Free Falling, Part 3
Christy Owens tried to slow her rapidly beating heart as she rose from her recliner. The late local news had just begun when the sound of thunder rumbled across the sky. The day had been gorgeous and clear, the type of day that made her long to strap on her hiking boots and explore the great outdoors, although her hip precluded her from making those excursions these days. She had been about to get up and peek out the window when a violent crashing sound came from very close to the house. For a few long minutes she had just sat there in shock, waiting for more to happen, but all she heard was the steady sound of voices from the television. After a moment, the door to the master bedroom opened, and her husband Tom shuffled out. He had been in bed for roughly an hour, but the crashing sound would’ve been loud enough to wake even the dead.
“What was that?” he asked, slipping his glasses onto his face. She looked at him with wide eyes.
“I have no idea,” she said. “It came from outside.”
He looked toward the door, then nodded and walked toward it, detouring to the spot next to the coat rack where they kept a baseball bat, just in case. Christy followed behind, content to let him take the lead. Opening the door, he poked his head out and looked around, his brow furrowing as he apparently saw something. Leaving the house, he angled toward the back corner of their yard, where the light from the nearly full moon illuminated what appeared to be an exploded mound of dirt. Christy leaned to look around him, curious. They were almost to the mound when she heard a moaning sound. Instantly, her husband tensed up, raising the baseball bat to strike if necessary. The moan came again, this time accompanied by movement from behind the dirt.
Her husband took a couple cautious sideways steps toward the mound, which she could now see was the raised edge of a crater, craning his neck to determine what was inside. After a moment he gasped and lowered the bat, letting it slip out of his hands as he quickly covered the remaining distance to the hole.
“What is it?” Christy asked, rushing to catch up.
Her husband gestured with an arm. “She’s hurt,” he said.
She? Christy turned toward the object in the center of the crater, and saw that it was a woman dressed mostly in black, curled in a fetal position. The pinkish accents around her uniform made it easy enough to identify her as Superwoman, the newest hero from Gotham. A moan came again as she moved her arm, causing what looked like a notebook and a phone to shift from its position on her stomach. Christy was at her side in an instant, stilling her moments. “What happened?” she asked, looking at the superhero with an appraising eye.
“Fell,” Superwoman said weakly, clutching her side as soon as she spoke. Christy’s gaze started at her feet, making its way up toward her stomach, arms, and shoulders. Finally, she turned toward her face, noticing that her mask was skewed across her face, not covering her eyes anymore, apparently jarred loose when she impacted the ground.
“How do you feel?” she asked. Her husband was picking the objects up off her torso, starting with a backpack, followed by what looked like a large map and a pencil. Finally came the notebook and phone. He placed them all gently inside the bag.
Superwoman shifted and attempted to straighten her legs. “About like I thought I would if I fell from 40,000 feet,” she said, giving a weak chuckle that ended with a wince.
“Broken ribs, I’m guessing,” Christy said, putting her hand on Superwoman’s side. Applying slight pressure, she noticed that nothing seemed loose, so if they were broken, it was probably more of a hairline fracture. “What about your hands and feet? Can you feel everything okay?”
Superwoman moved her hands and feet in circles and nodded. She seemed to notice at that moment the position of her mask, then reached up and pulled it off, allowing them to take a good look at her unobscured face. Beside her, Tom gasped, and Christy could understand why. Without her mask, Superman looked an awful lot like her son Matthew’s wife.
Superwoman looked at Tom and gave a small smile, then turned her gaze toward Christy. “Surprise!” she said softly, although both Christy and her husband were both too stunned at that moment to move. As they watched dumbly, she scooted herself around to get her hands and knees under her, then pushed herself up. She then planted a foot on the ground, put a hand on her knee, and attempted to stand, though that caused her to momentarily lose balance. That seemed to spur Tom to action, and he stepped down into the crater and held out an arm, offering her support so that she could get to a standing position. Christy just watched as he guided her out of the hole and toward the house, grabbing her bag as he did.
Why did Superwoman look like her daughter-in-law? It didn’t make any sense. And how was it that she fell from the sky and onto their yard? Her mind churned with a thousand questions as she followed her husband and Superwoman, absently picking up the bat as she went. Reality became an abstract concept as she gave herself over to her thoughts. It seemed like a simple conclusion to say that this superhero who created a crater in her yard was Matt’s wife, but she couldn’t see how that could be. Everyone knew that Superman was an alien, and although he did have children, it was only because his wife was alien, too. He didn’t live anywhere in particular, because dozens of journalists over the years had attempted to find property deeds or rental contracts in his name, without any luck. Although he had his own charitable foundation which generated millions of dollars per year, he took no salary, and public records indicated no income from other sources, either. Superman was a benevolent ghost, real and unreal at the same time. Matt’s wife, though, was a nice girl from Metropolis. She was beautiful, sure, but she seemed very normal, and so did her family. There was no way that Superwoman was her daughter-in-law. It was absolutely impossible.
Once inside the house, Tom guided Superwoman to a seat at the kitchen table, though she didn’t seem to need his support anymore. As she sat, she reached up and pulled a couple pins from her hair, and a long braid uncurled from around her head, bobbing as it reached its full length. Her resemblance with Laura was even stronger now, and Tom had started talking to her in a familiar way, asking if she wanted any water, asking about the items in the bag, which lead to a discussion on her master’s thesis. Christy watched it all mutely, settling into a seat across the table from Superwoman, her eyes never diverting from their visitor. Her mind was now openly at war with itself, half of it declaring that Superwoman couldn’t be Matt’s wife, and the other asking how much more evidence she needed. It was enough to make her doubt her sanity, and as lull seemed to strike the conversation between Tom and the superhero, she finally blurted out the one question at the center of all the other ones.
“I’m sorry, but…who are you?” she asked, and both her husband and their guest looked at her, puzzled. Superwoman looked sideways, then furrowed her brow as she turned back toward Christy.
“What?” she asked.
“You’re Superwoman,” Christy said, pointing to the S shield on her outfit.
“Yeah,” Laura said slowly, turning toward Tom, who just shrugged. “But I’m Laura. You know me,” she said, turning back toward Christy.
“Do I?” Christy said, and Laura’s expression softened somewhat. “I mean, you look like the person I know, but she’s not…invulnerable.”
“Well, at the moment, I don’t think I am, either,” Superwoman said, reaching for her side and wincing as she put pressure on it. “So maybe that will help you…put us together, I guess. Would it help if I changed clothes?”
“I…no,” Christy said with a shake of her head. Tom sat down in the seat at the end of the table, crossing his arms across his chest. He apparently wanted to be an observer in this conversation, and that was fine with her. “But how can you be Superwoman? You’re a college student. Your parents are journalists, not…”
“Superman and Ultra Woman?” Laura finished, and Christy nodded. “But they are.”
Christy let out a frustrated grunt and looked away. That made even less sense, if possible. She had spent some time socializing with Lois and Clark Kent, first at the kids’ wedding, then when the baby came along. It’s not like they were particularly close to the couple, but she thought she had a good handle on who they were, what their personalities were. Superman and Ultra Woman were as far from Lois and Clark as she was from a heavy metal rock star. It was utterly inconceivable that they were the same people, but apparently they were.
“The novels, the comics, the movies, they’re all just fiction,” Laura said, her voice seeming far away as Christy struggled with her thoughts. “My Dad pointed the writers down a certain path to lead them away from the truth and keep us safe. The more outrageous the story, the happier he was. Because who could possibly believe the truth?”
“Does Matt know?” Tom asked, and Laura nodded, smiling.
“His reaction to finding out the big secret was part of what made me love him,” she said, tenderness evident in her expression.
Superwoman loved her son. Superwoman, who possessed the powers of a goddess, who could obliterate mountains or walk into a nuclear blast if she wanted, loved a mere mortal who grew up in small town Ohio. Someone with her gifts, of her stature, had no business marrying into their family, which was filled with ordinariness. They were nothing special, they didn’t deserve her attention, but here she was, sitting at their table, mother to their grandchild, wife to their son. Why? There had to be something she was missing.
“What do you want from him?” Christy asked, her voice shaky now.
Laura blinked and looked at her for a long moment. “Love?” she said, and Christy could see something burning in her expression, some of the fire that Matt always talked about. “What do you want from your husband? What makes our relationship any different?”
“You’re…super. You’re…important,” Christy said.
“And Matt’s important to me,” Laura said, the tone of her voice leaving no room for debate. “He can see past the powers and see the real person inside. He knows I’m not perfect, not some superhuman deity, and he loves me anyway.” She looked at Christy again with absolute conviction, then looked away as Tom put his hand on her arm. “Dad figured it out a long time ago, the ultimate secret, I guess,” she continued, her voice softer. “Superman is nothing without love, without someone to come home to and share his life with. I’m kind of surprised nobody else has figured that out.”
“But Matt did?” Tom said, and she nodded.
“He’s pretty smart,” she said with a wry grin. “Why do you think his book did so well? He has a perspective that very few people will ever get, and he understands so well what it means to be part of my family. He probably knows better than I do, believe it or not.”
Tom smiled at that, and Christy found herself relaxing, though she knew she had a lot more truths to unwrap before she could think clearly. Laura and Tom talked some more, and she related a couple stories to them, little anecdotes that gave them just a small insight into the ordinary life of an extraordinary hero. The stories almost sounded like something made up for a movie, but she didn’t doubt they were true. After a few minutes, Laura glanced up at the clock, then back toward her them. “I need to call home,” she said, reaching for her phone. “Matt’s probably wondering where I am.” Before dialing, she rose from the table stiffly, her face showing that she was still in some pain. Slowly, she walked toward one of the guest bedrooms, closing the door behind her.
Christy and Tom looked at each other, neither quite knowing what to say. After a moment, Tom hit his knees with his hands and stood. “Well, this has been an interesting night. But I need to get back to bed. I still need to work in the morning.”
“Don’t you want to talk about this?” Christy asked, gesturing toward the bedroom that Laura had just entered.
The expression on his face told her very plainly that he did not. He was never one to delve into matters of emotional weight, and tonight was no different. Normally she didn’t mind too much, since she could always talk things through with any of a number of her friends, but this… This wasn’t exactly something that you shared. Tom might be all she had right now. “What’s there to talk about?” he asked. “Our daughter-in-law has a night job? That’s nothing unusual.”
She tried to wordlessly convey what how dense she thought he was, but his yawn forced his eyes closed, and he turned to go back to the bedroom before they opened again. “You know there’s more to it than that.”
He stopped and glanced back at her. “What if there’s not?” he said, then continued to the bedroom. He spoke with his back to her. “Our son is happily married to an upstanding young lady who…dropped in for a visit. That’s it.” Opening the bedroom door, he glanced back at her one last time. “Good night,” he said, then closed the door, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
She closed her eyes and summoned all the images she could of the woman that had married their son. Memories of precious few special occasions with Matt and Laura burst forth, but now they were colored with the knowledge that there was more going on than she realized. Wisps of old conversations played behind the images, and she remembered that Laura had mentioned her family – she had two older brothers, Christy recalled, though one was in a plane crash and died. She recalled now that she had met one...no, she had probably met them both, she thought with a frown. There was no way her “dead” brother was actually dead if he was another super person, though she couldn’t quite place who of the other guests at their wedding he could be. Each new thought brought more questions, and after a while she had to take a deep breath to keep from feeling completely overwhelmed. A moment later, she heard a door open, and she opened her eyes in time to see Superwoman…Laura emerge from the bedroom. Her expression clearly reflected that she was not entirely comfortable talking to her, which Christy supposed she could relate to.
“I need to get home as soon as I can,” Laura said, standing at the periphery of the room.
“Can’t you, uh…?” Christy said, holding out her hand and taking a deep breath. “Fly?”
Laura shook her head. “That’s the problem, and that’s why I’m here. I WAS flying, and then I wasn’t. Everything was gone, poof, just like that. I had enough control to point me here but….” She shrugged. “Right now I’m as normal as everyone else.”
“How can that stuff just go away?” Christy asked.
“That’s the question, and that’s part of why I need to get home. I need to help find out what happened, because whatever it is, I’m betting it didn’t just happen to me.”
Christy looked at the clock, noting that it was now well past 11 PM. “Maybe we can look for flights in the morning?”
Laura shook her head vehemently. “I was hoping I could convince you to drive with me back to Gotham. Tonight.”
“Tonight?” Her eyes widened.
Laura gestured toward the kitchen. “I could fire up the coffee maker and get a couple thermoses out. We’ll both need all the caffeine we can get.”
“But…” Christy protested, a whole new set of thoughts entering her mind, not the least of which was a sense of panic at the thought of being stuck in a car for 10 hours with this stranger masquerading as her daughter-in-law. “Surely your investigation can wait until tomorrow. I don’t think Matt would be happy with either of us if we got into an accident in our rush to get you home.”
An unfamiliar expression flashed on Laura’s face for just a moment, then she diverted her eyes downward. It took a moment before she spoke again, and when she did, her voice seemed incredibly small. “I want to be there when Lilly wakes up… and I know that probably won’t happen, but I hate the thought of her being afraid because she thinks that something happened to me.” She took a shaky breath and looked back toward Christy, her eyes haunted. “I want to get back to my baby,” she said, and something inside Cristy melted. For all the problems she had trying to figure out who this person was, at that moment it was crystal clear. She was a mother, not unlike herself. The idea of wanting to get home, of moving heaven and earth or at least suffering through a few awkward hours alone with her mother-in-law to return to her child, was something that Christy could absolutely relate to, and she found herself nodding even before she could say anything. Instantly, Laura’s face lit up.
“Put on the coffee,” Christy said. “I’ll let Tom know what we’re doing.”
***
The first order of business upon arriving at the Martinez house had been to tend to Jon’s wounds. His suit, a total loss, was carefully stripped off, exposing the burns on his feet, legs, hands, and forearms. Under normal circumstances, he supposed that he would probably have gone to an emergency room for treatment, or at least to his normal doctors at STAR labs, but he wasn’t about to make an appearance at a hospital, and STAR Labs were several thousand miles away. Fortunately, Cruz Martinez had a fairly well stocked medicine cabinet and plenty of gauze on hand. Jon admitted to feeling some embarrassment to his reaction as Cruz helped to clean and sanitize his wounds. The sensation of water caused him to wince, but the hydrogen peroxide made him squirm with discomfort, and he involuntarily pulled himself away from his father-in-law’s grip with a whimper.
“Not used to this, huh?” Cruz said, amused.
“It’s just…been a long time. And I definitely didn’t miss this part.”
That seemed to surprise Cruz. “You haven’t always been…super?”
Jon shook his head and avoided eye contact. “I didn’t get powers until high school. Before that I was just like anyone else, and I had my fair share of kid accidents.”
Cruz sat back, though the bottle of peroxide still hovered uncomfortably close to Jon’s burns, waiting for him to acquiesce and let him finish disinfecting them. “Let me guess – fell off your bike?”
“Once or twice. I actually broke my collar bone jumping off some playground equipment when I was four. Then there was the little league practice where I jumped to catch a fly ball and landed on a freshly trimmed tree branch.” Cruz winced, and Jon dared to look at his face again, some of the embarrassment passing. “Makes the disguise that much better, I guess – nobody who saw me with my arm in a sling as a kid would ever believe I’m the same guy who can bounce bullets off his chest.”
“I suppose that’s right,” Cruz said, and Jon tentatively extended his
arm out to continue the process.
“At this point I think I would prefer a broken bone,” Jon said through clenched teeth as the liquid flowed over the burn. Cruz again looked somewhat amused.
“Burns are a different animal than cuts or scrapes,” Cruz said, putting the bottle down and examining Jon’s hand and forearm. Apparently convinced that they were clean, he reached for a tube of antibiotic cream and squirted a glob on, before covering it with a couple gauze squared and taping it in place. “But the fact that you can feel pain is a good sign. Third degree burns just make you numb.” He moved on to Jon’s legs, though those seemed to go much more easily.
Once they were done, Cruz went to his closet to find some clothing that Jon could wear. Jon wandered into the living room and gravitated toward the stereo, which had several components that had to be as old as he was. During previous visits to the house, he had noticed a sizable record collection residing at the bottom of the stereo cabinet, though he had never had time to really examine it before. He took the opportunity now, squatting down and fingering through the LP’s with his good hand, noting the wide range of classic Jazz that was represented there. Duke Ellington, Stan Kenton, John Coltrane, Miles Davis…there was also big band music from a variety of eras, and a fair amount of classic rock. Jon was so engrossed in the collection that he didn’t notice his father-in-law’s return until a t-shirt and shorts were thrust between his eyes and the records. It took a second for him to process what he was seeing, but once he did, he gave a shy grin and stood.
“You have an amazing music collection,” Jon said, gesturing to the records, then grabbing the offered clothing.
“You think?” Cruz said with a shrug.
Jon slid the pair of shirts on. “Of course. Mind if we put something on? I don’t care how bad I feel, the Duke always makes me feel a little better.” The shirt slipped over his head.
“Well, if it helps with the healing,” Cruz said, reaching down to retrieve the LP. “Sometimes I’ll get out my horn and play along, depending on the mood I’m in. My wife’s not a fan, but if she’s not around…” He slid the record out of the sleeve, then reached over to lift the lid of the record player, putting the record on and turning on the system. Dropping the needle on the vinyl brought a series of pops, before the music started to pour out.
“What do you play?” Jon asked. Cruz started toward the kitchen and Jon followed behind.
“Trumpet. I had a side gig with a local combo band before family life got too hectic,” Cruz said, angling toward the refrigerator. “Want something to drink?” he asked, opening the door and revealing a selection of sodas.
“Root beer please,” Jon said, settling into a chair at the table. “I thought I was the only one who played along with old records.”
“Well, I have my secrets, too,” Cruz said with a wink, grabbing the drinks and sitting next to Jon. They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying their drinks and letting the music wash over them. When Cruz finally spoke again, he caught Jon off guard.
“You said in the truck that you used to go out and watch Superman when you were a kid,” he said, his voice almost small. “Didn’t you always know who he was?”
“No,” Jon said, taking a long drink. “Once I started seeing through walls it was pretty obvious, but…he never told me. As a father myself, I understand why. Giving a kid a big secret to try and keep puts a lot of weight on their shoulders. He didn’t tell us because he wanted us to have carefree childhoods, and I’m glad he did.”
“But it was a shock?”
“To put it mildly,” Jon said. “My Dad was a stranger for a few days. But I put it together pretty quickly.”
There was a silence for a moment. “When you found out, did it feel like your life was… predestined? That you had no choice in what you would do?”
“The knowledge of who my Dad was didn’t change how I viewed my future, and he always made it clear that what I did with my life was my choice. But the first time I was able to help someone because of what I could do… that’s when the idea that I could follow in his footsteps hit home. That’s when I realized the pure joy that came from making the world a better place. But knowing that I wanted to go out and help and actually doing that were two different things.”
“It all looks so easy,” Cruz said. “At least, for someone with superpowers.”
“That’s by design, I guess,” Jon said. “If you’re being rescued by someone, you want to feel confident that they know what they’re doing. But I sure as heck didn’t at first, and I know Dad didn’t figure it out for a long time. Even with him showing me what he learned over the years, it doesn’t make it less…terrifying when you start out.” Jon shook his head. “It would be one thing if all you had to do was go out and help. But then you have to deal with politicians and law enforcement and groupies and the press. I’ve lived around the press my whole life – my parents’ coworkers are like members of the family - but suddenly, by virtue of the fact that I can fly to help people, they made themselves the bane of my existence.” Jon felt frustration building up, but one look at Cruz’s face and the shadow of pain that lingered there squelched it. He had forgotten that Diane’s family knew all too well the power of an out-of-control media. “I’m sorry,” he said, contrite. “I forget…”
“Don’t be,” Cruz said. “It’s ancient history. And it’s not your fault. One bad apple, and all that.”
“Right,” Jon said, and suddenly it was uncomfortable again. He took a long drink of his soda, then looked down into the can. “So, forgive me, but I have to ask,” he said, twirling the can and watching the liquid inside swirl around. “I know finding out about me hasn’t been easy for you, and I hope sharing this stuff has helped you get a clearer picture of who I am, so we can maybe get back to a more normal relationship. But if this all makes you uncomfortable….”
Cruz’s hand reached out and made contact with Jon’s arm, stopping what had started to turn into a babble and grabbing his full attention. “Before the twins were born, we thought we knew you reasonably well, at least as well as we know our daughter these days. You were something different to us – a cosmopolitan reporter from the big city marrying into a southern family that has had a historically bad relationship with reporters – but we accepted you, because you were the answer to a prayer,” he said. ”You brought my daughter back to me after I ran her off, and for that I will always be eternally grateful. Then you told us your secret, and suddenly you became…something else. The Other. And that bothered me, because you were still who you were, nothing had changed with you, all that changed was our awareness of you. I had to ask myself what made you different, and in doing so I found what we have in common. Your father is an immigrant; mine is, too, though I would admit that yours came from much further away. You have some special talents, but I do, too. Did you know I was a horseshoe throwing champion as a teenager?” He smiled proudly.
“I do now,” Jon said.
Cruz released Jon’s arm and leaned back. “Granted, your talents are a little more rare and useful, but they’re still just things you do. Ultimately, a lot of the things that make you different are not things that you have any control over, and as much of a problem that I may or may not have with those differences, you’ve probably had a much harder time dealing with them than I can ever imagine. Hearing some of your stories tonight helps to bear that out. I decided that it’s not my place to judge, but to accept and to love, and if my daughter accepts and loves you, than why can’t I?”
Jon felt incredibly touched at that moment, and as the music played behind them, he just sat and stared, speechless, until he was finally able to muster some words. “Diane never saw the differences. She always knew who I was, no matter how I presented myself. That was one of the things that I’ve always loved about her – she could see past the S.” He shook his head. “Actually, that’s not entirely true. She did have a hard time looking past the whole reporter thing.”
Cruz’s smile faded somewhat. “That was my influence, I’m afraid. But it sounds like you worked through it.”
“I think she figured out that if a reporter can also be a Superman, that maybe reporters aren’t beyond redemption after all.”
Cruz nodded. “Sounds about right. Anyway, what I struggle with these days is the celebrity thing. Before I met you, I never knew anyone famous.”
Jon gave a rueful smile. “I hate the fame. I guess I knew it came with the job, but if I had my choice….”
“It is what it is,” Cruz said with a shrug. “But I bet Diane’s not a fan.”
“God, no,” Jon said, and they both laughed. “Honestly, though, I don’t think her problem is so much with the fact that I’m famous, but with the idea of fame as a concept. Lord knows she didn’t care about my celebrity when we first met.”
“She never was one to put much stock in what other people thought. Famous or not, if you weren’t a decent person she wouldn’t give you the time of day.”
“Well, she’s a good judge of character, I guess,” Jon said. From there, he and Cruz made small talk until they finished their drinks. By that time, the hour was starting to get late, and Cruz got up from the table to turn in for the night.
Jon stood with him, and looked anxiously toward the living room and the old-fashioned desktop computer that sat at a desk in the corner. “Do you mind if I use your computer?” he asked. In reality, his phone probably had a faster processor, but he hated working with such a small screen and had much better luck typing fast on a conventional keyboard…not that he could type any faster than a normal person at the moment.
“Feel free,” Cruz said. “Just, you know…don’t be downloading stuff you shouldn’t,” he said, pointing a finger toward Jon, which was met with a crooked grin.
“Yes, sir,” he said, and with that, Cruz retreated to his bedroom. Jon turned down the stereo so that he could barely hear it, then telephoned his mother. Lois filled him on all the news from the family, including where everyone was currently stranded. The two of them tossed around ideas about what could’ve caused him to lose his powers, and he agreed with his dad that the pink sky must have something to do with it. Since he had a computer at his disposal and nothing else to command his attention at the moment, he volunteered to start looking into potential causes, starting with the projects that have been authorized by NASA. With that, he said goodbye and got to work.
It didn’t take much time to find out what the space agency had been up to recently, and he quickly zeroed in on a potential culprit. A couple months earlier, a series of satellites had been launched, ostensibly to study the planetary climate and to perform experiments to try and reverse the affects of climate change. What those experiments might be was never mentioned, but a satellite with the ability to change the Earth’s climate could certainly cause the type of global transformation that could result in his current problems. It was worth checking out further, and through a stroke of luck, the company that developed the satellite was based out of Houston. That was only a three hour drive from where he was, which made it very easy for him to conduct some interviews and do a little snooping tomorrow. Despite the hour, he called him mother and related his findings, and she agreed that he should pay the company a visit the next day.
After hanging up the phone, he found himself suddenly exhausted. Without bothering to change, he turned off the music, wandered into the guest bedroom, and immediately fell into a deep, restful sleep.
