A/N: Some changes.
Chapter 16
That weekend Clark decided to follow up on his request from General Swanwick. Finding the crash site was the easy part. When Clark had first learned to fly, he realized the best way to know where he was at any given time was to learn about coördinates. Thankfully he was a quick study with an eidetic memory as he learned them all and memorized the globe.
He flew at his top speed. There was a reason to rush; the last site had been combed and whoever had been there removed all the store of meteor rock before the authorities had arrived. It was possible that this mysterious group would attempt the same in the Utah Canyon-lands. As he drew closer, he slowed and surveyed the scene.
The Utah Canyon-lands was incredible. Miles of rust colored layered earth shaped by millions of years of weathering and erosion carved the landscape into countless canyons, mesas, and buttes. The clear blue sky juxtaposed against the red land was breathtaking. Although he felt grateful that the meteors had fallen well away from any city or town, it was too bad that they had marred such a beautiful and priceless region.
Hundreds of feet above the ground he could see them and the damage they had wrought. Scattered along the landscape were massive holes etched by cracked and burned earth. The meteor rocks themselves were darker, black as tar, than any of the other stones surrounding them and stood out starkly against the red dirt of the canyon-lands. Some were jagged and angular, while others were a more spherical shape; everything about them seemed alien in the back drop of the natural setting.
Descending slowly, he decided to be cautious and aimed for a spot a hundred yards or so away from the crash site. A recent lesson taught him he was vulnerable to something most likely not from Earth. He didn't wish to experience that again. Using his x-ray vision, he tried to inspect the closest one, which happened to be the biggest meteor rock, inside and out. But he found he was unable to see through its shell. Whatever this rock was made of was immune to those abilities. He looked along the spectrum and still saw nothing worthy of note. He couldn't see any more than a human could.
Clark grimaced. If he were to see inside, he would have to break inside. The problem was that from his current distance, he knew he wouldn't be able to aim properly and he could completely destroy the object. There was no way of knowing its durability. He would have to move closer.
Slowly he walked towards it. Taking stock of his body, he knew that his strength, flight, and other abilities were at the normal level. Being unaffected by the presence of the meteor rocks did nothing to sway his vigilance as it remained in place and increased with every step. One could not be too careful. He stopped short of the object at about 10 feet. Wary of it, he took a deep breath before he focused his heat vision to laser precision and cut the meteor in half.
The moment it broke apart was one of the most agonizing moments of his life.
An immense wave of energy ripped through him and brought him to his knees, gasping for air. Like thousands of tiny burning glass shards embedded into his skin, muscles, and organs and set his whole body ablaze from the inside out. The only thought in his mind was to get as far away as possible. And quickly.
Hunched over, legs not cooperating, he knew he couldn't fly; he hobbled away from the site. Blinded by the pain, he forced his legs to move, step by aching step. Relentlessly, he kept walking, but he was moving so slowly and it hurt so much, like he was swimming through polluted viscous water. Every moment in it was poison to his body, but still with every step the pain from his body ebbed. He could feel the Sun filter through the poison and he could walk just a little bit more easily until finally he was far enough away that he felt that he could fly. With a cry he burst from the ground and flew as high as possible to get as far as possible away.
He hovered there for a while, just breathing deeply and soaking in the golden rays of the sun.
What the hell was that?
He had definitely felt that before. Scanning the area of the site again, he zoomed in on the rock he had split open. Inside the dark shell was a formation of a crystalline mineral. It was green; the exact shade of green he remembered from the bank robbery. If that bullet and these rocks were of the same substance, then whoever collected all the meteor samples from the other site seemed to have a sinister plot against him. And most likely they were supplying weaponized versions to criminals. For what purpose, he wasn't sure. To kill him? Clark wouldn't be surprised. There was probably a market for selling the only thing that could kill Superman.
In order to answer that question Clark would have to know the person in charge. But he couldn't stay floating there. That blast of radiation took a lot out of him. Although he was able to recharge considerably from the Sun, he needed to rest his body and create as much distance between himself and these rocks as possible.
He knew he couldn't fly far, so he headed to the closest safe place possible: Smallville, Kansas. At what was for him a slow pace, Clark flew home.
With Melissa living in the house, Clark had to be cautious. He hovered high in the atmosphere and scanned the house for anyone inside. Through his x-ray vision he saw the bones of the house and interior. His dog was asleep inside, but no human person was anywhere to be seen. He scanned the surrounding area as well. There were no workers nor anyone for miles around the house. Confident that it was safe to descend, he slowly approached the ground.
After a soft landing, he assessed his body. All of his abilities were present, but at a lower capacity than normal. Thankfully, he could feel them all regenerating. A little bit of rest and he would be fine. After a leisurely stroll through the house where he confiscated some food, he headed to his room for a change of clothes and a nap. He and his mother had agreed a while ago to keep some clothes here for him in case of emergencies. And she repeatedly reminded him that his bed was always there for him if he needed it.
In the midst of putting his shirt on he heard a car pull into the drive, and his name. Startled, Clark listened carefully to pinpoint where it was coming from and who was speaking. Then used his vision to confirm. It was coming from the drive way. And it was Melissa. She was talking to someone on her cellphone.
As long as he remained quiet she would never know he was there. His mother had told him that Melissa had never been allowed in either his or her bedroom, which Melissa respected. He appreciated that, but he resolved to still listen to be sure of her presence in the house. Besides she was talking about him; Clark rarely took that as a good sign.
He closed his eyes and focused on her voice, which increased in volume until it was like she was standing there next to him. She was angry and practically shouting into the phone.
"...don't care that you think it's too soon. I've done everything you've asked. Don't we have enough on him?"
Clark's heart started beating faster. What?
A man's tenor voice sounded through the other end. "This is too important to end it prematurely."
"I realize that your plans are important. But even you said that you want him. Why not let him in on the whole deal?"
"It's not the right time," the man insisted.
He heard her growl with frustration. "It's been 3 months. When is the right time? When you know the kind of boxers he wears?"
Clark could practically feel the irritation emanating from the man. "What I am planning is very delicate and requires a certain amount of caution. Especially in regards to him. This is not a simple task."
"This really should be a lot simpler. You two are very similar: you both spend your time fighting for justice, you both have high morals...you both have lost so much."
There was a moment of hesitation on the other end of the line. "That's just it: I need to know for sure that he fights for true justice; that he won't become a barbaric tyrant."
The words stung him, but ignored his feelings and continued to listen.
"And what I've told you hasn't convinced you of that? He is justice. He is hope. There is something so genuinely good and strong about him. Not just of his body, but also of his heart."
She spoke with a passion and verve that touched and surprised him.
"What of his mind? He doesn't suspect anything."
"He is very intelligent. He's just...trusting." Clark could almost hear her grimace.
"You sound so sure of him...," the man spoke with a deep sadness.
"...I am."
There was a prolonged silence where all Clark could hear was both of their breathing, until finally Melissa spoke.
"I want this to be finished with Clark. I'm tired of lying to him and his family. He deserves to know what's going on," she spoke calmly this time.
"After what he's done, he deserves nothing." The man's voice was painfully harsh even from this distance.
She scoffed, but it sounded more exhausted than annoyed. "You cannot be so judgmental. He did what he had to to protect the world and you have no idea what it did to him. Besides we both know you would have done the same thing."
There was silence on the other end for what felt like hours, until finally the mysterious man spoke.
"There are still some things I need to know. He hasn't proven himself yet. The mission is not over."
"The mission is never over." He heard Melissa say sadly. Then she hung up. He heard a car engine turn over and pull out of the drive way.
The resounding silence left was deafening to Clark. Worse were the words the voice on the other end left. So many emotions swirled inside him, he didn't know how to feel: betrayal, anger, fear, sympathy, gratitude.
He felt betrayed. Melissa was brought into his mother's home because his mother trusted her. But of course she was the spy. It made perfect sense. And the comments she had made...how unfortunate for her that his hearing was so good. He had just refused to believe it.
Clark took a deep breath. A part of him wanted nothing more than to storm up to her and demand an explanation, but the cooler side of his brain reasoned with him. From the conversation he could gather that her spying was not something she enjoyed and clearly she wanted out, but was being refused. From the way they spoke it seemed like they knew each other. Perhaps she had gotten caught up with the wrong people and now whoever that was on the other line was using her. If that was the case, he had to help her. Still he would have to confront her. His hurt feelings aside in reality it was the voice on the other end that disturbed him. The voice seemed to be the one in charge.
And supposedly this man fought for justice. Clark grimaced. That description didn't exactly narrow his search. That could be law enforcement, the government, or the military...
Clark's jaw tightened in anger. General Swanwick? He had tried watching him before with drones. Perhaps now he was trying a more subtle approach. He wanted to charge to his base right then, but that wouldn't be smart. Besides, it didn't fit and the voice on the other end didn't sound like him. Of course, that man could just be one of Swanwick's men. The man's words and implied accusations angered him. He had basically called him a murderer. But Swanwick had actually lauded Superman a little when he learned of Zod's death. To him, Zod was just an enemy, therefore his death he could easily and readily accept. Plus how would Swanwick know her? So Clark doubted that General Swanwick was behind this. Still his uncertainty about General Swanwick and the general concern about the predicament he found himself in replaced any resolve he had to report to him about what had happened today until he could figure it out.
The military was out. For now, at least.
That left law enforcement, government...or another hero.
Clark shook his head. Speculation wasn't going to get him very far. His best bet was to gently persuade Melissa to divulge the truth behind the matter. If he could convince her that he could help her, she could be more willing to comply and finally he could solve at least one of the mysteries circulating in his life.