Soory it took so long
TOC -------------------------------------------------
Jim crouched down beside his wife and daughter. “What’s going on?” he asked.
Lois was hiccupping, wiping away tears from her face. “CJ is hurt and scared,” she said in a small voice.
“You’re sure?” Jim asked. She nodded solemnly.
He pulled out his cell phone and walked over to the large outside window. “Martha? Jim Olsen. Um, I’m sorry to bother you, but Lois has gotten herself worked up about CJ being hurt and scared.” He listened for a few moments, eyes growing wide as Martha spoke to him. “Oh, God, Martha. Look, keep us posted, okay? I know there’s nothing we can do from here, but, keep us posted, please?” He folded up his phone and put it back in his pocket.
“Jim, what’s wrong?” Lucy asked. He looked like he was in shock. Perry came to stand beside her, Lois perched on his arm.
“CJ didn’t come home after school,” he told them. “They have the whole sheriff’s department and everybody else out looking for him. Apparently, Sheriff Harris even hauled in a couple kids for questioning.”
Lucy gave her foster daughter a worried look. “How did she know?”
Perry shrugged. “Probably the same way Lois Lane and Clark Kent knew things. There were times I’d swear they were reading each other’s minds. That’s one of the reasons they were the best. Of course, there were other times it seemed like they weren’t even speaking the same language.”
0 0 0
CJ huddled underneath the spruce tree, staying close to the trunk, trying to keep from dislodging the snow that brought the trees branches down to the ground. He was shivering, more from fear than cold, although it was cold enough he could feel it. Jake had taken his jacket and backpack away, telling him monsters didn’t need to go to school, monsters didn’t deserve nice coats, monsters should be killed.
“I’m not a monster,” CJ kept repeating to himself. Jase had put his hand over his mouth and nose so he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to think about what Jake threatened to do. CJ had kicked and tried to scream, but with a hand over his mouth, he couldn’t. Finally, CJ simply bit down on Jase’s hand as hard as he could.
Jase screamed and let go of him. Jake tried to grab his neck, but CJ twisted free and ran faster than he had ever run before, away from his tormentors, away from the people who called him a monster.
He tried not to whimper, tried to stay small and quiet under the tree. Jake had a green rock that had made CJ’s head hurt and made him sick to his stomach. Jake had laughed when he fell down crying from the green rock.
I am not a monster.0 0 0
Rachel Harris and Russ Myerson stood by watching as Doctor Farnsworth examined Jason Myerson’s hand. The older man clucked to himself as he cleaned the wounds, then pulled out a Polaroid camera and took pictures before bandaging up the boy’s fingers. He put the photos in the pocket of his white lab coat.
“Nasty bite, young fella’,” Farnsworth said. He turned to the boy’s father. “Are his tetanus vaccinations up to date?”
“Of course they are. It’s that blasted dog next door,” Russ Myerson complained. “He’s always tryin’ to take a chunk out of Jase. I’ve complained and complained about that damn dog and nobody’ll listen to me. The animal’s a menace. It should be put down.”
Rachel didn’t miss the puzzled look the doctor gave Myerson. There was a knock on the door and Wayne Irig’s head came around the door.
“Andy said you might need me over here,” the gray old farmer told her.
“Yes, Mister Irig, thanks,” Rachel said. “Would you keep an eye on these two,” indicating the youngsters, “while I talk to the doc?”
“Sure thing, Sheriff,” Irig said, stepping into the room to stand beside the door. Rachel beckoned the doctor to follow her into the hallway outside and down the corridor a little bit.
“Do you usually take Polaroids of dog bites?” Rachel began.
“Yes, when the injury is as severe as that one,” Farnsworth told her. “But then we both know the Wingate’s Wendy is over at Doc Smith’s while they’re away. That bite didn’t come from any dog. Those are human tooth marks, from a four or five year old I’d say.”
“You’d swear to that in court?” Rachel asked softly.
“That’s what I’m putting in my notes and in his medical record,” Farnsworth said. “That boy was bit by a human child.”
“Thanks, doc,” Rachel told him.
0 0 0
District Magistrate Amelia Baxter had only needed to hear two names before authorizing a search warrant for the Myerson’s property: Myerson and Kent. Baxter had served on the bench in 26th judicial district in Kansas for nearly twenty-five years. She had a reputation for scrupulous fairness as well as open-mindedness.
She was also a good friend of Jonathan and Martha Kent. They had befriended her when she was new in town, a recently divorced female lawyer with a young son. She in turn had stood by them when their son died, helped them when their grandson was handed to them. She and Martha took art classes together. Her son Rob had gone to school with Clark Kent, Lana Lang, and Rachel Harris.
Smallville was a very small town and if Sheriff Harris thought there was probable cause, there probably was.
0 0 0
Andy Butler and Bill Saunders searched the Myerson house. There weren’t many crimes in Lowell County. Twenty felonies or so a year, maybe forty misdemeanors, ten to fifteen incidents dealing with kids, mostly kids left alone when they shouldn’t be. They just didn’t have major crimes in Smallville. At least not like they did in the big city – Wichita, Chicago, Metropolis.
They had the training, Sheriff Harris made sure of that. Bill took the pictures and noted down the measurements, observations. They found a small coat with blood on it stuffed into the garbage can. A book bag with kindergarten books and papers, papers with CJ Kent’s name written on them in a careful child’s script was found in the back of closet in the boys’ room.
Inside the book bag they also found a green crystal that glowed in the dark. Kryptonite. After the whole Jason Trask problem eight years before, nearly everyone in Smallville knew about kryptonite, the one substance that had been able to kill Superman.
The information about the coat, the book bag and the kryptonite they called into Rachel. But when they went to search the third bedroom, they called Rachel and she called the state police. The third bedroom had been locked, but Andy made quick work of it. The room itself was an armory, handguns, semi-automatic rifles, fully automatic rifles, armor piercing ammunition, explosives.
“Oh my God,” Bill found himself murmuring as he took the pictures. “There’s enough stuff here to take out the whole county.”
“Let’s check the back,” Andy suggested.
0 0 0
“Andy and Bill found a coat and book bag at the Myerson’s. The book bag is definitely CJ’s,” Tom told Jonathan. “They think they found some kryptonite, too.”
“But no sign of CJ?” Jonathan asked.
“At least they didn’t find his body,” Tom tried to assure him.
“Why doesn’t that reassure me?” Jonathan asked.
“Mister Kent, we have everyone available looking for him,” Tom said. “We’ll find him.”
“Tom, he’s five years old.”
They found themselves crossing the snow into the cemetery.
“CJ?” Jonathan yelled. He realized they weren’t very far from Clark’s grave and close by was the spruce tree that CJ liked to play under when they came to visit Clark on Sundays. The temperature was dropping and was well below freezing. Tom and Jonathan slowly swung their flashlights around as they walked.
“CJ?” Tom yelled. “CJ, where are you?”
“Clark!” Jonathan yelled and there was a rustle from beneath the spruce tree. “Clark?” Jonathan ran to the tree, ducking down and shining the light through the branches.
A very small, frightened voice called out: “Daddy?” A very wet small boy came out from under the branches, grabbing the old, heavyset man into a fierce hug. “Daddy!”
“Oh, Clark, are you okay?” Jonathan asked, checking the boy over with his hands before pulling him into his jacket. The child felt warm, feverish.
“They tried to hurt me,” CJ was moaning. “They said I was a monster. They said I should be dead!” He was crying uncontrollably. “I couldn’t get away. I couldn’t fly.”
“Clark, of course you can’t fly. Little kids don’t fly. Only grownups fly,” Jonathan told him. He ignored Tom standing beside him calling the report into Rachel that CJ had been found.
“Jonathan,” Tom said softly. “We need to get the boy to the clinic to get checked out.”
“Tom, I just want to get him home,” Jonathan told him.
“After the clinic, okay?”
Finally, Jonathan nodded agreement in the darkness and followed Tom to the squad car.
