-- Chapter 4 -- Help I Think I'm Falling --

The baritone rumble of the Kent's rust red tractor filled the air as the vehicle bounced along the south pasture. The fall colors were beginning to touch the trees with reds and yellows and the corn had the beginnings of drying around the bottom leaves. It even smelled like fall. Martha's butterfly bush could, by some miracle, penetrate the cloud of pungent diesel fumes surrounding the tractor. Jonathan expertly twisted the wheel on the ancient machine and headed for home.

There was something in the road, debris. Jonathan squinted and threw a hand over his eyes. He cranked the park break and swung down to inspect whatever had found its way into his access road. It took several seconds for the significance of what he was seeing to penetrate, a wooden door, his door... the storm cellar. Why would the door to the storm cellar be in the road a hundred meters away from where it belonged? Who moved it and why? More importantly, did they see the spaceship?

Maybe it was the wind. The wind somehow got behind the door and carried it away. A freak wind... Jonathan shook his head slowly. Wind didn't get behind "storm" cellar doors though. He grabbed the out of place door and tossed it onto the tractor's plow. There had to be a logical explanation...

A thousand fears, possibilities far worse than losing the farm started running through Jonathan's head. If the world found about Clark, if anyone found out, their family would most likely shatter. He hated the thought of his son trapped, branded a freak. Even if Clark didn't end up in a cage, being studied, he'd never be free to live. Jonathan climbed onto his tractor and shifted it into high gear. He wouldn't allow himself to panic, not yet anyway.


Lex slouched restlessly in his limo and gazed out the window. There were a million things he should have been thinking about: how to improve production at the fertilizer plant, what his father's next move would be, ways to aggravate the old man. Instead, he was focused on a small failing farm. Lex Luthor fixed things he didn't like. It was maddening, having to twiddle his thumbs while his friend suffered. There had to be a way he could help, a way around Jonathan Kent's distrust. Unfortunately, nothing had come to mind as yet.

The limo came to a stop and Lex waited for the door to open. Home sweet home, well home anyway. Up the stairs and through to his office, Lex didn't pause to notice the beauty he passed, the immaculate gardens entering their fall bloom or the magnificence of his home. Exquisite beauty becomes less important when it's part of your everyday life. Lex was halfway across the room to his desk before he realized that he wasn't alone. "How did you get in here?" He couldn't see the intruder clearly. They were almost completely hidden behind his thick draperies. "I will call security."

"I came in through the window," a flat feminine voice said.

"That would be pretty impressive considering this is the fourth floor," Lex began. He might have continued, but the intruder chose that moment to reveal herself. Goddess was the first word that came to mind. Long legged and slender, she was covered from neck to ankle in a skin-tight black number. It shimmered just slightly with her movements. Long black hair tumbled freely into loose curls down her back and over her shoulders. Lex felt a familiar animal-burning inside him and he smirked. "I don't believe we've met. I'd remember."

"You are correct. We are strangers. I have come to take you away from all this, to remind you of who you are and where you belong," the Eradicator said.

"You've come to take me away from all this?" Lex's smirk expanded into a full grin. Now it was coming clear. Lionel wasn't satisfied with an adamant no, he still thought he could entice Lex back to Metropolis. "It isn't like I'm in dire straights. Tell Lionel thanks, it's not even my birthday."

"Dire? You do not understand how dire things have become." The Eradicator took an involuntary step forward. "You are the last. Without you I have nothing, no purpose, no reason to be. You have to come with me to take your place in the universe."

Lex waned from amused to disturbed over the short amount of time it took the "Goddess" to utter her last statement. Another stalker? This one seemed decidedly more insane than the last. "Right, whatever you say. Let me just make a call and we'll get this cleared up."

"You don't believe me." The Eradicator came forward past the desk and dropped to her knees in front of Lex. "Can't you see that I know what you are? I know where you come from, and what you can do. I know why you're here and why you were sent alone. There is so much for you to learn now."

Lex felt a sincere pity for the beauty begging at his feet, such an enticing package to be rotten on the inside. "Do you have a name? I can call someone for you." Maybe he'd call the asylum she'd escaped from.

"My name is Eradicator, Annihilator, destroyer of worlds. Anything you command... the universe. Just ask, just come." The Eradicator rose, a tingle of frustration boiling in her. He should not be so hard to convince. Surely he knew he was from the stars. Hadn't he wondered if this day would come? Hadn't he wondered if anyone would follow? "I'll show you then." She pulled a tiny piece of blue crystal from her hip pouch. "This is Kryptonium, a special piece. Only you can read it, because you are the last." She grabbed Lex's hand and covered it in both of hers, forcing the crystal into his palm.

Nothing happened. How?

Lex couldn't help wondering if this was another Meteor-Rock-Mutant. They tended to be insane or at the very least irrational. Calling herself Eradicator didn't indicate a peaceful nature either. Then she grabbed his hand, mashing the little rock of hers into his palm. He tried to pull away. It was cutting him and he couldn't seem to escape this woman's grip. "Damn it, that hurts. Let it go." Lex pulled back hard, leaning away, but he couldn't escape.

The Eradicator released her grip and sank back to the ground. She stared down at the blood-covered piece of crystal in her hand. "You aren't him. I was so certain, but you aren't. I suspect my logic is flawed and growing more so all the time. A tune-up would be nice, but there isn't anyone to do that for me."

Lex stared at the psychopath crouching on his oriental rug. Bleeding steadily, he cradled his hand and tried not to drip. "You psychotic bitch."

"My apologies," the Eradicator said. "I damaged you unnecessarily." Without waiting for Lex to respond, she rose and headed for the window.

Lex watched as his attacker literally flew away. He could add another Meteor-Rock-Mutant attack to his resume, not exactly surprising. He uncurled his hand and inspected the wound, a five-stitch-cut unless he missed his guess. Lex headed calmly out into the hallway. "And they say Metropolis is dangerous."


A bushel of purple-hulled peas at her feet and a big green bowl in her lap, Martha shelled without looking at her hands. Some people hired pea-shellers but not her. This work was a relief, a pleasure, mindless and relaxing.

"Martha!"

Jogged out of her pea-shelling-zone by the half-panicked cry of her husband, Martha turned and rose leaving her bowl behind. "Jonathan? What is it?" He was standing in front of the storm cellar, staring down.

"Did you see how this happened? Has anyone been here today?" Jonathan asked. He raked a hand back through his hair distractedly. His gazed shifted from her, back down as though he couldn't look away from whatever had him spooked.

Martha moved forward at a half-run. She couldn't see what Jonathan was going on about, but if it had to do with the storm cellar... "What is it? I've been at market, dropping off some produce all afternoon. I just started shelling some peas for dinner. Nobody's been here that I've seen." Martha froze as soon as she came within view of the gaping hole that used to be the doorway to the storm cellar, the doorway to all their secrets.

"Jon, what did this?" Martha said. It didn't matter that he'd just asked her the same question. She didn't really expect an answer. "What are we going to do?"

Jonathan shook his head and started down into the cellar. "I'm going to see if anything was disturbed." Every step into the cellar, Jonathan looked for a sign that someone had come this way before. Nothing was wrong though. It was all just the way they'd left it, almost. A glint of blue caught Jonathan's eye and he reached for the out of place item. "I found something, Martha."


Through the fields of harvest-ready corn stalks, a streak of plaid and blue jeans parted the corn it's wake. Clark reveled in these moments, moments when he just let himself go, no restraint, no worrying about looking inhuman. Sometimes, when he was running as fast as he could go, Clark thought he might take flight... if he just tried. All too soon he was free of the corn, loosed from its camouflage and standing exposed in his front yard. It was time to face the music, time to discuss options like selling the farm or fighting for it.

Clark pushed the squeaky kitchen screen door open and smiled. No amount of oil had been able to silence that note. Clark turned to greet his parents, but the words froze in his throat. His mom and dad were there, just as he'd expected, looking serious over twin cups of coffee while the late afternoon sun highlighted every moat of dust in it's crisp yellow glow. None of it mattered. As though the world had narrowed to a tiny tunnel, Clark could only stare at the blue crystal sitting on the table between his parents.

The tiny fragment flared to life in Clark's presence, like the meteor rocks had always done. Clark winced, half-expecting a wave of weakness to hit him. Instead, an embrace of warmth like standing in the midday sun rolled through him. "What is that?" His voice sounded strange in his own ears, like he was talking from a long distance away.

"Clark," Martha said. She turned and smiled at her son, the hundred thousand worries swimming in her mind clouding that normally joyful expression. "It's about time you made it home. We've had some excitement."

"Someone broke into the storm cellar, and they left this present for us," Jonathan said. He seemed to notice how the crystal had started to radiate, just like a meteor rock. He turned to Clark. "Are you okay son?"

Clark took two steps forward until he was standing just over the crystal. An overwhelming urge to reach out and cover the little glowing rock with his fist, filled him and Clark lifted his hand with dream-like slowness.

"Earth to Clark," Martha said. She rose and snapped her fingers. Clark hadn't ignored her since he was seven and she told him he couldn't play little league. "Something's wrong Jonathan."

Jonathan nodded and covered the glowing rock his son was a moment from seizing. "Clark? You hear me Clark? It's this damn rock. Find something thick to cover it in, Martha. Get Grandpa's lead box," Jonathan said. He would have thrown it, that was his first instinct, but Clark was too fast. He'd get it if he really wanted it. Martha would just have to hurry.

Clark placed both his hands over his father's and his eyes drifted shut. "Can you hear that?" Clark asked. "It's a whisper, almost a song. I can't hear." If he could just touch it, he could hear. Clark peeled back his father's hands gently but efficiently and enfolded the rock in his fist. What had been a vague enticement, flared into actual sound and light. A high delicate song, a lullaby, the sound that filled Clark's mind wasn't alien. It was a sound he'd dreamed of without knowing what it was. There was more than the song though, there were words, fluid and lyrical. Like a grain of sand dropped into the ocean, Clark was swept away by a torrent of information, most of which he couldn't decipher.

Martha hurried back through the kitchen, the heavy little lead box cradled in the crook of her arm. "I've got it..." Jonathan looked so scared, and Clark, he was motionless hand extended and curled into a fist. The crystal's blue light glowed around his fingers. "What happened? Is he okay?" Martha banged her box down on the table and tucked her hair behind her ears nervously.

"I don't know," Jonathan said. "I couldn't keep him away from it. Clark peeled it out of my hand like I was a child." I let him down...again.

Martha reached out a hand to Clark's outstretched one and tried to pry his fingers open. It was like trying to bend inch thick steel. "Help me John," Martha gasped.

Jonathan took Martha by the shoulders and pulled her back a step. "I already tried. He's too strong. At least it isn't hurting him like the meteor rocks."

Martha wiped at a line of tears and struggled free of Jonathan's protective grip. "It may be hurting him, Jon. You don't know. We have to do something."

"What do you want me to do?" Jonathan half-expected Martha to come up with a plan, something. "Just tell me what to do."

"I don't know. We have to... I don't know." This time it was Martha who went to Jonathan, seeking his embrace. Other parents could call for help if something happened to their child. Not the Kents, they had to face this alone. There were no experts to call, no doctors, nobody. "He's counting on us."