstep. I think of what she said about how her aunt took her in when she was alone, about how quickly she changed the subject when I asked about her parents. I look up at Clark. "I'm sorry. I just don't know what to say to that. I … I really had no idea."
Things are quiet for a minute, and then Mrs. Kent calls to Clark.
"I've got some farm chores to do." he says.
"Well, I guess that's my cue to go, but maybe I'll see you later."
He smiles at me sadly.
When I got home, I decided to do some first-class googling. Yes, believe it or not, they have google here. I should know about this meteor shower. It is big news here. People are still talking about it. I am going to be a journalist; I should know everything about it.
After an hour, I am completely at a loss for words. Wow! That is all I can really manage. It is short, but effective. So, apparently, kryptonite does not only weaken Clark Kent, it has other dangerous which affect the average human. Well, okay, it is just a theory. It started with some strange articles in the Smallville Ledger that caught my attention. Check out some of these headlines:
Area Man Gains Finger on Left Hand-Looses One on the Right
River Dredging Uncovers Bizarre Glow-in-the-Dark Geodes
So, of course, at first I thought these were just tall-tale papers, you know, the ones that print Elvis is alive and having my baby. But I also know that skepticism can be debilitating when tracking down an unbelievable yet true story. Even if it is not true, it is fascinating. Besides, I have to remember where I am. I am in a fictional world that I got to through some freaky portal, living across the street from a boy who will grow up to be the flying savior of the people. So, really, I kind of need to be open-minded.
I keep looking, and I find other papers print even freakier stuff, headlines like:
Alien Abduction of Basement Bug
Boy Carries Sister Through Wall Of Fire
And it all happened in Smallville. The deeper I dig, the more I find, bizarre, but with witnesses, and sometimes from pretty credible papers. All in Smallville, and all in the last twelve years. A lot of the events happened near forests or groves, which I figure makes sense. See, they would clean up the town, they would have to, people live there, but a forest is a little lower on the priority scale. Besides, a forest is already full of rocks and green things, so finding green rocks in it would be no easy feet, and with all the recovery going on in town, they really would not have time for it.
Then, I hit the jackpot. There is this guy, Dr. Steven Hamilton, a mineralogist who was recruited by NASA to study the Apollo moon rocks. After a few more years working with the government, Hamilton moved to Metropolis and served as a research professor at Metropolis University for eight years. He got quite a few awards for his research on different kinds of meteorites, and for a while, he was well respected in his community. However, do to an inappropriate affair with a student, which the university and the press saw fit to keep quiet, he was fired, and lost pretty much all his credibility.
He came across kryptonite somehow, and became fascinated with it. He moved to Smallville and started researching, using money he made selling kryptonite to tourists to fund his research and support himself. He obviously wants to regain his credibility, but he lost it because of a moral controversy, not because there was anything wrong with his work. Hamilton seems to believe kryptonite has special properties that could explain all of the strange things that happen in Smallville, which people choose to ignore. He does not have any real proof right now, but with his limited funding, that is understandable. Still, given what I know about this unique rock, the theory is not all that far fetched.
I printed out my research, and was going over it when my cell phone rang. Yes, I have a cell phone here. I had my phone in my pocket when I went through the refrigerator, so I just had to get the number to work, which just took some more hacking work.
"Hello?"
"Hey. Chloe? It's Clark."
I smile, "Hey. What's up?"
"Well, you know how you wanted a more interesting story for The Torch. I think you are going to want to see this. Can you get down to Frank's Auto Shop?"
"Yeah, just give me a sec."
"Okay. I'll see you soon."
"See you soon." I close my cell.
I needed a ride. "Mrs. Potter?" I said, tracking down Lana's aunt.
"Yes?"
"I was just wondering if you were going into town." I said, trying to sound casual.
"Why, do you need a lift somewhere?" Okay, so subtlety is not exactly my strong suit.
"Kind of." I said awkwardly.
"I'll grab my keys." These are pretty nice people, which does not make me feel to good every time I ask them for a favor, but what can you do
When I get to the auto shop, there is police tape around it, and a guy being pulled out on a stretcher.
"Excuse me, what happened here?" I ask one of the paramedics.
"Don't worry mam, we have it all under control."
"That's great, but not what I asked."
He looks at me, "Who are you?"
"I'm on the school paper." I say. I considered lying and saying I worked at The Ledger, but authority figures are more likely to bend the rules for a kid who they figure doesn't know any better than deal with any sort of large scale media.
"Look, kid," he says, looking at me in that annoying, condescending way adults do, "I can't really answer any questions at this time, besides, if you didn't notice, I'm kind of busy."
He starts to walk off, "I just want to know how the place got so flooded?" I say.
He looks at me like I'm crazy, "Flood, what, this guy was electrocuted."" Jackpot. "He's basically comatose. That can't happen from a flood."
"Thank you." I say. He stands there, dumbstruck as I go off to find Clark. I notice this guy, standing there, staring at the whole thing with this sort of creepy, proud look on his face. That definitely needs to be checked into. I snap a picture of him with my cell.
"Glad I called?" I here a voice behind me say.
I turn around, glowing the way I do when I can smell a really good story.
"Are you kidding? Thank you." He smiles and shrugs the way guys do when they want to pretend something is no big deal. It's that whole humble thing he's got going; it's kind of cute.
We headed to Clark's place, and I made pretty liberal use of the computer. First, I researched the guy who was killed. His name was Frank, obviously. He was a jock in high school, popular, top of the world. Then he graduated and his 0.2 IQ level caught up with him. Since he had no other options, he took over his dad, Frank Senior's auto shop. I did some digging and discovered that two other guys had also suffered electrocution-induced comas in the past week, and both of had graduated Smallville high the same year as Frank. They had both been on the team. In fact, they were the three star players. One of them had actually done pretty well for himself, he had a wife, three kids, a dog, and a pretty high profile business position in Metropolis. The other guy had apparently lost his mind after high school. He had started telling people that this woman he had a thing for was the messiah, and had threatened a man at gunpoint who had refused to bow down. The woman had gotten a restraining order, and the guy had been committed. A couple years ago, he was released, supposedly rehabilitated, but once you have that crazy stamp on your head, it is hard to get a job, so he lived with his mother and did his best to search for work. I guess we will never know what would have happened with that now.
I started looking into the graduating class and found a picture of the guy I saw at the auto shop. You know, the creepy one. His name was Jeremy Creek, and get this, he did not look a day older than the day that picture was taken. I looked into Jeremy, and found that he had been found in a field on the day of the meteor shower. He has been comatose for the past twelve years. Apparently, he suffered from massive electrolyte imbalance. Anyway, a day before the first guy got electrocuted, there was this huge electrical storm. The hospital's generator went down, and when it came back on, Jeremy was gone.
Clark looked at me, trying to sink in everything we had found, but I was not in pause mode.
"What do you suppose he was doing out there in that field, anyway? Why wasn't he at home or, I don't know, at the homecoming dance or something?"
When I said homecoming dance, Clark's head shot up, "The homecoming dance was that night?"
"Yeah." I said with a shrug.
"And you say all the victims were jocks?" I nod. "What was the name of the field they found him in?"
"Reilly, why?"
Clark sighed, "It's a homecoming tradition. Every year, before getting to the field for the big game, some guys from the football team pick one lucky freshman as that years scarecrow."
"Scarecrow? Like in The Wizard of Oz?"
"Chloe, these guys take a poor kid, strip him down to his boxers, paint an S on his chest and string him up like a scarecrow."
"Jeez, sounds like years of therapy waiting to happen." Clark nods, "Although, the whole S on the chest thing would be kind of sexy."
"Why?"
I freeze, "Anyway, so, we have motive, we have means-"
"Means? Chloe, the guy was caught in an electrical storm and he escaped. That doesn't mean he knows how to fry three guys and leave no evidence."
"Clark, don't you get it. He was caught in the meteor shower. His body has been affected with a unique substance which has altered his molecular structure, and now with the electrical storm, he could be like a lightning rod who doesn't need lightning." He just keeps looking at me like I'm crazy, "Look, I've been doing some research since you told me about that meteor shower earlier. I think the meteors can do things to people, make things happen, weird things, incredible, unbelievable things." I take out the folder with all the stuff I printed and let him leaf through it. His face drops. He looks scared.
"It's all my fault." I hear him mutter. Oh god, I am such an idiot. He arrived in the meteor shower. Of course, he would feel responsible.
"Clark." I reach out to comfort him, but he backs away and rushes out the door.
I consider going after him, but if he really wanted to, he could just disappear. I hang out for a minute, and decide I should probably head back. Looking out the window, I spot Lana's boyfriends truck. I squint, and I see they have a kid tied up in the back. Lana's boyfriend is on the football team. The homecoming game is tonight.
"The Scarecrow." Where do they hang a kid up again, Reilly field? Lana's getting ready for the dance, and cannot drive. Nell's at work. Guess I'm walking. I grab a tool from the loft, hoping it will be enough to help the poor freshman down.
By the time I get there, the sun has already started to set. The kid has probably been up there for twenty or thirty minutes now. Poor thing. I walk around looking for the kid when I hear it.
"Help me." it is quiet, but I would know that voice anywhere.
"Clark!" I scream, running to him.
"Chloe," he asks weekly, "What are you doing here? Why aren't you at the dance?" he is not acting here. He is coughing out words.
"Well, nobody asked me to the dance, besides, a little birdie told me about this cool prank that happens here annually and I figured it was time somebody put a stop to it … but I never in a million years thought you would be the victim."
"Mind helping me out anyway?" he says, attempting humor even though he looks like he might pass out. I realize I froze up when I saw it was him and start to move, "Of course, sorry." I say, approaching him. God, how is this possible. But then, I see it, a little sparkly green something hanging from his neck. How do I get it off inconspicuously?
I head around behind him and loosen the ropes with the tool I brought. While I'm back there, I unclasp the necklace, trying not to be too obvious about it.
He collapses, and the necklace falls off. He stands, seemingly regaining his strength, and heads off, probably to deal with whoever knew about the kryptonite. I pick up the necklace and place it in my pocket. Yes, I know I should get rid of it, but the last thing I want is for somebody else to find it and use it. Besides, I am kind of curious how it ended up around Clark's neck. I doubt someone on the football team wears jewelry. But, then again, you never know.
I track down a lead box to keep it in and place it in my backpack so I can drop it off at home, as far away from Clark as possible. Lana is still at the dance, obviously, so after I dump the bag, I head over to the loft and wait for Clark.
"Hey," he says when he gets back.
"Hey, you okay?"
"Yeah, you know, dumb prank." I smile, "listen, about Jeremy, um, I heard he lost his powers, got amnesia or something. He doesn't remember anything, so I doubt he'll be a threat anymore." So, that's where he was.
"Where'd you hear that?"
"I heard a whisper."
"Not revealing your sources. Good rule for journalists." I say with a smirk.
"Hey, I told you I'm not interested in that."
"You have to admit, the research you did today with me, pretty impressive."
"You hacked all the databases."
"You found the scarecrow connection."
"You would have too, if you'd known about it."
"Probably. But still, I think you have potential."
"No."
"Whatever you say." I say, smirking at him.
"I guess everybody's still at the dance."
"Yeah, why didn't you go?"
Clark shrugged, "Same reason as you I guess. Couldn't get a date."
"Oh, come on, I can't believe that."
"Yeah right."
"Seriously, I'm new, nobody knows me, but people know you here, and I'm sure they like you. They'd be idiots not to."
"Thanks Chloe."
"Hey, since we both missed out, why don't we make up for it?"
"What do you mean?"
"One dance."
"What. Chloe, we're in a loft."
"You've got a radio, don't you? Come on, one dance to make up for tonight."
He smiles, "Okay." He walks over to his radio and turns it on. Everything, by Lifehouse. As good a song as any.
I walk up to him, "May I have this dance." He asks, reaching for my hand.
I smile, "Of course you may." I put my hands on his shoulders and he snakes his arms around my waist. It tingles a little. I take a deep breath and smell his cologne. It's nice. I feel a little woozy. We sway together for a while, just like that, and for a second, I forget that I am dancing with Superman. I am not dancing with the future Man of Steel. I am dancing with my friend.