Metropolis, New Troy
Jim Olsen’s cell phone chimed and he opened it. “James Olsen . . .Oh Martha, have they found him?”
“Jonathan just called. They’re taking him to the clinic to be checked over, but Jonathan said he seemed okay,” Martha told him.
Jim relayed the information to the rest of the Planet staff still in the newsroom. A palpable sense of relief filled the room. While most of them had met CJ at last year’s Christmas party, most of them also remembered working with his father. Clark had been a popular guy.
“Jim, why would someone try to hurt CJ?” Martha asked. Jim knew it was a rhetorical question.
“I don’t know, Martha,” he said. “I mean, why do sickos do anything?” He looked over at Lois, still perched on Perry’s arm. “They found CJ, hon’. He’s gonna be okay.”
She wiped her face and gave her father a smile, although her lower lip was still trembling. “Good,” she told them. “I don’t want Clark to get hurt. We have work to do.”
Again Lucy had the eerie feeling that her foster daughter was far older than just five years old. That Lois Joanne Lane, daughter of Sam and Ellen Lane, was hiding behind those hazel eyes. A Lois Lane what was just itching to get back into the world.
Smallville, Kansas
Tom spotted Russ Myerson’s car parked in the clinic parking lot next to Rachel’s station wagon. “Myerson’s inside,” Tom muttered, warning Jonathan. Seated between the two men, CJ stiffened and grabbed his grandfather’s arm.
“It’s okay, CJ,” Tom assured him. “I’ll be right with you and your grandpa and I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
CJ looked up at him with big brown eyes. A child should never look that frightened.
“Come on, Clark,” Jonathan said, taking the boy into his arms. “Let’s get inside and have Doctor Farnsworth make sure you’re okay.”
Rachel was still waiting inside with Myerson and his two boys. She nodded when she caught sight of Tom, Jonathan and CJ, nodding to them to go into the examining room. Tom saw CJ’s face go even paler when he caught sight of Russ Myerson.
“Since you’ve found the brat, I expect we can go now?” Myerson said. There was a definite sneer in his voice.
“I don’t think so,” Rachel told him. “There’s still the matter of kidnapping and criminal trespass.”
“You can’t prove a goddamned thing,” Myerson sneered. He stepped close to Rachel, forcing her to look up at him.
“Don’t bet the farm on it, Mister Myerson,” Rachel told him without flinching.
0 0 0
In the examining room, Jonathan sat CJ on the padded table. CJ wrapped his arms around Jonathan’s neck. “That man was with Trask at Mister Irig’s farm,” he whispered.
“How? . . . You’re sure?” Jonathan asked.
CJ nodded his head solemnly. “I saw him . . . He . . . I saw him.”
“Tom, Doc, keep an eye on him,” Jonathan said as he headed into the corridor. “Rachel?” He beckoned her closer. “I just remembered where I’ve seen that man before,” he said. “He was at Wayne’s farm eight years ago, when Trask was making all that trouble.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. I was there, remember? As I recall, Clark got a couple good licks in on him. I just don’t know why I didn’t place him before. I think he was using the name of Russo, Major Russo.”
“Thanks, Mister Kent,” she said, heading back to her prisoners. Jonathan went back to CJ.
Farnsworth looked up as Jonathan walked in. Tom was taking photographs of the bruises on CJ’s neck and body. “CJ, who put their hands on your neck?” Farnsworth asked gently.
“Jake,” CJ said simply. “Jase put his hand over my mouth so I couldn’t breath, so I bit him and I tried to run away but Jake had a green rock and he hurt me.” He pointed to his head, and Farnsworth brushed away thick hair to find a scalp wound.
“Jonathan, I need to get some x-rays,” Farnsworth said.
“Are you sure?”
Farnsworth smiled. “It’ll be fine Jonathan. I took care of his dad when he was a kid, remember?”
“It’s just . . . You know how Martha and I worry,” Jonathan said.
“It’s okay,” Doc Farnsworth told him. “I understand.”
Jonathan picked CJ up, wrapping the hospital blanket around him and followed Farnsworth out to the corridor, down to radiology.
0 0 0
“Well, I gotta hand it to you,” Rachel said cheerfully. “When it comes to stirring things up around here, there usually a Kent involved somewhere.” She was standing in the Kent’s kitchen warming her hands on a mug of coffee. It was Christmas Eve and she’d stopped by to fill them in on what was happening with Myerson and his boys. “Although, I have to admit, I thought CJ was a little young to be following in his daddy’s footsteps.”
From the living room came a shrill cry: “I am not a lunkhead, Lois. Stop calling me that!”
“You are too, Clark,” another very young, irate voice. “You are a lunkhead!”
The adults in the kitchen chuckled. The two Olsens, Mister White and the two Kents.
“Grandpa Perry, she’s picking on me!” CJ complained, running into the kitchen.
“Lois, honey, why are you picking on CJ?” Perry asked.
She stalked into the kitchen. “Because . . . Just because.”
Perry beckoned to CJ, pulling the boy onto his lap. “Son, let me give you some advice from a man who’s seen it all. When arguing with a woman, if you’re losing, apologize immediately. If by some chance you’re winning, apologize immediately. You’ll live longer.” He chuckled as CJ gave him a blank look and Martha nudged Jonathan in the ribs with her elbow.
CJ grabbed three cookies from the plate on the table and scrambled off Perry’s lap, running back into the living room.
“So, what’s happening with the case, Sheriff?” Jim Olsen asked.
“The FBI and ATF have been going over that property with a fine tooth comb. So far they’ve found weapons caches, drugs – not the usual stuff, not narcotics or meth or anything like that, but experimental truth drugs, hallucinogens, spy thriller stuff. They found animal bodies buried in the back. That is not a good sign. Some people from CPS have already come down and taken Jason off to a foster home, and we’re holding Jake as an adult along with his dad. And it turns out that Myerson may not even be their dad. The FBI’s looking into that too.”
“But why did they go after CJ?” Lucy asked. “He’s just a little kid.”
“A couple things, I think. One, Jake may have seen CJ as an easy victim. We’re pretty sure he was the one stealing and killing the neighbors’ pets. It’s not much of a step for a sick mind to go from a dog to a child. Plus, from the writings we found in the house, Myerson blamed Clark for Trask’s death. He also made some wild claims that Clark was Superman, if you can believe that. But since both Clark and Superman are six years dead, he decided to go after Clark’s kid. But then, he was also making claims that CJ wasn’t Clark’s son at all, but a Superman clone.” Rachel gave Jonathan and Martha a speculative look. “Of course, Myerson was loony-toons, so none of us are going to take anything he has to say seriously. Besides, whether CJ is Clark’s son, or Superman’s clone, he’s your grandbaby.”
“Thanks Rachel,” Martha said earnestly. “For everything.”
“Just part of my job, ma’am,” Rachel said, putting her empty mug in the sink. She paused, looking toward the archway into the living room. “I just can’t believe how much CJ looks and acts like Clark. It’s positively uncanny.”
“Yeah, it is, sometimes,” Jonathan admitted. “We’ll be by your office Friday so you can record CJ’s deposition.”
“See you then,” Rachel told him. “Merry Christmas, everybody.”
“Merry Christmas.”
After Rachel left, Martha turned to Jonathan. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”
“Only what you already knew,” Jonathan admitted. “That I’m a damn fool for letting my anger at Clark get in the way of appreciating CJ for who he is.”
“And?” Martha urged, watching her husband carefully.
“Martha, he was crying when I found him, because he couldn’t fly.”
