Thanks again to Queenie for her squeeing
.
Last timeShe looked around carefully and then moved towards one of them. She peeked in an opening, careful to keep herself hidden.
"Tell me what you know!" She could hear someone practically roaring from inside.
There was a thunking sound and grunt.
Someone was getting beat up.
She moved a bit further so she could get a better view.
On the ground, getting beaten within an inch of his life was Josh Irig.
*~*5*~*Clark slowly came to awareness, the chocolate and navy curtains doing a good job of keeping the morning sun out of the room.
A glance at the clock showed him that was later than he'd planned on getting up. He sighed and, mere seconds later, was ready to go. Blue jeans, a T-shirt, the flannel he'd accidentally grabbed the night before and his boots seemed appropriate.
He went downstairs to find Martha in the kitchen. They chatted idly while she made him some eggs and bacon. He'd told her it wasn't necessary, but she'd insisted. Before he left, she gave him instructions on how to get to City Hall and the sheriff's office as well as to the Irigs' from there.
He went into town, but – as Lois had predicted – was met with little help. On his own, he managed to determine that there were no citations of any kind – unless they were kept somewhere else. He found the feed store and talked to Chris Davis – apparently Martha Kent's boyfriend from high school – and he'd confirmed that there was nothing unusual about the fertilizers bought by the Irigs.
With a sigh and hours wasted, he headed towards the property in question. There were a large number of military vehicles and personnel. He talked with Carol Sherman, who was surprisingly competent for a government employee. He looked around surreptitiously as best he could, but there was too much going on for him to really see or hear much.
He gave up and headed back to Smallville, going to the diner for dinner. He'd called Mrs. Kent earlier to let him know that he wouldn't be there for the evening meal. It was the best place to go. As soon as word got around who he was and why he was there, he found his table to be musical chairs for the citizens of Smallville.
Even though Sheriff Dan and the folks at City Hall hadn't been very helpful, apparently the military guys had irritated some of the rest of the town folks.
The more he talked to them the more he thought that the city officials might have been pressured into keeping their mouths closed by federal officials.
As the diner thinned out, he looked through his notes. He'd talked to quite a few people – several of whom had come in for the *sole* purpose of talking to him. Lana Lang, Pete Ross, the Tracewskis who ran the nursing home – after Mrs. Tracewskis mother, Jenna Small of the original Smallville Smalls, had passed on – the Belcantos who ran the grocery store, and Chris Davis' parents who'd run the feed store for years before him. Rachel Harris, the town's doctor, had stopped by for a few minutes.
They'd all said basically the same thing. They had no idea what the military was doing at the Irig farm but they'd never done anything remotely illegal, hadn't used pesticides except for DDT one year in the late-30s or early-40s and there was no way they had Mad Cow infested fertilizer unless everyone in the surrounding countryside did.
Clark sighed as dusk fell. He was getting nowhere. He really should have brought dark clothes for undercover work but it hadn't occurred to him. He could fly back to Metropolis but he didn't really want to risk someone seeing something they shouldn't.
He finally headed back to Kent Farms. There wasn't anyone in the house – at least not as far as he could tell – when he got there, but there were lights on in the barn. He headed out there to see if anything else had occurred to the Kents during the day.
"I don't know what to do with it, Martha, but it's got to have something to do with what's going on over at the Irig's place."
That must be Mr. Kent. Clark had never caught his first name.
"Do we tell Mr. Lane about it?" Martha asked him.
"I haven't met the man. What does Lois think?"
"That he thinks she's going to hit him up for job help," she sighed. "But that he has three Kerth Awards for a reason."
"Then we tell him."
Clark decided he should tell him he was there. "Hello?" he called. "Mrs. Kent?"
She appeared in the open doorway of the barn. "Mr. Lane, how'd your day go?"
He shrugged and walked towards her. "Not very well. Everything's a dead end."
She sighed again. "Well, we have something that might help you. I didn’t want to say anything without talking to my husband first."
He followed her into the barn.
"Mr. Lane, this is my husband, Jonathan Kent. Jonathan, Mr. Lane from the Daily Planet."
They shook hands and Clark leaned against a stall. "What is it that you have?" he asked.
Jonathan Kent leaned against a work table. "Wayne Irig came by last week. A big storm had uprooted one of his trees a few weeks ago. He found something and sent a chunk of it to Wichita to be tested. He said he'd gotten a phone call from some FBI types and asked me to keep it for him."
"What is it?"
Jonathan shrugged. "I have no idea." He reached over and flipped the latch on the case sitting on the work bench.
He opened the case and Clark staggered away from the wall towards a pile hay bales.
Pain.
Blinding pain.
And then blackness.
Total blackness.
The next thing he knew he was on the couch in the living room.
"Mr. Lane? Clark?"
The voice was familiar. It took him a minute to realize where he was and who was talking to him.
"What happened?" he whispered.
"Here, drink this."
A cool hand behind his neck helped him lean up enough to take a sip of water.
"How're you feeling?"
Her face swam slightly in front of him. "I'm... okay, I think," he said as she solidified. "What happened?"
"You passed out."
He looked at her, his eyes wide in shock. "Passed out? Why would I pass out? I haven't been sick... I can't get sick..."
His eyes were even wider as he realized what he'd said.
"It's okay, Clark," she said quietly. "Jonathan and I won't say a word. Your secret is safe with us."
"How'd you..." He couldn't finish the thought.
"We took your glasses off to make you more comfortable and as I put a wet washcloth on your forehead, your hair got slicked back a bit and I realized who you are."
"I'm Clark Lane," he said as vehemently as he could. "I have a family. Parents. Friends."
"We know, Mr. Lane. You have nothing to worry about from me and Jonathan. We won't tell anyone. But how're you feeling?"
He struggled to sit up. "I think I'd really like to get some sleep. Could you help me up?"
Instantly, both Jonathan and Martha were at his side. They helped him to his feet and he stood for a moment, just getting reoriented.
"I think I’m okay," he told them. "But I'm going to go to bed."
"Do you need any help?" Jonathan asked.
Clark shook his head. "No. I think I'm okay."
It took him a few minutes but he made it to his room. He looking longingly at the bathroom but decided he didn’t have enough energy for a shower. He opened the door, grateful that he'd left the curtains open earlier and there was a bright, full moon outside – enough that he could see.
He turned and stopped, shocked at the sight.
There, on his bed, was Lois Kent.
In the arms of another man.
Naked.
*****
TBC
