Chapter Ten
Lana met Lois for the interview, just the two of them, the following Saturday morning in an office in Wichita that was leased by the Superman Foundation. She knew she was taking a risk, but she figured it was worth it to get this woman’s claws out of her back. Besides, Clark had asked her to do this, and he knew reporting and reporters better than she did.
Lois was two minutes early. Lana opened the door without a word and gestured for her to enter. Lois inclined her head and strode in. Lana watched her walk, envying the easy grace of her step and the certainty of her carriage.
Lois stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “At the desk or the table?”
Lana broke out of her reverie. “Table, I think. More room to spread out.”
Lois nodded and pulled off her coat, then sat down. Lana sat across from her.
“First thing, Mrs. Lang-Kent, is to set the tone. Can we do this interview on a first-name basis?”
“We gonna be on a first-name basis when we’re done?”
Lois quirked one side of her mouth upwards. “That would be my first choice. What do you say?”
Lana stuck out her hand. “Call me Lana.”
“Lois.” They shook.
“Okay, Lois, what’s the first question on your list?”
“I’d like to know why Superman took a personal interest in keeping you out of the news.”
Lana managed to look surprised. “Personal interest? What are you talking about?”
“You mean you didn’t know Superman showed up at my hotel room a few nights ago? You didn’t send him?”
Lana sat back. “If you think Superman has nothing better to do than run my errands for me, you’re way off-base. No, I didn’t send him to see you.” That’s true, too, she added mentally, it had been Clark’s idea all the way.
Lois looked at her closely, then wrote something on her pad. “I believe you. Unlike your husband, Superman doesn’t impress me as being hen-pecked.”
Lana chortled, and Lois looked up. “What’s so funny?”
Lana let out a chuckle. “I just never pictured Superman hen-pecked and wearing a kitchen apron! It probably says, ‘Kiss the Super-Cook!’”
Lois smiled back. “Yeah, I guess that is silly. Hey, I’m sorry about what I said about your husband. He and I just got off on the wrong foot with each other. I hope he hasn’t complained about me.”
“Are you kidding? You’re all he talks about. He can’t stand you.”
Lana sat still, a deadpan expression on her face. Lois looked alarmed for a moment, then she snorted. “I’m all he talks about, huh?”
“Actually, he hasn’t mentioned your name at all. I doubt he’d recognize you if you passed each other on the street.”
Lois’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not a seasoned pro, Lana, but even I can tell when I’m having my chain yanked. Can we save that for later, when we’re both a little drunk and we start a fight over what song to play on the jukebox?”
Lana grinned. “Sure. I’ll buy the first round if I get the first punch.”
“Done. Now let’s get down to business. The Superman Foundation has a discretionary fund set up for Superman’s personal use. Why do you have access to it?”
This was the key question. If Lana could sell this answer, the rest of the interview would flow like kicks from a cheerleader. If not, Lana might as well kiss her private life goodbye.
Lana leaned forward and tried to act like she was letting Lois in on a huge secret. “You remember Superman’s coming-out in Metropolis, right?”
“Sure. He resolved that bank hostage situation, what, about three-and-a-half years ago?”
“Well – Look, do you trust Superman?”
Lois frowned. “What kind of question is that? Do I trust him how?”
“To do right, to be honest and trustworthy and all that.”
“Of course I –“
“Even if you learned something totally unexpected about him?”
“Like what, he’s gay?”
The question was so off-the-wall that Lana almost lost it. She told herself she’d share that one with Clark later and forced herself to be calm. “Not that, exactly, but something – kinda almost similar.”
“How kinda almost similar?”
Lana shook her head. “Nope. You answer mine first. Do you trust Superman?”
Lois frowned again, this time in thought. Lana waited, silent, hoping that she’d take the bait.
Finally Lois nodded. “As far as I know he’s done nothing but good since he showed up, so, lacking any concrete evidence that I shouldn’t, then yes, I trust him.”
“Good.” Lana blew out a long breath for show. “Okay. That hostage situation in Metropolis wasn’t his first rescue. He was here in Kansas a few weeks before that. He pulled two of my friends out of a car wreck just before the car blew up.”
“And you know this how?”
This was the part neither Lana nor Clark liked, but they couldn’t figure any way around it. “I was there. I was following them in my car. When I saw them spin out and run off the road, I was sure they were dead. They went down an embankment and the car started burning. I had just gotten over the fence when BOOM! It blew up and the force of the blast knocked me down. I sat up and started to cry, and the next thing I knew they were on the ground beside me, unconscious, both of them. Superman set Brent’s broken leg and splinted it with a piece of the retaining fence. Charlene had a concussion and some minor burns, and he asked me to stay with them until the ambulance came. I thanked him and told him I’d stay.
“That’s when I asked him where he was from. He told me he was from Krypton, and I asked him if that was in Utah. He gave me a funny look and said, ‘No, it is another planet. I am here to help you.’ Then he lifted off and flew away.”
Lois was drawn into the story despite herself. “Another planet! You mean Superman is an alien from another planet?” Lana nodded. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”
“Yep. He tracked me down a couple of days later and asked me – “
“He tracked you down? How did he find you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he read my car’s license number, maybe he memorized the car, maybe he just followed me until he could talk to me alone. You’d have to ask him that.”
“I don’t think he’ll be very forthcoming on that subject.”
Lana shrugged. “Maybe not. Anyway, he asked me if he could talk to me about human society. I told him I really only knew about Kansas, but he said anything he could learn would be more than he already knew.”
“So you talked to Superman at length? He asked you questions about humans and human society?”
“Yes. I guess I helped him. After a few days, I asked him if he’d like to meet Clark.”
“So you both know Superman personally?”
“Well, yes, but – “
“Can you contact him?”
“What?”
“Can you contact Superman? I want to talk to him again!”
Lana’s eyes widened. They hadn’t game-planned for that question. They’d expected Lois to run with the alien angle. “Why? What for?”
“I want his take on this part of the story. He’s the one who convinced me not to go to press until I had the whole enchilada.”
“Uh, gee, I really don’t – “
“Come on! I wanted to find out about your involvement, and I’ll bet I already know the rest of it. He gave you access to the account because you still know more about human society than he does and you’d think of good places to put money that he wouldn’t. Isn’t that right?”
“Uh, yeah, that’s pretty close. But I’m not sure – “
“Please! Please, try to get a message to him.”
Lana sat back, thinking furiously. If she put Lois in touch with Superman, what might go wrong? If she didn’t, what might Lois print that would be damaging for them? It was problematic, at best.
“Look, I’ll call some people I know at the Foundation and ask them to get in touch with Superman if they can, but I can’t promise anything. I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing on a day-to-day basis.”
Lois nodded. “That’ll have to do. Now, let’s finish up these questions and I’ll be out of your hair.”
“There’s more?”
“Sure. For example, why don’t you fund your father’s expeditions? I’d think that’d be your first choice.”
“That would be like reverse nepotism. My dad wouldn’t take that money even if I tried to give it to him.”
“Hmm. Yeah, I understand. I don’t think my dad would agree with your dad, but I do. Hmmm, I understand the digs in France and Nigeria, but why the museum in Glasgow?”
“They’re doing research into the bog mummies of Ireland and Scotland. It’s a lot more recent than, say, ancient Egypt or Babylon, but it’s still archaeology.”
“Okay. It looks like that fund has had a lot of investment activity in it, too, most of it positive. Are you in charge of that?”
“Yes. I handle all my money through my financial manager.”
“Your money? Not yours and your husband’s money?”
“No, just mine. Clark does what he wants with his money. Mostly he saves it. I pay our bills and handle all the family money we have in common. I’m a finance minor, remember?”
Lois’s expression told Lana that she hadn’t known. Good. Maybe it would make her hesitate before she printed this story, make her consider what else she’d missed.
“So how are you doing? Financially, I mean?”
Lana crossed her arms and shook her head. “Uh-uh. Details of our personal finances are off-limits. All I’ll tell you is that between our academic scholarships and our own earnings, we won’t have any student loans to repay after graduation.”
Lois nodded. “Congratulations. Not many college seniors can say that, including me. Let’s go back to Superman. How often do you see him?”
Lana frowned. “I don’t have any kind of standing appointment, if that’s what you mean. I’ve seen him a few times out in public, two or three times at the Foundation, and those few days I already told you about, back before he announced himself.”
“So you’re not on Superman’s social calendar?”
“I don’t even know that he has a social calendar! I already told you I’m not all that close to him personally! Where are you going with this, anyway?”
Lois closed the notebook. “Look, Lana, I’m sure Clark’s a solid and dependable fella, but we both know he’s no Superman. It’s just us girls here now. Can’t you give me anything special on the Big Blue super guy? You know, some vital statistics, personal stuff, what aftershave he wears, what he likes to eat, how he kisses, does he shower with or without his cape, is there anything he particularly likes to do in bed? C’mon, you can tell me!”
Lana was stunned. Lois was asking if Lana was having an affair with Superman! For a wild moment, she considered giving her exactly that story, but common sense won out. She stood up. “This interview is over, Miss Lane. You can go now.”
Lois stood and flashed an evil smile. “I think I’ve struck a nerve, Lana. You do have the hots for the guy in the sexy blue tights, don’t you?”
Lana forgot her resolve, forgot how poorly she’d always done in high school gym class, forgot she was shorter and lighter than this woman, and swung her fist in the direction of Lois’s head. The next thing she knew, her arm was bent behind her by Lois’s right arm, her hand was between her shoulder blades, and her throat was being pressed shut by Lois’s left arm.
“Don’t try that again, Lana. I’m a second-degree brown belt in Tae Kwon Do and you can’t touch me if I don’t want you to. Believe me when I say this wasn’t my first choice.” Lois released her and shoved her across the office. “Thanks for the interview. Look for your name in forty-point type.” She took a step and stopped. “And you owe me a drink. Even though you didn’t land it, I already gave you the first punch.”
Lois gathered her notes and stormed out, leaving Lana deeply troubled. She’d thought things were going so well, and then she’d lost her cool. That had turned out no better than the time in the fifth grade when she’d wrestled Charlene over a plaid scarf they both liked. Lana had ended that fight face down in a mud puddle, trying not to inhale the filthy water. She remembered that Clark had pulled Charlene off her just in time.
Lana didn’t think Clark would be able to pull Lois off her in just in time.
*****
Clark almost came unglued when Lana came to the end of her narrative. “She did what?” He spun around and growled. “I’ll kill her! I’ll rip her arms off and stuff them down her throat! I’ll cut her up for fish bait! I’ll set her on fire! I’ll – “
“Clark, no! Just calm down. I think I know what to do.”
He turned to face his wife and floated up almost a foot. “What?”
“Nothing. At least, nothing direct.”
He forced himself down to the floor. “That’s not what I’d prefer to do.”
“Look, I’ll contact the Foundation and tell them that Lois Lane is trying to get in touch with Superman. She’ll call them and they’ll tell her they don’t know where Superman is. It’ll end there.”
“I don’t think so, Lana. That woman is beyond tenacious.”
Lana threw her hands in the air. “The only other thing I can come up with is for Superman to seduce her and ruin her journalistic objectivity! And I don’t like that option one little bit!”
“That wouldn’t be my first choice, either.”
She stopped and stared at Clark, then laughed. “I’m sorry, darling! I shouldn’t let her upset me so. Hey, are we still heading for your parents’ house for Christmas dinner?”
He put his arms around her. “That’s the plan. My dad invited us to spend Christmas Eve with them, too. What say you, my love?”
She burrowed into his chest. “By all means, my faithful prince.”
Clark kissed her on the top of her head. “Faithful prince, huh? Arf-arf-arf.”
She slapped his upper arm. “Be nice to me, Prince! You still have a couple of shots coming.”
“Oh, no! I’m scared of needles!”
“Sure you are. Hey, I almost forgot to tell you! Did you know that Lois Lane thinks Superman is gay?”
“She thinks what?!?”
*****
Christmas was wonderful for them.
The new year, not so much.
Lois Lane’s story broke on New Year’s Eve morning. She’d bypassed her campus paper and sold the story directly to the Metropolis Star. By nine-thirty that morning, they’d already fielded seventeen phone calls and four knocks on the front door from reporters wanting more information. Clark had literally thrown one man out of the back yard after he’d trampled Lana’s flowerbeds.
Clark glowered at the man until he ran off, then he stomped inside and locked the back door. Lana patted her husband on the arm. “I’m glad you aimed for the big snowdrift. I don’t think he’s hurt too badly.”
“Yeah, well, I hope he gets mild frostbite in a very sensitive spot.”
“Your mom just called. They’ve shooed off several reporters already today.”
“I hope Dad remembers to clean his shotgun after he uses it.”
She chuckled, then tugged on his elbow. “I think we should go somewhere else for a while.”
“How’s South America sound?”
“This time of year? Warm and humid, mostly, and way out of reach for two struggling college students.”
He put his hands in his pocket as they walked back away from the back door. “All my abilities and I can’t use them to stop this idiocy! It’s so frustrating!”
“It’s okay, Clark. I told your mom we were going somewhere to hide, and she insisted I not tell her. She didn’t want to lie to the reporters about where we were.”
“That’s my mom.” He kicked at the floor. “Okay. How do we do this?”
“We take a cab to a motel.”
He frowned. “I don't think we’ll dodge them that easily.”
She pulled her hair back into an off-center ponytail and put a piece of gum in her mouth. Then she leaned to one side and canted her hips. “Hey, Charlie baby, meet ya wife, Linda King.”
The transformation startled Clark. “Wow! That’s pretty good. What do you think I should do?”
She handed him a box of hair dye. “You’re a blond for a little while. Part it down the middle and walk like you have hemorrhoids. That’s a very painful condition affecting – “
“Hey! I know what part of the body it affects!”
“Well, I’m sure you’ve never had them! You should talk like you have marbles in one side of your mouth, too. No one who knows us only by sight will recognize us.”
He frowned. “Where’d you learn about this stuff?”
“Anarchist’s cookbook. Got it off the Internet. I found a good disguise site too.”
Clark was astounded. “The Anarchist’s cookbook? It’s practically a terrorist’s how-to manual! Why in the world did you get that thing?”
“It’s surprising what you can learn from the other side of the fence.”
He stepped into the bathroom. “What else have you learned?”
“Whoever this guy is, he can’t spell worth beans.”
He turned on the shower. “Besides that.”
“Oh, about bombs and poisons and how to make them, about self-defense, about how to use ordinary things as weapons, that kind of stuff. It’s scary what you can make from everyday household products.”
“Useful knowledge if you’re a terrorist, or fighting them. Now tell me why you want to know it.”
She was silent for a long moment. “Because of Lois Lane, and what she did to me. When she had me in that hold, I was completely helpless. I don’t ever want to feel like that again. I don’t care if I’m up against the undisputed world heavyweight champion, I want to have some way to fight back.”
“Okay.” He ducked his head in the water and started working the dye in.
“You don’t understand, do you, Superman?”
“Not really, no, but you do. It’s enough for me that you know why you want that information. I trust you not to start any revolutions.”
“That really wouldn’t be my first choice, no.”
He came up for air. “Anything else I need to know about?”
She hesitated. “Yes. I’ve been taking shooting lessons for the last three weeks.”
He froze in place. “Shooting lessons? From who?”
“From ‘whom,’ Mr. Professional Writer.”
His voice was sharp. “Don’t play games, Lana! Who’s teaching you to shoot?”
“Mr. Butler.”
He turned off the water and picked up a towel. “The man who owns the gun and knife store in Smallville?”
“That’s him. He used to be a cop. He teaches students and housewives to shoot handguns. He’s very good, Clark. He always tells us that a gun is a tool for killing, and we have to respect it. He also says that killing has to be absolutely the last resort in any confrontation.”
He nodded. “I agree with all of that. Now tell me why.”
She took a step towards him and stood up as straight as she could. “Because you can’t be everywhere. Because I refuse to be helpless again.”
He saw the determination in her eyes and slowly nodded. “Okay. I love you and trust you, so I have to trust you with this, too. I’m sure you won’t start picking off our neighbors at random.”
She relaxed. “No. And I don’t have any firearms here. It – it helps me to know that I can, that’s all.” She put her hands on his chest and drew him towards her. “I hope I never need that knowledge, Clark, but if I do, it’s there. I love you. Please don’t be angry.”
He sighed deeply. “I’m not angry, sweetheart, I’m just – surprised. Again.” He hugged her and left a wet spot on her shirt. “But I thank you for telling me. Please don’t ever be afraid to tell me anything, no matter what you think I might think about it.”
She kissed him softly. “I promise. For what it’s worth, Mr. Butler says I’m good enough to qualify for a conceal-and-carry license if I want one. He even suggested I look into the school shooting team.”
“The college has a shooting team?”
“Sure. They compete in Olympic-style events against amateur clubs and other schools. One of our riflemen was an alternate in the last Olympics.”
“I see. You planning to try out?”
She shook her head. “No. I can barely handle all that’s on my plate now. Besides, I don’t think there are very many occasions for an archaeologist to use firearms in the line of duty. The artifacts generally don’t attack you.”
He sighed dramatically. “That’s a relief. I’d hate to have to defend you against a four-thousand-year-old shard of pottery.”
Suddenly, her eyes flashed mischievously and she pushed him away. “Hey, mister, you better get out of here before my husband gets home! He don’t like me hangin’ around with good-lookin’ blondes.”
He grinned. “Who wants you, ya skinny little thing? I got me a hot date with a really sexy-lookin’ broad.”
*****
Much to Clark’s surprise, their disguises worked. They spent four alternately boring and passionate days in a motel just north of Wichita, waiting for the furor to die away. The TV news found other subjects within a day. It took two full days for Lana’s picture – a nice profile shot from their December wedding reception – to vanish from the daily papers, and one more before the print editorials focused on other issues. They stayed in character even when checking out.
To Clark, the most surprising part of the episode was the giant ‘thud’ of silence that greeted the revelation that Superman was not a native of Earth. None of the major news outlets picked up on it, aside from a couple of editorials insisting that Superman’s planet of origin made no difference, since he’d always helped people and had never taken unfair advantage of his abilities, even when stopping criminals. He’d never killed or even injured any suspects, and had repeatedly gone out of his way to minimize harm to participants and bystanders alike.
Lana commented on it as they were leaving the motel. “I would’ve expected everybody from Ames to Zanzibar to be all up in arms about the ‘alien menace from outer space.’ Even the desk clerk didn’t seem to care.”
Clark shrugged. “Most people haven’t seen me in person, so all they know is what they’ve read and seen on TV. The Foundation’s done a good job with my public appearances, and no one’s ever been scared by Superman, except maybe some bad guys. That Girl Scout troop even got back on the six o’clock news. I laughed when Annette said that if Superman was an alien, send her to outer space so she could kiss some of his cousins.”
They shared a laugh. Lana took his near hand in hers. “I’m glad she remembered you. That was a great interview, even though you blushed.”
“I didn’t blush!”
“I meant night before last in the motel room, when she was describing how you tasted.”
He grimaced. “Let’s change the subject, shall we?”
Lana laughed. “Okay. Hey, you reminded me, I need to call the board of directors at the Foundation. I hope they’re not too mad at me.”
Lana had the cab stop so she could use the ladies’ room and a pay phone. The Foundation’s directors weren’t happy about the adverse publicity, of course, but the director on site insisted that their finances were still solid, and that nearly all of their major sponsors had already contacted them and promised their continued support. The director also advised Lana to continue her policy of not responding to the story in print or on the air. The story didn’t ‘have legs,’ as Clark had put it, and would vanish from the public’s brief attention span if no more fuel was placed on the fire. Lana agreed and hung up, relieved.
Clark paid the cabbie and carried their overnight cases into the house. Their mail was on the greeting table inside the front door, labeled by date and arranged by size. Lana laughed when she saw it. “That’s got to be my dad’s handiwork. Even your mom isn’t that overly organized.”
“You mean retentive, don’t you?” He grinned at her and she stuck her tongue out at him. “Promises, promises.”
“Don’t you wish!”
He laughed and picked up the stacks of mail. ”I’ll have to thank Dennis next time I see him. Good. Here’s your admission packet, and here’s mine. We’ll have to hit the registrar’s office right after we eat.”
“Let me get changed first. Would you mind making lunch? I can’t be this floozy any longer. I feel cheap and disgusting.”
“Oh, I don’t know, you’re kinda hot when you’re dressed like that.”
“You think so? C’mere and show me how hot you think I am.”
“Okay, sweetheart, you asked for it. Wait! What’s that sound? Why, it’s the siren call of the University Registrar! Hear that? It’s calling out, ‘Final semester, final semester, don’t be late, get registered, get into all your required classes.’”
“Very funny. You want mud or just plain dirt for lunch?”
“You should let me eat cake. If I can’t have you, I’ll settle for something almost as sweet.”
She kissed him soundly. “Mmm. You are one smooth-talking Superman, aren’t you?”
