My dear readers, this is going to be the last part of "Hurt Before" but
not the end of the story. I do promise you that. You may not agree, but I felt this was a good place to finish this part of the tale, because as you might realize, it marks a change. As for the rest of this story, that may take a while. My job keeps me on my toes and writing is what grounds me.
Thanks again to KenJ for doing the beta. He did a great job working through all the misunderstandings, one of them being that I thought that 90 mph was driving slow.
. I guess it's about time that you guys change to the metric system, don't you think?
And thanks to all the readers who bore with me. You motivate me to keep writing!
So now without further ado...
From Part 1:The sun burned hot from a perfectly cloudless sky. There was little to remind anyone of the tornado that had hit Smallville the evening before. There were a few fences and some roofs to repair, but the only building that had collapsed was the Harris’ old barn. For months, Rachel's dad had been planning on tearing it down, but as it turned out, his insurance was now going to pay for the rebuild, so for the most part, the storm had been a blessing in disguise, rather than a disaster.
Another one of the few victims of the storm stuck its branches and roots into the sky. Clark Kent was sweating as he turned one of Wayne Irig’s old apple trees into fire wood, while the poor guy nursed a bad case of flu. The unripened fruits were scattered all across the field, along with broken-off pieces of the branches, smaller twigs and bruised leaves. It was a sorry sight. Clark was glad that he could do Wayne a favor. This was the tree where the late Mrs. Irig’s famous caramel apples had grown. Of all the trees the tornado could have chosen, it had uprooted the one tree that had carried the declaration of love that a much younger Wayne Irig had carved into the wood. It was a testament to the simple truth that life just was not fair.
Clark drove his axe more forcefully into the wood than was necessary. The log split in two and clattered to the ground. He bent down to add the pieces to the pile of wood that was already stacked on the bed of his father’s pick-up. Clark’s gaze wandered off to the next part of the trunk he was about to chop to pieces. It was large, but to Clark it did hardly seem large enough. He had volunteered his help, partly because he hoped that the physical exertion would do him some good. But it was only a drop in the ocean. He seriously doubted that even chopping down Redwood National Park would do anything to alleviate his pain.
With an anguished cry, Clark dug his axe deep into the wood, easily splitting it into three parts and driving the blade into the soil underneath. All he had ever wanted was to be like all the other guys, meet a girl, fall in love. Experience should have taught him that in his life, things just never went the easy way. He had been living in a world of make-believe and now he was paying the price.
Clark took one of the three logs. Tears blurred his vision as he picked up the axe and unconsciously turned the log into kindling. He went on to make quick work of the second one. Fighting to keep the tears from rolling down his cheeks, he added the small pieces of wood to the pile on the truck.
Perhaps he should try talking to her. His gut tightened painfully.
<Yeah, right, as if there’s anything left to say.> Clark sighed and dropped the axe.
Cursing his fate, he looked at what was left of the old apple tree. It was not nearly enough to keep him busy for much longer. Other men could just go and vent their frustrations by working themselves to exhaustion, Clark thought bitterly - but not him, of course never him. Another anguished cry was drowned out by a car suddenly pulling up on the gravel road.
A cloud of dust veiled it for a moment and then slowly settled down on the dark finish of an expensive car. The dirt on it was the only thing that did not seem out of place. The driver got out and let the door fall shut. It was a tall man with brown, curly hair. Despite his choice of clothing – a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt – he stood out. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. Slowly, he approached the fence that bordered Irig’s field and waved his hand.
“Clark,” he yelled and waved again. “Your parents told me I’d find you here.”
“Lex,” Clark replied flatly, not sure he was able to face anyone. It probably was not safe, angry as he was. Trying not to sound too offensive, he asked, “What are you doing out here?”
“I heard about your break-up,” Lex said sympathetically. “I’m sorry. I know how much you love her.”
For a man who spent most of his time in an office, he climbed the fence rather deftly. Clark watched Lex as he walked up to him, a look of genuine concern on his face. Guilt washed over him. Lex did not deserve his anger. Had he actually come all the way from Metropolis to pay him a visit, Clark wondered. It did not seem likely, but that was beside the point anyway. He had taken the time to talk to him and for that he should be grateful. But the wound was still too fresh for Clark to feel anything but the pain.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” Clark muttered, barely loud enough for Lex to hear him. “So, what brings you here? You didn’t come all the way down here just to offer me a shoulder to cry on, did you?” He picked up the axe, walking back to the tree and resuming his work.
“I had a meeting in Wichita and decided to drop by,” Lex conceded and started to roll up his sleeves. “Mind if I help you, Clark?”
In fact, he did mind. Clark would much prefer to be alone, but it seemed awfully rude to say so. Instead, he just nodded, pointing at the pick-up truck. Next to the pile of wood was a set of tools. Lex found another axe. He weighed it in his hand and tested the blade with the tip of his thumb. Smiling in appreciation, he joined Clark who had already started chopping wood again. Hurt Before
Part 11:Sitting on his bed listlessly, Clark looked into Lana’s blue eyes. The photo in his hand was only a bland image of her. It did not show the sparkle that used to be in those eyes, nor her smile that had been able to light up a whole room. Scattered around Clark lay all the articles and copies he had stored in the box that contained everything he knew about Lex Luthor. Lana’s picture had been at the bottom of that box, buried underneath all those papers. Clark had not taken it out in years; he had almost forgotten it was even there.
The image in his mind had seemed fresh enough to him. But now he had the impression he was looking into the eyes of a perfect stranger. Her features were both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. It was a pretty peculiar feeling.
<God, Clark, what are you?>, her words of so many years ago reverberated in his mind.
The pain in his heart was still so fresh it was as if she had only just said them. Clark remembered the days that had followed that particular night, all the times he had tried to get her to talk to him. All she had ever said was that she needed time to think. He had always craved for a sense of belonging. But up until seeing the terror in Lana’s eyes, he had never known how truly alienated one could feel from the rest of the world. Clark’s heart pounded and suddenly he felt the overwhelming urge to rip Lana’s picture into a million pieces.
A knock at his door stopped him. “Clark?” He froze. “Clark?” Lois called again. “Are you there?”
For a moment he contemplated just ignoring her. Clark did not want to talk to Lois; he did not want to face anyone. He just was not in the mood. Clark could let her knock until she gave up and went home. Lois would never be the wiser, so why bother? Despite himself Clark dropped Lana’s picture and got up anyway.
Moments later he stared into the dark pools of Lois’ eyes, dumbfounded. She seemed surprised that he was home after all. Her fist was still raised, ready to knock again. Her lips opened, but she too was at a loss for what to say. Slowly closing and opening her mouth again, she made the distinct impression of a fish out of water. Finally, Lois let her arm sink, studying him closely. A frown creased her forehead.
“Are you going to invite me in?” she asked eventually. Still not able to say anything, Clark just stepped aside. “You were gone so fast that I didn’t even get to say thank you,” Lois continued, making it sound almost like an accusation. “Jimmy’s fine, by the way.”
“That’s great,” Clark ground out.
“Clark…” Lois said, shifting her weight. She looked down, studying her nails, obviously uncomfortable with what she was about to say. “After tonight… I’m starting to wonder if you might actually be right about Luthor,” she finally muttered.
“You are?” Clark raised his brows, shuffling backwards until he leaned against the wall. He stuck his hands into his pockets, not trusting himself to do anything but stand there. Lois was here, in his dump of a hotel room. He eyed her warily. Her presence was confusing him to no end.
“The interview went exactly as you predicted it would,” Lois conceded. “He didn’t answer any of my questions. Instead, he charmed my pants off me,” she hung her head in embarrassment.
Clark’s heart contorted in pain as his mind added pictures to her words. Suddenly, he felt ill, worse even than on the night he had watched them. White hot anger ripped through Clark, setting his insides ablaze. He tightened the hands in his pockets to fists, careful to maintain his control.
“Not literally, of course,” Lois added, who had obviously seen the expression on Clark’s face. Her lips curled in anger. “Give me some credit, Kent,” she gave him a verbal smack.
Clark let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I just…” He did not know what to say. It turned out he did not need to.
Lois immediately went on. “Baines told me that this whole ‘sabotaging-the-Messenger’ thing had been about profit,” she recounted what, unbeknownst to her, they both had heard in the hangar. “Now why would the director of EPRAD profit if she killed her own project? There had to be someone else pulling the strings. And whoever is behind this, murdered Baines to tie up loose ends.”
Clark was not sure he trusted his ears. “So, you believe me?” he whispered cautiously, trying to push back the relief that was flooding him.
“Let’s say I’ll be a whole lot easier to convince, this time,” Lois hedged and a small, self-conscious smile crept onto her lips. “I must admit that in the light of recent events Luthor planning his privately owned Space Station puts everything to a whole new perspective. Besides, a story exposing Lex Luthor as a criminal is most definitely going to win us a Pulitzer.”
“It’s not going to be that easy, Lois,” Clark warned her. “I’ve been researching for years, and so far there are many things I suspect, but very little I can prove.”
“Well, now you’ve got one heck of a partner,” Lois said with a brilliant smile that easily brushed Clark’s reluctance aside. And for the first time in what seemed like ages, Clark felt a twinge of hope.
* * *
The shadows were starting to grow longer, but the sun still burned hot. Birds sang their songs, accompanied by the grunts of two working men and the frequent chop-chop of two axes digging into wood. Clark had to admit that it actually felt good to have company. Having Lex nearby forced him to slow down and do his work at a reasonable speed. Strangely enough, seeing the other man sweat also seemed to have a tiring effect on Clark himself. He was a lot more composed than earlier.
“I know you said you didn’t want to talk about it …” Lex eventually broke the companiable silence. “But I’m convinced that you’re going to solve whatever happened between the two of you.”
Clark raised his head, setting his axe down for a moment. A sigh escaped his lips. “Lex …”
“I know, I know, this is really none of my business,” Lex said appeasingly. “But I’ve seen Lana and she is really taking this hard.”
“Oh, is she? In case she didn’t tell you, it was her breaking up with me,” Clark replied testily, picking up his axe again.
Lex flashed him a sympathetic look. “All I’m saying is that I think she’ll come around.”
The knuckles of Clark’s hand turned white as he tightened his grip on the axe. He did not know what to say or even think. Clark felt utterly torn. On the one hand there was nothing he would not give to have Lana back. He missed her, badly. All his thoughts revolved around the moments they had shared, the plans he had made up in his mind for their future. He mourned the family he was never going to have, all those mornings he was not going to wake up beside her.
On the other hand he was not sure if he even wanted her to come back crawling to him. Or maybe he did, so he could send her away again, telling her what he thought about her behavior. She had been nagging him for ages to bare his soul. And when he had done so, she had handed him his heart back, torn to pieces. Now the shreds she had left were beating in his chest separately and he was not sure if anything was ever going to be able to repair the damage.
Part of him knew that she did not deserve his anger. He should not have sprung his secret on her, at least maybe, not in that way. Anyone would have been hard pressed to accept him as he was. But he had refused to accept that he was going to lead a life in loneliness, that his dreams of having a family were just a boyish fantasy.
“I don’t think she will,” Clark said through clenched teeth.
“Maybe it’ll help you to talk about what happened?” Lex suggested, wiping his forehead. His shirt no longer looked white. It was now drenched in sweat and covered with dust. Lex had rolled up his sleeves and looked much more like someone who belonged to Smallville than he had earlier.
Clark just sighed, wishing that he actually could confide in Lex. The man was about fifteen years his senior. Even so, over the past few months, he had gradually come to be a friend. For Clark, it was not about the internship at the New York Times Lex had arranged or the fancy meals he had been invited to. If anything, Lex’ generosity made him slightly uncomfortable, but Lex’ would not hear about that. What really mattered to Clark was that he could talk to someone about all the things he had seen in the world, someone who had had similar experiences, someone whose life was even remotely as strange as his, though for entirely different reasons.
“Lana learned something about me that she can’t live with,” Clark said eventually and sat down on a part of the tree trunk that had not yet been chopped into firewood.
“That’s tough.” Lex took a seat on the ground, leaning the axe against his thigh, absentmindedly running his fingers along the blade. “Did you know I got divorced a few months prior to the day we first met?” he asked, not really waiting for Clark’s answer. “Her name was Ariana…” he continued with a wistful smile. “When we first met, I was a nobody. She was brilliant, beautiful, everything I longed for in a woman. I loved her dearly and I felt compelled to do everything in my power to offer her the life she deserved …” he trailed off.
“What went wrong?” Clark asked quietly.
“I worked so much we hardly saw each other,” Lex stated simply. “She told me I wasn’t the man she thought I was.” He gave a short laugh. “I didn’t even realize that I was driving her away.” He fell silent.
For a while they just sat there, breathing in the warm air that smelled of apples. “It’s different with Lana and me,” Clark said after a while. “What she’s uncomfortable with … It’s nothing I could possibly change.”
“Yeah, she mentioned something like this when she came to me,” Lex replied thoughtfully. Clark just raised his brows, feeling his heart starting to pound. Could she have told Lex…? His breath hitched. Lex caught Clark’s look. “She said nothing specific,” he reassured Clark.
Nevertheless, Clark felt slightly sick to his stomach. He got up, grabbing his axe again. “Let’s get this done,” he said, the tone in his voice leaving little doubt that he was also done talking.
Lex gave a quick nod and got up as well. They resumed chopping the last piece of the trunk that had remained. Clark felt a headache building up behind his eyes and a strange ache in his stomach. Lana had spoken with Lex. The thought made him dizzy. Clark knew she considered him as a friend, but … He forced his concentration on the task at hand, digging his axe into the wood again and again. No matter how disappointed he was about her reaction, she would never reveal his secret to anyone. That was just unthinkable. Clark dug his axe into the wood once more, his arms shaking with the effort.
As he got up, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his side that had him double over. He dropped his axe, clutching his aching side as his legs gave out under him. His hand felt something sticky and warm.
“Clark!” a scream disrupted the silence of the peaceful afternoon.
With his vision blurring, Clark hardly registered Lex, who was at his side. He saw the blade of an axe lying on the ground, covered in blood. His blood, he thought idly. The handle had been dropped a few yards off. Another wave of pain washed over Clark, threatening to drown him.
“This shouldn’t have happened,” was the last thing he heard before everything went black. * * *
“To Lois Lane and Clark Kent,” Perry said, raising his mug of coffee in a toast.
A wide grin was plastered on his face, given the fact that the Daily Planet had scooped all other papers throughout Metropolis. As usual when the editor-in-chief celebrated important artricles, the front page was pinned to a board. The headline read:
MESSENGER SABOTAGED, SABOTEUR DIES IN FIERY EXPLOSION. Other reporters joined Perry, raising their mugs as well.
Toasting with coffee was a concession to the long working day that still lay ahead of them and maybe also the fact that it was still morning, Clark mused as he took a sip of his own cup. It tasted bitter. His gut twisted as he read the headline, knowing that it once again was only a part of the whole story, the part he could prove. Lois seemed to feel the same way. He had come to know her competitive streak, but even though she had yet again made the front-page, she seemed unnaturally subdued.
“I just spoke to ground control over at EPRAD,” Perry continued. “They went back over the colonist launch vehicle with a fine tooth comb, discovered the same coolant problem in the protective bands and fixed it. The launch is all set for tomorrow morning.” The newsroom broke into applause and shouts of joy. “But ... it's a no go for you, Lois. No reporters allowed,” Perry said with a shrug.
“But Perry…” Lois protested, clenching her hands into fists and getting ready to fight.
Clark put his hand on her arm, gently pushing it down. “Don’t Lois …” he whispered. “Perry probably won’t take kindly to our request if we challenge him in front of the whole newsroom.”
Lois did not reply; she shot Clark an angry look, but gradually relaxed her stance. “Fine,” she snapped and walked back to her desk.
She set her cup down forcefully, and her barely touched coffee sloshed onto her desk. Muttering a soft curse, Lois took a tissue and wiped it off vigorously. As if her retreat had spelled the end of the celebration, one by one, the reporters got back to their work. Clark followed Lois and sat down on the edge of her desk while she took the chair.
“I don’t understand how you can just stand there and watch while we print an article that tells only half the truth,” Lois spat angrily.
“I hate this every bit as much as you do,” Clark conceded. “But that’s all that we can prove. Besides, you said yourself that it might be better to give Luthor a false sense of security before we attack.”
Lois just muttered something unintelligible and got up again. “I’m going to talk to him, now,” she vowed, looking over to Perry, who was just closing the door to his office behind him.
Clark laid a hand on her shoulder, stopping her. “Wait,” he said quietly. “What exactly are we going to tell him?”
“What are we going to tell him?” Lois asked, her voice dripping with annoyance. “The truth, obviously!“
Before Clark could say anything else, she whisked his hand away and stormed towards their editor’s office. Several pairs of eyes looked after her, curios what she was up to now. Filled with dread, Clark followed her, just as she knocked once and went in without waiting for an invitation.
“This is not acceptable, Perry!” Clark would have heard Lois even without the benefit of his super senses. “I earned these interviews!” she continued, causing several of their colleagues to flinch in anticipation of the argument that inevitably was going to follow. “Without me, there would be no Colonist Transport tomorrow. This is just not fair,” she fumed.
Clark slipped into the office behind Lois and closed the door. She did not even seem aware of him. She was standing there like a fury right out of hell, her hands on her hips. Her appearance, complete with an angry stare would have scared anyone but Perry White, who only raised his brows.
“I wonder what part of the word ‘no’ you didn’t understand,” Perry said almost dangerously calm.
“But Perry …” Lois tried once again.
“I told you, no reporters allowed.” Perry repeated. “Do you think I didn’t try? Those interviews would really look good on our front page. But they refused.”
“Then try harder. Whoever was responsible for the sabotage will certainly try again,” Lois insisted.
Perry’s eyebrows climbed somewhat closer towards his hairline. “Excuse me? I thought we agreed that Dr. Baines was responsible for the explosion of the Messenger, because she ignored Dr. Platt’s report.”
“This wasn’t just some mistake she wanted to cover. It was deliberate, she told us so herself,” Clark chimed in, earning himself an irritated glance from both Perry and Lois, who obviously hadn’t been aware of his presence.
But Lois was quick to recover. “Don’t you think it’s a bit much of a coincidence that her helicopter exploded? She certainly didn’t kill herself.”
“So you’re saying that there was someone else pulling the strings,” Perry concluded.
“Exactly,” Lois agreed, a hint of impatience in her voice.
“And just who is that mysterious someone supposed to be?” Perry asked doubtfully.
“Lex Luthor,” Lois said.
“Great Shades of Elvis,” Perry breathed, taken aback.
A smile crept on Lois’s lips as she took in Perry’s reaction. “Clark, tell him what you’ve got,” she demanded.
* * *
“I still think you must be insane risking your job, and mine, I might add, just to go on a wild goose chase,” the man whispered, who up until now had refused to tell Lois and Clark his name.
What they knew about him was that he was one of Perry’s contacts at EPRAD. Even his influence as the Daily Planet’s editor-in-chief had not reached far enough to get them their interviews with the colonists. But provided that *officially* Perry knew nothing about their whereabouts he had introduced his top reporting team to a contact that, of course, he *officially* did not know, either.
“It’s not a wild goose chase,”Lois protested emphatically.
Clark secretly prayed they were actually right. He would hate to be the one who had spelled an early end to her career. It frankly scared him how easily he had pulled her on his side.
“Besides, if there really is nothing, we just sneak off the transporter and nobody will ever know we were there,” she added casually, smiling at the incredulous look their escort shot her.
“Just … just to make sure, we’re on the same page, here,” he stuttered. “You don’t know me and I certainly didn’t help you to get on board. And be sure to get off the transport with the other ground staff.”
Lois nodded. “Don’t worry. So, where do we go from here?” she asked, smoothing out her overall.
Both Lois’ and Clark were disguised in the light brown uniforms of the EPRAD technicians. Lois wore her hair in a ponytail and just set the cap on her head that completed her outfit. Clark mirrored her movements, looking back and forth, nervously checking that no one was watching them.
“You can still back out, if you want,” their escort mumbled, leaving little doubt that he would prefer taking them back the way they had come. “My colleagues and I checked the whole transport ship. Trust me, there’s nothing to find.”
“I’m not backing out,” Lois stated with a conviction that instantly silenced their escort.
Clark suddenly could not help the feeling that Lois would have snuck on board regardless of whether he had told her of his suspicions about Lex Luthor. That realization both relieved and scared him in equal proportions. Had he really managed to convince her of Luthor’s double-life, or was she just taking an opportunity that had presented itself? Clark was not so sure anymore. He joined Lois, who was crouching down beside the man who had led them here. Together they listened as he gave them directions to the Colonist transport. When the man was finished, he got up, gave them a quick nod and vanished somewhere in the labyrinth that was the EPRAD facility.
Lois and Clark were alone. “Let’s go and win ourselves a Pulitzer,” Lois said with a smile.
Clark let out a soft sigh. “I seriously doubt it’s going to be that easy.”
“Well, you’re not going to win if you don’t even try,” Lois shrugged his objection of and started for the site of the transport.
Clark fell in step with her, following in her wake as she headed for a pile of fragile goods their escort had shown them. They were waiting to be carried into the transport; they were too precious to risk damage through one of the cranes that usually did the heavy lifting. Both Lois and Clark picked up boxes and joined the other technicians who were climbing into the lift that carried them up until they reached a small gangway that led into the Colonist transport.
Once inside, they quickly dropped off their cargo in its designated spot and turned back, supposedly to get more of the goods. But as soon as they were out of sight of the other workers, Lois and Clark slipped into an empty room.
Lois pushed the button that let the door close behind them and leaned against the wall with a brilliant smile on her lips. “That was easier than I thought,” she commented. “You know, come to think of it, I probably wouldn’t have needed Perry’s help to get us here.”
“No, I guess you wouldn’t,” Clark agreed, exasperated. “So, how about we separate from here on,” he suggested. “You get us some interviews and I try to find out what Luthor did to stop the Colonist Transport.”
“Oh, no buster,” Lois said, shaking her head vigorously. “You’re not going to do this alone.”
“It might be dangerous, Lois.” Clark objected
“Well, I can handle dangerous,” Lois stated firmly. “Besides, it’s just as dangerous for you as it is for me.”
Clark wanted to disagree, but quickly bit his tongue to keep from saying too much. He let out a frustrated sigh, angry with himself that he was not able to think of something better to lose her. It would only be that much harder to find a reasonable excuse for the weird things he could do without giving away his secret.
“Are we going to get started, or are you going to keep standing here?” Lois asked, impatiently, tapping her foot on the floor. “We’re running out of time. There’re only twenty minutes left until the countdown starts.”
“We don’t even know exactly what we’re looking for,” Clark reminded her. “That’s why we should …”
“No, we don’t,” Lois interrupted him. “And there might not even be anything to look for in the first place.” A smug smile played on her lips as Clark flinched at that, feeling caught in another pitiable attempt at getting rid of her. “That’s why we should start by narrowing down possibilities. I think we can rule out any technical problems. When fixing the coolant device they certainly made sure there wasn’t anything else wrong with the shuttle.”
Relaxing his tight fists, Clark gave in with another sigh. “So, whatever Luthor did with the shuttle, he had to it right before take-off.”
Lois nodded. “If he still wants it to look like an accident that would probably leave …”
“A bomb,” Clark concluded, feeling his heart-rate pick up a notch. “He has probably hidden it well.”
“So all we have to do is search this shuttle without getting caught,” Lois muttered, sounding somewhat discouraged at the prospect of sneaking through all the activity outside without raising suspicion.
“This is going to take a while, perhaps if we worked separately …” Clark suggested, but his voice trailed off as he saw a red, blinking light in the corner of his eye. As he looked closer the red light turned out to be a reflection in a metal door. Sticking to a corner was a black box with a digital clock that was ticking down. “I think we have found our bomb,” Clark breathed, staring at the timer with wide eyes. It was down to forty seconds.
Clark felt Lois step beside him. “I don’t suppose you would know anything about disarming bombs?” Lois asked, her voice laced with panic. “This doesn’t make any sense,” she rambled on. “We should at least have another twenty minutes to find some specialist. Why would anyone blow up the shuttle before take-off?”
“Dunno,” Clark muttered quietly. “Maybe we activated some sort of fail-safe when we entered the room, something to ensure that no-one would be able to turn the bomb off.” He closed his eyes, swallowing against the nausea that rose up in his stomach.
Ten seconds to go. He lowered his glasses, x-raying the bomb, desperately trying to make sense of all the wires that were sticking out. The black box that held the bomb was booby-trapped. If he tried to open it, the bomb would go off.
Five seconds. Clark turned around, focusing his heat vision on the camera, destroying it with a quick blast. Then he quickly returned his attention to the task at hand. He had no idea which wire to pull. Sending a quick prayer to heaven, he chose one.
Two seconds. The bomb gave off an alarming series of beeps, leaving little doubt that he had picked the wrong one.
“Clark!” Lois screamed in terror. Knowing that he had no choice, Clark swallowed the bomb and closed his eyes “Oh, my…”
Her voice was drowned out by the blast of the explosion that rang in his ears as the bomb went off.
The End of Clark's side of the story
