Free Falling, Part 2
By: C. Leuch
The musty darkness inside the warehouse was broken as a side door opened with a metallic screech, allowing the pink light of the fading day to filter in. Long shadows from a half dozen men marched inside, then the door screeched shut, but not before a switch was flipped and the whole floor was awash with light. From his spot in the rafters, CJ squinted slightly, his eyes quickly acclimating to the sudden brightness. It was easy enough to make out the faces of the men below him – the grandson of Carmine Falcone, quickly followed by his bodyguard, then another family member – some cousin who was new to the game and looking to make an impression – followed by two of the better known drug suppliers in town and one of their armed guards. The group wandered toward a stack of crates covered by a tarp, unaware of the visitor observing them from on high.
“I don’t know why we can’t just off him,” said the cousin, reaching to pull up the tarp. “Bet they’d leave us alone after that.”
Falcone gave him a hard stare. “Or start a war,” he said after a moment. “The last thing we need right now is more heat on us. Anyway, didn’t I tell you to be patient? After tomorrow this won’t be a problem.” He made a gesture, and the bodyguard stuffed his gun in his waistband, then went over to one of the crates and started to pry it open. “The heat won’t be going after anybody, and the town will be ours.”
As the lid of the crate came off, a cache of weapons was revealed, weapons that had quite recently disappeared from the evidence lockup at the Gotham City Police Department. CJ knew, of course, what the origins of the weapons were well before the men had entered the warehouse, and he could very well have confiscated them earlier and started to dig more deeply into the police corruption at the center of their appearance here. But then he wouldn’t have had the fingerprints of some of the city’s most wanted criminals all over them. He couldn’t help but smile as each man reached into the box, pulling out a firearm and ammunition. He waited a few more moments, just to make sure there was enough hard evidence of their involvement to guarantee they’d all get locked up for a long time, then he pushed away from the ceiling truss and let gravity take effect.
He landed on the warehouse floor around 10 feet away from them, his cape billowing behind him making him appear larger and more menacing. Before anyone could react, he lunged toward Falcone, his fist connecting with the mobster’s jaw. Falcone staggered backward, though under normal circumstances that punch should’ve knocked him out. CJ felt a twinge of surprise, along with a dull pain in his knuckles, but the motion of the bodyguard drawing his gun forced him into action, and CJ’s foot flew up to knock the gun away. It felt like he was moving underwater, he thought, his attention turning to the other four men in the room, all of whom were now pointing their guns toward him. CJ directed two much stronger punches toward the bodyguard, one connecting with his midsection, while the second, to his head, caused him to fall to the ground. He moved to address the cousin when the first shot rang out. He reached up to catch the bullet as he had done a thousand times before, but as it met his hand, he felt pain shoot up his arm, and the bullet pushed his hand back, eventually ricocheting off and into the ground. Two more shots rang out, and those hit him in the shoulder and thigh. He growled in pain and shock as his skin exploded in agony with each impact. For a moment he was too stunned to move, but he quickly realized that standing still could be recipe for disaster.
As additional shots rang out, CJ moved to avoid the projectiles, fighting through the pain to strike out at the men, putting all his strength into each punch. In short order he had taken care of the remaining thugs, though he had to reach into his belt to grab a projectile to throw at Falcone, who had retreated into the shadows after the initial punch. He kept himself moving, lashing out, until all the men were down and subdued. Only then did he stop to try and asses his situation, and what he found scared him. A sticky wet spot was spreading out around a hole in his suit at his shoulder. On his thigh, the blood from the wound was making its way down his leg, a few drops splattering onto the warehouse floor as he stood there for a stunned second and gaped. Finally, he forced himself to move. The longer it took for him to get home, the more potential that he wouldn’t make it safely. Striding toward the door, he hit a button on his cowl, then commanded his electronic assistant to call the local police precinct. He managed to keep his growing panic out of his voice as he directed the police toward the men he had caught, then hung up.
Once he reached his car, he absently reached for the door handle, which brought pain from where the bullet had impacted his hand. Climbing in and closing the door behind him brought yet more pain, and he felt cold panic creep over him. He was hurt… the concept was mind blowing. He couldn’t get hurt, yet here he was, sitting in his car, possibly bleeding to death while he contemplated the unreality of the situation. After a moment, he dialed his wife. She answered immediately.
“Hey, babe,” she said, her voice cheery. “What’s up?”
“Are the kids in bed?” CJ asked, aware of the worried tone in his voice.
He could almost hear her frown through the phone. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “Why?”
“I’m in trouble, here,” he said, looking down again at the hole in his leg. “I’ve been shot.”
“I thought you got shot at all the time,” she said.
The corner of his mouth twitched up. “I do, but tonight, for whatever reason….” Out of sheer curiosity, he reached down with his free hand to touch the wound on his thigh, but even the slightest brush against it caused a fiery sensation to pulse down his leg. He grunted in response. “I’m…bleeding. A lot.”
“Clark!” Jenny gasped. “Where are you? Does someone need to come get you? Should I call Laura?” Her words came quickly, and he could hear her moving around, probably headed toward the stairway down to the cave.
“I think I can get home okay, but I’m going to need some help when I get there. And gauze. A lot of gauze.” He blinked a few times, contemplating whether what he just said was funny, or if he was just starting to get lightheaded.
On the other end of the line, Jen stilled. “I’m getting Bruce.”
CJ was about to protest, but he figured that Bruce knew more about do-it-yourself wound care than any other living human being, having undoubtedly been in the same situation himself. “Thanks,” he said weakly.
“Don’t thank me yet. If we have to dig a few bullets out of you…”
He winced. “I know. Look, I shouldn’t be long, so please hurry.”
“I will,” she said softly. “Clark?”
“Yeah?”
“Please be careful. If you start blacking out, please don’t put yourself or anyone else in more danger and just pull over.”
“Will do, Mom,” he said, though he suspected his feeble attempt at teasing wouldn’t be appreciated. Her sigh told him he was right.
“Look, I’m going to stay on the line with you, okay?” she said, and he knew immediately what she was doing. If she could keep him talking, maybe she could keep him alert.
“Yeah. Actually, I’ll be glad to have some company,” he said, starting the car.
“So tell me what happened,” she said softly, and as he guided the car through the streets of Gotham, driving as fast as he dared, he related the tale to her. When he started to trail off, losing his train of thought, she would ask a question, forcing him to refocus. The further he went, the more often he found himself losing the narrative, and gradually he was overtaken with an almost overpowering desire to close his eyes. He resisted, trying to fidget himself to wakefulness, though that caused the pain from his bullet wounds to increase.
“Clark, sweetie, I need you to stay with me,” Jenny said. “You have to hang in there.”
“Hmm,” he answered, aware that he was starting to fade. It was all he could do to keep the car in its lane and stay aware of the other vehicles around him.
“Hey, do you remember that time I brought you lunch out there on the docks when you were working a case and couldn’t get away?”
He smiled. “I had to pull you up to the roof with the line,” he said. “That’s when we found out that you do have a fear of heights.”
“It’s not a fear of heights so much as a mistrust of your knot tying skills,” she answered with a laugh in her voice. It made him feel warm, which wasn’t helping at all.
“I ended up with mustard from the sandwiches on my uniform.”
“Well, these things happen when you make out with someone eating a ham sandwich.” Colorful spots began to dance in his vision, with darkness creeping in from the edges, as he piloted the car off the interstate and toward the hills.
“I’d been messing with the uniform, so the bad guys probably thought the mustard spot was some sort of new abstract bay symbol,” he said, the last part almost a mumble. He had to keep it together for just another minute or two….
“But you kicked ass when the time came,” she said, her voice filling with emotion. “You were strong. Hang on to that, just for a few more minutes.”
“Strong,” he repeated, pushing the button in the dash that opened the door to the cave. As he pulled in and came to a stop, Jenny and Bruce came running toward the car, Bruce pulling open the door and dragging him out while Jenny slid her arm around his waist, repeating his name, trying to keep him awake. He stumbled toward the large work table at the center of the cave, pulling his cowl and cape off as he did, dropping them haphazardly on the ground.
“Clark, honey, please stay awake,” Jenny pleaded with him.
“I’m here,” he said, his voice sounding far away.
“How were you shot?” Bruce asked. “Was it kryptonite?”
“Don’t think so,” CJ said, though it came out more like a mumble.
“You need to get up on the table,” Jen said, her firm grip and Bruce’s hands helping guide him up. He helped as much as he could, and as he collapsed on the table top, he found it impossible to keep his eyes open anymore. He was aware that his boots were being pulled off, followed by his gloves and pants. He reached out for Jenny, grasping her arm.
“I love you,” he said softly and clearly, then he let the darkness envelop him.
***
The Australian Comic Book Convention was the largest fan event in the southern hemisphere, and on this day it sure looked the part, teeming with colorfully dressed fans of all ages. Taking place in the International Convention Centre Sydney, it was a destination for entertainment industry representatives, comic book authors and artists, collectible retailers, movie actors and producers, and those who just liked to people watch. This morning, it would play host to Superman, along with actor Spencer North, who played Superman in the movies, as part of a special paid panel to raise money for charity. Superman was always a sucker for a good cause, and he had to admit that he was looking forward to meeting his double for the first time. It was also fun to come to conventions like these, if only because they generally gave him the opportunity to hide in plain site and mix and mingle with the crowd without them knowing that he was the genuine article. He’d done it before at other similar conventions, and was planning to do it again at this one once his official duties were concluded.
Clark hovered over the building for a few moments, observing the activity with a small smile, before making his way to the VIP entrance in the rear of the building. Immediately waved through the door by the awed security guard, he was greeted by his handler, who led Clark to a little dressing room. The dressing room was something that was provided to all special guests of the convention, though normally he would decline the offer, seeing as the average blind alley coupled with superspeed generally worked quite nicely to conceal him during wardrobe changes. But since he was on another continent and planning to enjoy all the convention had to offer in a more conventional sense later, he had come prepared, a little bag tucked up under the top of his cape carrying supplies. The room afforded him a nice place to stash everything, and he had to admit that it was nice to have a private space away from the crowd to provide a few moments of quiet.
Clark didn’t let himself settle in, though. As soon as his cargo was unloaded and he helped himself to a bottle of water, he stepped back into the hallway, his handler ushering him toward the meeting rooms. About halfway to the room, he approached his doppleganger, who thankfully was dressed in street clothes.
“Mr. North,” Clark said, catching the actor’s attention. Immediately his face lit up, and he halted his forward progress, turning instead to offer Clark his hand.
“Superman!” he replied as Clark shook the offered hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!”
“Likewise,” Clark replied. He gestured toward him once the handshake was done. “It’s like looking in a mirror.”
Spencer laughed once. “Oh, you’re far too kind.” The pair started walking again, this time more slowly. “Though, I think it will be interesting to see how confused some of the younger audience members will be, the ones that consume endless amounts of entertainment and are completely blind to the news. ‘Hey, what’s Superman doing up there in normal clothes, and who’s the guy wearing an S?’”
Clark bobbed his head. “To each his own…Superman, I mean,” he answered. He had noticed, in the last couple of years, that some people would look surprised when he rescued them, as if they were expecting someone else. It was amusing more that anything, and he didn’t feel as if he was losing his identity to the guy on screen, if only because he was the one who actually had the superpowers. “So how’s the second movie coming along?” Clark asked. He knew that part of the reason this appearance was set up was because the movie was filming in Australia.
“Oh, we have another week or so to go, then it’s a wrap, at least until the studio gets a hold of it and decides to reshoot half the film.” He made a face and shook his head. “Honestly, I’ll be glad to be done with it for a while. I’ve practically lived in my costume for the last four months - it’s comfortable and all…well, maybe except for the cape, but it drives you crazy after while. I’m actually deliriously happy to be back in real clothes for a couple of days. Do you ever get to the point that you just want to…wear something different? Maybe peel off the S-suit and burn it?”
You have no idea, Clark thought. There were times in his life when his Superman persona seemed determined to ruin his real life, and he would give anything to banish the suit and never see it again, but his conscience wouldn’t allow him to do that. “I do have other suits,” Clark stated, not mentioning that they were of the business variety. “And I don’t sleep in it, if I can avoid it.”
Spencer nodded. “Well I, for one, have a lot more appreciation for everything you do after having to walk a few miles in your footsteps. And that’s with a stunt double taking care of the dangerous stuff.”
“I appreciate that,” Clark said sincerely. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a good job in the role.”
Spencer beamed. “That means a lot,” he answered. By that point, they had reached the room where the panel would take place. Clark x-rayed through the wall, noting that the room was really more of an auditorium, with about 1,500 seats, and it was already at capacity. Each audience member had contributed at least $500 dollars for the pleasure of seeing both the real and fictional Superman, the money going toward a charity that helped out families of children with serious medical problems. The front row of the auditorium was filled with children who would be helped by the contributions, who would be able to ask the first questions of the special guests and who would each get their pictures taken with them.
“It’s a packed house,” Clark said, turning toward Spencer. “Hope you don’t mind performing to a crowd….”
“I’m game if you are,” Spencer said, and at that moment one of the handlers poked their head out into the hallway and gestured for the two to enter. With a sweeping wave of his arm, Spencer motioned for Superman to go ahead of him, and the two were announced to great fanfare and thunderous applause.
The panel was moderated by a local celebrity, who read from some prepared notes that had been put together based on comments Superman and Spencer North submitted prior to the event. The moderator asked each of them some softball questions, and they gave their answers, sometimes supplementing each other, sometimes giving vastly different perspectives. Once the questions started coming from the audience, things got a little more unpredictable. There were some of the same questions that Clark fielded at practically every celebrity appearance or entertainment interview, but others were entirely new.
“Superman, did you have any say in Spencer being cast to play you?” asked a somewhat shy teenage girl in a Superman t-shirt.
Clark glanced at his companion and then looked back toward the girl. “When the studio went to fill the part, my only stipulation was that whoever was hired be a virtuous person. No men who beat up on their girlfriends, nobody with substance abuse problems or a criminal past, et cetra. I’ve spent my career standing up for truth and justice, and it was important to me that my on-screen representative had the same moral compass. Whether in real life or on screen, Superman needs to be someone who people can look up to, who they can trust. All things considered, I think the studio chose very well.” He looked back toward Spencer North and saw him blushing slightly.
“Wow,” said Spencer, diverting his eyes downward. “I, uh…thanks.” He took a deep breath, then regarded the audience again. “I was the little kid running around with a red towel tied around my neck, trying to leap doghouses and lawn furniture in a single bound. When Superman was interviewed on television, I would hang on every word he said; when he gave words of wisdom, I always took them to heart. Kids would tell me that he was a boring hero, that I should follow someone more interesting and edgy, someone like Batman or Green Lantern, but as far as I was considered, Superman was the first and the best, the example that all the others tried to live up to, and that was that. For a long time, just the idea of meeting Superman sounded like the closest thing to heaven that I could imagine. But we didn’t live in Metropolis, so it had to stay a dream.
“After high school, I set my sights on acting, and headed west to pursue that dream. I had only been in Los Angeles for a few months, trying to get cast in anything I could, when my agent told me about the opportunity of a lifetime, the opportunity to BE Superman. We looked a little bit alike, and I kept in decent shape, and though I was still very new to the business I ended up getting the part. For days, maybe weeks, I was on cloud nine, a smile was constantly plastered on my face, and I told myself that I would do whatever I could to be the best Superman I could be. Throughout this whole process I’ve tried to live by the example he set, but it hasn’t been easy. People can be…awful toward public figures, but I’ve had a great support from friends and family, and I take the image of Superman seriously. When you think about the people Superman can help just by being an example to others, or being a moral compass, it makes the job so much easier.”
Clark couldn’t help but smile as Spencer spoke. He knew that there were plenty of actors out there who eschewed the standard Hollywood model, who were good, decent people and didn’t seek to be constantly in the spotlight, but the news made it seem like they were a rare breed. It was one thing that had truly worried him when they cast the part, that they would never find that magic combination of looks, talent, and ethics, that whoever they found would turn to the dark side once they found fame. But it had worked out better than he had imagined, at least so far. This discussion was making him anxious to get to know Spencer North a little better, and maybe welcome him into the super family fold in a more official capacity.
Next, a middle aged woman approached the microphone and cleared her throat before speaking. “Uh, hi,” she said with a small wave. “I wanted to know about Ultra Woman. Was it love at first sight for the two of you, like the movie shows? And what’s your secret to keeping a marriage going for 30 years?”
Clark cringed inwardly. The personal questions were always the worst. He never wanted to lie, so he usually tried to give somewhat vague answers when questions like these popped up. The problem was that once he started talking about his family, he often found it hard to stop himself from saying more than he should. “I would say that it definitely was the proverbial love at first sight for me, but it took her a while to come around. We became friends very quickly, and we always shared the same values, but I don’t think she wanted to become attached to anyone when we first met. She was very independent, looking to take the world by storm and change it by sheer force of will. Ultimately she admitted that we could do so much more together than we could apart, and the rest is history….” He was focusing off in the distance, images from the past passing by in his vision, and suddenly he wished strongly she was there, even if only as a face in the crowd. The room had grown very quiet as he spoke, and he suddenly became aware of that fact. Mercifully, he was saved from awkward silence as Spencer chimed in.
“I actually wanted to say that the love story between Superman and Ultra Woman was one of my favorite parts of these movies. Going into it, we all knew the amazing things Superman could do, we knew that he has rescued the planet many times over, and saved more lives that anyone can count. I think most of us, especially those of us who grew up idolizing him, saw him as something like an unapproachable god – he came down from on high, helped us with our problems, then disappeared into the ether until he was needed again, never questioning, never complaining, always on guard. The fact that he has a wife, a family…it changes that perception completely. When he comes to help us, he’s leaving someone at home who loves him. He’s putting his life on hold, dropping whatever else he’s doing, and prioritizing our safety, our lives, over his own. That’s heavy. That blew me away.”
Spencer looked over toward Clark, who by this time had regained his focus. As he continued, he addressed Clark directly. “Have you ever had a date night with your wife interrupted by some emergency?”
“More times than I can count,” Clark answered, to some chuckles.
“Family time?”
Clark felt a twinge at that one. “Yes. Inevitably, there are hurt feelings with that one.”
“Have you ever been right in the middle of some project that had taken you all day to really get into, only to hear a call for help and have to leave it behind?”
“Well, being faster than a speeding bullet has some advantages,” Clark quipped, which was true enough. Many a home improvement project had been undertaken, only to be interrupted by something or another. The problem with completing projects at superspeed, though, was that the neighbors would tend to notice, and the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself. So he usually just left things as they were.
“And what about the opposite – have you ever been in the middle of helping people, only to have your family need you?”
Flashes of Lois in dangerous situations played in his mind. For a long time after they first met, he had to constantly keep an ear open for her, and dropping everything to come to her aid was a way of life. But by the time Lois was actually family, those times were few and far between. For the most part, there wasn’t much that came up in his absence that Lois or the kids couldn’t handle, but it was hard to ignore their cries when they came, even if they were for silly reasons. “A few times, but nothing too serious – when one of the kids had a bad dream, when my wife overcooked the dinner and set off the fire alarms in the kitchen….” That one was more common than he wanted to admit. The audience laughed, lightening the mood, which had threatened to grow heavy.
“I admit that it’s not easy being married to me, but my wife takes all the adversity and unplanned absences with grace and understanding…most of the time. We have unique challenges in our relationship, but the core of it, the thing that’s kept us going for so long, is no different than what it is for any normal couple. You have to have mutual respect, you have to check your ego at the door. Every decision that you make affects your partner, so you have to understand that it’s not about what you want, but what’s best for the family. And most of all, you have to love each other. It’s really that simple.”
The crowd clapped vigorously. More questions followed after the applause died down, many of the more usual variety. As the session continued, though, it occurred to Clark that it was becoming harder for him understand the speakers. The background noise seemed to drown out the sound system, and he found himself straining to hear what was being said, no matter how much he tried to apply his various mental filters. While Spencer gave an answer to a question, he tried an experiment and reached out with his hearing to tune into the rest of the city, maybe catch the chatter on the police band or tune into a local radio station. What he heard, though, was more of the same. His super hearing was gone. Straining to keep his face in a neutral expression, he tried x-raying through the back wall of the auditorium, again not having any luck. His mind started to churn and his heart beat a little heavier as the implications of the situation presented themselves, but the sound of the crowd clapping brought him back to interview. The crowd was here because of him, and it didn’t take superpowers to answer their questions. Pushing the problem to the back of his mind, he forced himself to relax and smile, and he finished the panel, enjoying the interaction with the attendees in spite of everything.
As most of the people filed out of the room, Clark and Spencer stayed behind to chat with the children and take pictures with them. Being able to provide a bit of happiness to sick kids always lifted his spirits, put his problems into perspective. Apparently his companion felt the same, and he was strangely silent as they wandered back to their dressing rooms afterwards. Reaching his room, Clark stopped and regarded him, then stuck out his hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you,” he said.
Spencer smiled and took the offered hand. “The pleasure was all mine, believe me.”
“If you ever want to talk shop sometime, get some pointers,” Clark started, then trailed off at Spencer’s laugh.
“Hey, I only play a superhero on film. I don’t think I would be able to hold up my end of the conversation. Now, if you wanted to give me a tour of the real Fortress of Solitude….”
Clark smiled knowingly and released his hand. “Don’t believe everything you see in the movies,” he said, bringing a puzzled expression to Spencer’s face. “Take care of yourself, Spencer North.” With a nod, he turned and entered the room, closing the door behind himself. Maybe some day he would stop by and visit Spencer under more normal circumstances, maybe on the set of the movie…it was strange, but after their panel today, the way they interacted, he felt close to him. He wanted to get to know him better, maybe have Spencer get to know him better, too. With a shake of his head, Clark moved toward the bag he had left in the room, then reached inside and pulled out his cell phone. Sighing, he dialed Lois, mentally calculating what his cell phone bill would be after this call. She picked up after only a couple rings.
“We have a problem,” he said, not bothering with pleasantries.
“What kind of problem?”
“At some point during the discussion today, my powers just…went away.”
There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. “So, someone showed up with kryptonite? And these people call themselves your fans….”
Clark shook his head, even though he knew she wouldn’t be able to see it. “No, I don’t think that’s it. There was no pain. It’s just…one second they were there, and the next they weren’t.”
“So if it wasn’t kryptonite, what else could it be?”
“Good question.” Clark started to pace. What else COULD take his powers away? He had learned enough about himself over the years, through the help of the scientists at STAR Labs, to know how his body worked, and where his powers came from. He was essentially a giant solar battery, and it didn’t really take much to charge up his reserves, which he had spent his entire life on Earth building up. He had never hidden away from the sun to try and test his limits, and he couldn’t recall any prolonged stints in darkened basements or caves that had caused him to feel drained. It wasn’t like he had spent much time recently out of the sun, either. But it was hard not to notice that the sun didn’t feel as invigorating recently as it had in the past. “Do you remember how the sky looked when I left tonight? How it’s looked every night for a week?” he asked, suddenly realizing what the potential key to everything could be.
“Uhh, yeah. It was that funny pink color.”
“Right. I was just thinking, Kryptonians only have powers on Earth because of its yellow sun. Under a red sun, like the one that Krypton had, we wouldn’t have any powers.”
Lois let out a long breath. “You know, it hasn’t just been the sunsets that have seemed too pink. Now that I think about it, everything’s kind of had a reddish hue. You think that’s what’s caused this?”
“What else could it be? In the absence of magic or curses or something equally far-fetched, that’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Agreed,” Lois said, and Clark could hear her rooting around, no doubt reaching for a notebook. “So the next question is, how does a yellow sun suddenly turn red?”
“I don’t know that the sun itself necessarily turned red – there are people who spend their entire careers studying the sun, and if something happened to it, you think that they would be shouting it from the rooftops. But a lot can happen in the atmosphere to make the sky appear pink – if a volcano puts enough particulates into the air, that can have that effect. Smoke from fires turns the sky pink all the time. If you wanted to make the Earth appear to be under a red sun, all you’d have to do it filter out the yellow spectrum and boost the red. I would wager that whatever is causing it is on a more planetary level.”
“Okay,” Lois said, and Clark could tell from her slightly detached tone that she was writing something down. “The next question is whether this is a natural or man-made occurrence.”
“You think someone wants me out of the way?”
“You or the kids,” Lois said in that same distracted tone, then stopped with a sharp intake of air. “The kids! God, Clark, this affects them, too.”
“Yeah…” It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment that whatever was happening to him might be happening to them, too. He closed his eyes and flinched as a stab of concern caused a momentary tightening in his chest. Getting to the root of the cause of his current situation suddenly became much more pressing if they were in harm’s way.
“You were on the ground when your powers left. What if they weren’t? What if one of them was in the middle of something? What if CJ was taking one of his flying leaps off a tall building or Laura was exploring the ocean floor, or….”
“Lois,” Clark said quietly, calmly. Her rant stopped abruptly, before she could get herself too worked up. In all honestly, the same scenarios were flying through his mind, too, but dwelling on them at that moment wasn’t helpful. “I’m worried about them, too. But first things first, all right? Red sun?”
She took a deep breath before responding. “Red sun. Right. I can check for potential natural causes, but again I think we would’ve heard about if enough of the world was on fire to cause that kind of color in the sky. That leaves man-made causes. Cloud seeding?”
“The sky was pinkish down here, too. It has to be something more global.”
“Some sort of laser, maybe? Something to do with satellites? You know a lot more about those things than I do.”
“When you can go up there and check them out, sure. It’s a little harder now.” He sighed. “I do still have connections, though. I’d like to talk to them, to help you figure this out.”
“You know, the other question is: assuming that someone purposely caused the situation, and assuming that you are the target, whoever is doing it has to know enough about you to know what a red sun will do to you. I don’t think that particular bit of information is well known.”
“For good reason,” he answered, letting himself process that statement for a moment. “It’s been a long time since anyone targeted me. Feels a little weird.”
“Yeah. Well, I guess this is better than getting hit by kryptonite. I mean, you might be without powers, but you’re in no danger of dying or anything.” He could be wrong, but he sensed something in her voice, a little smugness maybe. “You just have to keep 2 feet on the ground now like the rest of us normal humans.” Yes, that was definitely smugness he heard that time.
“There’s nothing normal about you, honey,” he said with a small smile. “As for the danger, I’m in imminent danger of mild embarrassment, if this gets out.”
“Poor thing,” Lois said.
“Seriously, though, this is a bit of a jam. I didn’t even bring my wallet, just a couple of those prepaid credit cards. And as for clothing…” he reached into the bag he brought with him and pulled out one of CJ’s Batman suits, which he had lent him for the express purpose of having some fun at the convention while he was there. Neither that nor his current outfit were exactly inconspicuous. “Let’s just say that I didn’t bring anything that I would wear in front of polite company. Or, really, anybody other than the Justice League… or random comic book geeks.”
“So, stranded on the other side of the world with only gaudy spandex to wear, no identification, barely any money, and no alibi. I can work on finding you a flight back, I suppose, but there will be inevitable questions about why you were down there in the first place. I doubt I can find you anything before tomorrow, and even if I do they won’t let you on the plane without a passport.”
Why was conventional travel such a pain? “Okay, so I’ll need a hotel room, and you’ll need to put together a care package to overnight there.”
He could hear her writing again. “Ah, contingency plan F. I was wondering if we were ever going to need to use that one,” she said with a teasing tone in her voice. Shortly after they were first married they discussed contingency plans for when Superman got into various unpleasant situations – being trapped somewhere, being detained by authorities, falling victim to kryptonite, things like that – and what they would need to do to ensure he got home safely and with his identity intact. Thankfully, they had never needed to break out any of the plans, at least until today. “So, you’ll need your laptop, wallet, press pass, a few outfits...”
“Story ideas. I’m going to need to file something while I’m down here or John’s going to skin me alive. And he’ll quite literally be able to do that now.” John, their editor, gave him a lot of leeway on the stories he chose to write, but he suspected that a trip to Australia for a casual, low stakes story might strain that trust.
Lois laughed gently. “True. Well, I don’t know if you’ll be able to help much with this red sun problem from there, but… With primaries happening right now, maybe you could spotlight the Australian voting system. It’s different enough from ours that it’s fairly intriguing.”
“Good idea,” Clark answered. There was thoughtful silence for a moment, then he had another idea. “I know that entertainment news is not considered real news by a lot of people, but…they are filming the sequel to my fake life story down here, and I did meet the star today.”
“I meant to ask, how did your thing with him go?”
“The panel? It was actually a lot more fun than I had thought it would be. Spencer North is more perceptive and thoughtful than people give him credit for.”
“What kinds of questions did you get? Anything uncomfortable?”
“Ever since I started wearing the wedding ring I’ve gotten a lot of questions about you, and they asked again today.”
“I imagine you told them about how wonderful I am,” she teased, and he smiled.
“Of course,” he said. “Though when I created Superman I never thought that he would become a marriage expert. Makes me yearn for the old questions about what it’s like to fly or how much I can bench press.”
“Well, they wouldn’t ask if you weren’t doing something right.”
“It’s not just me in the marriage, and you probably deserve way more credit for its longevity than I do. I even said as much, thought I don’t think the fans believed me.”
“Whether they did or not, it was still very sweet.”
“I love you, you know that, right?” he said, wishing very strongly that she was there so he could sweep her up and kiss her thoroughly. It would just have to wait a couple of days, he supposed, but it would probably feel like an eternity.
“I know, flyboy. It’s a darn good thing you do, too, since you’re going to owe me for this little unplanned vacation.”
“Anything you want,” he said, then sighed. “I’d love to continue this, but my bill for this call is going to match the GDP of a third world country if I don’t hang up soon. Text me the name of the hotel once you make the reservation?”
“Sure. Shouldn’t take too long.”
“And once you hear from the kids, can you let me know how they’re doing?”
“I will. Hey, love you. Be safe.”
“Talk to you later,” he said, then hung up. He looked at the phone, chewing over the conversation for a moment, then shoved it back into the bag. His hands brushed against the spandex from CJ’s outfit, and he pulled it out, regarding it quizzically. Before all this happened, he had planned to go out and mingle a bit. That was before he had other, pressing concerns pop up that probably needed his attention, but there was only so much he could do on his cell phone, especially when he was paying ridiculous roaming charges for any services he used. He was stuck here for a while…why not try and enjoy it? Besides, he’d need to go buy a t-shirt or something if he wanted to go anywhere else, and it was undoubtedly better for him to be out there as Batman, someone who was only human, after all.
With a shrug, he reached back and unzipped his suit.
