Both Hands of the Wheel
"Red White Black"
Smallville
One of the mysteries of things is how they can trigger memories. Most would see just an old truck that needed a little tinkering before it would start, but to Clark it was much more. It symbolized moments in his life, learning to drive, his first date, teaching Kara to drive and praying she didn't actually kill the both of them. Most of all it brought back memories of Jonathan Kent. It seemed when he was growing up; they were always rebuilding something on this truck.
At first Clark wondered why Jonathan didn't just buy a new truck, but as he got older he began to look forward to the time they spent together working on the engine. In many ways it was over this engine Jonathan Kent taught Clark what it meant to be a man. He was sly about it, seeming to be talking about the machine, but giving Clark life lessons about things like caring and responsibility.
There were bittersweet moments attached to it as well, but most were of happy times and laughter. It wasn't just an old truck to Clark, but a depository of memories. It would take just a little while, but he would be adding more to it today.
Diana had offered to help, but Clark had said it wouldn't take that long. She stood and watched him for a little while, but apparently she stood too close doing that too. After the second time he asked if she could give him a little room, she'd decided to do a little exploring instead of trying to figure out his peculiar need for so much personal space.
At first she greeted the animals but eventually she made her way up to the loft of the barn. She was a little surprised to find it had been converted, from the looks of it, into a den for a young boy. There was a desk with a globe on it and she smiled as she saw names of places were written in by hand. She moved slowly around the room, looking over the little knick-knacks.
She tried to picture in her mind a much younger Clark inhabiting this place. A mischievous smile came to her lips as she glanced down to make sure he couldn't see her. As quietly as possible, she slid open the top drawer on the desk. There was a picture of Clark in a tuxedo standing next to a very pretty young girl. They were both smiling for the camera, although to Diana's eye he looked nervous.
Closing it, she moved over the bookshelf, running her finger along the spines as she read the titles. Quite a few looked like textbooks, astronomy and other science books seem to dominate the shelves. There was a telescope pointing out the window and Diana bent and glanced through it. It seemed strange to her that it was not pointed at the stars, but the next house over. Shaking her head, she moved on, trying the old chair and finding it still comfortable. There's a lamp next to it and another stack of books.
Idly she looked through the stack, noting familiar titles, The Great Gatsby, To Kill a Mockingbird, A Catcher in the Rye among them. At the very bottom was a book she hadn't heard of called The Lines Shift by Philo Ganz. She picked it up and looked at the rather drab cover, just a black and white photo of a road. Turning the book over to see what the synopsis was, she was surprised to see there wasn't one. The back cover simply said, Tragic Love, Murder Mystery, Politics, and Philosophy. Opening the book, there was no picture of the author or even a biography. The first page was the beginning of the story and the last was the last page of the story. Diana sat there for a moment just looking at the photo on the cover. As she squinted, she could just make out people very far away in the photo. They were walking away from the camera.
She wondered why it was in among the better-known books. The spine wasn't bent at all. Maybe it was a gift he never got around to reading, she surmised. The photo on the front seemed to draw her back to it again and again. At first she had thought it was rather bland and dull, but the more she looked at it the more fascinated she became. She could still hear Clark working on the truck so she opened the paperback and read the first couple pages.
Chapter One
It is gray and overcast, with smoke lingering over everything. The sounds of shells and bullets fill the air. Refugees slowly make their way along the road, pulling, carrying, and dragging whatever they have with them. There is no rushing or screaming, these people are too weary and have done this before. In the distance are the remains of a city.
"The lines shift and more refugees come to the Capital."
Prefect Castor, Deputy chief of security, absently says as he stands looking out his window. The office decor is minimal with only the red flag of the revolution standing by his desk and a file cabinet. An American reporter, Mark Blaine, sits across the desk from him taking notes.
"Is that a regular occurrence?' The reporter asks. For a moment the Prefect seems a million miles away, but slowly he turns.
"Yes."
"That must put a strain on your already limited resources, Perfect Castor?"
Castor straightens his uniform and sits down.
"True, but it is just another part of our workers struggle. The ruling class has had them in shackles for so long, reeducation will be a priority after the war."
Blaine writes furiously, and then turns to some more questions.
"That's the sort of thing my paper is looking for, Perfect. It's 1936 and the civil war in Spain is dominating the headlines everywhere, but we wanted to tell our readers about the struggle in your country. You know, to let them understand what's happening here," Blaine explains.
"We support our brothers in Spain's courageous fight. The revolution is on the march."
"Some would say Fascism is on the march in Europe, Prefect," Blaine counters.
Castor glances out the window again before answering.
"An illusion used to try and stop the universal struggle."
Blaine smiles and writes this down. Castor turns to watch him scribble away. He's said the line so many times its second nature to him now. Once when the revolution had just started he believed these words, but eight years of fighting had taught him differently.
"I was wondering if you could help me with an overview of your struggle here? Your country was a monarchy for most of its history, wasn't it," Blaine asks.
Castor nods as he repeats from rote the history of his people.
"Yes, the people were under their thumb for almost four hundred years, but with beginning of the Great War things started to change. As we saw other countries, long kept in the shackles of the aristocracy fall, it was inevitable that the rising tide would sweep through our small nation."
Blaine continues to write furiously, checking off one question as he asks another.
"The overthrowing of the King by the Archduke was something of a tipping point?"
"That was the moment the revolution was really born," Castor replies. "Until then the peasants and the bourgeoisie believed in the benevolence of the ruling class, but with Archduke overthrowing of the King, that veil were shattered once and for all. The tyranny that followed under the Archduke gave the people no choice.
Blaine nods, as he looks through his notes for the proper quote.
"The turning point was the arrest and execution of the Party leader Strabane," Blaine asks.
Castor nods as he straightens his uniform.
"Yes. That was the spark that sent the workers into the streets. The revolution began with the death of Strabane. He foretold it would come to an armed struggle with the aristocrats. The war began eight years ago on that day."
Blaine looks out the window as the sound of shelling grows a little nearer.
"It's been a long fight, Perfect Castor. Neither side has prevailed. This city we sit in has changed hands too many times to count, hasn't it?"
"Yes, but the struggle continues. Other forces have changed things, but we continue to look forward to the day this is a true workers state."
Blaine nods and checks his notes.
"It was in the fourth year of the war that the Zealots, I believe that's what you call them, came out of the hills?
Castor turns at the mention of them and a grim look comes over his face.
"Soldiers of God, they called themselves. Zealots or the Black, it makes no difference. They're religious fanatics bent on purging this world and more specifically, this country of sin and evil. Ours citizens are a backwards people in many ways, you must understand. Marx said religion is the opiate of the people and he was right. The Zealots leader is some sort of mystic from out of the wilderness. There is no reasoning with them. They fight to the last man, woman or child, no matter how hopeless the cause. You either convert or you die."
"It was shortly after they first took the Capital that your side made it's agreement with the Loyalists, wasn't it,' Blaine asks.
Castor bristles a little at this, but is prepared with an answer.
"The Capital is the only sea link to the outside world, Mr. Blaine. The Zealots or the Black closed it off and would have starved everyone into submission. Our side, the Red if you will, could push them out of the city, but not while we were fighting both the Black and the Loyalists or as we call them, the White. The same thing was true for the White. A compromise was reached where we joined forces to take the Capital back. We share responsibility for it, but that agreement only extends to the Capital. The fighting continues everywhere else."
Blaine is just about to question this agreement further, when the Prefect's door opens and a Sergeant enters.
"I said no interruptions,' Castor snaps.
"Apologies, Friend-Prefect, but it's an urgent matter,' the Sergeant explains. The man is nervous as he moves over and hands a folder to the Prefect. Castor takes one look inside and then grimaces.
"Another one?"
"Yes, Friend-Prefect."
"Mr. Blaine, I apologize, but I am called away on urgent business. We will have to continue this interview at another time,' Castor explains as he grabs his coat and heads for the door. "My secretary will provide you with any background information you need."
Before Blaine can say anything, the Prefect is out the door and gone.
"Diana? Are you ready,' Clark called out. "I've got the truck running so we might as well start your first lesson."
She was a little startled by his voice. She looked up from the book and was almost surprised to see she was still sitting in the loft.
"Um, yes, yes, I'll be right down."
"I'm just going to move the truck out of the barn first, so meet me outside,' he replied. Diana stood and started to set the book down, but then reconsidered.
"Kal?"
"Yeah?"
"Would you mind if I borrow one of the books you have up here,' she asked.
"One of the books?"
"Yes.'
"I guess, sure."
"Thank you, I'll be right down."
She picked up her bag and slipped the book into it. Dusting her clothes off, Diana headed down the steps.
As she walked out of the barn, Clark was standing next to the old truck holding the driver's side door open for her.
"You chariot awaits, milady,' he said with a formal bow. Diana looks at the truck and then back at him.
"I think I prefer the car, Kal."
"Hmm, you prefer a Mercedes to an old truck, huh? I guess you can wear jeans and a blouse, but a Princess's tastes are always there,' he teased. He held up the keys for her and had a smile on his face. Diana reached up and took them and then gave him a smack as she climbed into the truck.
"Ow," Clark groaned, rubbing his chest. "You should look up the laws on domestic violence, Diana."
"I barely touched you and don't call me Princess,' she answered as she looks over the instruments.
"I would just point out I didn't actually call you Princess, Diana, I was just commenting about your taste,' Clark offered. Diana wasn't listening and closed the driver's side door. "And that point is lost."
"Are you coming,' she asked.
"Yes, ma'am."
She started up the truck and smiled as it roars to life. With safety in mind, Clark walked around the back and got into the passenger side. Diana watched as he rolled down the window and seemed to hug the door.
"I'm not going to bite, Kal,' she sarcastically said.
"No, but you hit,' he replied. "Four feet Diana, remember? Comfort zone ring a bell, plus it's just out of your reach."
"I could lean over and still reach you if I wanted to,' she countered.
"Not if I'm giving the driving lesson," he said with a shake of his head. "Both hands on the wheel, young lady."
"Yes, sir,' she offered in a mocking tone.
"Well, that's more like it,' Clark cheerfully replied. "Keep that up and we should get along wonderfully."
"Don't count on it."
"I really wasn't,' he said with a smile. "I can dream, can't it?"
"Is that what you dream about,' she suddenly asked.
Immediately the dreams he'd been having recently came streaming into his mind. Clark shifted uncomfortably in his seat and looked away from her.
"Um, ah, no, but let's just concentrate on driving, okay?"
She stared at him for a moment wondering what was going on with him, but decided to ask later.
"Very well, how do we start?"
He turned back to her, thankful for having dodged a bullet.
"Okay, the most important thing to remember is this has nothing to do with strength. In fact, in cases like ours, strength is a liability. A truck or a car is a machine that wants to do what you want it to. Pressing the gas makes it go, hitting the brake makes it stop."
She gave him another look.
"I believe your cousin would reply 'Duh, Kal' I know how a car works,' Diana replied.
'I know you do, Diana,' Clark said with a smile. "I'm sure Kara will be flattered you're quoting her, but that's really not the point I was getting at. In the same way you have to be careful shaking a normal person's hand, you have to be careful driving a car. They are built for normal people, Diana. That's easy to forget, believe me. The first time I drove I put my foot through the floor pressing the brake by accident. Kara tore the steering wheel clean off trying to make a turn at ninety. With your strength something like that could happen if you're not careful, okay?"
"All right, I'll be gentle on your old truck, Kal."
"Thank you,' he said. "So why don't you put your foot on the brake and shift into drive?"
Diana nodded and slowly followed his instructions.
"Okay, now move your foot over the gas pedal and ease down on it."
Diana did this, being careful not to put too much pressure on the pedal. They began to move forward, all be it at a snail's pace.
"Okay, good so far, now give it a little more gas."
A smile came to Diana's lips as she pressed down on the gas pedal and they lurched forward, roaring out the dirt road that lead through the fields.
"DIIIIANNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Clark shouted as they disappear over the first hill.
Martha Kent walked out onto the porch as she heard her son scream. She laughed as she saw the dust cloud moving away from the farm. She mused it must be karma for all the nerve wracking moments Clark put her and Jonathan through when he was learning to drive. She just wished Jonathan were here to see it. He would have had a smile on his face for weeks.
A sudden rush of wind made her turn to see Kara landing by the side of the house. Kara glanced out towards the fields as she came up on the porch.
"Clark teaching Diana to drive,' Kara asked.
"Yes, is that why you came?"
"No, just wanted something to eat,' Kara replied.
"Don't they have food in the big city," Martha playfully asked.
"Yes, but not as good as yours, Ma,' Kara teased, kissing the older woman on the cheek.
"Well, aren't you the little charmer today?"
"Aren't I always,' Kara replied as she heads inside. Martha looked at her and rolls her eyes. She sighed and followed Kara inside.
Kara already has a muffin between her teeth as she opened the refrigerator.
"I'm making dinner, can you stay,' Martha asked.
"I don't know, maybe,' Kara absently replied, as she checked out some of the leftovers.
"Clark and his wife are staying,' Martha offered. She put a little emphasis on the word, wife. Kara instantly turned and had a big smile on her face.
"He told you?"
"Diana did."
"Oh, I wish I could have been here for that," Kara laughed. "How uncomfortable was Clark?"
"Very."
"Well, if they're staying, I'm staying,' she said. "I wouldn't miss this for anything."
"So you knew about this already?'
"Sure."
"And you just forgot to mention it to me the last time I spoke to you,' Martha asked.
The smile on Kara's face slipped a little. She took another bite of the muffin and seemed to find the living room very interesting.
"Kara?"
"It was kind of a secret,' she admitted. "I figured Clark would tell you."
"I see."
"You're not mad, are you,' Kara asked.
"No, confused yes, but not mad,' Martha replied.
"I think it's funny and great,' Kara said. "They're perfect for each other!"
"Kara you haven't been pushing Clark have you," Martha questioned.
"What? Well, not really, um, ah, well, not too much,' she reluctantly replied. "I was just having fun."
"Okay, but remember it's Clark's life and who he dates or doesn't date is his business."
"All right,' Kara said rather glumly.
"Now that we have that out of the way, I want you to tell me everything,' Martha offered, pulling Kara over the table. The smile came back to Kara's face as the two of them sat down.
Out in the fields, the truck came to a sliding stop. Diana sat with a smile on her face for a moment before turning to Clark.
"I thought that went rather well for my first time, didn't you, Kal?"
The sound of metal screeching as he pried his fingers loose from the passenger door filled the air. He turned towards her, an astonished look on his face.
"You thought that went well? Really?"
"Yes."
"So my screaming your name and to stop you didn't see as a negative?"
"No, not really,' she explained. "It was a little irritating at first, but I know how cautious you can be so I just put it down as that."
"Diana, being nervous as you do eighty on a dirt road isn't being cautious,' he replied. There was more than a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Did you even hear me when I was talking about easing into it?"
"Yes, Kal," she patiently said. "I didn't use any of my strength as you suggested. I would also point out that you brought me here because there is no one around. It would be safe, you said, so I thought I would see what this old truck could do. I commend you on your workmanship. I didn't think it would go any faster than seventy."
"Um, ah, thanks,' he said, a little confused for the moment, but then got back on topic. "The point Diana was for you to learn how to drive safely, not see how fast the truck could go."
"I didn't hit anything and the truck is in perfect working order, 'she countered. "Well, except for where you dug your fingers into the side. I even stopped well short of the little ditch in front of us, Kal."
"Three feet! Three feet is not well short, Diana,' he exclaimed.
"Should I have stopped four feet away, Kal, that seems like a magic number to you,' she sarcastically replied.
"Cute, Princess, very cute."
She punched him in the arm.
"Ow!"
"See? I told you I could still reach you if I lean closer,' she said with a smile.
"Yeah, I kind of had a feeling you could,' Clark replied. "Look, Diana, the idea is to teach you safe driving. At that speed any number of things could have happened. For example, what if a ball bounced out in front of you and a child came running out after it? You wouldn't be able to stop."
"A ball? We're in the middle of a field, Kal,' Diana exclaimed. "There isn't a child for twenty miles in any direction. Anyway, why would a child be playing with a ball way out here?"
"It was just an example, Diana, of what could happen,' he offered, rubbing his forehead above his eyebrows.
"It was a poor example, Kal."
"Yeah, okay, how about an animal?"
"What kind of animal,' she asked.
He looked over at her and shook his head.
"A goat. I don't know, it doesn't matter what kind of animal it is, Diana, just pick one!"
"I disagree,' Diana replied. "If it was a large animal like a goat, a cow or a horse, I would have seen it a long time ago and slowed down."
"Okay, a squirrel," Clark said in exasperation. "Let's go with a squirrel. You wouldn't have seen that, would you?"
"No, " she reluctantly admitted.
"That's right, you wouldn't have,' he said, gaining speed in his argument. "You wouldn't have been able to stop in time. That's just out here in the middle of nowhere. You'll be doing most of your driving in the suburbs, remember? There's all sorts of things that can dart out in front of you, squirrels, kids, other cars and going as fast as you were you wouldn't be able to avoid them."
"I could open the door and put my foot out and stop the car,' Diana offered, not wanting to give in that he might have a point.
"Its not the Flintstones, Diana."
"All right, Kal, drive slowly, I get your point,' she finally said agreement.
"Thank you."
"You certainly take the fun out of the driving experience,' she grumbled.
He looked over and sees she was frowning now.
"Ah, jeez,' he lamented. "Okay, Diana, I tell you what, if you can drive at a reasonable rate for the next twenty minutes, you can go like a bat out of hell after that, okay?"
"Deal,' she immediately agreed, a smile lighting up her face.
"Great, so why don't you back it up and we can take the turn off,' he suggested. "That dirt road leads us deeper into the fields."
Diana nodded and slowly shifted into reverse. She was very careful and cautious as she backed up and turned the wheel to the other road. She looked over at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"What would you consider reasonable, Kal?"
"Diana."
"I was just joking, Kal,' she replied.
Martha and Kara were standing on the porch as the old truck roared to a stop in front of him. The passenger door opened immediately and Clark practically jumped out.
"You two have fun," Kara called out. Clark turned and gave her a look. The driver's side door opened and Diana got out.
"Yes, Kara, I enjoyed it immensely,' she said. "I can hardly wait to drive again."
"Not with me," Clark muttered under his breath.
"What was that, Kal,' Diana asked.
"Nothing."
Kara giggled and then whispered to Martha, who smiled at her son.
"Well, if the driving lesson is over, Clark, why don't you and your wife come in for supper,' Martha said.
"Now don't you start, Ma,' Clark replied.
"Well, she is family now, Clark,' Kara added.
"That's right, "Martha continued. "I want to get to know my new daughter-in-law. I hope you're hungry Diana?"
"Yes, thank you, Martha."
"This is so great,' Kara said as she took Diana by the arm and lead her inside. "You're like my sister-in-law now, Diana!"
"You must tell us all about the wedding, Diana,' Martha added, taking her other arm.
"Well, it was a bit of a surprise, as I said earlier,' Diana replied.
"Was it lovely,' Martha asked.
"Yes, actually, even though I thought she was bluffing, my mother went all out on the decorations," Diana admitted. "Amazons are known for throwing elaborate feasts and ceremonies."
"I want to hear every bit of it," Martha said as they go inside. "Are you coming, Clark? Newlyweds usually don't like to be apart."
Clark stood at the bottom of the steps and could hear Martha and Kara laughing as they ushered Diana into the kitchen. He shook his head and sighed.
"Now I know where Kara gets it from."
"Don't leave your wife waiting, Clark,' Kara shouted and then laughed.
"Yeah, this is going to be a treat,' he groaned and then headed up the stairs.