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here. PART TEN
Breaking into Star Labs and stealing – or, as Lois preferred to call it, liberating – Dr Schulz’s most recent experimental data had been pretty straightforward. Persuading Dr Klein to come over to their house to look over the data had been almost impossible. For maximum anonymity, he’d wanted to meet at the noisy bikers’ club, but Lois had put her foot down, stating robustly that she wasn’t going anywhere near the place ever again. An impasse had ensued until Clark had suggested, in a moment of inspiration, a disguise.
Which was why he and Lois were currently engaged in a mutual support effort to avoid sniggering at the apparition sitting opposite them in their living room. Seeing the normally bald Dr Klein wear any sort of hair piece would have been bad enough, but the shaggy blonde wig he was sporting together with the thick black moustache - which looked like it had probably been alive until shortly before he donned it - was a serious challenge to anyone with even a rudimentary sense of humour. Once you added the baggy, low-slung jeans and sloppy sweatshirt over white shirt tails, there was no hope left. You either laughed until your sides split or you sought the help of a co-conspirator.
Clark squeezed Lois’s hand as he felt her begin to lose control again and cleared his throat. “So, Dr Klein,” he said with as much gravitas as he could muster, “what do you think?”
The shaggy mop wobbled precariously as Dr Klein looked up from studying the print-outs. Clark fought the urge to steady it and tried to listen intelligently. “It’s just as I suspected,” replied Dr Klein. “There’s an energy spike in roughly one out of three failed runs.”
“An energy spike?” asked Clark. “What does that mean?”
“It means that even though the device appeared not to transfer anything during the run, it still processed as much energy as during the successful runs. More, in fact.” Dr Klein grabbed one of the print-outs strewn across his lap and held it up. “See?”
Clark saw a spiky graph with bigger spikes every couple of inches or so. Red crosses above the spikes, he deduced, signified a failed experiment, and yes, a couple of those spikes were much higher than the others. He transferred his gaze to Dr Klein, carefully focusing on the scientist’s eyes and studiously ignoring other more distracting features. “And that means?”
“Well, this is where I and Dr Schulz part company, but it’s my belief that those energy spikes represent matter transmissions,” replied Dr Klein. “And since the matter in question isn’t the object Dr Schulz intended to transmit...” He shook his head in dismay. “I don’t dare speculate on what damage he may be causing.”
“But surely this just means some other object in the room will have moved,” said Lois. “Where’s the harm in that?”
Dr Klein’s shaggy mop shook from side to side. “Would you like it if your kidneys suddenly shifted ten feet to the right?”
Lois grimaced. “When you put it like that, no.”
“But they’d notice, wouldn’t they?” asked Clark. “If...things...started moving around the room, I mean.”
Dr Klein shrugged. “Depends on the operating range of the device. No-one, not even Schulz, knows that. You see, all he does to ensure it transmits the correct object is to program it to home in on a transmitter he attaches to the target object. If anything else were to emit a signal at the same frequency as that transmitter, it would be transmitted too. Add to that the fact that some test objects disappear from the base station never to reappear at the destination station, and you’ve got a completely unpredictable device, if you ask me.”
“Which is why you were so concerned during Dr Schulz’s demonstration?” asked Clark.
“You bet I was! I was glad when we all got out of there alive, to be honest with you.” Dr Klein’s dead-animal moustache twitched nervously, although Clark couldn’t decide whether that was simply due to its itchiness. Anything that bushy was guaranteed to make you want to sneeze.
He exchanged a helpless glance with Lois and felt her give his hand a warning squeeze. Biting the inside of his cheek to maintain his sombre expression, he nodded gravely. “I guess we are, too, now that you’ve explained this to us.”
“But how likely is it that another object might transmit at the same frequency as Schulz’s transmitter?” asked Lois. “My kidneys don’t send out signals, do they?” she added dryly.
“As a matter of fact, they do,” replied Dr Klein. “At least, insofar as all molecules vibrate at a unique frequency, and your kidneys are made up of molecules, they do.”
“Oh.” Lois absently pressed a protective hand against her stomach.
“But surely he’s chosen a frequency unlikely to be used by anything else?” pressed Clark.
“Oh, yes, he has!” agreed Dr Klein, the shaggy mop bouncing up and down as he nodded eagerly. “But you can never be one hundred per cent sure, and the evidence of these experiments suggests something is happening that shouldn’t be.”
“Okay.” Lois was leaning forward now, wearing what Clark fondly thought of as her going-for-the-jugular expression. “You’ve explained the theory and the dangers to us. How come you haven’t reported your misgivings to Schulz’s boss? Why are you allowing such dangerous work to continue?”
“I did report!” exclaimed Dr Klein. “Why do you think I’ve been taken off the review panel? Why do you think I’m not allowed anywhere near his labs? Why do you think I’m wearing this ridiculous disguise? This is massive, Lois. If Star Labs can perfect the first teleportation device ever, just think of the money there is to be made! Someone very high up in Star Labs is determined to make this happen, and I believe they’ll stop at almost nothing to get their way.”
“Do you have evidence of that?” asked Lois. “That they’ll stop at nothing?”
Dr Klein shrugged. “Nothing I can show you. It’s all looks and veiled words. A hint that my funding might be cut due to realigned priorities. Concerns expressed that I’m looking tired and stressed - am I aware of the suicide rate amongst top-rated research workers. That sort of thing.”
“What about a name?” Lois prompted. “You said someone high up in Star Labs. Do you have any suggestions?”
Again, Dr Klein shrugged. “All I know is whatever resources Schulz says he needs, he gets. The rest of us struggle to get by on computer systems that are over five years old, while Schulz has enough computing power up there to run an entire planet.”
“We should find out who’s on the board,” said Clark. “Maybe a name will jump out at us.”
“And we can get Jimmy to deep background them,” added Lois. “Find out who’s got most to gain out of this.”
“And in the meantime, let us know if you hear anything, or if the threats get more specific,” said Clark. “We can always ask Superman to look out for you if you’re concerned.”
Dr Klein grimaced. “Just don’t let him forget that Star Labs holds the biggest supply of kryptonite in the world.”
Clark shrugged. “He knows.” He felt Lois tighten her grip on his hand and turned to answer her silent comment. “And he’ll be careful,” he added.
Lois nodded slightly and turned back to Dr Klein. “Tell me, Dr Klein. What are the chances that Superman himself might be affected by this machine?”
“Oh, my!” exclaimed Dr Klein. “Do you know, I never considered that?” He thought for a moment. “He may be at a greater risk than the rest of us, actually, simply because Schulz is unlikely to have taken Superman’s unique biology into consideration when choosing a safe frequency. You’d better warn him to stay well clear of the labs.”
“But what’s the worst that could really happen to him?” asked Clark, thinking that his counterpart had attended the demonstration and not suffered any ill-effects. On that basis, it seemed to Clark that Dr Klein was over-playing the dangers a little, an attitude that was causing Lois to grow tenser and tenser as she listened beside him.
“Well, it would depend on which part of him emitted the correct frequency. At worst, I imagine it could kill him,” replied Dr Klein. “Or at least send him into the same oblivion as those wood blocks that disappear during the failed runs.”
Lois’s grip was now vice-like on Clark’s hand. “And no-one knows the range of this thing?” she demanded.
“No.” Dr Klein’s face looked pale underneath the shaggy mop. “But we’re speculating wildly here. The chances that Superman shares a frequency with Schulz’s machine are very slim.”
Clark agreed, and wished Klein had made that clear earlier. He had to admit, though, that here was a possible explanation for his random transfers into the other universe. Dr Klein, however, had been talking in terms of solid objects, whereas Clark had been swapping consciousness with the other Clark. How was that possible?
“What about thoughts?” he enquired. “Could Schulz’s machine transmit brainwaves?”
Dr Klein’s moustache twitched. “Brainwaves?” He chuckled. “No, I think we’ll have to wait a while longer before that’s possible. Wouldn’t it be cool, though? Instead of writing up tedious reports and scientific papers, I could just think my findings into my colleague’s heads. Just imagine the time you could save!”
“Yeah, and the Daily Planet would be out of business,” added Lois dryly. “A journalist could just ‘think’ their column into readers’ heads.” Her mouth twisted. “Except some people’s heads are so screwed up, they’d probably wind up believing Elvis had landed on the moon and Neil Armstrong sang Jailhouse Rock.”
Clark chuckled. “No doubt. Well, thank you for your help, Dr Klein. We’ll let you know what we find out.”
After Dr Klein had left, Lois whirled on Clark. “We have to get this thing shut down!”
He nodded. “I agree. It’s a danger to everyone within...well, we don’t even know what range is safe. But you heard what he said about brainwaves. Doesn’t sound like this is the thing that’s responsible for sending me into the other universe.”
“I’m not so sure,” she replied. “You have to admit it’s our best suspect.”
“True...” He put his hand up to his forehead as a familiar dizzy sensation began to creep up on him. “Talking of which, I think...” The room tilted sickeningly so he quickly closed his eyes. “I think it’s happening again.”
“No!” She wrapped her arms around him and clung on to him. “Don’t go!”
“I...I don’t think...” His knees gave way, causing him to grab at her for support. “I don’t think I’ve got a choice.”
**************
Not again! Please, not again!
Lois braced herself as Clark sagged against her, praying that he wouldn’t go into a dead faint. She’d never be able to hold him up if he did.
He groaned softly, the confused mumble of someone who didn’t know where he was or what was happening to him.
“Here, sit down,” she urged, lurching with him towards the nearest seat – a dining chair. He tripped over his feet and fell heavily against her, but she managed to steer him onto the chair as he fell. Of course, it nearly toppled over as he landed clumsily on it, but instinct seemed to kick in at the last moment and cause him to right himself.
She gripped his arms as he sagged forwards in the chair. “Try to sit up,” she instructed. “I have to make a phone call.”
Two minutes later she was speaking to the receptionist at Star Labs. “Dr Schulz, please. It’s an emergency.”
“Who shall I say is calling?” asked the receptionist.
“His wife,” answered Lois.
“One moment please...”
Lois kept an anxious eye on Clark while she waited. He seemed to be slowly coming to his senses, although he still looked like a strong wind would knock him off the chair. Did she care if he wasn’t her husband any longer? Yeah, she supposed she did.
“This better be good, Katrina,” said a harried voice Lois recognised as Dr Schulz’s. “I was right in the middle of a test sequence.”
Bingo.
“Was it successful?” demanded Lois.
There was a pause at the other end of the line. “Who is this?”
“Never mind,” she replied. “I bet it wasn’t, was it? You just tried to transfer something with your machine and it didn’t work.”
“I don’t know who you are, but you’re wasting my time,” replied Schulz. “Goodbye.”
“I can tell you why it’s not working,” she said.
He snorted. “I very much doubt that.” But he didn’t put the phone down.
Thinking quickly, she said, “Meet me at the fountain in Centennial Park tomorrow morning and I’ll tell you why your machine doesn’t work properly.”
“Why should I do that?” he said. “Why should I take the word of some crank caller who doesn’t even have the guts to say who they are?”
“Because you’ve got nothing to lose,” she replied. “Just ask yourself this – how did I know you’d just completed a failed run?”
“Lucky guess,” he retorted.
“Pretty accurate timing for a complete guess, wasn’t it?” she pointed out. He didn’t answer, but clearly she’d snagged his interest since he was still on the line. “Tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock,” she said. “You’ll be there?”
He grunted. “Against my better judgement.”
“The weather forecast says it’s going to be a nice day,” she said. “Think of it as your daily dose of fresh air.”
Delaying the meeting until tomorrow was a risk, giving Schulz more time than she would have wished to entertain second thoughts about meeting his anonymous caller. However, the plan she had in mind was going to take a little time to organise, and besides, Perry would string them both up on a pole outside his office if they didn’t make an appearance at the Planet in the near future. She could always phone Schulz later this afternoon to make sure he didn’t change his mind.
She replaced the receiver and went back to Clark. He was sitting up straight and watching her with dull eyes. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
“It is you, isn’t it?” she said. “The other Clark?”
“Yeah.” He stood up and strode across to the window. “This is just great,” he muttered.
“Well, it’s not exactly great timing for me, either,” she retorted. “Now I have to waste time filling you in on where we are with Star Labs.”
“How am I supposed to investigate her when I’m not even there?” he demanded of the curtains.
“I have no idea, and frankly, I don’t care,” she said. “If you want to get back to Lois, or your wife, or whoever, then you’d better stop raging at the curtains and start helping me.”
He whirled around, his eyes blazing. “You have no idea, okay? No idea what lousy timing this is for me.”
She shrugged. “No, I don’t. And yelling at me isn’t going to make things any better.”
“No? Well, it sure as hell makes me feel better!” he snapped.
“Fine,” she said, turning away. “When you’ve finished yelling, I’ll be in the kitchen figuring out how to get my husband back.”
*****************
Damn. That was the second time today he’d yelled at someone who didn’t deserve it. What was the matter with him?
Okay, so it had been lousy timing. Just when he’d poured his heart and soul into making love with Lois, when he’d finally committed every single atom of his being to her and had been sitting on the edge of the bed afterwards feeling like he’d just been reborn, he’d been snatched away. No time to build on what they’d just shared, no time to even kiss her goodbye. Just a brief spell of dizziness and here he was. And god only knew what the other Clark might make of the situation he now found himself in. At least both he and Lois had been fully dressed before the swap had taken place.
However, none of that was the fault of the woman he’d just shouted at. She was just as much a victim of the situation as he was.
He just didn’t seem able to keep his emotions – mostly his temper - in check these days.
Anyway. Time to make the peace. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said, pushing open the kitchen doors.
Lois looked up from the notepad she’d been scribbling on. “Yeah? Care to make that sound a little more sincere?”
He grimaced and pulled out a kitchen chair to join her at the table. “I’ll try again. I’m really sorry I snapped at you, Lois. I...I seem to be doing that a lot these days.” He shifted uneasily. “Which is kind of scary for a guy as strong as I am.”
Looking away from her, he noticed that his hands, resting on the table in front of him, were bunched into tight fists. “I know this is just as bad for you as it is for me,” he continued, unclenching and flexing his fingers to release some of the tension. “And I had no right to take out my frustrations on you. So I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” She looked down at her notepad and squared it up in front of her. Placed her pen at a neat 90-degree angle to the pad. Moved her coffee cup two inches to the right.
Watching her, and reflecting how similar she was to his own Lois when she was annoyed, he suddenly realised with horror what could have happened if this latest body swap had taken place twenty minutes earlier. When he and Lois had been...
Oh, God.
Her head came up again. “Apology accepted, I guess. So are you ready to hear where we are with Star Labs? I began writing a few notes, but now that you’re here, I may as well tell you...” She paused. “Are you okay?”
“I...I just realised something.”
“Oh? What?”
What was he supposed to say? Your husband nearly ended up having sex with my girlfriend? He swallowed. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. You...you were going to tell me about Star Labs?”
He’d have to talk to Lois. His Lois. No more lovemaking until this thing was over. Otherwise the consequences were unimaginable. In fact...
Oh, God.
“Clark, why are you staring at me like that?”
Because he was wondering whether she and Clark had realised what might happen. Because he was horrified to imagine how close he himself may have come to...
“These body swaps,” he said. “Have you and Clark...I mean...they’re so unpredictable. You’re...married. And they seem to happen at any time, day or...or night.”
He saw the light dawn in her eyes. “Oh. That. We...we pretty much...well, we’re sort of...not.”
Okay. Phew.
“And...you?” she asked.
He cleared his throat. “Lana and I...we’re...not either.”
“Okay.” She pursed her lips, and he knew immediately what she was thinking.
“Um...Lois and I...” He felt himself flush pink. “No.” Not any longer, anyway! “So the sooner we all figure this out, the better, I guess.” His blush deepened as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Idiot, Kent!
“Yes,” she said. “So...um.. this is what you need to know...”
Ten minutes later he’d regained his composure and also quite a bit of optimism. “This is great!” he exclaimed. “You guys have made a lot of progress.”
Lois shrugged. “We don’t hang around when we’re on a case. Next up is to figure out how to use our meeting with Dr Schulz to the best advantage. Any ideas?”
“Is decapitation illegal over here?” he enquired.
“Unfortunately, yes. Here’s what I think we should do...”
********************
The Skywatch clerk gazed dispassionately at the video screen. Typing the transcript for the bedroom camera was usually pretty dull, especially during the last couple of months when marital relations seemed to have ceased completely. However, here at last was something a little more interesting to chronicle. She slipped off her half-frames and let them dangle on their chain while she watched the two people on the bed. After a few seconds of activity, she glanced at the chronometer in the bottom left hand corner, replaced her glasses and turned back to her transcript.
11:06 – sex with Lois Lane.
She glanced back at the screen for a moment, then remembered to add something.
No visible evidence of birth control.
After that, she continued the routine transcription of the lovers’ conversation, an eyebrow arching above the rim of her glasses as she listened.
Intriguing.
Her intrigue, however, was short-lived when the screen turned fuzzy and then became completely dark. She sighed and hit the stop button. When were the maintenance crew going to get around to replacing these cameras with newer models? They were so old they were always breaking down. She pulled out the tape and slid in the recording from the kitchen microphone instead.
************
The football game Clark was watching on TV wasn’t very good. He’d have been just as happy to switch it off and read the newspaper, but after dinner, Lana herself had tuned to the sports channel and insisted he kick back and enjoy himself – apparently as a special treat - so he was stuck with it.
She’d been indulging him all evening. Dinner had been first – in fact, he’d nearly blown his cover by not recognising that she’d cooked his counterpart’s favourite meal. Chilli, apparently. Then he’d been banned from helping with the clearing up, and now he was sitting on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table – another concession, apparently. At his side sat a fresh beer she’d brought him from the fridge.
Her over-attentive behaviour was very strange, not to mention pretty unsettling. Lois had told him what she’d done to the other Clark, so was she trying to atone for that? Trying to demonstrate just how loving a wife she could be when she wasn’t busily trying to kill him? Or was she trying to persuade her husband not to leave her? And – God help him – did all this mean he was going to have to fend her off later when they retired to bed? Perhaps he could find a legitimate excuse to sleep in the spare room.
Meanwhile, so lacklustre was the game, his thoughts kept drifting back to this morning’s body-swap. Disconcertingly, he’d found himself sitting on the edge of Lana and Clark’s bed. Fully dressed, thankfully, but he’d quickly noticed the rumpled bedclothes and hadn’t been able to avoid putting two and two together – especially when he’d realised the other Lois was in the room with him.
They’d done it right here? In the very bed Clark shared each night with Lana?
“You okay?” Lois had been sitting some two or three feet away, regarding him with a distinct lack of warmth.
“Yeah.” Wasn’t it kind of...distasteful...to make adulterous love in the bed you shared with your wife?
“Good.” She’d stood and, after a moment’s hesitation, had begun straightening the bedclothes with quick, edgy movements.
Embarrassed that he’d discovered their guilty secret, he supposed. Well, she was right to be embarrassed, because he really found it distasteful that they’d be so blatant, whether or not it had been a spur of the moment thing. Nobody was that much of a slave to their hormones.
So much, too, for his and Lois’s assumption that this pair would realise the dangers of making love when a body swap could take place at any moment. He’d have to find a way of warning her about that. Later, when she was less embarrassed and more likely to listen to him.
His presence on the bed had soon hampered her operations, so he’d stood, which was when he’d noticed that the body he now occupied was stiff and sore. He’d winced and clutched at the source of his pain - the right side of his chest. What on earth had caused this?
Meanwhile, in response to his wince of pain, she’d made a noise that had sounded suspiciously like a snort of derision.
He’d turned to face her across the bed. “What?”
The corners of her mouth had turned downwards. “Nothing.” She’d bent and smoothed the coverlet over the pillows. “So when are you going to stop whoever’s doing this? I’ve just about had it with these switches.”
Her irritable tone had made his hackles rise. “So have I, actually,” he’d retorted. “And we’re doing everything we can, believe me. What are you two doing about it?” When you’re not making love in inappropriate places, he added silently.
She’d straightened and placed her hands on her hips. “We’ve been busy dealing with the aftermath of your rescue stunt yesterday, if you must know.”
“Oh?” His fears of discovery hadn’t been unfounded, then? “What happened?”
Her lips had pursed. “Lana happened.”
“What does that mean?”
“Can’t you tell?” She’d waved at his side. “She attacked him.”
“What?” he’d exclaimed. He’d slid an exploratory hand around his side, prodding carefully. Nothing felt broken, but there was an awfully large area of tenderness. What had Lana done – taken a two-by-four to him?
“It was a warning, apparently,” she’d said. “Don’t do anything like that again, or you’ll get more of this – ‘this’ being her trusty lump of kryptonite.”
“But kryptonite doesn’t cause bruising,” he’d protested.
“He fell down the stairs.”
Oh, Jeez... “Is he okay?”
Her mouth had twisted. “You’re in his body – what do you think?”
He’d grimaced at his own stupidity. “Look, I’m sorry,” he’d said. “This was all my fault, wasn’t it? If I hadn’t done that rescue, she wouldn’t have attacked him.”
“No, she wouldn’t.” She’d turned away and walked over to the window. There was a small chair by the dressing table there and, after a few moments spent gazing outside, she’d sunk down onto it. “Don’t get me wrong – I was really impressed by what you did and I’m glad all those people’s lives were saved. I think Clark was really inspired by it, too, and that’s great. He needs to see that he can use his gifts in a positive way.” She picked up a pair of glasses from the dressing table – Clark’s, presumably – and began turning them over in her hands while she studied them. “But you have to remember things are different here. There are consequences.”
“I know.” He’d sat gingerly back down onto the edge of the bed, taking care not to rumple the smoothed bedclothes. “If there’s a next time, I’ll be more careful, I promise.”
“That would be good.” She’d sighed. “Lana could have attacked him any time, I guess. What you did was give her a convenient excuse.” She placed Clark’s glasses back on the dressing table, her gaze lingering on them for a few moments. “How that woman ever finds the sensitivity and creativity for those art classes she’s always attending is beyond me. She’s a heartless...well, you know.”
He nodded. “Maybe her art is just as heartless.”
She snorted. “Who knows? Actually, that’s what Clark was saying just before you swapped places. He said he’s never seen a single canvas, or sculpture, or anything, from her. We were joking that maybe she doesn’t go to art classes at all, she attends special lessons on how to be a...”
She suddenly sat up very straight and turned eyes wide with excitement on him. “Oh, my God.”
“What?”
“What if Clark’s right? What if she doesn’t go to art classes at all? What if she meets with Skywatch?”
And that thought had led them to where he was now: sitting on the sofa with his feet up, watching an awful football game and looking for the right moment to ask Lana when her next art class would be. He and Lois – or the other Clark, if they were swapped again - would then follow her and discover exactly who she met with.
When the commercials began, he flicked a glance over to her. She was sitting curled up in an armchair reading a paperback. One hand absently twirled a strand of blonde hair between her fingers while the other held open the book on her knees.
To look at her now, it was hard to believe what she’d done. She was the picture of innocence as she sat engrossed in her book. Yet he’d been warned to be on his guard with her, to watch for any tell-tale signs that she might whip out her stash of kryptonite again. She was unbalanced, Lois had said. Unpredictable and dangerous.
She looked up from her book and caught him watching her. “How’s the game?”
He shrugged. “So-so.”
“Who’s winning?”
“The Mets.”
She beamed. “Great!”
Yes, the home team were in front, and that was clearly all Lana cared about or understood of the game. He smiled weakly. “Yeah.”
“You ready for another beer yet?” she asked.
“No, this one’s still half full.”
“Okay.” She unwound herself from her chair and stood up. “Back in a few minutes.”
“Sure,” he replied.
As she disappeared upstairs, a distinct feeling of unease gathered between his shoulder blades. They’d failed to discover her secret stash of kryptonite during their search that morning. Could it be that she’d just gone to fetch it? Perhaps she’d decided that last night’s dose hadn’t been enough to ensure her husband’s good behaviour.
He was somewhat relieved, if also a little disconcerted, when she reappeared at the foot of the stairs dressed in her raincoat and carrying an umbrella.
“Going out?” he enquired. “It’s a little late, isn’t it?”
“I know, but Andre had to take another teacher’s sculpture class at short notice,” she explained. “Our class was bumped forward a couple of hours.”
The art class! How was he going to alert Lois in time?
“Well, take care,” he replied. Why hadn’t Lana mentioned this earlier – had she made a phone call from upstairs? Spoken to her Skywatch contact, who’d summoned her to a meeting? “Maybe call a cab for the journey home,” he suggested, attempting to act the concerned husband.
“That’s sweet of you,” she said, bending down to give him a brief peck on the cheek. “But I guess you’ve forgotten the Chevy Cavalier we have parked in the garage.”
Blast. He was so used to travelling everywhere on public transport that he’d forgotten a married couple living in a house would probably own a car. He forced a chuckle. “This beer must be stronger than I thought.”
She smiled as she straightened up again. “Better not have that second can after all, then.”
“What’s the subject for tonight?” he asked, following her to the door.
“Uh...” Her face went blank for a moment. “Still...still life, I think.”
“Well, have fun.”
“I’ll bring you back an apple.”
As soon as the door closed behind her, he sped around the house, donning shoes, grabbing keys, cell-phone and money, flinging on a coat and finally rushing out into the street. No powers, of course, so he’d have to do this the hard way. Lana had just finished backing the car out of the garage and was setting off up to the junction with the main road. Quickly, he memorised her licence plate and then darted his gaze right and left – he’d noticed before that taxis often used this street as a short cut and if he was really lucky...
Yep. He flung up a hand, stepped off the kerb and whistled. The taxi screeched to a halt just inches from his feet. “Follow that car!” he yelled, pointing at Lana’s taillights still waiting at the traffic lights.
