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Part 3/11
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Clark and I stand in the alley behind the Shafer Building, his glasses tipped down his nose, while he looks intently up at the building.
"See anything?"
"No, nothing. I think we've been set up."
"Then I guess this isn't a job for Superman." I walk over and try to jiggle the door handle. It doesn't move. I look over my shoulder at Clark. "A little help here?"
"Lois, we can't just break in."
"Why not? Don't get all moral on me now, Clark. I've seen you break into places before."
His mouth thins into a frown. "I just told you there's nothing in there and, frankly, the building doesn't look too stable. We should track down Bobby and find out who E really is."
"Or maybe we got free sooner than E anticipated and someone is going to come by and plant whatever it was we were supposed to find."
"Then we can watch for them from out here."
"That's not the point! Open this door."
"It's exactly the point. And I'm not your personal lock-pick!"
"Fine, be that way." I stomp away from the door and back into the alley, looking around for something heavy to throw.
"What are you doing?" He looks a little hurt that I won't just take his word for it. Good. Serves him right.
"I'm helping myself." And to hell with him anyway for being so… unhelpful.
There's just the thing - a moderate sized chunk of concrete. It's a little too heavy but I'll be damned if I'm going to let him know that. I lug it closer to the building with as much dignity as I can manage and heave it at the small window a few feet over from the door. Unfortunately the window is set too high on the wall for my aim. The only damage done is a whitish streak on the building's faded brickwork as it falls. It breaks apart on impact with the ground.
"Lois…"
"Either help me or get out of the way." I pick up one of the smaller shards of my concrete missile and throw it at the window. This time I succeed in leaving a spider web of cracks in the glass. I pick up the piece and throw it again. Nothing happens except that the rock shatters into several more pieces when it hits the pavement.
I want to cry. This is so humiliating. Why doesn't he just help? I turn to go find another piece of concrete in the alley. There's a metallic screech and Clark calls my name. I turn back around and he's standing in the open doorway.
"Now was that so hard?" I ask, trying to maintain the thin edge of my anger. It's really the only thing holding me together right now. I toy with the idea of throwing the concrete at him. It wouldn't hurt him - and that's more or less the point.
There's a distant rumble and Clark's interest veers past me, into the alley. Oh my god, do I know that look.
"What is it?" I ask, still feeling petty so it comes out more as sarcasm. "Is someone in trouble? Or did you just remember that you forgot to mail something?"
"No." He shakes his head, ignoring the dig. "I have to go, but this building isn't safe so just… stay here." He holds his hand up and looks me in the eye. "And I mean that, stay right here. Please." Even though he says the "please" softer, it doesn't quell the indignation I feel. Indignation that gives way to numb disbelief as he spins in front of me, going from a dark blur into a red and blue blur.
And there he is - Superman. Clark really is Superman. I gape at him, feeling like I just found out all over again.
He gives me a quick smile that looks more like a plea to stay. And then he's gone with a woosh and a little sonic boom. I'd be tempted to follow him but I have no idea where he's going. In the distance I hear the shrill wail of a siren. Funny how I never noticed it before - there was usually a siren in the vicinity whenever Clark disappeared.
"Idiot!" I mutter under my breath. I'm not quite sure who the idiot is. Me, for never figuring it out. Or him, for… just being him.
I toss the chunk of concrete I'm still holding at the window. This time the window shatters, but I don't feel at all triumphant. I let out a sigh of disgust and stomp back to the small landing. I might as well start looking through the Schafer Building. If he thought I was just going to sit here on the stairs like a good little Lois he's got another thing coming.
I step gingerly over the threshold into a narrow hallway. There's a large airy room at the far end, probably the building's lobby. There's an open door to my right through which I can see, and smell, a lot of garbage on the floor. It looks mostly like food wrappers and cigarette butts. There's a stained mattress below the window I just broke and glass is scattered along the top of it. Glass or not, I wouldn't sit on it no matter how much you paid me. There are a few articles of clothing mixed in with the garbage – a flannel shirt, a single boot and a ragged pair of underwear that curls my lip in revulsion.
I move further down the hallway, away from the room and the smell. After about twenty feet the hallway opens up into the lobby. The floor is wood parquet under ages of accumulated dust. If it were cleaned and buffed I bet it would be beautiful. There are footsteps in all directions tracking through the dust but I can't tell if they're recent.
I walk to the large oak and glass front doors and try them. They don't open. I peer through the grimy glass and see a heavy chain and padlock on the outside. Okay, so they didn't get in that way. Or they did, but it's since been locked up. Of course, I guess it's possible that they came in through the same door I did. Maybe they had a key to the back door? Did it used to be kept unlocked? Is there another way in? Obviously someone has been in here since the place was closed for business.
I wrinkle my nose at the thought of going back and sifting through the debris to see if there's anything that can give me a date range for occupancy. There's a large staircase to my right, sweeping up to the second floor. I could check around upstairs even though I already know there's really nothing to be found – surely Clark wouldn't lie about something like that?
Then again, there's no substitute for first hand information gathering, especially when your source has just admitted that he's lied to you every day for the past two years. I'll check upstairs. When Clark comes back he can go over the squatter's room.
I'm halfway up the stairs when I hear my name called out. I'm so startled that I nearly trip. I look over the railing and see Superm…, er, Clark. He's still dressed like Superman and he looks upset.
"What?" I ask defensively, thinking he's about to get mad that I didn't wait for him by the back door.
"The warehouse we were chained up in? It blew up."
"Oh my god!"
There's a moment of silence while I digest that fact. Finally my thoughts start to gel. "But… you didn't hear a bomb or anything, did you?"
"No. That doesn't mean there wasn't one. Maybe it was a remote detonation device …it must have been in the lead pipe we were chained to." He looks as dazed as I feel.
I come down the stairs slowly. My legs feel disconnected and heavy. It's never reassuring to realize that someone wants you dead. "Do you think Bobby…?"
"No," Clark says quickly. "I just can't see Bobby being a part of something like that. I don't think he knew."
"Well, we should start with him."
"Yeah," Clark nods. "Or we could have Superman talk to him."
I want to point out the incongruity of referring to himself in the third person, especially when he's still dressed like Superman, but I defer that for later. "Why Superman?"
"Let's think about this, Lois. E thinks we're dead. Bobby, whether he was in on it or not, will think we're dead. Superman can talk to Inspector Henderson and have him put out the word that our bodies were found inside. I think we're safer being dead right now."
I can see the sense in what he's saying. "We have to tell Perry, though."
"Agreed. And we need to find somewhere to hide out. We can't go back to our apartments."
I nod mechanically, still feeling shaky. "So where do we go?"
He doesn't answer. We both stand there, thinking, for a minute. I run through all the possibilities. Can't go to the Planet, too many people around would see us. Can't stay with friends or family since that would make them a target too. If Clark suggests his parents in Kansas I'll veto. No way I'm going to hide there when I need to be here. I'm not going to be at his mercy over whether I get to stay or go.
Finally Clark clears his throat and asks, "We could ask Perry about using Winch Kennebrew's condo at the marina again."
"Good idea. Let's divide and conquer. You head back to the warehouse and talk to Henderson and I'll call Perry." And what am I going to tell him? I mean I can't tell him about Clark being Superman, so how do I explain how we escaped the bomb? Superman just happened by? No wonder all of Clark’s excuses were so lame.
Clark nods and goes to leave, then turns back, taking a few steps until he's standing directly in front of me. A little tremor of anticipation runs through me as I tilt my head back to look up at him. Lately being this close to Clark gives me a giddy feeling. Then again, so did being this close to Superman. Now that it's Clark, and Superman, the feeling is harder to describe.
"Lois," he says solemnly, his eyes dark with emotion. His hand comes up to cover my cheek and I shiver again. "I'm so sorry. I never would have agreed to being handcuffed if I'd known…"
"I know that," I say softly. "Don't worry about it." Impulsively I go on tiptoe, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. He smiles, his face relaxing and suddenly he looks more like Clark than Superman.
I touch his cheek, mirroring his gesture of a few moments before. "Do you know what part of it was? Your face is always so rigid as Superman. You always held yourself so distant, you know?"
"I could hardly be familiar with you as Superman. It was just easier to keep my distance."
I drop my hand, suddenly flustered by the realization of who he is and how little distance separates us. Clark is Superman – I just can't wrap my brain around that idea.
"Lois?"
"Sorry. This is just… going to take some getting used to."
I look back up at him and he's shifted back to his Superman face. He gives me a somber nod and takes a step back. "Leave a message with Perry and let me know where to meet you."
"What?" It takes me a few seconds to switch gears. "Oh, yeah. I'll call Perry. See if you can set up a time for us to meet with Henderson."
We walk out of the building in silence. On the landing outside he turns to me and says, "Be careful." Then he raises his hand and flies away.
Nope – I'll never get used to this. I still marvel that Superman can fly and now I have to wrap my mind around the idea that he's Clark? Clark – the guy who trips over his own shoelaces. Was that an act? Or is he clumsy because it never mattered if he fell?
Probably an act. When was the last time I saw Superman make a wrong move? Never.
Did he play the wide-eyed hayseed because that was the label I gave him? How much of our personality is based on other people's perceptions of us? It's sobering to realize that, in part, he got away with it for this long because I only saw what I wanted to see.
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At a pay phone down the street I dial Perry’s back line.
"Lois!" he barks out as soon as he hears my voice. "Are you two anywhere near the old Pier 3 warehouse? The police scanners are saying it just blew up."
"Actually, we were supposed to be inside it when it blew up."
There's a moment of silence and then Perry says, "Do you want to run that by me again?"
"The Pier 3 warehouse is where we met Bobby and E."
"E? Who's E?"
"We're not sure. We think he might be with the mayor's office. He told us that there was something hidden in the Schafer Building that someone close to the mayor wanted destroyed. He said they were going to burn the building down before it gets demolished next week. Only, get this, he wanted to have a head start on us, or so he said, so he had Bobby chain us to the wall."
"Great Caesar's ghost!"
"Luckily, um, Superman was in the area and he freed us. We were over at the Schafer Building when the warehouse blew up."
"So you didn't recognize this E person? No idea why he'd want to blow you two up?"
"He was in the shadows, we couldn't see him."
"What about Bobby? Did he know him?"
"We haven't had a chance to talk to Bobby yet. Clark went back down to the warehouse to talk to Henderson. We think it's best if E believes we're dead. We don't think it would be safe to go back to our places. Is there any chance we can use Kennebrew's hideaway at the marina?"
"I'm sure that will be fine. He's out of town for the next few weeks and he's left the keys with me. Do you want me to meet you down there?"
"Sure. Give me an hour and I'll meet you there." I don't care what Clark said, I need to stop by my apartment first. He must be insane if he thinks I'm going to live in these clothes for the next who-knows-how-long. The marina is across town, so it's theoretically right on my way.
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I open the door to my apartment and stop cold. It's been trashed.
I can't move - I'm in shock. Tears well up in my eyes, but they aren't tears of sorrow. I'm angry. So angry, in fact, that I can't help but cry. After everything else that has happened this morning this is just the very last thing I could cope with.
Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I know I must look deranged as I wander around my apartment, sobbing with rage and my own impotence. Today has spun so completely out of my control. I sputter and choke when I see what they did to my awards case. The glass is broken and one of my Kerth awards is on the floor with the base broken off. I pick up the two pieces and stare at them in mute resentment.
I'm pretty sure E did this. I just want to know why. Who is this guy that wants us dead? Who hates me enough to vandalize my apartment after he thinks he's killed me?
"Are you okay?" Clark's voice asks from behind me. It should startle me but instead I feel only a weary resignation. That's what I get for leaving the door open after I came in.
I nod, not trusting my voice yet. I swat away the tears with the back of my hand and then set what's left of my Kerth back in the display case. I walk towards my bedroom without looking back at him.
The view from my bedroom door is just as horrifying. The mattress from my bed is on the floor. It's been slashed so that the stuffing and coils are visible. My drawers are all open and their contents are strewn across the floor.
"What…?" It's the only word I can form. Spots dance in my vision and I have to lean against the door's frame for support.
Clark takes my arm. "Come sit down for a minute."
I pull away from him. "I need to pack some clothes." My eyes tear up again and my chest feels heavy and tight. "I just need to get some stuff and then I'll leave, okay?"
"Okay," he agrees softly.
"Maybe you should go check your place while I pack." I stop at the pile on the floor in front of my closet. This morning all this stuff was *in* my closet. My gym bag is on top and I grab it. I'm in no mood to go searching for my suitcase.
"You'll be alright here alone?" Clark asks.
"Look at this!" I can't help the high pitch of my voice. "Look at my t.v.! What in the hell was he trying to accomplish?"
My television has been tipped off its stand and is lying screen-down on the floor. I tip it upright and see that the screen has been smashed.
"Wasn't it enough to blow me up? Why did he have to ransack my apartment too?"
"I'll stay here with you," Clark comes over and bends to pick up the t.v.
"No!" I put my hand out to stop him. "We shouldn't touch anything! Just leave it. Go! Go get whatever you're going to need and I'll meet you at Winch's with Perry." I freeze as I realize what's missing from my nightstand. I rush over, dropping to my knees to look under the bed.
"Oh my god! It's not here!" I frantically scramble over to the mattress and try to lift it. Clark sees my struggle and picks it up. I search through the sheets and blankets on the floor but it's not there.
"What's not here?" Clark asks.
"My laptop! It was on my nightstand when I left this morning!" Grief, even deeper than the smashed Kerth award, overwhelms me. There were six years of story notes and sources on that laptop. Not to mention the latest draft of my novel. I made edits to it just last night. I haven't backed it up at work for ages. All gone now. The loss is devastating.
"He took my laptop!" I feel absolutely hollowed out inside - how can Clark just stand there so calmly?
"You're sure?" Clark gently sets the mattress back down on top of the bed.
"Of course I'm sure! I know at least that much! I may not be able to spot Superman when I spend nearly every waking moment with him, but I know my own apartment! I know that much!"
It's too much all of a sudden. Clark, my apartment, my laptop, my Kerth, my bed… I rush on, knowing that I'm ranting but getting a small bit of satisfaction out of the shocked and hurt expression on Clark's face. "Why are you still here? I thought I asked you to go, just leave. Please! I don't need you here hovering around and being solicitous! There's nothing you can do to help *now*! Where the hell were you while this was happening? That's when I needed you! You can run off to help everyone else but you did nothing to prevent this! Just go away!"
"Alright," he says quietly. "I told Henderson we'd meet him in the alley behind the Schafer Building at three o'clock."
I turn my back on him and pick up the gym bag again, intent on packing and getting away from here. "Fine. I'll meet you there." I start scooping up clothes at random, not really paying attention to what I'm packing in the bag. I know that if I stop moving I'll fall apart completely. I turn around, ready to lash out at Clark again but he's not there.
And that's the final straw. Yes, I told him to leave. But he didn't have to actually go and do it. I sink into the jumbled mess of t-shirts and lingerie on my floor feeling as if my heart is actually breaking. I sob freely, giving in completely to the despair. I've never felt so helpless, so lost, so out of control before.
Realizing that only makes me cry harder.
