As promised, I'm posting a little early.
Chapter Eleven
Mr. Letour, I Presume
The errant superhero who filled so much of his mother's thoughts was meanwhile en-route for the disaster region. When he'd first heard the news of the giant landslide over a car radio while on his way to school, Matthew had spent only a very short period of deliberation before choosing to intervene. His decision might go against the deal he'd made with his mother, but truthfully, not going had never been an option for him. Somehow he'd felt compelled to go.
Jor-El had taken to the sky and flown west across his own country; sped as fast as he could over the wide Pacific, crossing the international date line, to the mystical land of China. It had taken him longer than he'd anticipated, but he'd reached the conclusion, since it was already too late to prevent the disaster, that conserving his strength for the coming rescue was more important than breakneck speed. Unfortunately, though Jor-El had inherited all of his father's gifts, he was not quite as fast nor as strong as Superman had been... not yet.
Uncle Bernie put his shortcomings down to his immaturity and was fairly confident that given time, Jor-El would be a match for the great Superman. Matt certainly hoped so. He also prayed that he could be as compassionate a man as his father, but of that he wasn't so certain. In many ways, Matt was too much like his feisty, impulsive mother, which wasn't a bad thing really... but he did suspect that a superhero ought to have a calm disposition.
Well, Matt wasn't Superman. He'd never professed to be the Man of Steel. All he could do was his best and hope that would be enough. He guessed he was about to find out just what sort of hero he could be and discover his limits. This was probably the biggest natural disaster he'd encountered since donning his suit and cape just a few months ago.
The ground below him passed quickly by as Matt put on an extra spurt of speed and wished he had better night vision along with his telescopic sight. Had his father been able to see in the dark? He'd never thought of that and he made a mental note to ask Mom later. In this part of the world, dawn was still some time off and the heavy cloud cover and rain were hampering his progress. How many people would die before he came to their aid? Matt felt his frustration mounting and tried to tamp it down. Calm, he had to stay calm, but he was beginning to question his earlier course of action.
When he'd reached the continent, his first port of call had been to the Chinese authorities who were obviously in charge of co-ordinating the rescue plans. Jor-El had thought this visit unnecessary, yet he'd followed his Uncle Bernie's advice and taken valuable time out to pay this short courtesy call.
Uncle Bernie had freaked out when Matt had told him where he was headed; after all, Superman had disappeared in this part of the world. The poor man was probably terrified of how Mom would react when she heard the news... and since Bernie was Matt's first contact when in the suit, he was probably dreading she would shoot the messenger....
Matt and his siblings often considered their uncle to be a little quirky, but relationships between the US and the People's Republic of China, while cordial, were not exactly close. So he'd decided that perhaps this time Uncle Bernie was right and it was a good idea to check the water level and assess his welcome.
Despite his misgivings, however, the representatives of the government he'd talked with had proved to be very appreciative of his involvement. Due to the atrocious weather conditions in the region their own air support had been grounded, so they'd sent him immediately on his way, telling him to contact the locally organized rescue team, led by someone called Professor MacDonnell. The rest of the military salvage squads were already on their way by road.
Now MacDonnell seemed to be a pretty strange name for a Chinese man, but what did Matt know? If the guy was familiar with the region, Matt was prepared to accept all the help he could offer. After all, the estimated numbers of deaths and casualties the authorities had suggested, had set Matt back on his heels. Was he really up to the task?
His mother had repeatedly told him that he couldn't be everywhere at once, no matter how hard he tried, and Matt was sure he was about to learn that lesson first hand... and right now. He could hear screams and anxious cries for help coming from somewhere close by. Time to put his doubts aside for later and assume his superhero persona.
Jor-El turned his gaze in the direction of the voices and scanned the area. He didn't yet seem to be in the worst area of the landslip, but below him the winding lakeside road which he had been following was broken and littered by trees and large boulders. He flew closer and listened again, trying to trace the source of the sounds, as he couldn't yet see anyone in trouble.
Touching down, he started picking his way carefully over the fractured tarmac and, within seconds, he spotted a faint trace of light coming from a large hole in the road. He hurried over and saw beneath him a battered Land Rover, buried in the earth and rubble, one headlight still shining weakly through the dirt. Using his x-ray vision he could just make out the faces of two very frightened occupants -- a woman and a man, neither of whom appeared to be Asian. Maybe they were western tourists caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“It's OK,” he called out, instinctively using the language with which he was most at home, as he quickly began to lift the largest rocks away. “My name's Jor-El and I'll get you out of there.”
“Jor-El! Thank god! We need a little help getting out of this.” A man's voice echoed hollowly, as if from a tomb.
In the back of Matt's mind, the fact registered that these people weren't too shocked by his presence. They certainly appeared to know exactly who he was and he'd been answered in English, so his guess that they were tourists was probably correct.
“Hold still and I'll free you as quickly as I can,” he replied, in his best superhero voice, which his Mom had coached him in.
His intervention wasn't a moment too soon either. Another boulder, balanced precariously on the hill directly above the ruined road, suddenly started rolling, bouncing down into the hole and onto the roof of the car, squeezing the interior into an even tighter space. Inside, the woman panicked and started kicking and punching furiously on the front windscreen, whose surface, already splintered, gave way completely, allowing the rubble to pour into the car.
Immediately, Matt castigated himself. His first job should have been to make the surrounding area secure. He'd been caught unawares, but there was no time for self-reproach while he sought to stem the tide of cascading rubble. Recriminations could come later and, meanwhile, he could learn from his mistakes.
Thankfully, the man must have anticipated the glass shattering before Jor-El's appearance because he'd adapted some kind of tarpaulin as a shield, which he now ducked behind, pushing the woman below him to protect her with his body. Yet it would only be a temporary reprieve. If the couple couldn't escape soon, they would be crushed by the weight of earth.
Working hard, the young superhero quickly dug the stones and scrub out of the way, while keeping a wary eye open for any other missiles hurtling in their direction. His task seemed to go on forever, but in reality lasted only a matter of minutes, and soon Jor-El had pulled first the woman, then the man from the shell of their vehicle and set them down on a patch of ground which he deemed to be safest.
Matt smiled a little mournfully as he watched the two people hug each other in relief, the loving caress bringing back memories of his parents, and he was only a little embarrassed when the woman turned and wrapped her arms around him while the man grabbed his hand and started shaking it enthusiastically.
“Jor-El, you can't know how pleased we are to see you here. I'm Stephan Janik and this is Adrienne Ducos.” The man ceased pumping Jor-El's arm, and began mopping his own muddied face with the torn sleeve of his shirt. “We really thought we'd had it there. Thank you for digging us out.”
Ms Ducos took a step back and allowed her arms to drop from Jor-El's shoulders, though she still beamed at him, her gaze running up and down his body. Normally, that type of appraising glance from a member of the female sex made Matt blush to the roots of his hair. This time, however, he felt the woman was acting a little like his mother had when she'd first seen him in the suit.
“We are so grateful and not just because you saved us....”
“Have we met before?” Jor-El inquired, beginning to feel somewhat awkward at their familiar attitude. Perhaps he'd come across this couple back at home. They did speak English, but he did detect an accent. “Are you from the US?”
“No, oh no,” Ms Ducos answered again. “We've never met, but it is an honour, believe me... and we're Europeans.”
“You're tourists?”
“Not exactly,” Stephan Janik added, clearly feeling some explanation was needed, but deciding that this was not the time nor the place to reveal the true reason for their journey. “We've been doing some traveling in the area and since both of us are doctors we thought we'd offer our assistance to the rescue effort. We were staying further down the valley when we heard about the landslide, though I have to tell you it felt more like an earthquake from back there -- the ground shook like it was about to erupt.”
“I don't suppose there's much difference in the outcome, Stephan. Either way, there are bound to be casualties.” The woman slipped her arm through the man's, substantiating Jor-El's supposition that they must be an item. “We were driving towards the area, hoping to find a forward medical post we could join, when we were hit by what must have been a secondary slide.”
“That's possible.” Jor-El nodded his head sagely. “I was talking with some experts back in Changchun and they warned me that the ground would still be very unstable. Some of those foothills along this stretch could come down.” He lifted his chin towards the jagged landscape above them, looming menacing and shadowed in the murky night. “You really can't stay here, and there is an aid center further along the lake run by a man named MacDonnell. That's where I'm headed, and if you don't mind trusting yourself to me, I could give you a lift.”
“A lift?” The woman's eyes opened wide.
“If you don't mind flying without an aircraft.”
“Wow, that's quite an offer,” the man said with some ambivalence. He'd heard of people flying with Superman but hadn't read too many reports of this new hero's exploits... and the boy looked a lot slighter than his father, even when his father had been unwell. “Are you sure you can manage the two of us at one time? Because I've got to say I wouldn't bet on anyone living too long out here alone.”
Just to emphasis Janik's words a rumble could be heard in the darkness as yet another section of land yielded to the sucking damp and the downward drag of gravity.
“I can do it, but I'll have to fly more slowly. I wouldn't want either of you to suffer from wind chill.” Actually, Jor-El's latter statement was a slight bending of the truth. He was more concerned about his own ability to carry a double burden in such atrocious conditions, but he felt justified in telling the tiny white lie because his new acquaintances already appeared nervous of his offer. “If you're coming, we really need to get underway. Every moment that passes could mean life or death for the survivors trapped in this mud, assuming there are any.”
“I'm sure there are, Jor-El, and you'll get a chance to save them, never fear. We're ready when you are.” Janik stretched his arms wide, wondering just what he should do with them. “Only how do we do this?”
“If you don't mind, Ma'am, I'll carry you in my arms, and Dr Janik, wrap your arms around my neck. Once we're in the air and I'm horizontal, lie along my back and hang on for dear life. I haven't lost a passenger yet, and I don't intend to do so now.”
Jor-El, however, wasn't quite so confident as he sounded as he picked up the woman and waited till he felt the man's arms lock around his neck.
“Don't you worry about me, Jor-El. I've no intentions of letting go until my feet are firmly back on the ground.... Oooooh, hell's teeth!” Stephan screeched as he was lifted into the air and one of his arms jerked automatically, flailing desperately for balance before regaining its grip on something solid.
“Dr Janik!” Jor-El exclaimed, a slight note of panic in his voice as he fought to stay upright in the clinging drizzle. At ground level, he hadn't been too aware of the rain. They'd been standing on the lee-side of the hill, sheltered from the gusting wind, but now, even at low altitude, he and his passengers were fully exposed to the foul weather conditions. “Dr Janik, I don't like to complain, but it would help if you shifted your arm back to my neck. I know I have x-ray vision, but that takes all my concentration on a night like this, and I can fly best when I can see where I'm going.”
“Sorry, so sorry,” Stephan replied sheepishly, quickly removing his hand from over Jor-El's face, where it had come to rest. He closed his own eyes and prayed silently to the god he'd stopped believing in many years ago. It paid to keep one's options open.
“I don't know what you're so scared about Stephan,” Adrienne shouted to be heard above the elements, a smug grin tugging at her mouth. “I think flying with a superhero is pretty exciting.”
Stephan opened his eyes and craned over his pilot's shoulder. “It's OK for you, Adrienne. You're in first class, while I'm not even in the cargo bay... more like on the wing!”
Poor Jor-El cringed as the man's voice sounded like thunder in his ear. “And, please, could you not shout so loud,” he complained, trying not to sound too much like a surly teenager. “You'll give me a headache and I need to focus. We don't want to overshoot our target.”
Yet the superhero's stricture was hardly necessary as below them the landscape changed. Even in the darkness, with their sight now become accustomed to the low light, the three were horrified by the expanse of dirty brown sludge that laid bare the countryside. There was no longer a road to follow; no cultivated fields nor fresh green hues of majestic trees standing tall and proud, a testament to nature's magnificence.
Mother Nature had suddenly and pitilessly turned her face away from this land. Now a thick layer of silt blanketed all living things. Even the clear water of the mountain lake had been inundated and it was nearly impossible to make out where land and lake met.
They flew onwards, searching for signs of life.
“Oh, dear god!” Adrienne whispered, the first one to find her voice. “How could anyone survive under that?”
“There has to be some place... maybe some houses that aren't completely buried.” Yet, Stephan's tone was not quite so optimistic as his words. Underneath his hands he could feel the superhero shoulder's tense. This younger hero might assume an unemotional face for the media and the public at large, just as his father had, but obviously this was just an act. Stephan found himself compelled to add, “I know it looks bad, but try not to jump to conclusions, Jor-El. I'm sure you'll be able to find people alive down there. You're probably the only person who can save them now too.”
“Look, up ahead!” Jor-El's cry was that of an eager youth. “There are lights. Up on the hillside.”
“Where?” Stephan asked, blinking against the rain, his gaze straining into the distance. “I can't see anything.”
“You can't?” Jor-El sounded surprised. “I'm not using my telescopic vision. There's something happening on the far side of the slick.”
“You must have good eyesight then, even without the telescopic stuff. I can't see where this mud ends.” Stephan rolled his shoulders, but was careful not to dislodge himself from his human platform again.
“Stephan, he's right. Look over there.” Adrienne pointed, concurring with the young man who carried her so carefully. “You have to look further up the mountain. There are lights twinkling. Not many, but perhaps that's the camp you spoke of, Jor-El.”
“There's only one way to find out,” their pilot said, changing course. “And the quicker I deliver you, the quicker I can start looking for survivors.”
“Talking of survivors.” Stephan lightly tapped one of Jor-El's shoulders. “You might want to look straight down. Isn't that a boat below us? It certainly has the shape of a keel.”
In his eagerness to be rid of his passengers and get on with the real job of saving victims, Jor-El's attention had been sidetracked by his search for the camp. How could be have let this middle-aged, slightly weedy doctor be first to spot possible signs of life in the mire? Though, as he trained his enhanced sight on the terrain beneath them, the idea of life might be a bit premature.
“It's a boat, OK. Only it's upside down and I can't see anyone near by. But it must mean we're near the fishing village.”
“Unless the mud carried it along,” Adrienne said cautiously. “Judging by the volume of the slide, I'd say that movable objects might have ended up a fair distance from their origins.”
“There speaks a research scientist, Jor-El. They are sticklers for detail, but in this case, she could be right. You can't even see the shore of the lake along this stretch.”
“But the boat would have been carried out into the lake by the force of the earth behind it,” Jor-El reasoned, training his x-ray vision to peel away the layers of muck. “I'm not totally sure, but it seems to be on solid ground... well mud.”
“Then maybe that village is somewhere around here. You should start your search from this spot,” Stephan suggested helpfully.
“I will. I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to have to drop you off fast. If there is anyone alive round here, they need me.”
“We understand completely, Jor-El,” Adrienne said. “And there will probably be work for us too.”
The rest of the journey was completed in silence, and speedier than Stephan's stomach appreciated. When moments later he was set down on the ground, he looked a little green, struggling to regain his balance. At least, he decided, this stretch of hillside seemed to be fairly solid and untouched by the landslide.
Adrienne, meanwhile, was already looking around the bustling little enclave, searching for someone who might be in charge.
At the head of the clearing, a comfortable looking wooden house appeared to be the centre of operations, where a woman dressed in yellow waterproofs stood on the balcony, directing her small team of helpers.
Adrienne and Jor-El moved off, intent on the same course of action.
“Professor MacDonnell,” Jor-El hailed the woman, while reflecting that he'd been foolish to expect the head of operations to be man. After all, having lived with Lois Lane his whole life, he should have known that anything a man could do a woman could do better. When the woman turned in his direction, he sped towards her. “I'm Jor-El. I'm here to help.”
Marje looked closely at the hero, deciding he looked far more impressive in person than he had on her monitor. “Well, of course, you are. And you've arrived not a moment too soon. But my husband is probably more in need of your help than we are here.”
“Your husband?”
“Yes. He went with our handyman down to the village, searching for our friends.” Marje pointed straight down the hillside. “You probably flew right over them.”
Anxious to begin the job which he'd flown half-way round the world to accomplish, Jor-El levitated off the ground, shouting downwards to those he left behind. “Thank you. I'll find them.”
“And I'll let him know you're coming,” Marje replied, waving her radio in the air. “They'll be fair glad to see you.”
In the back of Matt's mind, another strange sounding accent had registered. This was China, but since he'd arrived in this particular area, he'd not met a single national, which was kind of strange. Yet he put such thoughts aside and concentrated on finding Professor MacDonnell and his handyman. He hoped they hadn't gotten themselves into trouble. Judging from the scale of this disaster, he'd have enough on his plate rescuing the first lot of survivors. He'd already wasted too much time taking care of two misguided do-gooders.
In his wake, he barely heard Adrienne and certainly didn't take much notice of the information she called out to him....
“Thanks, Jor-El. We'll do what we can here, but we need to talk later. Please come back. There is so much we have to tell you.”
She and Stephan had escaped from Hyesan's clutches finally, when the General had inevitably grown over-ambitious and been liquidated by his peers. They'd said their final goodbyes to Corporal Teo, who had decided to return to his family, and crossed into China, hoping to track down Letour. So far, they'd had little luck in their quest, but surely with Jor-El's help they might succeed... if only Letour had managed to survive.
Watching the sombre figure disappear into the sky, which was just barely brightening, Adrienne hoped she'd have the chance to explain all this to the young superhero.
“He's a fine figure of a man,” Marje remarked to the stranger, her curiosity tweaked by the female's almost furtive last words, but it was really none of her business, and, unlike her husband, she knew when to keep her nose out. Yet for all that, she couldn't help adding. “Younger than I'd expected.”
Adrienne turned her attention from the heavens, a faint blush staining her dirtied skin as she wondered how Mrs MacDonnell would react if she knew what harm had been done to Superman. Her eyes locked with the older woman's inquisitive gaze, yet she found no censure there. How could there be when that knowledge was not yet in the public domain? They exchanged tentative smiles as she answered, “Yes, but it's what he does that's important.”
Feeling thoroughly, but politely, put back in her place, Marje conceded, “Indeed yes! Now, just what can you do to help here?” she continued, returning to the immediate, more pressing task. “There's already some survivors who've managed to find there way here... some of the walking wounded, you might say. What we could really do with is a doctor.” She studied the man who'd also arrived with the superhero, and who was now climbing the stairs to the porch.
“Then, it's just as well that we're both doctors,” Adrienne said, introducing herself and her partner as he arrived at her side, apparently now recovered from his bout of airsickness. “Where have you put the injured, Mrs MacDonnell?”
“They're indoors. Come away in. I hope you don't mind, but I have a feeling you're both going to be busy. Oh, and I'm a doctor too, though not a medical one. But call me Marje, we don't stand on ceremony out here.”
Marje led the way inside to a room which had been changed into something similar to a field hospital. The resourceful woman had been doing the best she could with her limited first aid experience for a number of muddied and bloodied survivors. Adrienne and Stephan took one quick look around them, then got down to work. The day that was slowly dawning was likely to be a very long one.
*****
Now he had a fair idea of the direction in which to begin his search, Jor-El quickly found what he was looking for. Though he had to admit, that the figure standing on top of a vehicle and waving a torch into the darkness, did make his job considerably easier. Clearly Mrs MacDonnell had been true to her word and warned her husband of his imminent arrival.
“Ower here, laddie!”
The strange sounding, lilting words drifted to Jor-El on the wind. Boy, did everyone in this neighborhood speak with weird accents? And this one had to be the strangest of all. How was he supposed to liaise with someone he didn't understand? He'd managed so much better with the Chinese officials he'd met in Changchun.
Jor-El alighted by what seemed to be a military jeep, though it was difficult to determine since it was mostly caked in mud. So too was the gentleman perched on its hood -- the one who spoke oddly. He appeared to be dressed in rain-gear very similar to the lady Jor-El had met at the house, only the color was streaked by rivulets of brownish goo.
“Come away here.” The man beckoned Jor-El over, addressing the formal looking hero as he would any other of his acquaintances, and certainly not in awe of the latest, much talked about addition to his team. “Man, it's guid tae see ye, and no afore time! We've a difficult situation here, as ye can no help but notice.”
Professor MacDonnell -- Jor-El assumed this was he -- turned his heavy duty torch to a spot in the terrain below them, revealing a fallen tree trunk whose stark branches another figure was trying desperately to hack in pieces with a type of machete.
“There's a puir soul trapped underneath,” MacDonnell explained breathlessly, climbing down with caution from his perch, since the ground was so treacherous. “He's still alive, but no for long, if we cann'a get him out.”
The hero supersped to the tree and signaled for the other man to stop his actions, but Jor-El was too late. The human rescuer, knee-deep in sludge, had already downed his tools and was reaching beneath the trunk to grasp the casualty beneath the armpits and begin to draw him out. Jor-El, however, did lend a hand by lifting the weight of the tree, until both rescuer and victim were clear, then he watched silently as the stranger cradled the survivor, carefully cleaning the cloying mud from the unconscious man's face.
“Is he breathin', Letour?” MacDonnell had reached the group and was hovering over the two men on the ground.
“Yes, thank goodness,” Letour rasped, his voice hoarse from trying to outshout the wind and rain. “But we have to get him back to the house where he can be taken care of. He's chilled to the bone, lying in that muddy trench, and there's no saying what internal injuries he could have sustained.”
Letour sounded distressed by the possible fate of the man he'd just saved and Jor-El found himself quickly x-raying the body, not just for the victim's sake, but to ease the conscience of the brave Letour.
“No broken bones -- just cuts and bruises, but he is suffering from hypothermia. If you'd entrust him to me, I can warm him with my heat vision, then get him back to the camp real quick.” Jor-El placed a hand on the kneeling man's shoulder. “There's a couple of doctors up there who could take care of him.”
For the first time, Letour seemed to take notice of the person who had come to his aid. “Jor-El?” he asked, but his question quickly ended in a harsh bout of coughing as his body tried to expel the dirt which had found its insidious way inside his mouth and throat. “Excuse me! Yes, you must take him; the sooner the better.” He passed the injured man into Jor-El's waiting arms. His coughing had subsided, but his voice still sounded rough, even to his own ears. “But come back quickly. There have to be more survivors further down in the village. MacDonnell and I were on our way there when we found this guy.”
Jor-El made his passenger as comfortable as he could, but before he took off, he said encouragingly to his fellow aid workers, “I'll be back. If you go on, please be careful. I'd hate to be rescuing either of you next.”
“Dinn'a ye worry about us, laddie. We're no so easily got rid off,” MacDonnell said with just a touch of humour. “Oh, and see if ye can bring back some mair men. Now, ye're here, I expect things will go easier, but ye cann'a be everywhere at once, so extra bodies winn'a go amiss.”
Witnessing the superhero's baffled expression as he listened to Mac's speech, Letour couldn't help but grin, almost cracking the slimy mudpack that coated his face, and causing Jor-El to halt in his tracks.
That flash of white teeth contrasting with the dirty visage sent a quiver of trepidation up the young Kryptonian's spine, but the smile was gone so quickly that Jor-El was left wondering what had caused his strange reaction. The casualty in his arms began to choke and all other thoughts fled his mind.
“Go!” ordered Letour, completely serious, once more. “And the translation of Mac's request is to bring back reinforcements. If this is any measure of what's ahead,” he said, indicating the devastation surrounding them. “The further we get into the village, the worse conditions will be... not to mention the logging camp. You'll find us down there.”
Immediately, Jor-El was airborne, zipping back to base. He had this strange notion that he had to return post haste. Now that he'd found MacDonnell and Letour, he didn't want to risk losing them, and that was a clear possibility. The idea made him feel sick to his stomach.
*****
Unfortunately, given the scale of the catastrophe, Jor-El could only keep a distant check on his new acquaintances. There was just too much to do to allow them to work together on the same rescues. MacDonnell, he didn't fear for. Given the Scotsman's age and his obvious qualities of leadership, he was more often in the background, mobilizing his troops. Letour, however, was in the thick of things, seeming indifferent to his own safety.
There had been quite a few locals gathered around Mrs MacDonnell when Jor-El delivered the first survivor, and every one of them had been keen to join him in his search for more of their neighbours. He'd returned with two of the fittest and strongest volunteers, while the others had made their own way down to the front line. Consequently, Mac had been able to assign teams of a few people to certain search areas with Jor-El acting as the trailblazer and tackling the most difficult rescues.
And rescues there had been, though few. A child found living, sheltered beneath the body of her mother; two old crones, huddled in an air-pocket under an upturned boat; a teenager and his dog, caught up in the branches of the one still standing tree and a family, who'd almost been entombed in their house, but for the fact that they'd broken through the roof to cling perilously to the shingles, while around them surged the deadly sea of mud.
Miracles had happened. Some twenty or so people, living along the shoreline, had heard the roaring, thunderous approach of the slide and somehow managed to launch a few small boats which were found floating far out in the bay by Jor-El. Amongst these lucky few had been Li-Ying and her family, which had led to an emotional reunion between the esteemed cook and her employer.
But for all their successes, everyone knew the survival rates were low... and the super help had been invaluable. Thanks to Jor-El the living had been found more quickly and been transported with due haste to the waiting doctors, raising the odds that the more seriously injured casualties might recover.
Yet, as the rescue teams picked their hazardous way with great effort, deeper into the swathe of life-sucking sludge, dread mounted in all their hearts. Time was of the essence for all those still lost and time was passing too fast. The rising sun endorsed that painful fact, besides revealing the redesigned landscape in all its gory, harrowing detail to the tired eyes of the aid workers.
Momentarily, almost in synchronization, every shoulder slumped, every throat tightened and many shed tears, unaware. Even the super-powered Jor-El, returning from a trip to the makeshift hospital with the last of the 'boat' people, felt his resolve falter. Only he had seen the view from the air and the knowledge that the rescue effort was just too immense, hit him like a sledge-hammer. Surely anyone trapped under these acres of sodden earth and rock could no longer be alive and the prospect of pulling bodies from their unexpected graves almost broke his youthful spirit.
In the past few months, Jor-El had rescued people successfully from fires and road accidents. He'd landed a plane and had even attended a large train derailment in Europe. Quite a number of times, he'd even broken his mother's rules and stopped muggings and robberies. Yet on all those occasions he'd been assisted by competent, well-equipped emergency services and the police... not stuck in the middle of nowhere with exhausted and shell-shocked locals his only source of backup and advice. Perhaps his mother had been right and he was much too inexperienced for the superhero business?
No! Jor-El refused to think such negative thoughts. He had insisted on coming... and his mother had faith in him. Lois Lane wouldn't let herself be deterred by overwhelming odds, so neither would he. But what was he do to next? What would his father have done in these circumstances?
“Jor-El!” A husky voice cut through his downward-spiraling thoughts, a voice of authority, yet oddly compassionate. He turned towards the sound to see the man named Letour standing a few feet away, at the head of his small team of workers. The man looked exhausted, his soaking gray-streaked hair, disheveled and hanging over his face, his features and clothing indistinguishable beneath a thick coating of silt... yet it appeared he wasn't about to give up. “We have to keep moving. I know it hardly seems possible that anyone is still alive out there, but we have to search... and we really need you.”
“Yes, of course. I'm sorry. I just.... I....”
“Feel like nothing you can do will be enough?
The superhero nodded silently... tongue-tied; his forlorn figure wrapped in the cape, which no longer swished dramatically, but trailed from his shoulders like a dirty rag.
“It's not your fault, son.” Letour spoke gently, hardly realizing how he'd addressed Jor-El. “This all happened before you arrived. Believe me, you have made a difference. On our own, we might have found the odd survivor, but these people are alive tonight because of you. You've done the best you could and that's all anyone can expect. If it makes any difference, I've been proud to work alongside you.”
“Thank you.” Tears filled Jor-El's eyes, but he stood taller, his back stiffening. “But you're right, we have to keep going. Is there any specific thing you think I should do?”
“It's difficult to recognize the terrain with all this mud down here, but perhaps an aerial view would help. You have x-ray and telescopic vision, right?”
“I do.”
Letour walked closer, plodding steadily through the mire. “If my calculations are correct, I believe the shoreline continues north east from here. There are some more fishing cottages above the beach and the logging town is on the other side of the bay.” He pointed in the general direction of where his memory thought it to be. “If there's anyone left alive, you're the only one who can find them. It's a big responsibility, but I'm sure you can do it. Just take your time and once you find the lake edge, just follow it round and I'm certain you'll discover those houses.”
Jor-El nodded, his jangled nerves steadying, the sound of Letour's voice provoking a vague feeling of familiarity. Suddenly he believed he could do it. “North east, you say?”
“Yes, and not that far from here. We've only covered the main section of the village. Now that it's light enough, you and I can keep in touch visually. If you'd like my help.”
Letour was the type of guy who would help out a neighbor whenever he could, but he sensed this time his offer was strangely different... and he wasn't exactly sure why. He felt a strange affinity with Jor-El and he held his breath as he waited for an answer. After all, most people would believe that superheros didn't really need help from ordinary mortals, but in this case, it appeared he wasn't most people.
The mask covered a lot of Jor-El's face and, as with all the other rescuers, filthy mud did a good job of hiding the rest, yet his gratitude was clear. “I'd appreciate that very much. This stuff changes everything.... It's hard to get any picture of how things were.” Jor-el swept his hand over the barren wastes. “To tell the truth,” he said quietly but with engaging candor. “I'm not very experienced with disasters on this scale and I can use all the help I can get.”
Following the sweep of Jor-El's arm, Letour frowned and had to clear his throat before answering, but this time not because of the dirt he'd swallowed. “It's hard to believe, but this was once a beautiful place... a refuge from the outside world....” He shook himself. The time for recriminations and grieving would come later. Now they had to continue with their harrowing task and a shout in the background only emphasized that point.
“Hey, laddies, I've been on the radio tae Marje,” Mac picked his way slowly towards them, then addressed the superhero in particular. “If ye're sure there's no mair of the living left round these parts, Jor-El, then we should head for the loggers' town. Marje tells me that some of them lumberjacks hae radioed her. Seems they've managed tae get their haunds on a few mechanical excavators from beyond the slide and that's where they're headed. Those machines should manage tae travel farther than puir Genevieve, but the trouble is they're nae quite sure where tae go. It's no easy tae get yer bearings in aw this mud!”
“Just what we were discussing, Mac,” Letour said. “I told Jor-El to head north east. I'm sure he'll find the settlement and maybe even some fishing cottages.”
MacDonnell, studied the land in all directions around him. Now that dawn was breaking, revealing far off peaks and the broad waters of the lake, familiar landmarks lent him a better sense of direction. “Aye, Letour. I'd have tae agree with ye. Jor-El, ye fly off in that direction and when ye find something, ye can come back fer us. Meantime, we'll mak our way on foot.”
“Can I suggest something, Professor MacDonnell?” Jor-El still retained his ingrained manners; however, he continued without waiting for permission. “I doubt you'll get far walking and now I know where to look, it shouldn't take me so long. I think you'd best stay here and then I can fly you to where you're needed.”
“Aye, that wuid mak sense... and the name's Mac, by the by. I could do with a wee breather too. I'm no so young as I once was,” he said, the tiniest of grins breaking through his grim expression. Laughter didn't have much place in this terrible wilderness where so many had died.
“Jor-El, I'm assuming you could lift that boat we found with a rescue team inside it?” Letour asked, clearly thinking of the superhero landing the damaged plane in Australia. “You could transport us more quickly that way.”
“I could! Good idea, Mr Letour.” Jor-El realized he was beginning to hope again... to feel that perhaps they could snatch some more survivors from this miserable swamp, but he had to hurry. “Wait for me,” he instructed as he launched himself into the air, a new enthusiasm bubbling up within him.
*****
tbc
