Chapter 4
Metropolis
Tuesday, September 15, 2020
It had been a rainy evening and Lois sat by herself in her car, listening to a small, high-tech receiver that received and decrypted Metropolis PD radio communications she had received as a birthday present from Maggie Sawyer. Maggie had found it on the ground outside the window of a dilapidated house in a ramshackle Suicide Slums neighborhood where the few blocks of older homes had experienced a renaissance of sorts as meth labs and shooting galleries. The home was vacant, but narcotics detectives at Metropolis PD suspected it was a trafficking venue.
After checking with a tech friend, she learned it was an expensive digital scanner capable of decrypting encrypted communications and was often used by drug dealers. She learned they could be found on the open market and that it was not illegal to own the device. Since no one claimed it, she cleaned it, wrapped it in tissue, put in a gift bag, and gave it to Lois three days after her 26th birthday during their weekly meeting in August. Working like a scanner but with decryption capability, Lois could listen to conversations between patrols and the consolidated 9-1-1 dispatcher.
That night, around 8:20 PM, a patrol was dispatched to an attempted armed robbery at the Midtown Bank of Metropolis. Within six minutes of the call being broadcast, Lois parked her car along the sidewalk, half a block from the bank. She saw a patrol car with its emergency lights pull in front of the bank building and a patrolman step out. A crowd had formed on the sidewalk ahead and she hopped out to join it.
Pushing her way past the bystanders, Lois found a bizarre scene. Between the locked inner doors and the outer doors accessible, with an ATM card and PIN, was an ATM machine. An older woman who was visibly upset was standing on the sidewalk talking to a tall man in a tan trench coat. Inside, between the doors, a figure that appeared to be a man was struggling to free himself from a brown plastic wastebin that had been pulled over his head, pinning his arms to his sides with only his fingertips visible. On the floor around his were refuse from the wastebin and a stiletto-type knife.
The crowd parted as the patrolman stared at the figure inside the foyer of the bank and then stared at the woman. "Did you do that?" he asked.
"No," Lois heard the woman say. "I don't know what did it and thank God it did, but it wasn't me."
A second police cruiser pulled up and a sergeant got out. "Okay, everyone who witnessed what happened needs to stay here. Everyone else, please disperse and go back to what you were doing."
Bystanders began to leave, chuckling and taking cell phone videos and photos of the scene as they left. The tall man in the trench coat that had been talking to the woman turned to leave and Lois immediately recognized two things. The man had a pocket notebook and pen in his hand and had been taking notes, and that man was Clark Kent.
Damnit! Lois tried to hide her annoyance. "Clark, hi!" she called out to him, cheerily waiving her hand above her head to draw his attention.
He looked up and saw her and held up a finger and he spoke with the patrolman. He handed him his business card and shook his hand. Then, he smiled and walked to where Lois was standing. "Well, good evening, Lois," he said pleasantly.
"You got here fast," she observed. "How?"
"I was just passing by moments after it happened," he said. "I called the police, in fact."
She looked at the figure inside the ATM foyer and chuckled. "How did that happen? Because I doubt that woman did it."
Clark smirked. "Are you going to quote me in your story; give me full attribution?"
She gave him an annoyed look. "Excuse me? Have you ever heard of professional courtesy, Farmer John?"
Clark's smirk faded. "I'm sorry, Lois," he said, humbly, "that was rude of me. Of course, I have heard of professional courtesy," he paused.
She raised one eyebrow. "Well?" she asked, coaxing a reply.
He looked up and stared into her eyes. She cocked her head slightly and smiled. Finally, Clark said, "Just like I've heard of professional rivalry and, 'Get your own story, Kent'." He winked and smiled. "Gotta go. I have a story to file. Have a good evening, Lois."
Clark walked away and disappeared around the corner. Fifteen minutes after Clark left, while Lois waited for the police to finish with the woman, her phone buzzed indicating a notification. A new story was posted to the Daily Star online regarding an attempted armed robbery at the Bank of Metropolis.
"How in the hell?" she muttered.
Thursday, September 17, 2020
George Taylor wandered over to Clark's cubicle. "Congratulations, Clark," he said. "I just got off the phone with one the county commissioners. The pressure from the community about the story you did last month concerning the senior center being torn down made the commissioners ask the developer to redesign the senior living tower they plan to replace it with." He shrugged. "I guess the investment group was pushing to build and the county was warning the developer no fast-tracking the inspections and permit approvals without a redesign. The commissioners were getting an earful from the community after your story."
Clark smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Taylor. That project needed to be redesigned. Housing for seniors is important but that senior center keeps the seniors socialized and prevents many of them from becoming isolated. Lots of them have their own homes and don't need housing but eliminating the senior center and replacing it with an 'all-purpose' room the project envisioned was sorely inadequate. People don't like to see seniors treated like that."
"Well, your instincts on that were spot on because the new project will now have a comparably sized center plus add a small urgent care clinic and a seniors health club. The health club fee will be included in the residents' rent," Taylor said. "Also, nonresidents over 65 can join the health club for a monthly fee. All-in-all, I think it was a great compromise. The investors weren't happy but acquiesced when the estimated completion date for the original plan would likely be pushed back by at least fourteen months due to the county not fast-tracking the permits and inspections."
"It's remarkable what can be accomplished in an election year," Clark quipped.
Taylor nodded. "You should take a victory lap over at the senior center. Since the developer and the county commissioners did the right thing, they should be able to hear the appreciation of those who will benefit from the redesign."
"I agree. I think I'll get in touch with the developers and suggest that they do a presentation at the senior center, and I'll be there to report the reactions." He paused. "Maybe I can take my folks along to watch it."
"That's a great idea. If you do, make sure they come by and see me. I'd like to catch up with them. Better yet, Bea and I would love to have them come stay with us while they're in town."
Clark called the developer, Mike Berry, and spoke for a while. He convinced Berry that the new design and features of the senior housing project could be announced publicly, and he would get good press and the people who use the senior center now would feel as though their voices were heard. The county commissioners would benefit from the good press, which will in turn help him speed the project along. A few calls were made, and within two hours, a press conference for Monday, September 21st was announced.
The timing of the press conference allowed his mom and dad to attend. Clark told his parents that George Taylor insisted they stay with Beatrice and him during their visit since Clark did not have a separate room for them.
Jonathan and Martha drove to Clark's apartment in Metropolis on Sunday morning. They arrived shortly before eleven. Martha brought Clark two pies she had made him, and they spent a couple hours talking before Clark treated his parents to lunch. Lana joined them for lunch but returned to her apartment afterwards when Clark led his parents to the Taylors' home. He did not linger at the Taylors' and told his parents that he would meet them at the Daily Star before the press conference the following day.
That evening, he spoke to Lana on the phone and invited her to the press conference, but she said that she would not be able to attend due to production meetings. She remarked that she enjoyed seeing his parents again and was glad that Clark invited her along. "Your mom did not seem to be as happy to see me as I was to see her, though," Lana said. "I think she still views me as the one who broke her son's heart. What do you think?"
Clark thought about it. "Mom can be tougher than she seems. Being adopted, both of my parents were protective of me when it came to my physical and mental well-being. But mom was always invested in protecting my emotional well-being. So, maybe you're right, Lana. She's never said anything that would make me think she felt that way, but if you felt it, maybe so."
They talked for another half hour before it began to get dark, and Clark said that he had some things he needed to finish before the press conference the next day. He told Lana he would talk to her later in the week and ended the call.
Naturally, the press conference was held at the existing senior center, and it was opened by the Metropolis district county commissioner, Ronnie Bass, who introduced Mike Berry. Berry explained to the sixty-six seniors and others assembled in the senior center of the new plan that would preserve the senior center, add a small urgent care clinic, and include a health club specifically for seniors living in the new tower. As part of the presentation, he displayed a series of renderings of the new center, the small clinic, the health club, and the engineering plan showing the footprint of the new center and a clear plastic film that showed the current footprint overlaid onto the new center footprint.
"Best of all," Mike announced, "the engineers that reviewed the architectural plans have estimated that the senior center would have to be closed for less than sixty days. The tower will essentially be constructed around the center and once done, the walls will be opened where needed for the tower elevator banks that residents and their guests will use to access to the clinic and health club that will be added on."
He then took questions from the crowd, of which there were very few. Ronnie Bass returned to praise the work of Mike Berry and to laud the acceptance of the plan by the investor group funding the project. Commissioner Bass then invited Clark Kent to come to the podium. Clark was surprised by the commissioner and was called the catalyst for singlehandedly preserving a center for seniors.
Clark thanked the commissioner for bringing the developer to the table to consider the needs of the senior community and thanked Mike Berry on behalf of the seniors for understanding and selling the new design to the investment group behind the project. He praised all parties in the redesign effort and rejected the commissioner's comment that he singlehandedly saved the center. He said it was a group effort to see that the seniors' quality of life was preserved and even improved with the new housing complex. When he concluded, the group received a rousing applause and a few standing ovations. Ronnie Bass then invited interested individuals to come to see the new design up close.
The Kents came forward only to shake Clark's hand and give him hugs for his work. Others in attendance thanked Clark for helping get their voice heard. As the crowd parted and Clark watched as his parents faced him, he spotted Lois Lane making her way toward him. "Oh God," he muttered under his breath.
"What's that for?" Martha asked.
"You'll see in about five seconds," Clark replied.
"Nice work, Smallville," Lois began and the Kents spun around to face Lois who turned red in the face thinking she may have insulted the Kents.
"I know you," Jonathan said and smiled.
"Me, too," Martha chimed in. She extended her hand and Lois shook it.
"Mr. and Mrs. Kent. What a surprise!" Lois mustered. "It's very nice to see you again. I hope you both are enjoying Metropolis."
"We are. We stayed with George and Bea Taylor last night, so we didn't see much of the city. But we had a great time catching up with the Taylors. We're leaving this afternoon to get back; a farm doesn't run itself except into the ground," Jonathan replied.
She looked at Clark and said nothing for a moment and the sizzle between the two was palpable. The Kents recognized it almost immediately. "That was an impressive article, Clark. You see, that's what good journalism can achieve. It's not just telling a story; it's making it matter to people. You did that with your story. I'm pleasantly surprised at the outcome."
Clark looked at her suspiciously. "That's high praise from a Daily Planet reporter."
"I'm a journalist first, Kent," she claimed.
"And I'm guessing you believe this was 'the blind squirrel and nut' theory at work?" Clark suggested.
She winced. "The thought crossed my mind after I read it," she replied, discreetly smirking.
"Lois, we were just going to lunch. Would you like to join us?" Martha asked.
"Thank you. Normally, I never turn down a lunch, Mrs. Kent, but I have a story I have to file," she said and then looked at Clark with a raised eyebrow. "The news business is a dog-eat-dog world, you know." She looked back at the Kents. "It was very nice seeing you both again though. I hope you can stay a bit longer next time you're in town. Metropolis is a great town and has a lot to offer. Make your son show you next time you come." She smiled, shook their hands, turned to Clark and said, "Enjoy your lunch." She then turned and walked off.
Fifteen minutes later, Clark was telling his dad where to turn to find free two-hour parking that was close to the deli. They ordered soup and sandwich combos and sat at a table near the back of the deli so they could talk.
"We're so proud of you, Clark," Jonathan said. "I know you're making a difference at night, and this is just another way you're making life better for people. I know your birth parents would be too. When you said you were thinking of going into journalism, I thought that was a strange thing to do for someone who will change the world someday. But here you are, changing it as we speak."
Martha nodded her agreement but did not say anything at first. She sipped her soup and waited a moment. "There's one thing I want to say, Clark. It's about taking care of yourself. I know I've mentioned it before but having someone to be with is important for people like us," she said, and her inference was not lost on her son. "Staying connected with people on a personal level is so important. It reminds you of why you're doing what you do. Do you know what I'm saying?" She looked at Jonathan.
Clark nodded. "I do Mom. Having Lana is a start. She knows me better than anyone in Metropolis and we have a history that helps ground me."
Jonathan cleared his throat. "You know, Lana is sweet, and I don't think I've seen a young woman that is more attractive. Aside from your mom, she's the prettiest woman I've ever seen." Martha elbowed her husband and smiled. "But your mom and I worry that your past with Lana may be clouding your decisions to look at what else may be out there, Son."
"I don't know," Clark replied. "I don't have the time to really develop a relationship with a woman who I have to tell my secret to in order to make a life for us." He paused. "I was on the verge of telling Lana everything the night she told me of her indiscretion."
"And that's exactly what your father is talking about Clark. Lana is easy to return to because you were this close to telling her. But you didn't. What's changed?"
"We both have matured, Mom. We both realize what's important in life, I think. She had a rough time with Brad Campbell and I believe it's changed her."
"So, you're ready to tell her again?" his dad asked.
"Not yet," Clark said, "but I'm close to telling her," he admitted. "She gets me. We have a connection from all those years. That's what I have with Lana. It would take a long time to find someone new I can trust enough to protect my secret with. And with my other activities, protecting it is even more important now."
"So, she's a convenient solution," his dad said. "That's not exactly the foundation for a lasting, trusting relationship, Son."
Martha scraped her soup bowl and looked up. "You know who seems to get you? That reporter, Lois Lane."
"Oh, Mom," Clark groaned, "you don't know her like I do. She's the rudest, most irritating, cutthroat, and conceited person you'll ever meet. You just haven't seen her in her natural setting." He looked at his dad for support.
"Really?" Jonathan replied. "She didn't seem any of those things today and I thought it was nice what she said to you." He looked at Martha and then back at Clark. "And I have to say, even though Lana is breathtaking, Lois isn't far behind. I know that's not the most important thing but I'm just saying." He paused, then said, "In fact, at first, I sort of thought there was something going on between you two."
Annoyed, Clark replied, "There is. It's competition."
"She didn't seem to be any of those things when she was at the farm five years ago, either," his mom added. "We would never have let her through the door if she was. She was sincere, honest, and seemed genuinely remorseful. And I thought the same thing as your dad today when she came up to congratulate you. I thought that maybe you two were warming up the way sparks flew between you."
He sighed. "Sparks? More like daggers, I think. She was being polite, not her normal irritating self, because you were there." He paused, looking back and forth at his parents that seemed unconvinced. "For example, before she knew it was you standing with me, she called me 'Smallville'. That's her way of making a little dig at me."
Jonathan chuckled. "Well Son, I thought it was kind of funny, and I didn't think it came across as mean."
"Nor did I. I thought it was cute," Martha added. "Like a pet name for you."
Exasperated, Clark groaned and replied, "Well, I may not end up with Lana, but I'll warn you if it ever looks like I'm going to end up with Lois Lane. You'll need to harvest what you can because Hell will have already begun to freeze over by then."
"Uh-huh," his mom replied skeptically, smirking.
"Well, who you end up with is none of our business," his dad said. "We're just giving you our observations. We don't have to live with that person, you do, and we trust that you know best."
They said their farewells as they dropped him off at the Daily Star. Clark went in to work on his story and before he could finish it, an alert on his phone notified him that the Daily Planet had a new online report posted by Lois Lane. He braced himself.
After sending his finished story to George Taylor, he opened the Daily Planet site and read Lois's piece on the saving of the senior center. It was well-written and truly captured what was at the heart of the matter and that was the public response to disregarding the needs of the senior population the project was supposedly supporting. The end of the story credited Clark for his July article about the project and the ensuing public pressure on county commissioners to demand changes in the planned construction.
That was a classy, Clark thought. She could have simply referenced my story as 'an earlier report' without credit or attribution.
He clicked on the link at the bottom of the story that opened his email client with Lois's email address automatically loaded. As the subject, he typed, 'Your Story'. In the message, he simply wrote, 'Nice article. Thanks for the attribution. CK.' He was about to send the email and then added, 'P.S. How goes the search for AAM?' He then sent the email.
She sent a reply almost immediately. No change. No raise. No Pulitzer. No new apartment…Yet!
He was about to send her an encouraging reply but instead replied with, 'Stick with it. Less competition with you chasing a wild goose.'
That evening as he flew slowly and silently above the Metropolis skyline, he thought about the things his parents said, thought about the day's encounter with Lois, and mostly, his relationship with Lana.
Maybe they are right, he thought. Maybe they see things more clearly than I do. Lois was decent and polite today. Was 'Smallville' an insult or is it a term of endearment? He had not considered that in the past because he always perceived it to be her way of calling him a country bumpkin, a hick.
But Lana is a known quantity and that's what mom and dad don't understand. I don't have to worry about how she might react to things, I already know. It could take years before I was certain about someone else. And during that time, I would have to constantly make excuses for leaving suddenly, for not showing up, or for being late. If I told Lana my secret, I don't believe she would ever use it against me for any reason. I don't think she would try to leverage my secret for her benefit. How could I be sure of that with someone new?
Lana has never once been vindictive. She has never once purposefully done something that could be construed as mean-spirited. She can seem aloof to others but has a loving heart to share with the right person. She is thoughtful, sweet, smart, beautiful, but not conceited or pompous. Why don't they see that? Being with Lana is trying to move ahead and sharing a life with someone.
Then the very next thought challenged him. Why haven't you told her your secret then? You know the answer to that.
Sharing his secret with Lana meant Clark was ready to take the final step to sharing his life with her. They had discussed building a life together and Clark believed that would happen. But that was before she chose to sleep with some stranger she met at a summer art camp. And somewhere deep inside him, Clark knew that what Lana had done meant that she felt that there may still be better options for her than a life, career, and maybe a family with him. It meant she thought that someone else may be able to fill a need that a life with him could not. It was that which had kept him from telling her his secret, not her trustworthiness.
If Clark Kent, the guy next door that you professed to love for years was not enough, what chance did Clark Kent, the strange visitor from another planet have?
Until he resolved that question in his mind, he would not share his secret or allow their current relationship to progress further, even though making love to her was never far from his thoughts and every moment he spent with her felt like a step closer to that happening.
As he soared, he wondered if Lois Lane was out that night and smiled thinking that she would never be able to scoop him on a story about the Angel of Mercy and how frustrated that would make her.
On one level, he enjoyed passively tormenting her. It was fun to see her get so frustrated and worked up, particularly when he ended up on top. Taking Lois down a notch was good for both of them, he believed.
But, on another level, he pitied the woman who was so dedicated to her craft and so determined to be the very best at it that any second-place finish meant failure to her. He had no idea why she was that way but would have understood if he had known her history and how unrelentingly demanding her father was.
His dad and mom thought that something was going on between them and Clark wondered how they sensed something like that. He still felt something when he looked at her, but she gave no indication that she felt anything more than disdain.
His thoughts were broken by the sound of a muffled scream and a weak cry. He zeroed in on the sound and flew down to the Oaktown district that held many older working-class homes. He heard what sounded like a struggle and using his x-ray vision, spotted what appeared to be an elderly woman struggling with what appeared to be a home invader. The house was dark and Clark flew in through the back door that was ajar. In the blink of an eye, the intruder was disarmed, pulled out of the bedroom and into the living room, tied up tightly in a sheet, and knocked unconscious. He flew out the back door and straight up into the sky before the old woman could get out of bed.
I'll leave this one for Lois, he thought.
On the ground, Lois listened to her scanner while she thought about the ceremony at the senior center. The Kents seemed pleased to see her. They seemed like such nice people, and it was clear that they did not hold her responsible for what happened with Clark's girlfriend. What is Clark's problem then? she wondered. Maybe it affected him more because he suffered the loss. Or maybe they genuinely disliked Lori Lemaris. No matter what, I like the Kents, even if their son holds onto a grudge like it's gold.
She sighed. At least he thanked me for crediting in him the story.
"And you were part of this. Is that why you are here? Your job was what…keeping me occupied while he harassed her?"
"She was his future wife and you people took that future away from him."
Lois wondered if the sights and sounds of that day would ever be gone from her memory.
He has a right to hold a grudge, she thought. But not towards me. I tried to apologize. I even went to see him to do it in person. I went to two places to see him.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the scanner. She heard the call go out regarding a break-in and assault at an address in Oaktown. Lois raced to the location and found three patrol cars and a police officer putting a ragged-looking man in the back of one of the vehicles.
A small contingent of neighbors had come out of their houses to see what the trouble was. They stood on sidewalks, red and blue lights flashing across their faces. An audible sigh of relief could be heard when the elderly woman in a housecoat emerged from the home, talking to the police and gesturing.
Lois approached one of the officers standing near the sedan containing the ragged man that had apparently been arrested. "Lois Lane, Daily Planet," she said. "Can you tell me what happened, officer…" she looked at his nametag, "Officer Graves?"
He told Lois what had happened, saying that the elderly woman had fought off the man who they believe was homeless and may be on drugs. The woman was frightened, but not injured.
"How did she overpower him?"
"She didn't," the cop replied. "According to her, he woke her up when he was rummaging around in her house, she screamed, he tried to muzzle her and pushed her back into her bedroom and onto the bed. He grabbed a pillow and put it over her head but the next thing she knew, the scumbag was in her living room tied up in a sheet unconscious."
Lois jotted notes down. "And does she live alone or is there someone else living there?"
"No, she lives alone. She's 83 years old and her husband passed away about two years ago."
"No neighbors intervened or anything?" She looked around at the number of people on the sidewalks. "There are a lot of them around."
"Not that we can tell," he said. Gesturing toward the growing crowd, "These people came out after we pulled up."
"Do you have any clues to how this attack was averted?" Lois asked.
The officer looked around and lowered his voice. "I have a pretty good idea, but Department policy is to refer all questions involving it to our communications officer." He shrugged.
Lois smirked. "Do you know if he had a weapon of any type?"
"None were found, and she didn't indicate he was armed."
"And you say she was uninjured, right?"
"Yes. She's obviously shaken up but she's a tough old bird."
"Thank you, Officer Graves. I appreciate it. I'm going to talk to some of her neighbors and if I hear anything that may be of use to you, I'll come back." He nodded and thanked her for that.
Lois collected some additional background information for her story and when she was done, looked around to see if anyone else had yet arrived. Specifically, she looked for Clark Kent but she saw no other reporters on the scene until she was pulled away. Then, a news crew from WGBS-TV arrived in a van. It did not have a satellite dish so there would be no live reporting. Lois smiled, knowing that she would have a story emailed to the Planet online editor before they got their story on the late news.
Thursday, September 24, 2020
Lois met Maggie Sawyer at Irish pub-style restaurant for dinner instead of their usual lunch. "I like the changeup," Sawyer said, giving Lois a hug. "What's the occasion?" she asked.
"I wanted to have dinner rather than lunch because I wanted to talk a little longer. Not having to rush back to the office will give us a chance to do that. I hope that's okay." Lois added.
Maggie nodded. "Actually, this week Beverly is on night duty at the neonatal intensive care unit and won't be home until about three in the morning. So, this week is the perfect one for dinner. Otherwise, I would have dragged her along and I'm not sure you wanted to talk with another person around." She smiled and glanced at the menu. "Mmm. I've been dying to try their Shepards pie."
Lois stared at the menu. "It would have been okay if Beverly came but I'm sort of glad it's just you and me." She looked up. "I wanted to talk more about the AAM guy and with a lunch crowd coming in and out at the deli, it's not really the setting for a deep discussion."
Maggie smirked. "I figured that was it. I read the report about the break in at the old woman's house in Oaktown district. I read your story on it." She looked up from the menu. "You write a good story, Lois," Maggie added. "Plus, you forgot the other great thing about meeting for dinner."
Frowning, Lois looked up again. "What's that?"
"Irish whiskey and no reason not to have one or two!"
They ate and talked principally about the mysterious Avenging Angel of Mercy that was becoming credited more and more often with unexplained incidents around the city. "Unofficially and off the record, how many incidents would you attribute to this thing?" Lois asked and added, "including Monday night's intervention."
Frowning, Maggie replied, "Honestly? I'd put the number well over one hundred incidents."
Lois shook her head as though clearing it. "One hundred? Holy shit, I thought you might say thirty or thiry-five."
"Yes. This has been going on since around the beginning of March. That's almost a full seven months. Seven months is about 28 weeks and he or she didn't get really going until May. So, I'd say an average of four interventions a week over that time puts it well over 100."
Still shocked, Lois asked, "How come it's been kept buttoned up so tightly?"
"One word," the lieutenant replied. "Batman. That guy has got all the brass in Metropolis as nervous as whores in church. They're so afraid that whoever is doing this is a clone of the Batman in Gotham. That's the last thing they want in Metropolis."
"But these things aren't at all like Gotham's vigilante. They're supernatural, they're, er,…undefinable."
"It's why the brass is forming the Special Crimes Unit and guess who they want to lead it?" Maggie asked unenthusiastically.
"You're kidding me? You?" Lois asked.
"Yep."
The waitress took their meal orders and brought drinks. "I'd like to be able to nail this entity down; get them on the record. But I've only been able to do clean up work because it's long gone by the time I get there.
"Let's go through some of the main ones you remember, okay? Because I've seen firsthand the results of two of them and been involved directly in one of them. I know it's out there and I need to get to the truth."
Maggie took a sip and then gestured a toast and Lois joined her. "To the truth!"
Between dinner, drinks, more drinks, and stories, the evening flew by. Lois learned so much more than she imagined. "Why haven't you told so much of this to me before?" she asked.
"Lois, we are on such strict lockdown, if you even accidentally mentioned one of the cases that hasn't been publicized, everyone in the loop would be crucified. They have already warned us over and over about it."
Three hours had passed before the two women navigated to the exit. Maggie had called the desk sergeant and asked if the patrol supervisor was in the area and uncommitted and could give her a ride home. It was a quiet night and the sergeant liked Lieutenant Sawyer. Most of the patrolmen did as well. Sergeant La'Kendrick Booker, the patrol supervisor, pulled up and the two ladies climbed in.
"Where to Lieutenant?" the patrol supervisor asked.
She gave him Lois's address first. "If it's not an inconvenience, let's drop her off first." Sawyer paused. "If I don't give it to you, she might pass out in the back seat and you'll be driving her around all night!"
"Sure thing," the sergeant said.
"I hated to call but…" Maggie began.
"Hey, stop," Booker interrupted. "All of us in this job need to blow off a little steam once in a while. You don't have to apologize, LT." Maggie mumbled something. "Next week, it might be me needing a ride home."
Maggie helped Lois climbed out of the patrol car once they reached her apartment complex. She thanked Sergeant Booker and then hugged Maggie. "Thanks for a good evening," she slurred and turned to walk into her apartment. Using her key card, she got through the main entrance from the street to inside the complex lobby. Sergeant Booker waited until she got into the building and the door closed behind her before driving off.
Once inside, she moved to the elevator bank, placed her key card on the reader and pushed the button. The elevator door opened, and she stepped in. Two young men that she thought she recognized pushed in behind her before the door closed. "What floor?" they asked.
"Eight," Lois replied and leaned backward, resting against the handrail and her head against the back wall of the cab. She just wanted to go to sleep but her head was spinning from the whiskey and she forced herself to keep her eyes open. When the door opened, she exited, and walked to her front door and heard the elevator door close behind her. As she pushed her key into door lock, she was violently shoved against the door from behind.
Lois cried out something unintelligible and tried to push herself off the door. The two young men from the elevator leaned against her harder. "We're surprised you didn't remember us," one growled. "We remember you."
Her mind suddenly cleared. Struggling, Lois said, "I remember kicking your asses," she said defiantly.
One of the young men grabbed her key and turned it in the lock. "Let's take this inside. It will be more fun than doing it in the hallway," he said.
She tried to kick backward at her assailants, but her feet were spread too wide to effectively kick anything. The one assailant with the key began to unlock the deadbolt and Lois let out a guttural shout and twisted violently, catching the young man pressing her against the door off balance and slamming her elbow into his cheekbone and eye. He howled. "Bitch!" he hissed and pressed her head hard against the door.
The other young man slammed his shoulder into ribcage, knocking the wind out of her, while pressing her back against the door. She cried out and struggled but the two young men got the door open and pushed her inside, all three falling as the door swung open.
Lois struggled, kicked, and tried grappling on the floor. She managed to cry out a weakened, "Help!" before one of the assailants had his forearm against the side of her throat and hand clamped over her mouth.
She felt weak and growing weaker by the second. Her wind had been cut off and the blood to her brain was being restricted causing her to fade rapidly. Her thrashing slowed and was less effective. The lights were off in her apartment, but she saw glimpses of light from the hallway growing dimmer. Everything was going dark and suddenly seemed to go out all at once in the hallway. She knew she was losing consciousness and what was about to happen once she did. She slumped, too weak to resist, and then could not feel the weight of the two attackers pinning her to the floor. They grunted as they rose. Everything was quiet. Then she felt herself being lifted and carried. Was she being carried to the bedroom? "No…" she slurred weakly. "Don't." She heard a muffled noise and then nothing. Everything was dark and as she lost consciousness, she thought she heard a voice whisper, "You're safe."
When she regained consciousness, Lois found herself lying on her couch in her living room. Beams of light swung back and forth in her apartment. Then the lights switched on and she saw two uniformed policemen just inside the doorway. "Are you okay, Miss?" one of them asked but she did not know the answer. Everything in the room was spinning. They entered her apartment, one officer stayed with her and the other quickly searched for any other intruders.
She saw the lights in the hallway come on. She raised herself up and saw two unconscious young thugs tied tightly together, back-to-back, with the emergency fire hose from the hallway, sitting in the half-open doorway to Lois's apartment.
Lois was semi-lucid, part from the whiskey, part from oxygen deprivation during the struggle. When asked what happened, she had little recollection of the details, other than she was attacked and the two in the doorway were the assailants.
Barely coherent, Lois asked, "Why did you tie them up like that?"
The two policemen looked at each other and chuckled.
The next thing Lois remembered was Maggie Sawyer coming into her apartment. She said something to the police officers, and they nodded. "I'll stay with her for a while, guys. She'll come to the station to make a statement in the morning. Just get those pieces of shit out of here."
"Yes, Ma'am," they said, and dragged the two assailants who were also gaining consciousness out of the doorway. Sergeant Booker caught the door before it closed. "Call me when you need a ride back home, Lieutenant."
The last thing she remembered was Maggie asking if she was okay.
Friday, September 25, 2020
It was 5 PM when Clark got a call from his mom. "Hi Honey," she began. "Your dad bought a 550 gallon oil tank to replace the old one that's on its last legs. Do you have a few minutes to come over and help him get it off the trailer?"
He looked at his watch. We had plans to meet Lana for dinner in an hour. "Sure Mom, I'll be right there."
In less than five minutes, Clark had changed into work clothes and was at the farm. "Are you putting it back where the other one was?" he asked his dad.
"Yes," Jonathan said. "I have to get the old one off the slab first."
"I can do that while you unhook the tie-down straps on this one," Clark replied. "Just pull the new over here." Clark unscrewed the nuts from the old, weathered bolts that had been sunk into the concrete slab years before. He lifted the old tank from the slab and set it aside. As his dad pulled the trailer around, he unloaded the new tank and set it in place over the old bolts. He then refastened the nuts to the bolts to secure it in place.
"That should do it," his dad said. "You saved me $800 just now. Can you believe that's what they told me it would cost to do that?" He shook his head. "It's crazy!"
"No problem. You know that, Dad. I'm glad I could help." He looked around. "What do you want to do with the old one?"
"It's pretty much worthless now. I was just going to take it to a scrap metal place and sell it."
"You want me to crush it for you?"
Jonathan nodded. "Sure. That will keep it from rolling around when I put it on the trailer. If you could, once it's crushed, move it into the barn," he said. "I'll put it on the trailer with the tractor once I'm ready to take it in to sell."
Clark did that and in the process, got fuel oil on his hands and forearms. He headed into the house to wash up and say goodbye to Martha. He cleaned up and came downstairs and hugged his mom.
"Are you coming by this weekend?" Martha asked.
"I can't, Mom. I have to go North and talk to my father."
"Okay," his mom said. "I was going to make a special dinner if you were."
"All your dinners are special, Mom. I'm sorry I had to leave to find that out!" Clark smiled. "I gotta go," he said. "I have things to do tonight, otherwise I'd stay the night."
She kissed him and he went to the front door. As he opened it, Nell Lang was stepping onto the front porch. "Clark!" she said. "How nice to see you. What are you doing here?" she asked.
"I was helping my dad with a new oil tank he bought. How are you?" he asked, trying to change the subject.
Martha appeared at the porch door and looked alarmed. "Hello, Nell!" she said, pushing the screen door open. "Come on in. Clark was just leaving."
"Take care, Mrs. Lang," Clark said.
Nell patted him on the shoulder, "You too, Clark. Say 'hi' to my daughter for me when you see her."
"Yes, Ma'am," he replied and as soon as Nell Lang was out of sight, Clark dashed to Metropolis.
He cleaned up and changed into nicer casual clothes. He checked his watch. It was 4:45 PM and he was to meet Lana in fifteen minutes. He got in his truck and drove to her apartment. She opened the door and gave him a hug. The pleasant scent of soap and light perfume filled his nostrils. "You look nice," Clark commented. "Is that new perfume?"
Lana leaned back in his arms. "It is! Thanks for noticing." She looked at him. "You look nice, yourself; not so buttoned up!"
They went to dinner and got back to Lana's apartment by 7 PM. Clark sat on the couch and put a movie on the television. Lana sat next to him to begin with and then, as the movie dragged on, she got up and straddled his lap, facing him. She put her arms around his neck and smiled. "I've missed just spending time with you alone like this," she said and pulled his glasses off. She leaned forward and kissed him.
He felt her body beginning to writhe and her heart beginning to pound in her chest. He felt her breasts pressed against his chest as she pulled herself in closer. "God," she whispered, "I love how warm you always are."
Clark was becoming aroused from her writhing. He pulled her deeper into the kiss with one hand and caressed the side of her bare neck with the other.
Her writhing became a steady rhythmic grinding over the steely bulge in his lap. She pulled out of the kiss just long enough to pull her top off and then dove back into it. She reached back, unsnapped her bra and wriggled out of it. She fumbled at the buttons on his shirt and opened it, rubbing her bare breasts against his rock-hard chest. She continued to kiss and grind, becoming more furious until she exploded into an orgasm and lay against his chest, out of breath and damp hair pasted against her neck. He stroked her back and her grinding subsided slowly. She pivoted off him and lay back against the couch. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "My God," she said, "I needed that. I'm sorry. Clark. I've missed us like this."
"Don't apologize. I'm the one who should apologize," he said. He then explained that he had planned to stay longer but he needed to get back early that night because his dad needed help on Saturday morning. "I'll be back tomorrow night though. Maybe we can do something fun on Sunday…a movie, maybe."
"You're going to drive round trip and help your dad in one day? That's going to be a long day."
"I know but it'll be fine as long as I get a decent night's sleep." He rose to his feet, turned and bent down and kissed her. "Just choose a movie you want to see and text me the showtimes. We'll go catch it on Sunday."
"And then come back here and continue where we left off?" she said, smiling seductively.
He retrieved his glasses, smiled, and winked. "That's tempting," he replied and thought it sounded dismissive. "I'd like to come back here and pick this back up. You, Lana Lang, are hard to resist."
She giggled. "Then don't!" she said, then added. "No pressure, though."
"Riiiight!"
She jumped up and hugged his neck and they kissed again. "Go get some rest!"
Clark left and once he parked his truck, sped to his apartment, changed and was patrolling the city at a very high altitude. He circled Lois Lane's apartment to make sure there were no holdovers planning to pay her a visit like they had the night before. He listened and she was watching some Friday night football game being broadcast. He could hear her heartbeat, slow, steady, melodic. Higher he flew, nearly two miles high at ten thousand feet and still he could hear her heart beating. He did not know why he could hear her heartbeat above others, but he attributed it to the special connection between them.
Are my parents right about her? He decided that he should find time to read the letter that Lois wrote to him after Lori's death. It could have some answers to the questions he had about her and their relationship moving forward. Working relationship, he reminded himself.
Lana woke up the next morning, called her mom, and spoke to her for a while. When she mentioned that she had dinner with Clark the previous night, her mom commented that it must have been a late dinner. "Not really," Lana replied, "Why do you say that?"
"I saw Clark yesterday afternoon. I spoke to him for a little while as he was leaving the house," Nell said. "He was in a rush, though. I could tell that. He didn't tell you?"
"No," Lana replied. She thought for a moment. "What time was that, Mom?"
"Um…about 4:15 or not quite 4:30."
"Oh, okay," Lana replied, shocked by what she heard.
"Honey, are you there?"
"Yeah, Mom. I'm here. Oh, and we had dinner once he got back. It wasn't that late," she said, "not by Metropolis standards at least." She listened to her mom talk some more and an idea came to her. Lana asked, "Mom, can you do me a favor? Would you give something to Clark to bring to me?"
"Sure, Honey. Will he be here today? He was just here yesterday."
"He said might be there helping his dad with something," Lana replied.
"Okay. What do you need?"
"My yearbook from Smallville High. I wanted to refresh my memory in case I run into someone. It's embarrassing when I can't remember their name," she said. "It's in the second drawer of the nightstand next to my bed unless you moved all my stuff."
"I haven't touched your stuff. No reason to," Nell said. "I'll take it by their house today."
"If he's not there, just bring it back home," Lana said. "I will get it another time."
They finished the conversation and Lana hung up and thought about her idea and what it meant if she got her yearbook and what it meant if she did not get it.
At about 6 PM, Clark texted her and said he was going to spend the night there because the stuff that he and his dad were doing was taking much longer than he thought. He said that maybe he would not be home in time to catch a movie the following day, but he would call her when he got back if there was a change. If not, they could make plans for some time during the week.
The next day, Clark called Lana at around 5:30 PM. He told her that he just got back. Really exhausted. "Can we catch a movie later this week?"
"Sure, Clark," Lana replied. "Whatever we can squeeze in will be great."
He paused. "We don't have to see a movie if there's something else you'd rather do. We could go to dinner again or something."
"The 'something' part sounds interesting," she said and giggled. "How about coming for dessert at my place? Maybe around 7 PM?"
"Okay," Clark said. "Does Tuesday at 7 sound good?"
"Yes, it does," Lana said. "Don't forget!" She hung up and wondered what to say if he did not have the yearbook. She was pretty certain that he would not and wondered if that meant he was having second thoughts about getting back together. She would not blame him for being hesitant and she would just have to work harder to prove this time it was real.
Then she thought about the strange thing her mom had said. How the hell did he get from Smallville to Metropolis and to my house in 45 minutes? Lana was beginning to believe she knew why Clark had always acted so differently from other guys. She had thrown herself at him and he would take things up to a certain point and stop going any further. Clark was different and maybe it had nothing to do with his upbringing.
Given what her mom had said, she suddenly wondered if Clark had any connection to the strange occurrences in Metropolis. Clark? she thought. C'mon, Lana. Get real. She started thinking about the occurrences and when the stories began circulating and they coincided with Clark's arrival in Metropolis. She thought about the mugging and how he was violently hit with a metal pipe and knocked unconscious on the sidewalk but had no visible injuries. She thought back further and the fire in the woods on New Year's Eve, supposedly caused by an errant firework and only Clark saw it. And then there was the incident with the coyote and Clark showing up out of nowhere.
Clark? she thought again. No way, she told herself but decided that she would patiently watch him.
A few miles away, Clark lay in bed waiting for night to fall. He revisited the talk he had with Jor-El about his concerns with Lana and guidance he could give regarding advancing his intimacy with her. He spoke with his father about the idea of being a visible presence rather than a hidden one. They discussed the pros and cons of wearing a mask to conceal his identity versus showing his face.
Before going to the Fortress, Clark stopped by the farm. He rummaged around in the loft and finally found the letter that Lois had written to him three years ago following Lori's assumed suicide. He considered waiting to read it until he got to the Fortress. Instead, curiosity got the best of him and he opened it and read it.
Afterwards, he had lunch with his mom and dad before going to the Fortress and during that time, Nell Lang came by with a yearbook that Lana had asked her to give to Clark.
Waiting for nightfall, he read the letter that Lois had written. He had read it at least half a dozen times since he found it. The emotion that she had put in the letter made him reassess his opinion of her. Her remorse and empathy came through clearly in the letter and although she did not take responsibility for Corben's actions, she did write that she felt culpable for it happening because she had not reported his behavior to her superiors before.
That's fair, he thought.
He folded the letter and put it back in the envelope and in the drawer of the nightstand beside his bed. He decided to stay in that night. It was Sunday and Sundays were normally very quiet. He would get some sorely needed rest. As he drifted off to sleep, his mind bounced between images of Lana and images of Lois. Lana and Lois.
