Delete Part 2
Clark appreciated the silence in the family truck. He was helping his dad out by doing the Kent produce deliveries. It was a job he could finish within one hour, instead of several, if he had been able to just run everything over by foot. For appearances sake alone Clark was forced to take the vehicle.
The truck forced Clark to slow down. To breath and to think. Lana's hostility toward the meteor infected had hurt him more than he thought. Even though he was an alien, and not a mutated human, he couldn't help but feel Lana's anger was pointed directly towards him. But he couldn't really blame Lana for being angry or even scared by those who had been infected by meteorites. It seemed like every week one of them threatened the life of someone he knew. Clark was then forced to use his powers to stop them. And sadly, those encounters never ended with them shaking hands.
They ended up in Belle Reeve. Or comas. Or, like Greg, turned into a bunch of tiny beetles that scurried off somewhere.
But there had been good people too. People like Kyle Tippet; able to persuade someone to do anything with a single touch. There had been another man with the same ability, Bob Rickman, who used his power to swindle people out of their homes for his own personal gain. Bob exploited his power while Kyle hid from it. But, when the moment counted, Kyle used his ability to help others. Where he was now, Clark didn't know.
Clark remembered Cyrus Krupp. He had been confused, thinking he was an alien that had fallen from the sky. But he had the power to heal, and used that ability to heal Whitney's horse, Tyson. Cyrus was now a permanent resident of Belle Reeve.
And then there had been Ryan.
Ryan was one of the youngest meteor infected people Clark had met. The boy had been able to read minds. Clark viewed Ryan as a little brother; Ryan had called Clark a hero. His real life version of Warrior Angel, a character from a comic book the boy had been fond of.
Clark knew the truth: he was no hero. He had been unable to save his friend. In the end, Ryan died from a brain tumor; most likely a side effect from his mutation.
Clark's stomach twisted in guilt. He was responsible for all of it. All the death and destruction caused by the meteor shower, and all the pain from the mutations after. This was his responsibility. All of it was his fault. No one had asked to be different; Clark understood that.
Even now, with Alicia knowing about some of his powers, he didn't dare tell her the rest. Would she look at him like a freak among freaks if she knew he was from a distant galaxy? That all the pain and suffering caused in this town was from him?
Clark pulled up to his next stop at the Melville house. Jodi Melville had been a student at Smallville High. She was another victim of the meteor rocks. Fragments of the meteorites were strewn throughout the soil in her father's greenhouses, infecting the produce Jodi used in her weight-loss smoothies. The smoothies had drained Jodi of her body fat to the point where she had to attack living organisms and drain them of their tissue to survive. Jodi couldn't control her cravings and found herself on the verge of eating Pete. Clark had been able to intervene, saving Pete's life, but Jodi remained a victim of her ability.
Infection is more like it, Clark thought wryly as he pulled into the Melville driveway. Jodi had dropped out of school after being released from the hospital. The Melville greenhouses had long since been dismantled. Jodi's father had kept the business going only for several months after learning about his daughter's condition. Then, there had been a rumor about another student, Heather Fox, also being affected by the organic smoothies. Mr. Melville dissolved his small company and took a job at the Luthor Corp plant like so many other locals had done.
Clark got out of the truck and brought the produce order inside as he normally did. This time, though, Clark thought he heard someone moving in the house.
"Jodi?" Clark asked as he dared to move inside the house further. There was a scurry of feet that went up the stairs. He found himself passing through the living room, wrappers littering the floor, as he ascended the stairs. One of the doors at the top of the landing closed quietly.
"Jodi?" Clark called again.
The door was locked. Clark used his strength to break the handle and enter what was Jodi's bedroom. The walls of the room were covered in pictures. Jodi had done that before; pasting photos of her head on the thin bodies of models from magazine cuttings. Now, the pictures showed people of all body types, laughing and smiling as they were with their friends and family at the beach. Rollerblading. Surfing.
Living.
Jodi herself was huddled in a corner between her bed and the wall. She looked thinner than the last time Clark had seen her. Despite the warm temperature, she wore sweatpants and a sweatshirt that hung loosely from her body. Her cheekbones stuck out, giving her appearance a skeletal look.
"Hi, Jody." Clark knelt down.
"Go away," the young girl sobbed out. She buried her face against the bedspread, trying to hide.
"How've you been? Where've you been?"
"Here." Jodi sniffed.
"You mean, you haven't left your house this whole time?"
Jodi wiped her eyes dry. "Doctors have me on a 'fat diet'. I drink special smoothies and bars that are meant for starving people to gain weight real fast. But they don't work for me. I can't get fat anymore. And every day, every moment I'm awake I'm hungry. The cravings are just too strong.
"The only time I get any relief is when I eat something living. I sometimes go hunting at night. I'm not fast enough to catch deer or squirrels or rabbits, so I look for roadkill like a scavenger. And then I feel relief. For a couple of hours, I'm not hungry."
Jodi got a far-away look in her eye. "I only did it to a human once. But I remember feeling how satisfying it was. It was the longest I went without a craving. I came home one night, unsuccessful in finding anything, and I listened to my father breath while he slept.
"I almost killed him that night.
"Don't you see, Clark? I can't leave this house. The cravings are just too strong. I'll hurt someone again." Jodi hugged herself and began to rock back and forth. "I don't want to eat anymore. I don't want to be hungry anymore. I just want it to stop. Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!"
Clark was at a loss for words. He didn't know what to say to bring Jodi comfort. Clark inched forward to hug her, but Jodi hissed and huddled further back into the corner.
"Jodi, could I bring a friend over? I think she might understand what you're going through. Talking about it might help."
"No! I don't want to hurt anyone." Jodi looked at Clark, tears gone and a look of hunger on her face. "You might want to leave while you still can."
Clark took Jodi's advice and left, leaving the girl crying on the floor.
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Bobby Big Mouth felt his entire body shake from the gurgling in his stomach. Working always made him hungry. And three hours was a personal record for him. Bobby paused pushing the janitor cart to stuff his long hair beneath the Luthor Corp baseball cap.
Technically, he was only a temporary fill-in at his own request. His real job was snitching, and that meant sometimes he had to jump into the lion's den. Today, that meant the office of Lionel Luthor.
Lionel Luthor employed those who didn't speak English and had no visa. In other words, those desperate enough to not cause trouble of any kind.
Bobby just so happened to be bilingual. He could order off several menus in Metropolis' China Town. Not to mention he picked up a few words from old Chinese grannies who found pleasure in feeding him noodles from family recipes passed down through generations.
And the grandson of one such granny happened to be a janitor at Luthor Corp.
In addition to loving Grandma's noodles, they also shared their height and weight in common.
Grandson had started his shift like normal; went through the main door security check and everything. Bobby had been left to his own devices to sneak in and meet up with his friend in the bathroom where they exchanged clothes.
Head bent, Bobby walked into Lionel Luthor's office.
The head CEO was at his desk, talking on his phone.
"I am disappointed. When I gave you your assignment, I was expecting answers much sooner than this." Lionel maintained a calm voice, but there was no disregarding the threat his words held.
Bobby turned, as if he was going to leave. Lionel motioned with his hand for him to come forward and do his job. Bobby shuffled forward, perfectly imitating his friends walk. He grabbed the wastepaper basket by the desk and emptied it into his larger bin. His eyes, hidden by the cap, snuck a peak at the desk. Lionel Luthor was a neat man, but there were several important papers printed off on top. Bobby had to be discreet, so he could only memorize what a certain logo looked like. Pretty generic: the outline of two hands forming a filled-in red heart.
"Time isn't exactly a luxury I have," Lionel continued. "I asked you for answers. I expect them. I want an updated report on Clark Kent by tomorrow."
Lionel hung up the phone calmly. His voice had never wavered. Then, suddenly, papers flew into the air as Lionel cleared off his desk in a rage. Bobby took the liberty to begin to collect the strewn papers. He went slowly as he straightened the pages, trying to read what he could. It wasn't much, but Bobby made out the words "doctor" and "terminal" and "liver". To make things real, Bobby had to put another paper on top. That one was just an invoice for a delivery to an address, which he memorized. That was all he could get before the papers were snatched away from him.
"Get out." Lionel growled as he resumed his seat.
Bobby nodded his head and silently scurried away. He went back to the bathroom to change clothes with his friend and then discreetly exited the building.
He frowned as he thought back on the address. It was nothing but abandoned real estate in suicide slums. Bobby shrugged as he brought out his phone.
Suppertime, he thought as he punched in a text.
Hot tip. Place your bids.
Bobby licked his lips as he waited for the replies.
Sushi from Tsunami.
Bobby wrinkled his nose. That place was nothing but an overpriced tourist trap. If they had said RinJani, he might have considered it.
More bids came in. Some were the common Big Belly Burger offers, along with the offers of ribeye with baked potato, but tonight Bobby was craving something. He just didn't know what and wouldn't know until the right bid came in.
Calzones from Riccardo's.
Riccardo's. That was it! Bobby's mouth watered in anticipation. He could smell the buttery, garlic crust. Taste the savory mozzarella with basil and seasoned pepperoni.
Sold!
Bobby's stomach growled, and he patted it reassuringly. He would feast in a matter of hours.
That Sullivan chick, he shook his head in approval as he texted back the meeting details. She really knows how to get to a guy.
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"That poor girl." Martha Kent rubbed Clark's shoulder reassuringly.
Clark sat around the kitchen table with his parents. He had finished all the deliveries in a somber mood. After all the chores were finished, his parents had questioned his sad face. Clark shared everything he saw at the Melville house, along with what Lana had said earlier.
"Is Jodi getting help?" His father asked.
"Doctors have her on a special diet, but it doesn't seem to do her any good. I just wish I could do something."
"There's no point in blaming yourself," his dad continued. "You didn't cause any of this."
Except I did, Clark's mind screamed. He knew from experience it did no good to say such things aloud.
"In the meantime, why don't you put that frustration to good use and help me chop some wood."
"Can't." Clark shook his head. "I got to watch the acting Mayor's public address. It comes on in a couple of minutes."
"Well, since it's for school," Mr. Kent relented.
Clark settled in front of the TV and got out his notepad as he waited for the anticipated segment. The possibility of student high students watching this was slim, but Clark hoped to ask a few students what they thought about what was said tomorrow for an article.
The acting Mayor was staged behind the desk at city council. He was seated between the American flag on his right and the Kansas state flag on his left. The acting Mayor was all smiles as he began his address.
"Good evening, citizens of Smallville. It is with great honor I take on the role of acting Mayor in the absence of Mayor Tate."
The speaker droned on thanking the necessary people, delaying the actual important part of the speech.
But then the screen flicked away from the calm, well-lit mayoral office to show a closeup of a masked man.
"Hello, Smallville." A garbled voice said.
Clark recognized the mask; it was the one the shooter who had tried to kill Lex and Megan had worn.
"For years you have listened to politicians, sheriffs, doctors, and even your next door neighbor say 'everything is fine' in our little town. Well, it isn't. Allow me to open your eyes."
Images flashed across the scene. Photos of an aged Troy. Photos of a bee-stung Paul Chen and Felice Chandler in hospital beds. Photos of two headed calves; of a dead, frozen Jenna Barnum. The photo from the Daily Planet of the masked, bulletproof man who rampaged Metropolis; Clark alone knew that had been him.
"Smallville is under attack from an enemy within," the voice continued. "An enemy who can control your own thoughts at a moment's notice. These infected, these freaks, walk among us."
The screen froze on a photo of Seth Nelson in the hospital, a bullet wound prominent on his forehead.
"While they live, no one is safe.
"If you happen to have, let's say, enhanced abilities, watch your step. I'll be watching." The masked figure brought his gun into view.
"Citizens of Smallville, I have armed you with the knowledge you need to accept. Keep an eye out; be on alert. Stay safe. I promise to protect our town."
The footage ended and the screen flicked back to mayoral office. The acting mayor, it seemed, had paused briefly, informed of the interruption. Then he resumed his speech as if nothing had happened.
Clark rose to his feet. He couldn't believe what he had just seen.
Someone had just declared war on the meteor infected.
Heather Fox comes from the Smallville novella "Animal Rage", mentioning her drinking shakes from the Melville greenhouses. She gained the ability to morph into different animals after touching them. I think we all need to appreciate Mr. Melville, who, from what we saw, was a very supporting and loving father figure.