Chapter 28
After Clark's passing, preparations went into overdrive for his funeral. As one might expect, the news flashed quickly through social media like wildfire. World leaders rerouted plans to find their way toward the Midwest. Governor Granger handpicked a military honor guard for a much-deserved seven gun salute.
Byron, Pete, Oliver, Bart and Cyborg would serve as pall bearers.
The former secluded himself in his cellar sanctum from everyone save his beloved Sandra. His pen scratched away on a fitting eulogy for his friend.
It was a somber day.
[Daily Planet—Christmas Day]
For days following the epic standoff, Perry White had whipped his reporters and interns on mercilessly. Although his gruff exterior had seemed more fiery, inwardly he worried over the lack of word either way. He'd called on several sources for any sort of information.
Even after the Parasite and Metallo had been taken into custody, no information had been forthcoming.
Damn it, Clark! Where the Hell are you? White nearly bit into his cigar. He held it in his hand tersely while looking through the window.
"Hey, Chief! We have news!" Jimmy Olsen announced while barging into the office.
"OLSEN, DAMN IT! I TOLD YOU! DON"T CALL ME…." White stopped cold at the sad look on the intern's face. "WHAT THE HELL?"
"I've got it, Jimmy. Why don't you take five?" Chloe assured him before stepping into the office and shutting the door firmly behind herself.
"Mrs. Queen, you just walk in here without a proper good morning?" White gruffly spat at her.
"I have bigger things on my mind, Perry, than that. OKAY? Oliver and I just received word a couple of hours ago." Chloe glared with full hazel fury at the editor-in-chief. "Besides I remember someone stumbling half-drunk into my editorial office back in the day too."
"Little difference between the Daily Planet and The Torch, Sister. What's your news?" White retorted without giving an inch. "I have a missing reporter in your neck of the woods. I don't have time for games!"
"Nor do I. Clark passed away at 9:30 last night in Smallville. Funeral's already been set for next Monday," Chloe informed him grimly. Although her eyes watered, she would not break down while on task. She owed Clark that much.
White collapsed into his chair. All of the bluster faded from his face. "Great Caesar's Ghost!" He pounded the end of his cigar butt into the glass ash tray in front of himself. For a full minute he hesitated as he digested the fact that his indestructible reporter was gone. "Damn it. Kid was one in a million." He slammed his fist on his desk in frustration.
"Damn straight," she muttered while bowing her head. "Sorry I'm dealing with my own stuff."
White forced himself from his chair. "I'm the one who needs to apologize. I was out of line before." He handed her a box of tissues. "You confirmed this?"
"The Lowell Country coroner faxed me Clark's death certificate. Oliver and I pulled a few strings to get it. I wish it wasn't true," she confirmed without hesitation. "Perry, I'm getting myself ready to write his eulogy. It's going to be a bitch but I don't trust anyone else to do it."
White relit the remains of his cigar. Then he stormed over to the door and flung it open. Seeing Jimmy looking forlornly at his computer screen, he softened his stance. "Olsen, I need something."
"Yes sir, Mr. White?" Jimmy asked while trying to stay composed.
"Run down to the archives. You find me what you think are the biggest things Superman has ever done ASAP! Understood?" White instructed. When the younger man sprinted toward the elevator, he picked up a phone and hit the page button. "Attention, Everyone! Stop the presses! And I mean now. We have confirmation from an impeccable source that Superman has passed away. All editors are to report to the meeting room immediately! We have a memorial edition to get out immediately!"
A pall dropped over the news room. People stared at their boss incredulously. They didn't get how anything or anyone could kill Superman.
"DIDN'T YOU SEE OLSEN RUNNING? DIDN'T YOU HEAR ME? DAMN IT! MOVE NOW! White tersely bellowed before storming back into his office and slamming the door behind him. "Queen, you want a spot on Page 1 for the memorial issue?"
"I'm writing that eulogy for the Ledger, Perry. I'm not trusting anyone else with that," Chloe affirmed.
And well you shouldn't except me. I'm not going to allow anyone to hack Clark Kent's legacy. I know how important this is to you. Frankly without him, I wouldn't be here either," he stated.
"Fine. Just us. Let me know what you want to do," she relented.
"Follow me. You're with us in that room. I need someone to ram the stick up their asses," he declared while opening the door and leading her out.
We won't let you down, Clark. For a brief second, she hesitated at his empty desk. Her eyes lingered over his forlorn name plate sitting there.
"Queen, come on. We have this to do. Remember?" White pressed.
She collected herself and nodded. Then she headed toward the elevator with White in her wake.
Neither Superman nor Clark Kent would get short shrift on her watch….
[Four Days Later]
As expected, the throng descended upon a gravesite. The politicians and soldiers paid homage. Several Metropolis PD officers carried a coffin to a gravesite….
Police stood by in case of trouble with rioters within the massive crowd thousands deep who mourned their hero's demise.
…too bad the coffin was a symbolic one only….
Some secrets needed to be kept after all.
[Smallville Cemetery]
[A/N: "Clark" is my original work…]
Three hours to the west, the town of Smallville showed up to inter one of their own. Former high school classmates arrived with their respects. Reverend Sanders eulogized in the same church where he'd married the young couple only a few years earlier.
Oliver, Pete, White and Chloe all waxed poetically over their deceased friend's achievements. Of course none mentioned the Big Secret which they all shared. They simply spoke of the man he'd developed into. They told the world of Clark's heart and how much he'd given them all. Each glanced at the gravesite and hoped that he had been reunited with Lana once again.
When she finished and dried her cheeks one last time, Chloe sucked in a deep breath. "Thanks, Everyone. Byron Moore wanted the last word. He's composed a piece for us to hear. Byron?"
Byron squeezed Sandra's hand gently. Then he trudged up to the platform. "Thank you, Chloe. Might I assist you?" He guided her down and over to Oliver's side before returning to the microphone. "I am afraid I am not used to reciting in front of such an august company. Clark did so much for me personally. He opened my life and was such a great friend. As with most of you, the last week has dragged by. But I wanted to give him a proper send off. He produced a piece of parchment paper and cleared his throat. Fighting off a spasm from his other self, he began,
"Clark
Byron Moore
December 2018
What is a friend?
That's one to know.
With you stand til end
Against any foe
In darkness I languished
For years I cried
Pain on me garnished
As Luthors lied
Clark me freed
Hope he me gave
The light I did see
From darkness he me sav'd
A good man he was
Son, husband and brother true
Did he tasks without fuss
A man like others few
We all know
Some of what he did
Love Clark did sow
Darkness did he us rid
Now return he will
To Beloved Lana
His heart she'll fill
Intertwined are their hands
Sleep now, Clark
With your friends' thanks
You took away the dark
With earnestness frank
Be with Lana again
Be happy once more
Immerse thyself in Amor's refrain
Let warm come from thy core
Love thyself
Brother of mine
You who me help'd
Be now in light Divine…."
Byron stifled a tear and a tremor. He somberly rolled the parchment paper and tied it together with a ribbon. Then he descended from the platform and walked over to Martha. "For you, Mrs. Kent. May it be worthy of Clark." He handed her the scroll.
"Byron, that was beautiful. Thank you," Martha expressed while wiping her eyes off with a tissue. "I'll treasure this." She hugged him.
"Thank you," he expressed before heading back to his wife's side.
Such is the way the day went…