-- Chapter 12 -- Hope and Faith --
I'm going to leave with her.
When your world ends, you shouldn't be able to keep standing. You shouldn't keep breathing in and out. Your heart most certainly shouldn't keep beating. Martha felt Jonathan's arm wrap around her shoulders even as her knees went weak. The fear and the dread, which first filled her after meeting the Eradicator felt like it was growing and swelling, suffocating her. "Clark, that's not the answer," Martha whispered. Clark was standing there, crying. He had more than a foot of height on her but he was still her baby.
"We don't get to decide this," Jonathan said. It broke his heart to say it, to let Clark decide his own fate, but it was the right thing. He'd been running through his son's options all day, and he couldn't offer him any better solutions. "I don't want to give up, but it isn't my decision, and it isn't yours Martha."
Martha pushed Jonathan's arm away and stared accusingly at him. Traitor. Heartless. What was wrong with him? "Clark isn't going anywhere with that thing. We'll leave." Martha took Clark by the arm and tried to pull him toward the truck. It was like trying to uproot a tree.
"If I ran away, she'd kill everyone. Then she'd find us and she'd kill you and Dad and anyone else with the misfortune to know me," Clark said. "I can't live with those consequences." Clark pulled out a crumpled sheet of notepaper and folded it into his dad's hand. Read this, Clark mouthed silently, She's listening. "I need a minute, so I'm going over to my loft and I'm going to look at the stars. I guess we could have dinner or something..." Clark turned and walked away. He couldn't stand there and watch his parents hurt. He was hurting them, breaking their hearts. Better to break their hearts now than watch the Eradicator kill them later. They needed to read his note and try to understand.
Martha shook her head and started off the porch after Clark, but Jonathan grabbed her by the arm. "Let go of me. Don't touch me!" Martha hissed. "How could you say that? I won't let him go. I don't care if you're going to help me or not."
"He needs us now, Martha. He needs us to understand and be strong." Jonathan held up the sheet of paper covered in Clark's flat winding scrawl. "We need to understand." This wasn't how their relationship was supposed to work. He was the hothead. Martha was supposed to keep him calm and centered. Jonathan pulled Martha roughly to his side, despite her struggles and whispered in her ear. "The Eradicator is listening. Clark didn't want to say this where she could hear." He rattled the paper for emphasis. Martha went limp against him and nodded. "Let's go inside," Jonathan said.
Martha tried to digest what she was hearing. So Clark wasn't giving up, but he didn't want to Eradicator to hear what he was planning. The Eradicator was listening. That thought sent shivers racing up and down Martha's arms. That thing was close enough to hear their every word.
Jonathan hadn't released her arm, as if she might still duck and run after Clark. "I'm okay, Jonathan. I'm calm." As soon as he released her arm, she took a seat at the kitchen table. "Let's see it."
Jonathan spread the paper between them and joined Martha at the table.
Mom and Dad,
I stopped to write this, because the Eradicator has been following me pretty close. She listens to every word out of my mouth, and I don't want her to hear what I'm planning.
First off, I meant it, what I said about going with the Eradicator. I don't feel that I have much of a choice right now, but I am NOT giving up. You see the Eradicator does have a weakness, and I think I've figured it out. She's a machine and should listen to commands from me. She's an old machine though, and her AI doesn't work right anymore. If I do what she wants and learn how to be what she thinks I'm supposed to be, maybe she'll start taking my orders. I just have to play along until the Eradicator starts working right.
Now, I still have a few hours before my forced exit, so let's not waste it discussing the Eradicator or what's going to happen tomorrow morning. I'm not going to change my mind, so don't try to talk me out of this.
Love,
Clark
Martha read through the letter three times before she came to her feet. "Well Jonathan, this is not a good plan. We can't let this happen. Do I go talk some sense into him, or do you?"
"I don't like it either, but I don't have any better ideas," Jonathan said. "We have to respect his decision. You remember telling me that we had to trust Clark. Well I trust him and I think he can handle this situation if we give him time. Are you going to respect his wishes and leave this be Martha?"
"I love him too much Jonathan. I can't..." Martha slapped her counter open handed and shook her head vigorously. "What if he can't find his way home again?"
"We love him and he loves us. He'll find his way home again."
Clark stared off into the night from the edge of his loft. A cloudless evening without a moon, it was the perfect time for stargazing, but he made no move to use his telescope. "Eradicator! I know you're out there. I want to talk, now." A rush of wind and a streak of black marked the Eradicator's entrance. She consistently came when called anyway, even if she wouldn't do anything else he said.
"You called, Kal-El. Would you like to depart early then?" the Eradicator said. She was grinning and took two steps toward her master. She could smell him and see every molecule in him. A new sensation was running wild in her neural net, an intoxicating heat. A compulsion to touch her master encouraged her to take another step toward him.
Clark took a step back and shook his head. "I thought you'd want to know that I'm coming with you. You don't need to make any more demonstrations of your power or to hurt anyone else, seven o'clock in the corn, agreed."
The Eradicator nodded and tried to clear the fog of noise swirling through her neural processes. The information she'd collected from Chloe Sullivan was bleeding through and over her logic circuits like a virus. This was no time for another diagnostic review. She couldn't waste the time. She was not going to descend completely into irrationality now. She was stronger than this. "7 a.m."
Clark didn't know what to expect behind the kitchen door. Would his parents confront him on his plan or would they ignore it like he'd asked? Would they understand his need to protect them? They'd spent their whole lives protecting him. Surely they could understand his desire to protect them.
One deep breath and Clark headed in. Warm and bright with the smell of stroganoff, his mom was just setting a steaming bowl on the table and his dad was placing the silverware. It was all just like it should be, normal and calm. No one was trying to change his mind, at least not yet. Thank you for giving me this time. Thank you for not fighting my decision. "Smells great Mom."
"It came out of the deep freeze. You liked it the first time," Martha said.
A meal that should have been a strained and uncomfortable affair somehow wasn't. They talked about corn and school and the possibility of a new disk for the tractor. They talked about useless things like Clark's longstanding hatred of cooked carrots and the fish they'd caught over the years. Dinner flew by.
Martha stared at the empty dish at the center of her table and wondered what was going to happen now. It had felt good to just sit and eat and pretend to be a normal family without anything hanging over their heads. Now did they get to cry? Was it time to say goodbye? They'd been laughing just moments before but then the tears started. Once they began, she couldn't contain them.
"Mom," Clark said. She was crying because of him. He should say something. This was his fault. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, baby. I just need to breathe," Martha whispered. She stood and headed for the backdoor.
Clark's first instinct was to follow, but his dad shook his head. "Give her a minute. She's trying to be strong for you. Let her get it out."
"I know she is. I don't want to hurt Mom or you. I'm trying to keep you safe," Clark said. "This is the only way to keep you safe."
"That's what's killing her. It's killing me too." Jonathan reached across the table and held Clark's hand. "I believe in you. You're going to come through this, and we'll be here when you do."
"Thank you for that." Clark pulled his hand back and stared at his empty plate. There was one last loose end, and now was as good a time as any to get it out of the way. "Will you do something for me Dad?"
Jonathan almost laughed. There was something he could actually do? "Anything in my power."
"I know you don't trust him and you never liked the idea that we were friends," Clark said. "Please look after Lex. You might think he doesn't need it, but he does. I'm the only person I know of that he considers a friend, and he doesn't have any real family."
Anything but that, Jonathan almost said. Clark really wasn't asking much. He wanted him to look out for his friend, his friend the 'Luthor'. "I'll try."
Clark knew how large the favor was he'd just asked. It asked his dad to go against every instinct he possessed. He was asking him to look past Lionel and see Lex. "Thank you."
"It isn't a lot to ask," Jonathan said. "It won't be for long either, right?"
"Right." I hope. "That's it. All my ducks are in a row. I'm ready. So what do we do for the next twelve hours or so?" Clark tried not to show his dad how scared he was. He tried to tame his fear, to hide it.
"God, I don't know. I'd say a good night's sleep is out of the question. I guess we can go out there with your mother and wait for sun to come up."
The crimson light of twilight greeted the Eradicator when she first entered the world. It was symmetrical that the dawn of her departure was equally red and heavy. Rain was coming. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but her master and her mission, and for once that was on track. If she could just get him into transit, she could purge her system and run a comprehensive diagnostic.
So close, she could see him embracing his surrogate parents. He was really coming and of his own free will. That was a slight exaggeration. At least she wasn't dragging him by his ear. He was moving slowly, unconsciously matching the pace of the creatures he lived with. Finally, finally, finally, he was in the corn, still moving so slowly.
"Come Kal-El. Come home."
Through the green sea of corn, moving slow and steady, Clark wouldn't let himself look back. His parents were there behind him and if he saw home, he wouldn't be able to take another step. He'd said that he was satisfied, that things were in order for him to disappear for a little while, but it wasn't true. A thousands things that he should have done and said came crashing down on him. He shouldn't have let Pete walk away. What if he never saw him again? He'd left lies between himself and his best friends. What if he never got the chance to tell them the truth?
"Kal-El, can you fly?"
Turning slowly, Clark faced his demon, his Eradicator. She didn't look beautiful to him. Her eyes were soulless and dead. She had threatened everything he loved. A calmness settled over him. Where had his fear gone? She was just a machine. He could beat her, maybe not with his fists and maybe not today. I'm not afraid of you. "No, I don't fly."
"Today we run then. Follow me."
Clark wasn't taken off guard when the Eradicator took off at top speed. He'd seen how she could move. He just did his best to keep pace. All too soon he was standing in front of a shiny teardrop shaped ship. It was a lot like his ship in the cellar only more smooth and streamlined. "Seems kind of small," Clark said. "We'll both fit in that?"
"Appearances are often deceptive," the Eradicator said.
Clark didn't see how she activated it, but the ship began to glow with a yellow light and a doorway seemed to mould itself out of the very metal. Clark took a couple of cautious steps toward the opening and peered inside. A cavernous expanse, the room was so large he couldn't see to the other side without refocusing his eyes. "How is this possible?"
"I'm not a scientist. I'm a weapon," the Eradicator said. She pushed Kal-El forward and followed him inside. "Prepare yourself for lift off. We are departing."
Clark spun slowly. This was impossible.
The phone in the Kent's kitchen rested safely in its cradle, Martha's hand wrapped around it. How was she going to hold it together for the police? "I made the call to the police. They're coming."
Jonathan nodded and tried to wrap his arm around Martha, but she pushed him away. He needed her now. Why wasn't she turning to him? "It's the right thing. This way Clark's disappearance is documented. When he comes home, everyone will call it a miracle, but they won't question it."
Martha felt so weary like her hands and feet weighed a hundred pounds each. She didn't want Jonathan to hold her and pretend that it was all going to be okay. "I think we're out of miracles, Jon. I'm going to bed. I can't face the police." I can't look at you and your hope that I can't seem to feel. "I need to be alone." She walked away, aware abstractly of the pain she inflicted on Jonathan by that action, but unable to change her course. "Please just leave me alone."
Up the stairs, but not past Clark's room, Martha paused and stared. A teenager's bedroom, just twelve years earlier it had been a toddler's room.
A little boy with bright blue eyes and unruly black curls stared out from under a patchwork quilt.
"Clark, you've been talking so good today," Martha said. She had a baby, hers for the last six months. It seemed so unreal. "You're learning so much so fast. I'm so proud of you."
"Dank you Mommy," Clark said. He pulled the covers up to his nose shyly.
"I want to teach you something that my mommy taught me. We said it every night when I was little before I went to sleep. Would you like to learn it, Clark?" Clark nodded his head vigorously and stared up at her rapt. "Okay then. I'll say it first then we'll say it together. Ready?"
"Now I lay me down to sleep... Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep... I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake... If I should die before I wake.
I pray the Lord my soul to take... I pray the Lord my soul to take"
"Mommy, what's a Lord and why does he want my soul?" Clark asked.
Martha jumped at the sound of the doorbell. The police of course, they were faster than night before last. She continued into Clark's room and shut the door gently. She pulled down the covers on his bed and let his scent surround her. Her baby was gone, maybe forever. Drowning in a thousand memories, Martha wept and grieved, but she didn't pray. Prayer required a degree of hope and faith, two emotions Martha had lost touch with when Clark disappeared into the corn.
