Three Rules
Folc4evernaday
Chapter 12
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Martha Kent tapped the water off the bristles of her paintbrushes, preparing to close the art studio up for the evening when the phone rang. She reached her hand over to answer the phone, cradling it between her neck and shoulder. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Kent?”
Martha did her best not to react when she heard the hoarse voice on the other end of the line. “Lois?”
She had yet to hear from the woman her son had spoken so fondly of for the last few months, but she had spoken to her a few times over the phone, but not like this.
“I…I need help.”
Martha felt a lump in her throat, and the hair on the back of her neck stand up when she heard the plea from the young woman. The Lois Lane she’d heard her son talk about didn’t waver. Martha knew if she was asking for help, it was because she was out of options. Martha quickly closed up the studio, walking with the cordless phone to the farmhouse and motioning to Jonathan who was seated comfortably on the porch.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“It’s Clark…Something’s not right. I don’t know….”
Martha felt her blood run cold at the mention of her son’s name. Lois continued to explain the situation, but all Martha could comprehend from her pleas was that her son was in trouble.
“Where are you?”
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<<“Clark!” >>Lois’ throat felt raw from the gut-wrenching screams that had escaped her lungs. Her hands gripped the coffee mug in front of her with a vice-like grip. Her knee bounced up and down beneath the kitchen table. She turned to the corner of the room, catching a glimpse of Clark’s disoriented body slumped over the edge of the couch as his parents attempted to help him to his feet.
The last hour felt like a bad dream as the flashes of chaos from the panic that had rushed through her as she had been faced with the prospect of getting Clark to safety and finding help. The Kents were quick to respond when she had flagged down the sheriff to get help and attempted to walk Clark away from whatever had knocked the wind out of him. The paleness to his face and unnerving blank stare left her chilled to the bone.
Lois tucked her lower-lip inside her mouth, watching with concern as Jonathan helped Clark walk up the stairs. His mother stood by the bottom of the steps, watching with apprehension as Clark disappeared up the stairs with his father’s help. A pained expression covered Martha’s face as she turned back toward Lois, forcing a weak smile as she pointed to the mug in Lois’ hand.
“You look like you could use a fresh cup. I’ll put on a pot…”
Lois glanced down at the mug of coffee that had hardly been touched, silently nodding as she understood the activity was more for Martha than her. The painful silence was cut with the soft rustling sounds from the kitchen of water running and cabinets opening and closing. A moment later and an uncomfortable silence hung in the air.
Lois looked to Martha, feeling her heart hammer in her chest, wondering what she could be thinking. She didn’t have to guess much longer as Martha claimed the seat across from her.
“He’s never been sick a day of his life.”
The raspy whisper cut her like a knife as Lois stared back at the glistening eyes that gazed into hers. The panic that had risen up inside her a few hours ago stirred again, and Lois swallowed the hard lump in her throat, looking to Martha with a tearful, “I’m so sorry. I have no idea what happened. I turned around, and he….”
Martha reached out to squeeze her hand, “Lois, I’m just glad you were there to help him. I…” Martha let out a chuckle, shaking her head.
“What?” Lois sniffed, not understanding how she could find humor in the current situation.
“No, it’s just…all these years, and you’re the first person outside of Jonathan I’ve talked with about Clark. It’s…nice.”
“I just wish it was under different circumstances,” Lois shook her head in dismay.
“Me too.”
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Lex Luthor reached his hand out to touch the globe, holding it in his palm and watching as it changed from one image to another then went dark. He turned to Trask, looking at him expectantly as he called out, “You’re certain this is connected to Superman?”
“You refer to him as Superman, Mr. Luthor, but I know him as something far more dangerous.” Trask growled, pacing around the room as he continued his rant. “He’s been sent in to lull us into compliance before the army of alien superheroes is sent in to destroy us. If we don't resist him, they will send in others. His very existence is hostile. The advance man... the public relations guy here to soften us up for the hordes to come.”
“Interesting theory, Mr. Trask,” Lex mused, not certain how much he could believe of the man’s ravings of an alien invasion coming to Earth but he could certainly get behind anyone willing to stand against the hero. Afterall, the enemy of his enemy was his ally. “How exactly do you plan to counter this Superman’s attack?”
“You’ve seen this?” Trask pointed to the globe in Lex’s hand. “It was found with a spacecraft uncovered here in Smallville by my team in 1966.” Trask’s face went from a sinister chill to an almost calm as he interjected, “The same emblem on the ship is what we see on the hero the world calls Superman. It was uncovered in the same place I was able to successfully uncover a meteorite. The substance that was sent to your lab for analysis.”
“You think this meteorite could be used to destroy Superman?” Lex formulated his assumption aloud, looking to Trask for confirmation.
“My theory is that if Superman were to come in contact with a little piece of his home planet for any length of time, the result could be as lethal as any human coming in contact with radioactive material.”
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The room was spinning. The pounding of his head centered around his temple. Slowly he began to open his eyes, wincing at first from the pain as he peeled his eyes open. The bright light from the sun shone into his eyes, and he grimaced in pain, letting out a soft moan.
Clark blinked, groggily coming to as the sun peaked inside his childhood bedroom, spraying rays of sunshine across him. He opened his mouth, feeling the ominous pain run through him as his sore muscles ached with the slightest movement. He winced, pushing past the pain as he let out a low groan, forcing his torso up from the bedsheets. His hand gripped the side of the bed as he turned to swing his legs over the side of the bed. The small effort felt like a sprint across the globe as he gritted his teeth, padding his feet on the carpeted floor, trying to find his bearings.
He spotted the shirt laid out on the nightstand, saying a silent prayer of thanks for his mother’s intuitive nature of always being one step ahead. He found his footing, balancing himself on the wavering muscles as he stood up straight, wincing as he caught a glimpse of the red cut lines across his shoulder in the mirror on the other side of the mirror. He reached up to take a finger against the scabbed-over injury, wondering momentarily what could have caused the pain he was feeling.
For as long as he could remember, his body had been invulnerable. He had lived most of his adolescence free from the worries of illness and injury and often found himself yearning to catch a common cold or flu for just a glimmer of what he deemed normalcy. As he stared at the wound on his shoulder, he wondered what his adolescent self was thinking to wish harm on himself. He reached down and pulled the soft navy shirt over his head, then slipped the plaid button-down over his t-shirt.
The door cracked open, and he heard a light knock, and he turned to see his dad in the doorway with a concerned expression. His jaw was squared set with his mouth in a tight line, “I guess it’s too much to ask for a little help around here when you visit,” his dad joked.
Clark cracked a smile, “I may be a little slower moving than the normal two-minute sprint.”
His dad’s smile faded, and he let out a heavy sigh, “You ready to talk about what happened out in Schuster’s field?”
Clark shrugged his shoulders, uncertain where to begin. “There’s not much to say. One minute I was standing over a big ditch where the old oak used to be, and the next, I’m on the ground. I can’t explain it.”
“You were bleeding,” his dad reminded him solemnly.
“I know,” Clark shook his head, unsure what to make of the sudden loss of his powers.
His dad nodded, silently agreeing to drop the subject with a subtle nod, and then gestured to the hall, “Well, your mom wanted to go drop off the pies for the Corn Festival. Maybe a little sunshine will do you some good, hmm?”
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The steel doors opened, and Dr. Lee zig-zagged through the crowded laboratory, approaching one of the lead researchers with a large cut of tree root under a fluorescent light. The illuminated root glowed a light green beneath the light as the researcher scraped a sample from the aged oak.
Dr. Lee moved to the back of the room where a crowd of researchers surrounded a clay-covered white and blue spacecraft that had arrived with the other shipments. To the left was a large metal box with the lid ajar and the green glowing meteorite sat under heavy scrutiny from his team.
He pulled back the heavy tarp that was strewn across the spacecraft, revealing the small emblem on the front of the craft, mirroring the emblem seen on that of the hero Metropolis had come to know as Superman.
“As soon as the results are back, I want them on my desk,” Dr. Lee instructed before moving toward the back office.
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Clark stood off to the side, watching as the tables covered in plaid tablecloths began to fill up with treats from pies to homemade candy apples and caramel corn. The initial soreness that had overtaken him earlier had subsided, and he was left in a vulnerable state, watching the world continue as he came to terms with the life-altering change to his life. Everything he thought he had known was gone.
How could a single moment destroy something that had been a part of him for so long?
Lois looped an arm across his shoulder, handing him a caramel apple, “You looked like you could use this.”
Clark flashed a weak smile, taking a bite of the apple with a nod of his head walking with her through the festival’s attractions.
“Gee, is the apple that bad?” Lois asked sarcastically, looking at him with a frown.
“It’s not that,” Clark responded, shaking his head.
“Still nothing?” Lois asked, turning to him with a worried expression.
“Nothing,” He tossed the remnants of the caramel apple into the trashcan.
“It’s so bizarre,” Lois commented with a frown. “Has anything like this happened before?”
“No,” Clark shook his head, “I’m guessing it has something to do with whatever was under that old oak tree in Schuster’s field, but getting a second dose of whatever stripped me of my powers isn’t exactly at the top of my to-do list.”
“Well, they had to take that tree somewhere,” Lois sighed, taking a bite of her apple.
“The entire town is looking for the person responsible. They’d have to be hiding out somewhere no one would think of going.” Clark snorted, “That’s assuming they’re still in Smallville.”
“Well, what about that old mill we saw Lex Luthor hanging around?” Lois asked.
“It’s abandoned,” Clark reminded her.
“It’s a perfect hideout.” Lois countered.
“Even if you’re right, it’s not like we can go charging in there. In case you haven’t noticed the usual escape plan of being able to just fly away is gone.” He gestured to himself as they approached the booth labeled with ‘Test Your Strength’ and a comical artist’s rendering of Superman at the top.
Lois opened her mouth to argue with him, and he let out a defeated sigh, cutting her off. “Look, I think its time we face facts. Superman is gone.”
Her mouth twisted in a scowl as she quietly approached the clerk at the booth, handed him a ticket, and then took the mallet from him and passed it to Clark.
“This is ridiculous,” Clark’s right brow raised and Lois pushed the mallet into his hands.
“Humor me.”
He sighed, taking the mallet and giving it a hefty swing, standing back to watch as the ball moved up to reach the marker that read ‘Very Strong.’
“Want another shot?” the attendant asked as Clark handed him the mallet.
“No.” Clark sighed, pulling back and turning to Lois. “It’s hopeless.”
“Okay, now you’re just depressing me.” Lois shook her head, pulling a ticket out of her pocket and handing it to the clerk. “Here.”
“This is pointless. I just…” Clark shook his head as Lois handed the mallet back to him.
“Then you won’t have a problem remembering how to do it,” Lois shot back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m ….waiting.”
“Fine. Here goes nothing.” Clark took a step back and hefted the hammer up, giving it a good swing before he brought it down. He and Lois both watched the ball moved up..up…almost. He was just a hair off of reaching ‘Superman.’
“Ooh, so close yet so far away.” Lois gazed up at the sign then turned to Clark, “Still think it's hopeless?”
“One more time,” Clark handed the clerk a ticket, then hefted the hammer up once more, giving it a little more swing then slamming down once more. The ball moved up..up… until it reached the sign that read ‘Superman’ and rang the bell.
Clark lifted his arms in triumph, turning to face Lois, who wrapped him in an enthusiastic hug. The smug confident grin on her face sent a rush of joy through him. The discouraging cloud that had hung over him disappeared as he stared into her eyes. Her eyes held his for what felt like an eternity as he felt the impulse to kiss her. He desperately wanted to kiss her. Every fiber of his being told him to give in and take the leap of faith, but he couldn’t bring himself to break past the invisible barrier that barred him from crossing that line from friendship to something more.
Just as quickly as his opening appeared, it disappeared as she pulled back, giving him a half-smile. The attendant interrupted, holding two stuffed dolls for them to choose between. “You get your choice.” A teddy bear with an arrow running through it and a plush Superman doll. Clark looked at Lois expectantly. She hesitated for a moment, then reached for the bear.
They walked through the crowd, arms around one another. “He is so cute.” Lois crooned, hugging the bear to her chest as they turned the corner to where the picnic tables were set up with small booths of treats. She jutted her chin, nodding to Clark as they stopped at one of the tables that were farther away from the crowd. “So, I guess we need to come up with a plan on how to flesh out our mysterious oak thief….”
Clark let out a low chuckle, “You want to go stake out the mill.”
“Lex Luthor’s presence is suspicious.” Lois countered, hooking her arm in his as she looked at him expectantly.
“And what if we run into trouble?” Clark asked, pointing out with an aggravated sigh that he was in no condition to help them escape. “It’s not like we can fly out of there.”
“You give yourself too little credit,” Lois observed, looking to him with a subtle nod. “You don’t think that maybe there’s a little more to being Superman than superpowers?”
“We still need a plan,” Clark reminded her.
“I have a plan.” Lois grinned confidently.
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Lex Luthor approached the small tent set up on the hillside, nodding to Agent Sherman as she opened the gate for him. He looked around the property, noting the cover-up operation appeared to be in full swing. The EPA agents he had hired to search the surrounding properties for additional meteorites or evidence from the original crash of 1966 that had apparently brought Superman to Earth.
What he couldn’t understand was why he would wait so long to make his presence known. Perhaps he was recovering from the crash? He shook his head, unsure of his own inner musings as he peeled back the tent opening to enter.
One of the agents looked to him in surprise, “You’re not supposed to be back here.”
“He’s fine, Agent Dawson.”
Lex turned to see Agent Sherman standing behind him. Sherman motioned for the agent to leave and then turned to Lex with a sharp gaze, “Mr. Luthor, I assure you I have this operation under control.”
“You’ll need to double the efforts. New information has come to my attention.” He pointed to the farmhouse on the hill behind them. “I want every rock turned and every speck of dirt examined.”
“Absolutely, Mr. Luthor,” Sherman nodded in agreement.
________________________________________
The chief director of EPRAD watched from his vantage point as the glass double doors slid open with ease allowing entrance to the entourage of Secret Service agents across the open bridge. He looked to the crowd of agents coming toward him. As one of the agents flashed a visitor badge against the door, it chirped open, and the agents moved to make a human wall against the bridge they were on, revealing their protected asset in the middle. The president nodded to him, stepping inside the large conference room, followed by chiefs of staff and generals. Each of them stood behind one of the seats surrounding the table. They each looked to the president, who claimed the seat at the end of the table.
The doors closed, and the blinds closed as the president took his seat, followed by his entourage of elite advisors.
“Mr. President,” the chief director swallowed the hard lump in his throat as he looked across the table.
“I’m told you have some answers for me, Mr. Roberts,” the president replied, folding his hands across the table in front of him.
“Yes, sir,” he nodded.
“I’m all ears.”
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Lois reached her hand over to wipe the dirt off the door in front of her as she pushed it open. She looked over her shoulder to Clark, who wore an apprehensive expression. “I guess they forgot to lock up? Door’s open. I guess we just go in.”
“Isn’t that what they always say right when the ax murderer comes out killing everyone?” Clark breathed out with a shake of his head.
“Well, if there’s an ax murderer, we’ll have a really good story to write,” Lois countered with a smug grin.
“Famous last words,” Clark said with the shake of his head.
Lois pointed toward the light coming from the long hallway, “Looks like someone’s been here recently.”
“And what exactly is your explanation if it's Luthor?” Clark questioned her under his breath.
“There are no cars out front. It’s not Luthor.” Lois rolled her eyes. “He wouldn’t be caught dead dirtying up his designer clothes in a place like this.”
“Well, what do we have here?”
________________________________________
The flap of the tent entrance whistled in the wind as Agent Sherman turned to her field agent liaison with a sharp glare. “Mr. Luthor wants us to double our efforts.” She looked to where Wayne Irig was seated, strapped to the chair with blood dripping from his forehead. “Any luck with this one?”
“Nothing,” the agent shrugged with a sardonic smile. “Perhaps it’s time for another dose?”
Sherman tapped on the syringe in her hand and watched as Wayne struggled in his binds, attempting to escape. “You’ll feel a little pinch….”
Wayne growled out an angry, “You won’t get away with this…” before he collapsed against the table in front of her.
“Mr. Irig, all this trouble over small-town friendships. Well, it won’t be long until you’re singing like a canary.”
“No…” Wayne moaned in pain.
“A broken hand, dislocated shoulder, and sodium pentothal….” Sherman clucked her tongue. “I told you Mr. Luthor doesn’t play nice when he thinks he’s being lied to.” She glanced over at the injuries Irig had sustained, “You can’t last much longer without medical attention….”
“No….” Wayne growled.
________________________________________
Lois swallowed hard, looking at the stranger that held the barrel of a pistol on both her and Clark. She stole a quick glance around the room, noting the images of Superman pinned to the wall with reports in bold letters that read ‘B39.’
“What’s B39?” Lois asked, brazenly trying to interview their captor in hopes she could get some information out of him until she could figure out how to call Sheriff Harris. The room was quiet. Too quiet as she waited for a response.
A chuckle escaped the man’s throat as he snarled out a quick, “That’s classified.”
“1966?” Lois pointed to the bold letters on the table in front of her.
“Classified.” Their captor repeated.
She shrugged her shoulders, looking to Clark, who was inching further back into the hallway.
“What are you doing here?” the captor asked.
“You first,” Lois countered.
“I’m the one with the gun.”
“Right,” Lois shrugged her shoulders. “We were investigating the damage done to Schuster’s field.” She jutted her chin out, looking to the stranger expectantly. “Your turn.”
“Why do you care about an old tree?”
“It’s over thirty years old. Town treasure.” Clark responded as the man threw a sharp glare in his direction.
“You small-town locals are all the same. Same people and same activities. Abandoned factory perfect for hiding out in.”
“So you’re on the run?” Clark asked. “From who?”
“From the people that I dedicated my life to. Thirty-five years down the toilet in an instant.” He let out a sharp hiss and added, “I’m not crazy. I know I’m right…and I will prove it.”
“Prove what?” Lois asked, hoping to distract him from his unstable ramblings as she inched toward the doorway they had come in through. ‘So close yet so far away.’
“I don’t think so…” A sharp click of the lock being released caught her attention, and a loud crash came from the distance as she heard a loud thud.
She turned in surprise, startled as she saw Clark had toppled himself on the man and managed to kick the pistol away from him in the struggle. Lois reached down to grab the pistol, holding it on the duo as Clark continued to struggle with the stranger.
The mad man laughed as he lunged towards Clark. Clark struggled to remain in control, keeping the stranger at bay. A hefty punch was thrown in his direction, knocking Clark down once again. The stranger stood up, “That was a mistake. Now to take care of unfinished business….”
“Ah, ah, ah…I’ve got the gun now.” Lois countered, waving it in the air to emphasize the point.
A flood of blue and red lights from outside filled the room, and Lois smiled as she gestured to the entourage outside, “Now, you were saying something about classified?”
The bang of the door opening and officers piling in took her attention from the captor. She watched with a confident smile as the stranger was led away, still remaining mute on any questions that were asked of him.
Lois handed over the pistol to Clark’s friend, Rachel. “Good luck getting him to talk. Nothing but crazed lunacy….”
Rachel nodded, taking the pistol from Lois and walking the criminal out. “We’ll see about that.”
“Lucky timing,” Clark commented, wiping the blood from his face. “This whole being vulnerable thing is really not all it’s cracked up to be.”
Lois gave him a sympathetic smile, walking with him toward the clippings the man had pinned up. “What do you think all this is?”
Clark flipped open a folder and read a report aloud, “Something called Bureau 39.” He pointed to the images inside, hanging his head in disgust.
Lois gasped when she saw the image he was pointing to. The black and white photo showed a spacecraft with an emblem that mirrored Clark’s Superman symbol. Surrounding the spacecraft were four men, including a younger version of the man that had been taken into custody and one that looked eerily like the president’s chief advisor.
“Lois, Clark, I hate to break this up, but we’re going to have to gather all this up…” Rachel interrupted, peering over her shoulder.
“Can you give us just five minutes, Rach?” Clark asked, giving his friend a pleading look.
Rachel nodded, “I suppose we do need to secure the perimeter…” she wagged her finger at Clark, “Don’t run off with anything. It’s evidence until we can figure out what the heck he was doing up in here.”
Clark watched Rachel leave and turned to Lois, “Check the files for anything mentioning my parents.”
Lois nodded, helping him dig through the files marked with ‘1966’ on them, and pulled out a large stack of interviews. “Looks like they spoke with them briefly about the crash, but nothing else in here mentioning them by name.”
Clark continued flipping through the file in front of him, and Lois placed a hand over his. “Clark, if there was something here, he wouldn’t have been holed up here. He’d be at your parents’ house.”
Clark’s jaw tightened, and his eyes clamped shut. “I just have to be sure.”
Lois nodded, letting him continue to search through the large file as she looked around the room, noting the theme of the clippings and the reports all surrounded the idea of studying UFOs and Superman’s presence. A slanted view of them, but still, the common theme was there. Off to the corner, she spotted a small globe sitting on the table. She picked it up, holding it up as she stared at it for a long moment.
“Hey, this is a bit strange, isn’t it? I don’t recognize any of the lands on this…” She stopped mid-sentence as she stopped in front of Clark with the globe, and it began to glow an ominous yellow.
He reached his hand out, “Can I see that?”
The image of the globe began to change, and he took it in his palm. The image of the globe changed from red and blue to a green and blue globe that resembled Earth. An unrecognizable name escaped Clark’s lips and he mumbled out, “Krypton.”
The brightness in the room began to grow and Lois gasped as a man wearing a white suit with Clark’s emblem on it appeared with a woman dressed in a similar attire hovered over a baby.
“Kal-El.” The name escaped Clark’s lips as Lois turned to him, wondering momentarily if she should take the globe from him. As tempting as it was, she couldn’t seem to move as she stared at the images before her. As quickly as they appeared, they disappeared, and the globe grew dark.
Lois turned to Clark, “Are you okay?”
“I…don’t know.”
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The president leaned back in the chair he was seated in, looking around the room expectantly. “Are we certain there are no other options?”
“Accuracy for a missile this size is questionable at best, Mr. President. Our best bet is Superman.” The director of EPRAD responded.
“Are we certain we are ready to tell the world?” the president asked.
“It’s our only option.”
“Order all satellites to map the trajectory of Nightfall. All air traffic control is to be grounded until I say otherwise.” The president ordered of his men.
“Yes, Mr. President…”
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Lois placed a hand on the barn door, peeking inside where she found Clark leaned against the hay bale, looking up at the old beams that held the structure in place. The globe she and Clark had retrieved from the site the mad man had been holed up in. She pushed the door open, looking to him with a concerned expression.
“Hey.”
Clark turned to look at her, shrugging his shoulders as he responded with a, “Hey.”
“You okay?” Lois took a seat next to him, looking over at the globe he kept stealing glances at from the corner of his eyes.
“I guess so,” Clark frowned, “I mean, I’m not really sure how to react about having an entire secret agency plotting how to destroy me.”
“Well, they were tracking UFOs. I’m not sure the plot to destroy you is accurate.” Lois prodded him gently. “We don’t even know what this Bureau 39 is other than what was in those reports.”
Lois reached her hand over to shake Clark’s shoulder but stopped when she saw the forlorn expression in his eyes. The brief confrontation with the mad man had shaken him. She let out a long breath, looking to him as she placed a protective hand across the back of his shoulders, “Don’t let one mad man’s ravings shape your entire outlook. He’s just one crazy man.”
“I have no idea why I was sent here, Lois,” Clark responded with a frown.
“That globe,” Lois recalled the words he had said. “You said Krypton when you were holding it.”
Clark nodded, shaking his head in dismay. “I have never heard the name before, but when I was holding it. It was like the name just came to me. I think … I don’t know. For all, I know those reports written up by the Bureau 39 could be right.”
“They’re not.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No, but I happened to be an excellent judge of character, and you are not a threat to anyone.” Lois wrapped her arm around him, giving him a half-hug, and let out a sigh, “No matter where you came from or what the intent was, you decide your future.”
“I wish I could be as convinced.” Clark leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling. “I spent my entire life wishing I was normal, wanting to know where I came from, and now I’m terrified to find out.”
“Do you think that globe might be able to tell you something?” Lois asked.
“Maybe,” Clark shrugged. “Who knows?” he cast a long glance toward the globe, shaking his head. “Whatever it was trying to do, it just stopped. I think because my powers are gone, I wasn’t able to conduct whatever it was trying to do…I’m not sure I want to know now.”
“Well, just give it time. Maybe they’ll show back up in a few days.”
“I don’t know.” Clark sighed, shaking his head. “I just…don’t know if they will.”
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TBC...
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