Chapter 3: Never Take Something for Granted - Written by DarthWizard
Edited by Sky_walker_123
(Kent Farm - Smallville, Kansas - March 23, 2013 - 8:30 pm)
This wasn't the first time Clark chose to sleep inside the barn. Tonight was Friday night, and he didn't have to worry about school or homework until Monday. His mother, Martha Kent's footsteps creaked across the wooden floor of the barn's loft. Her light steps glided closer to him. He was lying on his belly on an old red rug, his fingers clutching his GameCube controller, his eyes focused on his blaring TV, which showed him crashing his go-kart into Bowsers. Martha Kent huffed while walking in front of the TV, revealing a stern look in her blue eyes.
"Light's out in one hour, mister!" Martha piped right as he lost his race. He threw his controller across the floor and smiled, only to have her crouch down low and ruffle his jet-black hair, which elicited a loud "Mom!" She laughed and hugged him before saying, "I expected some kind of protest out of you."
"It's Friday!" he piped back playfully, his eyes shining like a puppy. "I swear I'll be in bed by ten."
"Oh, alright," Martha relented. She hugged him harder, kissed him on his forehead, and asked, "Are you spending the night in the loft? Because if you are, I'll leave the porch light on."
Clark nodded. He saw conflict overtake her eyes before returning to normal, causing him to gulp. He hated seeing his mom worried or, worse, angry. He only wondered what he did this time, but taking another gulp of air, he bravely asked, "Is something wrong?"
"Honey, I was speaking to Mr. Ross. I was giving back Pete's inhaler from when he was last over. He told me that you hugged a girl from your class named Alicia two weeks ago by the Football field," Martha inquired, much to Clark's relief. He expected her to reprimand him for all the trouble he'd been experiencing at school, but this he could take. "Does my little troublemaker have a girlfriend?".
"Mom!" Clark roared at the horrid accusation. His cheeks were burning hotter than a furnace. "It's nothing like that!"
"Easy, easy! I'm joking… or am I? I wouldn't put it past my little charmer if he were," Martha playfully said while ruffling his jet-black hair again. "Bed by ten!"
Martha left the loft and walked back to the house. Clark rolled back to his feet and switched his GameCube to late-night television. Clark blew a black lock of hair out of his eyes and tried to drown out his fear. He thumped his Merrell boots on the wooden floor and huffed. He removed his comfy farm shoes, leaving him in his worn black socks before jumping onto an old sofa facing the television. Late-night cartoons played on the television, yet that didn't stop him from thinking about Alicia and what he was becoming.
Last week at school, he had to sit out during recess because he had broken the pencil sharpener. Two days ago, Principal Jackson of Smallville Elementary reprimanded him because he accidentally broke a bully's wrist. Billy Thompson was a living terror, and he always got a thrill out of tormenting all the younger kids riding the bus. Billy gave him a nasty sucker punch on his right cheek on his way off the bus. Gosh darn it! What did a small-town Kansas boy in the middle of nowhere need to do for a break?
Mom and Dad hadn't been so happy with him lately because they kept getting called into the principal's office almost every other week for the past month.
Being different sucked!
Fitting in was impossible, mainly because he was stronger, faster, and more powerful than anyone else. When dealing with the bullies at school, he consistently submitted like a whipped dog. His dad always taught him control when they worked on managing his powers. The scary truth is that he could easily shove his pinky through Billy Thompson's skull without breaking a sweat. Fighting back would leave everyone dead, and he was frightened by that prospect. That was the reality of his powers.
With each passing day, he felt more powerful and alive. For as long as he could remember, he dreamed of flying—flying into the heavens and watching the Earth spin before his eyes. Sadly, that was only a dream, and his powers were mostly grounded in simple things like picking up the tractors with his bare hands. That only scratched the surface of what he was capable of.
His body was invulnerable to everything, including buzzsaws and shotgun pellets. Shooting himself in the chest with his dad's 12-gauge Remington wasn't brilliant, but he was curious. Much to his chagrin, it didn't leave a scratch. Punching through steel was easy. He could run faster than an airplane, hear flies buzzing across the street, and sometimes slow time by moving around.
Foggy condensation escaped from his lips. That wasn't normal. Clark shifted on the couch, unsure why it felt colder than ice.
No, it couldn't be, but could it be her?
Footsteps creaking up old wooden steps took Clark out of his pondering. The beat of his heart stopped long enough for him to roll off the couch in shock. He got off the couch and went to the edge of the loft's balcony, only to spot a blonde-haired girl with light chestnut brown eyes. She wore a floral spring dress down to her knees and black rain boots.
Alicia Baker leaned against the loft's railing, giving him her classic devious all-knowing smile. She was nine years old like him, but she was more than that. Alicia was the only person besides his parents who knew his secret. Last month after school, Clark practiced his soccer skills, only to find out, much to his horror, that Alicia saw him kicking the football through the field goal netting. No one ever went to the soccer fields after school this late in the year, except for Alicia, who always seemed to linger around the playgrounds until sunset.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, utterly freaked out that his friend was standing before his eyes. "It's pretty late, Alicia, and besides that, I'm grounded. I'm not supposed to have friends over until next week."
"I didn't mean to freak you out! I just wanted to see you," Alicia said desperately, her eyes glistening oddly. "Clark, please let me stay. Please!"
He wasn't sure how to respond. Clark edged closer to her. Her face was hidden in the shadows. All he could see was her eyes, which reflected distress, sadness, and terror. Was she running from something? What was going on?
"Oh, alright, fine! Come," he said quickly without thinking.
Clark pulled her out of the shadows to the old sofa in the family loft. A commercial promoting G.D.A.'s accomplishments blared on the television. The entire loft felt like a snowstorm, and the eerie blue glow of the TV unsettled him. Alicia's blonde hair was long, and it flowed behind her back in a ponytail that she tied with a blue bow ribbon. Clark gasped when he saw a large purplish bruise on her left cheek. Her eyes were swollen slightly pink like she had been crying for hours on end.
"Alicia, what happened?" he asked, his throat was heavy at her sight. "Why did you come here?"
Alicia threw her arms around his back and whispered, "Because you are the only one I trust. You are always nice to me, and… we are the same!"
"Right," he said uncomfortably. "But you didn't answer my question. What is going on?"
"Clark…" her words were stuck in her throat. "Just hold me, please."
So he held her. For close to twenty minutes, he hugged her. She was warm, which was a clear contrast to the iciness in the air. The air grew less cold every minute, but Alicia was still the warmest thing in the loft. His cheeks were growing hotter, and he was unsure what was happening. She was the most spirited and brave girl at Smallville Elementary. No one dared to touch the tarantula in Ms. Tesla's science class except for her.
(Music: "We're Best Friends," by Hans Zimmer)
Alicia knew that he was grounded. He told her he was grounded this morning, yet she was crying in his arms. Did someone hurt Alicia? Clark was removed from these thoughts by snow drifting outside his window. He let slip a loud, "Alicia, did you make it snow?" She sniffled and pulled away with a smile.
She gave a proud nod and said, "I told you I could make it snow."
"This is incredible," Clark gasped. He walked away from the TV, which was playing Gladiator. "You did it!"
Clark looked outside the open barn windows. Ice had accumulated on the red wooden storm shutter. It was only snowing around the barn and the two-story tall Kent House surrounded by his mother's wonderful blooming garden. Outside of this vicinity, the night was alive with crickets chirping and lightning bugs hovering in the air, their thorax flashing bright neon green-yellow bursts of light.
Alicia appeared by his side and placed her hands on her hips. With a few bows and a hand outstretched like she was accepting a trophy, she said, "Thanks, Clark! So will you allow me to stay the night? I promise I'll leave before sunrise. I can't go back home. I need to stay!"
"Stay? Alicia, you are my friend, and I promised you I'd keep your secret hidden in my life. But what will I tell my parents when they wake up and see a couple of inches of snow in her flower garden tomorrow?" challenged Clark. He was already on thin ice with Mom and Dad. The last thing he needed was for them to find out he had a girl over. Clutching his cheeks in horror, Clark gasped, "They're going to kill me."
"Jonathan and Martha Kent?" Alicia answered humorously. "They aren't going to find out. Even if they did, you were born lucky."
"Lucky?" Clark repeated before letting out a snort of doubt. "How am I lucky?"
"Do they know you are a super?"
Clark nodded. He moved away from the window and looked at Alicia, puzzled by her comments. Her face looked hollow like she saw a bogeyman.
"Same as you, right?"
Alicia gave a weak nod. The air grew cold again, and the snowfall outside went from a light flurry to a whirling white storm. Only for it to go back to a very light flurry.
"Yeah, same as you…"
(Kent Farm - Smallville, Kansas - March 23, 2013 - 9:30 pm)
A snowball battle commenced outside around the barn. Clark and Alicia had been smiling for the past twenty minutes as snowballs bashed into each other. Snowballs flew between his mother's perfectly trimmed hedges that surrounded her garden. The porch light shined on, but his parents were still asleep, much to his relief. The snowfall slowed into a very light flurry as Clark slid over a frozen puddle of water on the icy ground.
He fell onto his back and shivered.
"Okay, you win," he said on his back.
Alicia looked down at him and grinned mischievously. Her brown eyes shone with concern, and she held out a hand. "Clark, are you hurt?"
"You know I don't get hurt," he replied. Taking her hand, she helped him back onto his feet. "We should go to bed. I promised my mom I'd be in bed by ten. Plus, it's colder than a witch's nipples!"
She laughed and followed him back into the loft. Clark was glad she didn't put up any protest. They had been having so much fun, but he had already broken more rules than he could count. He turned off all the lights in the loft except for the TV, which was still playing Gladiator. He set up his favorite sleeping bag whenever Dad took him camping or hunting. He didn't particularly like to hunt, but as he unrolled the sleeping bag, it brought back good memories. Whenever Dad took him camping or hunting, it was code for him to learn to control his powers. Clark was taken out of his thoughts by the lighting of a candle from Alicia.
(Music: "I Chose You," by Hans Zimmer)
"Clark, I'm curious about something before we go to bed. Are we freaks?" Her question startled him. He clutched his mom's quilted blanket tighter around his body as he saw conflict overtaking her face again. "Mama told me that if I show anyone my powers, I'll be taken by the Global Defense Agency. But I saw on the news last week people were lynching supers in Kansas City. Supposedly, a super was caught eating their neighbors, and everyone went crazy. The Guardians of The Globe still haven't caught the mob that did it."
"I read about that in the Daily Planet," Clark admitted. His parents had been more worried than usual because of the violence against supers. "I saw it under the headline about Iraq collapsing from the new insurgency."
"Saw that on the news. The world is falling apart, people are losing their heads half the world away, and there isn't anyone out there to save them." She looked at Clark and smiled. "Maybe us freaks can one day make a difference like the Guardians of The Globe!"
"I don't think we are freaks. Alicia, you made it snow outside. Not even Harry Potter can do something so magical. So please, don't sell yourself short. Because ever since I met you. I don't feel so alone anymore," he assured. Holding his hand out, Alicia took his hand over the burning candle and held it there.
A couple of tears streamed down the tip of her nose. Clark's face sank as he watched her fight to hold her smile, but that also gave out.
Clark moved to her side and hugged her as she cried against him. Questions that infested his mind not long before came crashing back like a freight train. "Alicia, did I say something wrong?"
"No, I'm just happy I know you. Because Clark, you're special," she said as tears dripped onto the hardwood floor.
"Special?"
"Not because you are a super, but because you are the nicest person I know. You saved my life tonight, and I don't know how I'll pay you back. Clark, you are a good soul," she attested. Placing her right hand on his cheek, he blushed but didn't dare remove it. "Thank you for being here, for being you."
"Alicia, I'll always be there for you no matter what," he assured. He watched the candle burn and glow orange against the dark interior walls of the loft. "I don't want to pry into your life. I really don't, but I hate seeing you sad."
Alicia said nothing. She got up, walked to the sofa, and pulled a red satin blanket off the armrest. He got up and approached her, confused, only to gasp in surprise. He stood petrified in the candlelight as his friend tied the blanket around his neck like a cape.
Alicia's brown eyes beamed with happiness as she looked at him like he was Michaelangelo. She softly said, "Clark, don't you worry about me. You'll always be my hero."
(Kent Farm - Smallville, Kansas - March 24, 2013 - 6:30 am)
Clark awoke from his slumber by the shifting of his sleeping bag. He opened his electric blue eyes and stared into chestnut brown. Alicia was smiling down at him like she usually did before last night. The bruise on her left cheek wasn't as pronounced as the night before. The swelling had decreased considerably, but the blow she received looked gnarly. The sight alone made him shiver below his super-powered classmate.
(Music: "I'm a Father," by Tom Holkenborg)
A blue ribbon fell onto his lap, causing him to raise an eyebrow. Her undone ponytail allowed her straight blonde hair to cascade over her back like a veil of gold.
"Good morning, sleepyhead. I better get going before your parents wake up," she said, dressed in the same spring dress and black rain boots as the night before. "And Clark, thanks for allowing me to stay the night."
"It's the least I can do. You looked like you went through the works," he confessed awkwardly. "What happened before you showed up last night? Why do you have a bruise on your face?"
Alicia shook her head and looked out of the open loft window. Melting icicles dripped water from the wooden shutters. "If I lived here, I wouldn't want to run away," Alicia confessed, looking him in the eye differently. "Don't take what you have for granted, Kent! That's all I'm going to say."
"I don't! I'm just worried about you. You popped up out of nowhere, and all wrangled up like someone attacked you. You are my friend, Alicia. I don't want anything to happen to you," Clark roared, rolling out of his sleeping bag.
"Nothing will happen, Kent."
"Alicia, you look like the Crows tackled you during Football practice!"
"Do you really believe my power is magical? I think it's a curse. I wish I were a Kent, but not everyone is born so lucky. My parents are just protecting me… yes, that's it." Alicia nodded, and she smiled while walking away.
Clark frowned as he watched his friend leave the barn. He ran to her. Gravel flew from his boots as he skidded to a stop behind Alicia. "Alica, wait!"
She turned around, shocked. They were in the middle of a winter wonderland, which was entirely contained around the barn and the Kent household. She raised a blonde eyebrow.
"What's going on?"
"Let me walk you home. It's the least I can do," Clark said.
She looked conflicted before nodding. With a twist of her hair, she said, "Follow me, Kent."
No words were uttered on the way over to Alicia Baker's house. They passed Pete Ross's four-hundred-acre ranch next to the Smallville Crow's Nest Trailer Park. Alicia's family didn't come from the best means, but they owned two trailers inside the trailer park on two acres of land. They were better off than most people there, but still poor compared to the Kent's or Ross's. Clark knew her house because the school bus always dropped her before him and Pete.
Clark saw people flying American, Mexican, and a few Confederate flags from ruddy wooden flagpoles. He noticed people watching them from dirt alleyways as he walked down the dirt road paths to her home. She lived a mile and a half away from his family's farm, but where she lived felt like it was centuries away from what he was used to. Every trailer had at least one truck. Most trucks didn't work and were reduced to rusty targets by stones and firearms.
Small groups of three or four adults hung around every corner of the trailer park, watching their every move. Clark felt uneasy by their stares, but they didn't faze Alicia. Most of the trailers were boarded up by cheap plywood, and the road became muddier as they walked to the safer part of the trailer park. When they arrived, Clark saw Alicia's father wearing a wife beater and chugging a forty-ounce gas station beer on a rocking chair.
"Where the fuck did you scamper off!" Her father hollered, spit and beer flying from his mouth. "Who's the boy?"
"Dad, he's my friend," Alicia said softly. "It's not like you care."
Her father grabbed her hand fiercely, dragging her onto the porch. "Dad!" A strong blast of cold air swept through the trailer park. "Please, don't do this now."
Mr. Baker balled his left hand into a white-knuckled fist but threw his thumb back. "Get inside, honey," he huffed with a loud growl. "And you!"
Clark only glared at the balding father. Mr. Baker peered into his eyes with curiosity, realization hitting the father. Terrible thoughts emerged in Clark's mind. He knew Alicia's father was up to no good but was afraid to act on this impulse. Killing and disemboweling Mr. Baker might be going overboard.
"Get off my property!"
(Music: "A Woman Alone," by Max Richter)
Clark didn't have to be told twice. He ran to a secluded spot in the trailer park, ensuring no one saw him before zooming straight home. It took less than a few seconds, but right as his boots slid against the gravel in front of the barn's stairwell. He heard his mother tapping her cowboy boots. He saw his mother's shining ebony hair and her ice-cold azure eyes that radiated surprise and amusement.
"Clark Joseph Kent! My flower garden is covered in snow, and your father nearly had a heart attack over the farm's goats shivering in the wheat field! I expected you were up to something, but this," Martha stated while storming down the stairs wearing a heavy flannel coat and a pair of thermal leggings. "How the hell did you do this?"
"Uh, Mom, I can explain," Clark stuttered with crimson cheeks.
"Okay, I'm all ears," Martha inquired with amusement.
He wanted to tell her the truth. He wanted to explain Alicia to his mother, tell her what was happening, and tell her everything that happened except that he made a promise to his best friend. Mom and Dad would be furious with him. He broke more rules last night than he felt comfortable admitting. He didn't want to lose his parents. How Mr. Baker treated Alicia made him look at his loving mother differently.
"Honey, what's eating you up?" Martha pondered, her hands on her hourglass hips. "Is something wrong?"
Clark hugged his mother and pressed his head below her bosom. "I love you, mama. I'm sorry about the farm, and I promise it won't happen again!" Martha simply ruffled his black wavy hair and returned his hug.
With a long, tight hug from his mother. A warm, heartfelt kiss on his forehead. He looked up into his mother's eyes.
"Clark, why are you apologizing?"
"Because I never appreciate everything you do. Mom, I'm sorry I keep getting in trouble at school. I wish I were a better son, and I wasn't a super," Clark admitted, his eyes cloudy with tears.
"Clark, the moment I first saw you. I knew you were a miracle. Don't ever consider yourself not worthy in my eyes because that isn't true. I will always love you. Now, how about a warm glass of hot chocolate to enjoy the early morning snow," she said happily.
(Smallville Elementary - Smallville, Kansas - October 10, 2013 - 7:30 am)
(Music: "Eyes," by Rogue Wave)
Electric blue eyes reflected off the window of the school bus. Clark hadn't seen Alicia in two weeks, and the bullies were more relentless than ever. Among the bullies he had to face daily at school, there were many. Billy Thompson and Caleb Winters were boys from the same trailer park as Alicia. Clark encountered them on the bus, but none were as extreme at school as Whitney Fordman, a middle-class boy whose dad worked at LutherCorp. The school bus creaked to a stop on Main Street, and Clark grumbled.
School would start in half an hour, and he wasn't looking forward to another day of school.
"What's wrong, Kent? Upset that your girlfriend's missing?" Caleb Winter said two rows behind him. "Heard Deputy Miller plans on locking Alica up. He's going to throw her in a cell for being a freak."
Clark felt his body shake. A fire burned in his eyes, and he could sense the heartbeats of everyone on the bus—the huffing of a dog down the block. He growled and clenched his fists, causing those sitting nearby to face him.
"Stop!"
"Everyone at the park knows she's a filthy good-for-nothing super. I bet the Global Defense Agency will make her into a weapon. Your bitch freak is going ta-," Caleb said, only to be cut off by Lana Lang.
"Could you please, for once, leave Clark alone," Lana piped in, sliding half her body into the middle walkway. Lana smiled his way, causing him to smile back. "You okay, Kent?"
"Yeah," Clark replied. "Thanks, Lana."
Lana Lang went back to her seat. She was the most pretty girl at Smallville Elementary. She had long orange hair, a pug nose, freckles, and stunning emerald eyes. Lana once described herself as a fourth-generation Chinese-American girl that didn't take bullshit from anyone, especially from those who picked on her friends. Clark felt the bus shudder back to life as it traveled down Country Road 15 to Smallville Elementary.
Most of the early morning day at Smallville Elementary went on as usual. His homeroom class held around twenty students. Clark sat next to his friend Pete Ross, whose family was the wealthiest in his class, mainly because his father sold his creamed corn plant to LutherCorp forty years ago. Pete had a puffy afro, shining brown eyes, dark skin and was Clark's most trusted friend.
The first few hours of class began like usual, with Ms. Peabody lecturing the class about mathematics, simple grammar lessons, and science. He sat through enough of Ms. Peabody's boring lectures to grasp that he was far ahead of most of the class regarding academics. Mom and Dad spent half their time teaching him how to succeed. Lana Lang raised her hand in front of the class, causing Clark to look outside.
Something didn't feel right. He had less control of his powers now more than ever. Usually, bullies never get under his skin. He had enough control not to hurt them, which took more willpower than he liked to admit. However, as they did on the bus, his senses overwhelmed him, which was concerning. Deep in thought, Clark twiddled his pencil in his hands but stopped when he felt the class's eyes on him.
"Zoning off again, Clark?" Ms. Peabody huffed in disappointment. "Name me the predicate on the blackboard!"
Clark looked at the sentence she wrote. The cat ran up the hill. Even Whitney Fordman could answer this question.
"Ran!" Clark answered.
"Hmm, if you applied yourself, Clark, instead of destroying the pencil sharpener, you might have a bright future ahead of yourself," she replied, much to his chagrin.
Clark fumed and remained silent as the class's grammar lesson finished. Ms. Peabody went over their history lesson of the rise and fall of the USSR. For once, Clark was enraptured by her lesson. He listened as his teacher explained Joseph Stalin, who hailed from a tiny country called Georgia. Clark remembered going to Georgia one summer to visit the Coke Factory, but it was interesting to note that Stalin's home country was just south of the Caucuses.
"He changed his name from Dzhugashvili to Stalin. People far and wide knew him as the Man of Steel. Stalin's name sent terror to his enemies but reassured his countrymen that he was the man who could get things done. He was a terrible man, but one simple nickname changed everyone's perception of a nobody from Georgia," Ms. Peabody explained.
Lana Lang raised her hand, causing the teacher to stop her lesson.
"Lana, do you have a question?"
"Ms. Peabody, it's lunchtime," Lana replied.
"Oh, alright, everyone line up for lunch," she proclaimed.
(Music: "Terminated," by Tom Holkenborg [End Song at 0:38])
Clark was near the end of the line going to the cafeteria when he began to see everyone's muscles, their bones. He sensed Ms. Peabody's weak heart. Then it happened. He heard Alicia screaming in his mind. The slashing of a blade into flesh and an explosion of ice-churning through wood, cheap vinyl roofing, and the sounds of flesh being punctured. He ran to the bathroom as the sounds in his head grew worse by the second. His eyes were burning like molten lead as the screams grew more intense.
Water roared around the white ceramic sink. He looked at the mirror before him and noticed, to his horror, his eyes. They were bright crimson before fading to deep electric blue. Was he going mad? Alicia couldn't be in danger, or could she?
Then it happened again. He heard the sounds of implosions and more slashing. Unable to ignore the sounds of mayhem any longer. Clark bolted out of the school. To any onlooker who caught a glimpse of his traveling form, all they could see was a bright red and blue flash.
(Smallville Crow's Nest Trailer Park- Smallville, Kansas - October 10, 2013 - 11:30 am)
Clark stopped in front of Alicia's home, entirely shocked by what he saw. Her entire house had been replaced by sizable razor-sharp ice crystals the size of trees. Hundreds of these ice crystals were sprinkled where her trailer roof, windows, and foundation should have been. Dark scarlet blood dripped from the spikes of the crystals down to the snow-covered ground.
(Music: "Each Man is a Little War," by Hans Zimmer)
Clark's breath was visible as he assessed the trailer park. Most people were running away from Alicia's house in horror. Large ice crystals sprouted from the ground as his skin crawled from the chilly environment. He noticed an opening inside of the web of massive crystals. A trail of blood and what he guessed to be guts and organs led deep inside the home. A light flurry of snow was cascading around the entire trailer park.
Shaking his head, Clark crawled onto his hands and knees. He ventured into the narrow path of sickening crystals. The hairs on his neck raised as he observed the grotesque site of Alicia's older brother impaled by four large crystals. Flattened beer cans clanked below his hands and knees as he saw the source of the violence. A large six-foot-tall lead cage that had hundreds of ice shards sticking out of it like an endangered porcupine.
The whole area smelled like a terrible mix of yeasty dried beer and coppery blood. Clark shuddered, imagining that the more nasty smells came from the Baker's entrails. Sharp, acidic hydrochloric acid hung heavy in the air as Clark realized the cage was built for a person. A hole for sliding food underneath the cage made him raise an eyebrow. Part of the trailer's metal frame was attached to it.
"Why? How could they?" Clark gasped.
The shredded remains of a blanket below the steel cage were all the confirmation of Alicia's bedroom. Her father was locking her in that solid black lead monstrosity.
He ventured away from the solid steel cage past Mrs. Baker, impaled by seven ice crystals. One of the crystals went through her mother's neck. His hands were shaking as he saw more blood splattered against broken furniture. Organs, guts, intestines, and so many crimson ice crystals covered a corpse impaled against what he guessed to be a refrigerator. This was Alicia's father!
"Oh god!" he exclaimed in terror.
Mr. Baker was ripped apart by so many ice crystals that he was nearly unrecognizable except for his balding scalp of hair that was untarnished. Two blood-soaked crystals came out of his eyes and one from his mouth. Ice covered his exposed ribcage, which was spreading over his punctured body. Her father's body was spread out on the refrigerator as if Jack Frost had crucified him.
Clark rushed out of the scene of the disaster quickly as if his life depended on it. What had his friend done? What the hell happened? But most of all, he felt like his life was in danger.
Crawling back out the way he came, Clark saw a trail of blood going deep into the woods. Snowfall covered the once-muddy roads of the trailer park, leaving pristine white everywhere he looked. The trail of blood he followed was getting harder to track. The sky grew darker as more snow fell to the earth, covering the once-dying brown weeds in ice.
The trail of blood was leading him to a nearby creek. Water roared against granite stones as the ground was covered in several centimeters of snow. He looked around the ice-covered area, trying to find the trail of blood. He noticed scarlet blood dripping off of dead branches upstream leading toward the Ross Ranch. Clark followed the blood until he came upon the rusty frame of an old abandoned hunting shack. Blood had pooled from the entrance to the shack as Clark's boots crunched snow below.
(Music: "Solitude (Felsmann + Tiley Reinterpretation)," by M83)
He heard loud sobbing coming from inside as he walked inside. He saw Alicia covered in blood, huddling in the fetal position in the far corner. Her head was cradled within her thighs, and she was covered in horrible bleeding slash wounds. Her typically blonde hair had turned a sickly sticky scarlet near the edges of her hair.
"Alicia," he gasped, crouching at her eye level. "Alicia, what happened? I need to get you to a hospital!"
His best friend, the only friend he trusted and the one with whom he shared his deepest secrets, raised her head. Her eyes were bloated pink, cheeks covered in bruises, collarbone leaking blood, and worst of all, her mouth opened, revealing crimson, saliva-coated blood as she painfully said, "Clark!"
He came to his friend's side and hugged her. Alicia was always pretty in his eyes, but to see her like this made him clench her harder. Her skin was losing color fast. With trembling teeth, she clawed the collar of his shirt. Choking on her own words, she hoarsely croaked, "How did it come to this?"
Tears fell from his eyes at seeing her so brutally close to death that he had to do something.
"Alicia, it's going to be okay. I'm going to take you to the hospital. They will fix you up… yes, they will make everything better. It's all going to go back to normal," he cried out, picking his friend in his arms. "Come on, hold onto me! Just fucking do it!" Clark blinked at himself in surprise. He never usually dropped that type of language.
"Clark," she uttered, clawing her thin-boney fingers futilely at his face. "I've never heard you curse. That's not you. Heh, heh, agh, it hurts." Blood from her fingers drizzled his cheek with sticky splotches of bloody fingerprints as she groaned, "I didn't want to do this."
"It's okay, Alicia. Just hold onto me, and I'll take you to the hospital," he begged.
"No. I can't."
"Why?"
"Because Clark, my life is ruined, but yours has yet to begin," she said softly.
His fingers trembled along her cold, torn, and sticky skin. He peered at her chestnut eyes burning with pain, sorrow, fury, and despair. Their worst nightmare was coming to life. Everyone in Smallville knew she was super when she froze Billy Thompson's feet when he attacked Pete by Crater Lake. She froze the shore, trapping the bully before he could lay a finger on Pete, but everyone saw it. Since then, her fate had been sealed, yet for some odd reason, she hadn't been hauled away like Clark feared. It wasn't until her disappearance that he grew worried.
"Alicia, don't be selfish! Damn it! You can explain what happened and how it was an accident…" his words were futile as he watched his friend break free from his arms.
She stood on wobbly, bloody legs. Walking out of the old hunting shack, Clark gasped when he saw her form in the light of the darkening sky. She was wearing a once brown knitted coat now dyed reddish-black by her mortal wounds. She had been slashed a dozen times all over her body, and how she was alive was beyond him.
"Clark, remember that night I slept over in March?"
"Yes."
Tears and blood dripped from her nose as she turned around to face him. "I don't have much time left, but you deserve to know the truth. That night, I told my mama I loved her and asked if she loved me. Instead of answering, she slapped me around and called me an ugly freak. No matter how much I cried, she continued hitting me. I begged her to stop. Dad came home and slapped me across the face and told me I was a monster, a sick, disgusting freak, and that I wasn't worthy of being his child."
Alicia walked out of the hunting shack, and Clark pursued her. Her wobbly legs only brought her so far before she collapsed in front of the snowy shores of the flowing creek. He fell to her side and cradled her head into his chest.
"Alicia, this isn't over. Listen to me. I promise I'll help you. I'll save you," he vowed.
"Don't you listen, Kent? You've already saved me. You were there when no one else cared. We are the same, don't you understand? I'm Smallville's monster. Slayed by my parents… I dreamed for so long of killing them. Yet now I can't go on," she admitted.
Sirens flared out in the distance. Flashing blue and white glowing closer to the trailer parks. Clark only clutched his dying friend harder, unable to bring himself to let go. Her body trembled as the cold air stung his skin. This was all happening so suddenly that Clark could only respond with his own tears.
"Alicia, I don't know how to go without you. You are the only person besides my parents who knows my secret. That was self-defense! You were defending yourself! Don't just give up!" Clark shook his friend by the shoreline of the creek. "Please, we are the same!"
"All this time, I knew I wasn't like everybody else, but when I met you. For once, I didn't feel so alone. People like us are hated because we are different. I never wanted this to happen, but it finally did. Clark, I'm finally at peace. If you take me to the hospital, people will only ask questions. They will find out you are special, too! Just hold me," she commanded, blood oozing from the corner of her pale lips. "Protect your secret, Kent, because unlike me, you have a future!"
"Alicia, I'm sorry! I should have protected you! I should have been there for you!"
"Clark, you were there when no one else cared. My parents never once said they loved me… your eyes were always warm. You never said it, but I knew you cared for me," Alicia admitted, with her face growing paler. Several agonizing moments of silence passed as both children heard the shouting of adults scrambling towards the creek. "One day, I'll see my best friend again. I won't be alone anymore, Kent. Until then, promise me you won't turn out like me."
"I promise!"
"Can you say those three words every child hears their parents say? Just this once for me?" she begged.
"I love you?" Clark uttered, unsure if he had said the right words.
Her chestnut brown eyes turned cold and glossy.
"A-Alicia," he stuttered. He shook his friend in his arms, but she didn't move. Her chest remained still, and her body became icy cold. Her muscles stiffened in his sticky cold fingers. "I said the words! Please wake up! Come on, don't go!"
Clark saw four armored security personnel who looked like a SWAT team on steroids. They were carrying solid black HK416 assault rifles over their shoulders, barrels already drawn. Deputy Miller walked to the scene, his 9mm Glock pointing to the ground and his peppery mustache arcing in disbelief. All guns were pointing at Clark and Alicia, but no one said a word.
"You're Kent's boy!" Deputy Miller shouted, lowering his pistol. "What the hell are you doing with the meteor freak?"
"Easy there! That boy is innocent!" A GDA agent said. They had a buzzcut haircut, thick lens glasses that reflected Clark's terrified eyes, and he wore a generic gray suit with a baby blue tie. "Name is Donald Ferguson—agent of the GDA and local observer of the Wichita, Kansas GDA outpost. I came here yesterday to discuss the terms of Alicia Baker being sent to the Pentagon. However, that girl was too young to be given to the government. She was also deemed to be mentally fragile, and I determined she'd be safer here in Smallville. What has happened is nothing short of a tragedy that I'll help to amend." Loud murmuring hummed from the lips of all officers listening. Clark lowered his face closer to Alicia, hoping to see life reignite, but all he heard was Donald awkwardly explaining what had happened. "This is a classic case of domestic abuse… I should have known how eager her father was to talk with me. I've been at the scene for the past fifteen minutes, monitoring the ground. I saw him crawl into the house and run out horrified, but I simply observed, unsure about his role. I observed him entering the woods ten minutes ago. I only heard the girl admit to the murder and the boy screaming to get her help. This boy appears to be Alicia's friend."
Clark sat there on the ground, clenching Alicia's corpse, confused. How had he not sensed this stranger? But he ignored that question and looked intently at Alicia's face. She was smiling with cold brown eyes still open. Her smile felt out of place over what has happened, yet it spoke volumes for the friend he protected. Dragging his hand over her eyes, he shut her eyelids for her.
"You have some gall coming to my scene, Poindexter," Deputy Miller shouted as he holstered his firearm. "This is a local matter that'll be handled within Smallville!"
"The GDA has federal authority, deputy. This boy had nothing to do with what happened, and I can verify that as a witness to the event," Donald said with a smile.
"Hmm, well, the boy was playing hooky. He should have been in school. Why did you skip school to be with your friend? Answer me, boy!" Deputy Miller accused. He crouched down at Clark's eye level. "Are you dense like your prideful father?"
Clark turned away from his friend and looked at the sheriff's deputy furiously. His best friend had just died, and he couldn't process the right words to respond. But he felt a reassuring hand over his shoulder. Donald smiled above and shook his head. Instead of Clark responding, the GDA agent whisked him away and said, "Don't you have a soul deputy? The boy just lost his best friend. He needs time to process everything that happened, and I'll assure you that the GDA will handle everything!"
Deputy Miller didn't say anything. Clark looked over his shoulder as Donald Ferguson pulled him away. He saw Alicia's corpse being covered up by masked agents. Crime scene tape was being drawn around the area. Snowfall came heavy from the darkening skies. The world felt weird…
He didn't know why he felt so broken, but he did.
Suddenly, Clark cried harder as Donald Ferguson ushered him inside a government-issued sedan. The door closed, but he looked out towards the creek. He wasn't crying because of Alicia. No, his tears were a sudden realization of what her passing meant.
He was now alone in Smallville.
(Kent Farm- Smallville, Kansas - October 30, 2013 - 7:00 am)
He dreamed again of Alicia Baker. They were playing in the jungle gym, and she hugged him in his dream. It felt so real that it was almost like she was there. She hugged him while he cried in her arms. He tried asking her whether heaven was real, but she didn't answer. All he felt was her warm hug like the one back in March. Awakening in his bed, covered in sweat, brought reality to the now ten-year-old Kansas boy.
(Music: "Jack's Dream," by M83 & Joseph Trapanese)
All that remained from the dream was a deep sense of loneliness. For a moment, he had his best friend. She was there with him but faded away like a single tear of morning dew.
That was how his day began. Disappointment and pain.
This pain was different than the pain he had been experiencing the last twenty days. He felt hot. Burning inside like a furnace that kept growing hotter and hotter. Agonizing pain that made his brows sweat, his head throb, and his mood even more dour than before.
He arrived back in the downstairs kitchen, silent and crestfallen. Mom made him a fresh plate of pancakes, his favorite breakfast staple, yet he was uninterested. He picked at the fluffy flapjack with his fork, unable to bring himself to eat. Dad was floundering around the living room, getting his papers ready for the cattle vendors in downtown Smallville. Mom was busy washing dishes, so she appeared worried before Clark.
"Honey, is something wrong?" she asked, throwing her wet rag over her shoulder.
"Mom, I-I feel sick," he admitted. His hands shot up to his mass of wavy black hair. "I feel hot and terrible. It keeps getting worse."
She touched his forehead and shook her head, "You don't feel hot, honey. Are you sure you feel hot?"
"Mom, I'm positive!"
"Hmm, well, maybe you should stay home," she relented, touching her forehead against Clark's.
Dad entered the kitchen and huffed. Clark dropped his fork on his plate as his father touched his forehead. Jonathan gave Martha a wry look before shaking his head.
"Clark, school is important. Even though it's your birthday, you must go to school," he said authoritatively.
"But dad, I feel so hot, and I could get people sick," Clark protested.
"Son, just go to school. If you don't mind, please get off the bus on Main Street today. I'll be in town all day talking with the cattle vendors. Afterward, I'll bring you home, and we'll celebrate your special day together as a family," Jonathan said happily.
In frustration, Martha threw down her dishrag, but Dad's word was law in the Kent household. Clark grabbed his school bag and threw it over his shoulder. He rushed out the door, his boots crunching on autumn leaves, before running to his bus stop in the span of a second. Hopefully, he would survive.
(Bus 1103 - Smallville, Kansas - October 30, 2013 - 3:00 pm)
Today, school had been a living hell. He couldn't recall a time he had sweated so much as today. Sweat dripped from his eyebrows while taking notes on Ms. Peabody's lesson on multiplication and division on the blackboard. His life at school since Alicia's passing was hollow. Most of the kids knew about him visiting her before she passed away. They reacted how he imagined they would respond. While he never received any punishment for the incident, all the bullies certified him as public enemy number one. So, each lesson passed under the ire of his classmates.
Whitney Fordman threw paper airplanes at his head. Caleb Winters made sly jokes about him during class. Billy Thompson whipped him with a jump rope at recess. He tried ignoring all of their actions, but that's often easier said than done. He could shrug off bullies, but this was an actual test of his will not to tear them in half and dance in their blood. Clark took his seat on the bus, happy it was finally over. He was ready to go home to the farm next to the animals. He looked forward to his mother's warm face, the smell of homemade cake, and his father patting him on the head while they sang Happy Birthday.
Lana slipped to sit down next to him near the back of the bus. Her face had fallen into a frown, but she smiled faintly.
"Happy birthday, Kent!"
"Thanks, Lana," Clark replied dryly. He smiled at his old friend as sweat rolled down his forehead. "Finally, ten years old." He looked out the window towards Smallville Elementary. Lost in his thoughts. The bus rumbled, Lana talked, and he heard voices from everyone on the bus echoing off the walls. "Lana, have you ever felt like people are cruel?"
She stopped talking as their bus roared away from Smallville Elementary. Their bodies slammed against their seats as many students chitchatted away. Caleb Winters and Billy Thompson were sitting at the front of the bus today. So, there was little fear of anyone interrupting their conversation.
"Eh, is something wrong? Is it Alicia?" Lana asked. He nodded and sighed.
"I mean, what's there to talk about? Everyone has their own idea of what happened. I hear the comments people make about her. That she was a freak, a monster, and a living demon," he paused, unable to say more. A bump in the road pushed everyone off their seats. Lana held his left hand and looked him in the eye patiently. Clark softly said, "What?"
"You should put a little more trust in people. I've been worried about you since she died. You were noticeable before by how much you acted like a dork," Lana giggled, then tapped his shoulder playfully. "Thing is Kent. Once upon a time, you didn't eat by yourself for lunch. What's eating you up?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"Why not?"
"It's complicated. Can we please just leave it at that?"
"Fine," she responded dejectedly.
An awkward few minutes passed by of watching cows grazing in open prairies. Their bus passed empty fields on either side of the road. Bushels of wheat and sorghum were lined on Country Road 15 as they entered downtown Smallville. Ranchers were unloading haystacks off their truckbeds. That was when Lana grinned mischievously.
"Clark, got any plans for your birthday?"
"Uh, well, I gotta get off Main Street because my dad's visiting the cattle vendors. Other than that, I'm free."
"Mind walking with me to the Tavern? My aunt works until closing, and having you around might be fun. After all, it is your birthday!"
Clark thought about it and shrugged. Lana's company would be fun, especially since Pete is sick with the flu. Their bus lurched to a loud stop. Lana, Clark, Whitney, and several other kids hopped off onto the downtown streets of Smallville. The air smelled of burning leaves, Kansas-style BBQ, and dark roasted coffee. The Tavern was a Smallville establishment run by the Lang family for several generations. It was a large coffee and pastry shop run by Lana's aunt.
They walked on the sidewalk side by side, passing by ranchers, vagabonds, Luthercorp employees, and various parents shopping for Halloween. Clark noticed Lana skipping happily, and a smile crept up her face. He raised an eyebrow, slightly confused by her enthusiasm. As they walked across the local QuikTrip station with the foul stench of spilled gasoline, Clark saw Lana pulling out a wrapped present from her book bag. It was a small rectangle the size of his thumb but wrapped in cheap Halloween paper.
"Happy Birthday!" Lana said, handing the gift to Clark.
He quickly unwrapped the small rectangle to reveal a classic Gameboy advanced cartridge to Pokemon Emerald. Clark smiled in surprise. His fingers trembled against the smooth neon green plastic. He wanted to add this game to his collection for a long time. How did Lana know? He didn't ever remember discussing video games with her. She once fell asleep when he discussed Lord of the Rings with her, but this…
"Th-thanks. I really don't know how to respond," Clark stuttered, completely taken aback by the gift. "This means so much you don't even understand."
"Enjoy it. My aunt has a whole Gameboy collection she doesn't play with anymore. Plus, I've already played that one a dozen times. Come, we are almost at the Tavern!"
Smallville, because of its size, has few attractions. Across the street from City Hall was the town movie theater connected to the Tavern. There were many shops along the street. However, the Tavern was a large square building across the street from the Farmer Market. Few farmers frequented the market this time of year, but tomorrow was Halloween, and workers were setting up stalls for the Smallville Halloween Festival. Unluckily for him, he was still grounded after the Alicia incident.
Bells chimed overhead as they entered the Tavern. Lana's aunt talked with a man in a suit with a buzzcut. He realized she was talking to Donald Ferguson, sipping a hot cup of coffee across the counter. Closing the register, Lana's aunt waved over to Clark and Lana.
"Speak of the devil. There she is," she said. Her eyes picked up on Clark, and smiled, "Oh, if it isn't Clark Kent. Welcome to the Tavern!"
The walls of the Tavern were dark orange with numerous booths, round tables, and seats occupied by high schoolers, Luthorcorp executives from the fertilizer plant, and a few ranchers with voucher receipts for cattle sold. Clark thought about his father. Dad was probably still at the cattle vendor office by the movie theater. Lana tugged him towards Donald Ferguson, and her aunt interrupted him from his thoughts.
"Oh, thanks, Ms. Lang," Clark stuttered with rosy cheeks.
"My name is Nell Potter," Ms. Potter said with a significant smile.
"I'm deeply sorry, Ms. Potter. Lana always talks about you, and I, uh, well, thought you were a Lang as well," Clark said nervously with even redder cheeks.
"Wow, such a gentleman. Lana, keep this boy close by. Kent men always grow up to be well-mannered charmers like your father," Ms. Potter reminisced dreamily. She walked around the counter of the coffee shop and stood in front of Clark. "Ah, I remember your father well, Clark. He was a varsity quarterback for the Crows back when we were in high school. Every woman south of Topeka had a crush on him."
"So I've heard. You must be proud of your father, Clark. Everyone in Smallville talks highly of him. Even Lionel Luthor speaks highly of him, which is a rarity," Donald said with a slight snaring smile. "Ms. Potter told me about her experience during the meteor shower."
Lana and Nell's faces turned white at the GDA agent's remark. Lana quickly slipped away—her happy attitude from before gone. She slammed the back door of the coffee shop. Footsteps were marching above, alerting him that she was going to her room. Donald raised an eyebrow at his friend's reaction while Nell sighed in frustration.
"Did I say something rude?" Donald asked politely.
"Her parents died the night of the meteor shower. They were hit getting out of their car to greet her," Ms. Potter admitted.
Clark's vision became obscured by haunting images. He saw the muscles, bones, and tendons of Ms. Potter moving. Her cheeks quivered with every movement of her mouth. His powers were acting up again! His forehead grew hot!
"I'm sorry for the loss. Since I've been in Kansas observing the cleanup of meteor rocks, I've encountered many tragedies. Unfortunately, that is life. Death is sometimes around every corner," Donald replied while taking another sip of coffee.
Clark frowned. He turned to face Mr. Ferguson, unsure how to feel about his insinuation about Alicia's passing. His frown transformed into an eye-widening, lost look of horror. Expecting to see Donald Ferguson's muscles, tendons, and skeleton. He saw a metallic monster. Donald's metallic eyes were peering back at him without any soul. The hairs on his neck rose.
Backing away from the adults. He couldn't help his inner instinct telling him to run away from the metallic monster in front of him. Clark kept stepping away, unable to look at the monstrosity. Donald Ferguson wasn't human. He was some sort of robot!
"Is something wrong, Clark? You look like you saw a ghost," Ms. Potter commented worriedly. She held a hand to help him, but Clark took another step towards the Tavern's only exit.
"I have to go!"
Clark left the Tavern and ran away from the metallic monster inside of the Tavern. How did he not notice before that Donald wasn't human? It was a dumb question, but it frightened him that the thing that comforted him after Alicia's death wasn't even human. His fright took him across the street to the Smallville Farmer's Market, which was setting up Halloween festivities and haunted house exhibits. Workers ignored him as he ran from the Tavern towards the Cattle Vendors.
He was close to where Dad was but stopped when two high schoolers wearing varsity jackets appeared near the end of an alleyway between the Smallville Courthouse and Doug's Furniture Emporium. He looked behind him and saw Whitney Fordman and several of his thuggish friends behind him. Trapped on both ends, Clark swiveled his head between both parties, unsure what to do.
"Huh, you must be the monster lover! Clark Kent, is it?" The tallest high schooler asked. They had brown hair and amused onyx eyes. "Why would the son of Smallville's best football player waste his time with a monster?"
Clark glared at the high schooler. He tried walking past them only to be pushed to the broken asphalt by their giant mitten hands. Sweat rolled down Clark's eyebrow to his chin in thin droplets. His eyes were burning in pain. He needed to get away! Rushing up to his feet to get away– he was only pushed back down.
"Aren't you the son of a state legend?" The high schooler taunted. "Does your potential skip a generation for you, Kents?"
"Easy there, Jessie," the other high schooler said. "This piece of shit of an excuse is willing to kiss low life's like that monster!"
"We didn't kiss!" He shouted back at the bullies.
"That's not what my pops in Smallville PD said. He said you were crying over that monster bitch. Shaking her to see if that bitch was alive!" Jessie taunted once again.
"She has a name," Clark shouted, sweat rolling down his face in various droplets. "Her name was Alicia Baker!"
"No one gives a damn what your bitch's name was!" Whitney Fordman called from behind Clark.
"Leave me alone," Clark said, his fingers in his hair. His restraint over his powers was dwindling. "Please!"
"Fuck you! You little piece of shit, you ruined our town's reputation." Whitney shouted from behind Clark.
"How did I do that?" Clark mocked back. "Because I was her friend? Well, if you wanna hate me for not treating her like trash, then hate me. But the jokes on you!" Everyone stood still and looked at him curiously. "She was worth more to the world than the crap beneath your boots. Alicia never once hurt anybody until her own family tried to kill her. She fought tooth and nail her whole life to be a good person. That's the friend I'll remember, and none of your lies will change my mind!"
Whitney's two thuggish bully friends in the sixth grade rushed him from behind. However, time felt like it slowed down. Most kids in his situation would fight back, but no other kids were in his situation. The one other kid he knew was dead, and he knew what happened to her. If anyone discovered his secret, his world would crash faster than the Hindenburg. Right as their fists were about to connect with his back. He ducked and bolted to an open tornado cellar connected to Doug's Furniture Emporium.
Clark crashed against the musky ground. Dust clouded his vision as he rolled onto his butt, looking at the bullies outside in the alleyway. Jessie locked the tornado cellar door with a padlock from his pocket. Thin streams of light filtered through the cracks in the storm cellar door.
"Have fun down there, monster lover!" Jessie screamed with joy.
(Music: "Genesis," by Tom Holkenborg)
Clark dusted off his jeans and plaid shirt. He felt sticky and scratchy, tangling cobweb clumps in his hair. He shook his fingers through his jet-black hair in horror. Cobwebs, dust, and grime fell to the ground as he took in his dark surroundings. There was a massive slanted storm drain at the center of the cellar. Dusty cobwebs covered broken chairs, sofas, and a worn billiards table in the tornado cellar. Ancient stone steps led to a worn door across the room. Piles of peeled paint littered the entryway as he wobbled towards the door. Everything was shifting like the world was inside a bottle and being shaken. Sweat dripped to the stone floor. That horrible throbbing feeling he had felt all day was worse.
His eyes were burning with pain.
Why was the world so cruel?
What had he done?
Sick, terrible thoughts bombarded him. Was he a monster too? He wasn't like everybody else. But this pain he felt in his chest, and his eyes grew heavier. Jessie and Whitney's words echoed in his head. Even though Mom and Dad loved him, he could lose everything. All it took was something to make the viscous pinwheel spin again.
They were all he had.
This was all his fault!
The doorknob felt cool in his hand, yet that didn't tamper the molten heat he felt burning inside his essence. Clark turned the doorknob, twisting it off the built-in escutcheon. Deadbolts screeched as yellow-white sparks flew in the air. The door swung off its hinges, slamming into the walls. The entire building has been vacant since it closed down in 2008. Clark walked into the dusty rundown building. There was nothing but dust, abandoned furniture, soiled mattresses, and empty plastic bottles littering the edges of the hallways.
"Grrr! GRR! RAWR!"
Clark saw a large, shaggy black dog across the abandoned store. The animal scurried away in fear. All of the pain he felt came rushing out all at once. A bright red glow illuminated the entire darkened store. Everything he looked at was vaporized and burned by his rage. His power engulfed wood, plaster, brick, and the outside world.
The damage quickly overtook the building as flames rose everywhere he turned. His eyes burned crimson as his hate for life consumed him. Brick vaporized from the powerful destructive red beams shooting from his eyes. He screamed and collapsed to his knees in utter despair. Tears he wanted to fall to the ground weren't evaporated. His screams were muffled by the building burning around him. Grey smoke turned black. Soot covered his clothes and clumped to his hair. Shrouding his humanity for what he was.
He couldn't cry. No, he could, but all the pain he wanted to shed from his mind left him quaking with more pain. Why couldn't he cry?
He wasn't even human. Humans could cry, but all he saw was red. Like Alicia, he was a monster—a destructive abomination wreaking havoc wherever he looked. Turning and watching the world burn around him felt good. He felt his pain slipping away with his rage. Plumes of orange and yellow flames engulfed the walls. Crackling wood, dust falling from collapsing support beams, and the shrill cry.
Closing his eyes in surprise, the last son of Krypton opened them and saw the destruction he unleashed upon the abandoned building. He heard the shrill cry grow louder. Swinging through smoke and flames. He came upon the growling dog scratching at the chained door near the back of the building. Clark grabbed the dog and slammed his right shoulder through the chained steel door.
Rusty metal chains jingled against burning stone as it slammed off its hinges. He ran on cool, broken asphalt, his smoldering boots hissing with each step. The dog in arms whimpered as Clark ran away from behind Doug's Furniture Emporium. He quickly sped away from the scene, finding his father's red F-150 parked outside the cattle vendor's office. There was already a crowd surrounding the burning building. Red firetruck sirens echoed throughout downtown Smallville.
"Clark!" Jonathan Kent screamed as he threw his old light brown leather jacket around Clark's shoulders. Rushing away to the driver's door, Clark stood petrified with the dog still in his arms. "Get in!" His dad had already started the engine and opened the passenger door for him. "Now!"
(Main Street- Smallville, Kansas - October 30, 2013 - 5:25 pm)
Blue and white flashing lights blared horrible doom. He jostled his hands on the clutch. Foot at the pedal, he hadn't been more ready in his life. Years of paranoia from Martha's nagging made him cautious, yet this was beyond anything his worst nightmares could conjure up.
Jonathan Kent's heart nearly stopped when he saw his son appear out of nowhere, clutching a rank, smoldering black dog in both arms. Clark looked at the dog for a moment before letting the dog go. Clark was inside his truck, seatbelt already fastened within the blink of an eye. Clumps of soot and ash showered from Clark's clothes as he sped away. Rubber lurching against asphalt, his eyes on the road, but his heart thumping in his chest faster than a quarterback on prom night.
(Music: "Alone and Forsaken," by Hank WIlliams)
Police sirens rang as he sped down Main Street. Jonathan observed his son shivering in his seat, eyes wide, mouth sputtering open and closed in shock, unable to say a word.
Now, he had seen many weird things in his life. Ranging from winning the Kansas State High School Football Championship, running out of Smallville one summer, and joining the Peace Corps. He was sent to Somalia only to reboard his plane because of a civil war. That was when he decided to finish school. He found Martha, and they attended Metropolis University together. Then came the meteor shower, and the spaceship—his son, who was kind, well-mannered, already charming, and funny in his own right- was now in serious trouble.
"What did you do?"
Clark didn't say a word.
He turned the wheel left, maneuvering off Main Street. The truck's frame shook as they road down a dirt alleyway, lights turned off, evading fleets of police cars and loud red firetrucks making their way to the fire. The radio played Hank Williams, his favorite country artist. They rode out of downtown Smallville from the alleyways of Morrison Avenue to Highway 50. He glanced at his son. What had Clark done? Getting caught up with that Alicia girl was bad enough, especially the long pep talk from GDA agent Donald Ferguson about Clark being at a crime scene.
Burning down a building in downtown Smallville, using his powers so blatantly in public, and coming to him with that dog. He had a lot to process.
Prairies, harvested fields, cattle clustered close to barbed wire passed their truck as he calmed down.
"Clark, what the hell did you do?" His son opened and closed his mouth. Words unable to materialize but he saw a lonesome tear fall from his son's soot covered face. "Answer me!"
"Dad… I don't know. I'm sorry! I want to be good! I want to be like you so badly, but I'm scared," Clark cried out uncontrollably. "Please! Please, I'm so sorry for everything!"
More tears fell down his son's face causing him to slow down and pull over by an abandoned gas station close to their home. There were no cars present, which was perfect. Jonathan turned his head to his only son. He took off his seatbelt and pulled Clark across the center console into his chest. His fingers tightened around his ash covered jet-black hair. Guilt swept him from his toes to his fingers as he hugged his son.
"It's okay, Clark, don't you worry. I'm sorry, I got mad. But what is wrong? What happened back there?"
"Dad, I try every day to be good. Every moment I wake up, and the moment I go to bed, I think about you and Mom. I did something bad," Clark mustered before crying harder into his shoulder. Wet, warm tears covered the buttoned pocket of his denim shirt. Clark held onto him like a koala, his electric blue eyes saying, "I burned down Doug's Furniture. I killed Alicia! I'm responsible for everything terrible happening to Smallville!"
"Clark, that is enough!"
Clark looked up into his father's light brown eyes with uncertainty. His lips were quivering, his body shook, and his head turned left and right. Jonathan hugged his son harder.
"But Dad, I burned it all down. I wanted to cry. That's all I wanted, to feel human. All I saw was red and burned everywhere from these fiery beams coming out of my eyes. I destroyed everything I looked at because…" his son stopped and crushed his face into Jonathan's chest. "I-I felt darkness like a poison cloud of hate was weighing me down. All I wanted was to cry..."
"Clark, you did nothing wrong. I love you no matter what because you are my son," he said wholeheartedly, "What happened to Alicia was a tragedy. But you will never be able to change that!"
"How do I make this pain go away?" Clark screamed. "I've felt so much pain. I can barely breathe. I can barely stand up without feeling hollow. I don't even feel human anymore!"
Clark cried harder in his chest, but Jonathan rubbed his back soothingly. Unable to let go of the boy who made his life worthwhile. He felt his son's fingers tightening behind his back, holding on for dear life.
"That's what makes you human," Jonathan stated.
"How?"
"What?" He said suddenly. "What do you mean?"
"How am I human?"
Jonathan saw his son's eyes filled with tears. He saw nothing but pain and confusion between the watery tears sliding down his soot-covered face for all his adventures and success in life. He hadn't felt lower than now.
"Clark, what happened between you and Alicia?"
(Music: "Calling Home," by Lorne Balfe)
His son became silent. The only chatter in the car was the soft music from the radio. He thought about everything happening now at once. The moment Donald Ferguson greeted him at the door was when he expected to run away from the life he built. His guns were ready, the money liquid, and his truck was always gas-filled. Maybe he believed his wife was right, but he feared this day would come. That pain leaking from Clark's eyes and his cries made him jerk back to what was hand.
"Dad…" his words choked him as he remembered Clark's first word. "I should have saved her. I should have told you about her powers, but I made a promise. She's dead because I was scared! Scared that I'd disappoint you. I was scared because I'd lose you! She didn't do anything wrong. All she wanted was to be loved! I knew what her parents were doing… But I was scared I'd lose you or you'd hate me because I broke all the rules. I don't want to lose you or Mom! You are all I have! Without you guys, I have nothing!"
Silence, the becoming stillness of the car, the world, and the universe felt disrupted, like he heard the confession of a mass murderer. Clark sounded distraught and defeated. Today was his son's birthday. Clark was now ten years old, yet he sounded hopeless, like he had experienced the world's pain.
Pushing Clark and holding him by the shoulders. Jonathan smiled warmly, "I love you." Clark remained quiet. "If I could start again, I wouldn't change a thing. If you're ever lost or hurt, I'll find a way even if I were a million miles away."
"You would?"
"Of course, I'm your father. I'll protect you, be there for you, and always love you no matter what."
Clark became silent. Jonathan studied his son, who looked upset.
"Dad, I'm not normal."
"Clark, you think I wanted a normal son?"
"I destroyed a building downtown with beams of fire. A buzzsaw can't break my skin. Sometimes, I can see through people, walls, and homes. Everything I see and hear freaks me out, and I can't stop it. I heard Alicia's father stabbing her twenty days ago. That's why I rushed to her. I thought I could save her. I wanted to save her, but I was too slow. Now I have her blood on my hands! My heart feels hollow like someone ripped it out!" Clark admitted. Tears were falling down his cheeks. "Humans can cry! Humans don't see inside people's bodies and don't destroy buildings! I want to be good, but it is hard!"
"Clark, you are crying right now," he told his son. "Feeling guilty over bad things happening is normal. That's what makes you more human than anybody I know. You have a big heart. We will get through this together as a family."
Clark nodded his head. It took several minutes for his son to calm down. In the meantime, Jonathan wiped the ash and soot from Clark's face with wet wipes he kept inside the center console. The sun was sinking below the horizon. He noticed Clark's eyes were once again warm.
Flocks of birds heading south made him smile. He patted his son's jet-black hair and started the engine.
"Let's get home before your mother kills us," he said jokingly.
"Dad, I'm sorry I freaked out," Clark said softly.
"Son, you don't ever have to apologize to me. How about we get some milkshakes on the way home?" Jonathan asked while driving out of the abandoned gas station parking lot.
"Really?"
"It's your birthday. I'm taking you out of school over the next few days. It's time for another hunting trip," he suggested. He didn't want to admit he feared Clark burning down his school, but maybe he could help his son control his powers. "Whatcha think? Wanna spend the next four days with your old man?"
"Yes," Clark shouted with excitement.
Jonathan smiled as he drove home.
( Main Street - Smallville, Kansas - March 15, 2014 - 3:30 pm)
Since that day, Clark has learned to control his heat vision, as he calls it. Birds were fluttering from branches along the trees of Main Street. School buses were rolling down the street, delivering children home. Jonathan Kent hadn't been happier in his life. After numerous hunting trips, his son grew up and was much better mentally, physically, and spiritually.
Clark was walking beside, wearing a red sweater, blue jeans, and white sneakers. They were walking to their car from the Tavern. Lately, Clark and Lana Lang were growing closer. He often picked up his son and Pete Ross from the Tavern every Wednesday. Today was no different, but there was a significant thaw in the air.
Smallville is a town where everyone knows each other's secrets. One thing city people don't realize is that small towns like Smallville often have many dark secrets. The greatest secret in Smallville was walking alongside him. Protecting Clark's secret was his life goal. He would give everything up in a heartbeat for his son.
A small Hispanic boy riding a bicycle zoomed past the Kent's. The boy veered his bicycle into the street right as a big yellow school bus approached the bicyclist.
"Help!"
Jonathan screamed as a red blur flashed before his eyes. He saw Clark across the street, settling down the bicyclist by the gutters. He was there with the boy for a split second before flashing away.
No one saw it happen except for him. Jonathan looked around only to hear his son from behind him.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I know that was," Clark stuttered out, only to stop. Jonathan's right hand was on his shoulder, and a sly smile spread.
"What were you supposed to do, Clark? Just let him get hit. No one saw it but me, and I haven't been prouder of you than now!"
This is me, the darthwizard. There's little to say, as this chapter is long enough (over twice the length of chapter 2). As the writer for this chapter, I wanted to explore the rich world of Superman and Invincible. Smallville is the town where Clark Kent grows from a small boy into the Superman we all know and love. This is the town I wanted to focus on through Clark's eyes and show his growth into that hero. I don't want to reiterate what was written or ramble much longer.
Thanks for the support, and much love to everyone this weekend! Happy Father's Day! And stay awesome!
A/N: Sky_walker here. His words, not mine, but there is indeed little to say about this chapter, but I'll say what I've got. When I first heard the pitch for this scene by Darthwizard, building off the original pitch by Folt, I got instant MOS vibes from this alone, with a mix of Smallville in there. While some aspects were disagreed on in this chapter, hence an edit will be made on Wattpad, I felt that he captured the younger years of Clark Kent perfectly, as in most Superman stories, I don't think the trauma of his childhood is ever explored through the stories, as it was the original idea back in the days of World War II. There may be a few exceptions, like Man of Steel and others I've not heard of, but it's true.
The actual trauma of his childhood has never really been explored. Plus, since this is in the Invincible universe, why not? It's the perfect opportunity to show how twisted his younger years genuinely are. Now, going forward, I will be taking the brunt of writing the Novelization, with writing advice from Darthwizard as a co-writer, like in Chapters 1 and 2. However, upon the immediate release of Chapter 3, there will be a hiatus for the folks behind the team to take a breather and pursue their own passion projects and livelihoods for a while. Idk when we will be back in business, but when Chapter 4 releases, you'll know soon enough then.
Now, to answer one Question from a guest from Chapter 2 on FFN:
- While I do wish that were the case, it's been cleared up many times that Darkseid, Brainiac, Doomsday, Atomic Skull and Parasite will unfortunately not be a part of the main universe. As for Lex, that's an entirely different story, one which I'm sure will surprise the lot of you.
At ease, and Happy father's day everyone.