34
The early afternoon sunlight glints off the spotless windows of the Lexor Hotel in downtown Metropolis, only a few blocks from the Planet. Hundreds of feet below me, tourists and other hotel patrons come and go through the hotel’s lavish entrance. A sleek black limousine pulls up to the curb, and a bellhop rushes forward to open the door. Lex Luthor, dressed in an expensive black business suit, steps out and slips on a pair of sunglasses. He is immediately flanked by two bodyguards, who clear the way for him to enter the building. From the safety of one thousand feet in the air, I watch Luthor traverse the hotel lobby, his cool confidence attracting the attention of everyone else in the room, and there is a collective pause of other movement and rustling as he strides through. He takes a private elevator up to the penthouse suite, a luxuriant space probably several times as large as my entire apartment. His bodyguards take up positions outside the suite’s entrance as he makes his way into the bedroom area and opens a small cigar box on the side table next to the bed. Despite the hotel’s no smoking policy, Luthor lights up his cigar and settles in a plush chair, crossing his legs. He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and dials a number, and then, with the cigar held between his teeth and one hand holding the phone, he reaches back into his pocket and removes a small black jewelry box.
“Nigel, set up the test for tonight,” he says into the phone. An evil smile grows on his lips as he opens the black box, revealing a dark titanium ring studded with small, glowing green gems. My stomach lurches, and I lose a bit of altitude. I quickly recover as his conversation continues. “Yes. Something he can’t ignore, with a lot of innocent lives in danger.”
Through the phone, I hear a British voice belonging to an older man. “I will take care of it, sir. You will not be disappointed.”
“Remember, Nigel, just a test. I don’t want to kill him… Yet.” Luthor turns the ring over in his fingers, studying the green stones. He then slips the ring onto his finger.
“Of course, sir.”
With a dry laugh, Luthor hangs up the phone and stands. He moves to a safe in the wall opposite the bed and inputs a numerical code into the security panel. I commit the numbers to memory and watch in horror as the door to the safe opens and a sickly green glow lights up his features. The contents of the lead-lined safe are now visible, and every muscle in my body tenses as he removes the huge chunk of kryptonite and twists it around, inspecting it carefully. He laughs again.
“Superman, Superman… You are not a god, and I shall show the world just how weak you actually are,” he sneers. He places the kryptonite back in the safe and locks it, effectively blocking my view of the deadly rock.
A knock comes at his door, and one of his bodyguards enters the room.
“Mr. Luthor, sir, a Ms. Mandy is here for your afternoon massage, sir.”
“Great, send her in. Thank you.” He settles on the edge of the bed, removes his suit jacket, and begins to undo the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt.
I’ve seen all I care to see. All I can stand to see, really.
I turn and head back toward the Planet, scanning the city below me as I fly. I have a couple hours until deadline, and I need to finish a write up on a story I’m working on about the Mayor’s re-election campaign and check in with Lois to see if she needs help finishing her story on the Metropolis Hilton. And I need to tell her about what I just witnessed.
I steady myself with a deep breath. This is yet another thing for me to worry about…and one more thing for her to have to worry about as well. I briefly consider not telling her; I can try to handle it on my own, after all, and Luthor even said the plan is not to kill me.
Ha.
No, I need to tell her. Maybe she can help me devise a strategy to steal the kryptonite—it is stealing really?—without getting caught or, you know, dying from exposure.
Lois. I land lightly on the roof of the Planet and pull my cell phone out of the hidden pocket in the suit—actually the only difference between my suits and the other Clark’s. He never carried his cell phone around with him, since being caught with Clark Kent’s cell phone could be suspicious, I suppose, so his suits don’t even have the hidden pocket. I don’t always keep the phone with me either. However, I’ve been bringing it with me the last few days in case Lois needed to get a hold of me in an emergency. I quickly dial her number, but she doesn’t answer, and after several rings, I hear her voicemail message. I hang up. I’ll plan to call her later.
I spin back into my work clothes and hurry down the stairwell.
35
The day quickly gets away from me, and before I know it, I’m rushing to finish my story and put the final details into Lois’s story for her before deadline, surreptitiously using a little bit of superspeed to type faster than I should. I get both stories submitted via email with just a few minutes to spare and then grab myself a cup of coffee and settle back at my desk to dig into some files on the Church Group that Jimmy had compiled for me.
My mind wanders as I read, however, and I find myself distracted as I listen across the city for her familiar heartbeat. Steady and regular. Good.
I lower my glasses and flip quickly through the file from Jimmy. Nothing stands out as terribly important, except maybe one large bank deposit. The size of the deposit itself was not that noteworthy; the Church Group frequently received large deposits from various sources. However, the payor is listed as Dynamont Ltd., which I remember is an obscure subsidiary of Luthor Corp., and the transaction occurred on the day before Cost-Mart announced its expansion into New York City. I highlight the transaction, snap a quick picture of it with my phone, and then send it to Lois with a short text.
“Looks a little suspicious to me. Can I stop by later to talk it through? Also have some info re: Luthor and the K.” I set the phone back on my desk and read through the files from Jimmy one more time. When nothing else grabs my attention, I switch gears a bit and open up a new document on my computer to start work on the memoir. My conversation with Sharon Anderson earlier had been fruitful; I can expect a contract to arrive here at the Planet tomorrow, and the first draft of the book will be due in three months, although I fully intend to have it completed well before then. I have a few ideas regarding the organization of the memoir, and so I start outlining the chapters and text.
Slowly, the newsroom clears out until I’m the only one left working. I glance at my watch—9 p.m.—and then check my phone again; still no text from Lois. I suppose no news should be good news, and since they had planned to finally sit and talk, it is possible she’d just turned off her cell phone. Regardless, I can’t shake the feeling that something is not quite right, and I frown with concern as I pick up the phone on my desk to give her a call. However, as I start dialing her number, my superhearing kicks on. I set the phone back down on the holder and stand abruptly as I listen.
“All units respond. Bomb threat at Metropolis High School gymnasium.”I freeze for a moment. Is this Luthor’s doing—his ‘test’ for me?
I shake my head and blink away the feeling of unease starting to grow in my chest. It doesn’t matter if this is his test. I will not allow more children to die.
I dash off to the stairwell and listen in to radio communications among police and the bomb squad as I spin into the suit, speed up the stairs, and jump up into the sky, heading north toward the high school. I extend my senses ahead of me to take in the situation. A basketball game was just about to end, but the gymnasium is now chaotic. School officials have gathered everyone in the middle of the gymnasium, away from the doors, but the large group is frantic; parents push through the crowd to find their children, and staff valiantly but unsuccessfully attempt to keep everyone calm.
I quickly scan the room and find three powerful explosives—one rigged to each set of doors. I land lightly near several police vehicles parked outside the gymnasium as I scan the bombs in more detail. They have the same trigger mechanism as was used for the two bombs at the Empire State building last week; presumably, the three bombs are connected, just as the other two had been.
Police Chief Adams jogs over to me, his face twisted in a grimace.
“Superman, thank goodness you’re here,” he says, relief evident in his voice.
“Please tell me what you know. I see three bombs with a connected trigger mechanism,” I reply tersely. I continue scanning the room, doing my due diligence and looking for glowing green rocks or shady-looking lead-lined boxes.
“That’s correct, Superman,” he answers. “We got an anonymous call reporting the bombs 5 minutes ago. They said the bombs are rigged to explode at 9:15, unless the doors are disturbed, in which case, they will explode immediately.”
“That leaves us, what, ten minutes? What if I go in through the windows? Can I evacuate everyone without setting off the bombs?” I ask as I meticulously inspect the windows for other triggers. I see nothing suspicious.
“There was no mention by the caller of the windows being rigged,” he replies. “Annabeth!”
A woman about in her late forties jumps out of the back of a van parked nearby and jogs over to us. She stops in front of Adams and nods to me.
“Superman asked whether he can evacuate everyone through the windows.”
Annabeth turns to me, her expression intense.
“All indications from our infrared analysis indicate that the bombs can be triggered by the doors being disrupted. Can you see any sensors on the windows themselves?”
“No, ma’am, there is nothing I recognize as any sort of sensor on any of the windows,” I answer immediately. “And I’ve seen these same explosives before, last week at the Empire State Building. The bombs were connected to each other, and the perpetrators had a trigger with them.” My stomach drops. “If they are watching and trigger the bombs while I’m attempting to evacuate, it could be disastrous.”
Another sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach hits me, and I scan the crowd inside the gym again. One older gentleman standing in the middle of the crowd is on his cell phone, looking quite undisturbed by the situation. I focus in on his voice for a moment and immediately recognize him as the ‘Nigel’ whom Luthor had been speaking with earlier that day. He is on the phone with Luthor now, and he indicates to Luthor that he knows I’m outside. I narrow my eyes. He’s wearing a ring exactly like the one Luthor had—a black titanium band studded with several small chunks of the deadly green glowing rock. So this is his ‘test’… The situation just got more complex.
Maybe.
I look down a moment as I try to process this new information. He wouldn’t kill himself, would he? So the bombs may be decoys. I inspect them again. Ah ha.
“The bombs are duds,” I say confidently. The police chief stares at me with disbelief, and Annabeth’s eyes widen. “Can I have a paper and pencil? I’ll show you.”
A moment later, I’ve drawn a detailed diagram of each of the bombs, similar to the drawings I made at the Empire State Building. However, each of these bombs is missing an important wire connecting the trigger mechanism to the actual explosive unit; the bombs will not activate.
“Wow, you’re correct then, Superman,” Annabeth confirms as she studies my diagram. “What an elaborate ruse they created here. But why?”
I turn to Police Chief Adams. “There is a man inside whom I recognize as an associate of a dangerous and very powerful criminal. I believe this ruse is an attempt to test me in some way, sir, and this man is connected, although I have no proof of it at this time.”
He raises his eyebrows at me, but I simply cross my arms over my chest and turn back to the gymnasium.
“Just to be safe, Superman, do you think you can dispose of the three bombs quickly, and then we can evacuate the building, similar to how you handled the Empire State Building situation? And you can apprehend this man so we can interrogate him.”
I hesitate. The kryptonite chunks in Nigel’s ring are fairly small, and if I move carefully, I should be able to stay a safe distance away while disposing of the bombs. And I haven’t found any other kryptonite anywhere else in the gymnasium. But I’m wary, nonetheless, and I don’t know how I can arrest Nigel without risking exposure. I swallow hard. In our conversations the last few days, Lois had mentioned that only a few people know of the effects of kryptonite on me; the police chief is not one of these people. How can I explain my reluctance?
“That should work,” I say, trying to project confidence into my voice. They are not trying to kill me—yet—I recall. They are just testing me, probably testing the effects of the kryptonite on me. So I’ll be fine. Really. Right? I step forward and plan my path. The bombs are rigged on the inside of each door, so I will need to enter the gymnasium first, remove each of the bombs from each of the three sets of doors, and then discard the bombs, maybe out into space, where they can do no harm to anyone in case there’s some other mechanism that could set them off.
Before I can chicken out, I take a deep breath, nod to Adams and Annabeth, and launch myself toward the gym at a good speed. I enter in through a window on the west side of the gym, as far away from Nigel as I can get. Continuing at a pace that is probably not quite the speed of light, I zip around the gym, carefully but efficiently grabbing each of the three bombs off the doors, and then fly back out the window. As I shoot upwards, away from the crowds gathered at the edges of the police barriers, toward the dark emptiness of space, I let out the breath I’d been holding. The kryptonite hadn’t affected me from that far away.
Slowing to normal speed, I toss the three explosives out into space, away from any satellites, and then turn and head back toward the school. As I land, Police Chief Adams directs his officers to begin escorting the students, staff, and families out, and a general commotion can be heard from inside the gym, where everyone is just now realizing what happened.
I start toward the gymnasium with several officers, narrowing my focus to the man known as Nigel, who now pushes toward the exit along with the other two hundred or so people in the group. A piercing pain in my head suddenly stops me in my tracks, however, and I double over and fall to my knees as my vision goes blurry and the pain radiates throughout my body. I groan as every inch of my body seems to burn, and my energy is completely sapped. I try to steady myself and stand back up, but I stumble, and my hands hit the pavement, scraping the ground as I catch myself from falling completely. Muffled voices nearby call my name, and several hands grip my shoulders and hoist me up. I wobble a bit, but whoever is holding me up supports me and keeps me on my feet.
Then, as swiftly as it came, the severe painful sensation suddenly fades.
“Superman, are you okay?”
I force my eyes open and recognize Police Chief Adams, who stands in front of me, concern etched across his sharp features. The two officers holding me up move away as I straighten up and nod mutely. My body still aches, but the stabbing, severe pain is gone.
“Sorry about that, sir. I’m fine,” I manage, attempting to project strength into my voice. I quickly glance around the area; however, an intense wave of nausea hits me, and I immediately regret the move. I almost stagger again, but manage to catch myself. I don’t see anyone suspicious leaving the scene, but my vision is still fuzzy. I take a deep breath to help steady myself, and then look around again, testing out my superpowers. Nothing. No vision gizmo, no superhearing, nada. Great.
Next to me, Adams motions to the two officers with us to go help with the evacuation. He then addresses me uneasily. “What happened there, Superman?”
“I’m not sure,” I lie. I must maintain the façade of the powerful superhero; I force myself to stand up straight and cross my arms over my chest. He doesn’t need to know that I’m completely powerless. He also doesn’t need to know that there is most likely a deadly rock somewhere nearby that can incapacitate me and even kill me.
Through the haze created by the kryptonite, my mind tries to connect the dots, and I realize that either Nigel was a distraction—that is, they knew I was expecting him—or they had a backup plan. I hadn’t expected someone out in the crowd or a part of the emergency crew to be carrying kryptonite, and I had neglected to scan outside of the gymnasium. I shudder involuntarily. I should have been more careful.
I turn back toward the gymnasium. I cannot see Nigel now among the sea of evacuees exiting the building. Dammit. Overcome by an urgent need to get away from all these people, any of whom may be Luthor’s agent carrying some form of kryptonite, I quickly add, “I, uh, think you have it handled here now, and I’m needed elsewhere, so I should get going.”
“Of course, Superman. Thank you again for your assistance,” Adams says. He offers his hand for me to shake, and I reciprocate the gesture and nod. He then advances toward the building to help his officers.
I disappear into the shadows of a nearby alleyway, thankful that no one notices me amidst all the commotion, and the last of my energy seems to seep out of me. I lean heavily against the wall, my head and body aching, and I close my eyes as weakness and nausea overtake me.
God, how am I going to get home, I wonder. I again test out my superpowers, and again, I find that nothing seems to be working. There is no sunlight to help my energy return right now, or I’d probably already have my powers back after such a short exposure. I force myself to take slow, deep, deliberate breaths to stave off the anxiety growing in my chest.
At once, I feel his presence with me, and several questions are interjected into my consciousness.
“What happened? Where are you? Are you okay?” There is an element of panic to his voice, and I fear he may have been a victim as well, my pain transmitting to him. Trembling, I push myself back to my feet, using the wall for support.
Sorry if I—there was kryptonite, I communicate to him. My thoughts are jumbled, and I struggle to form complete sentences to respond to his questions.
Luthor testing me. Bomb threat at high school. I’m okay, but no powers. Could use a ride. I sense his alarm, but a moment later, he responds with a quick,
“We’re on our way. Be there in five minutes.” Thank you. I lean my back against the wall again, close my eyes, and allow myself to slide down to the ground, giving in to the extreme exhaustion I feel. I wrap my cape around myself, shielding my now-vulnerable body from the cold night.
After a few minutes, his voice echoes in my head again.
“We are nearby. Where are you?” I take another deep breath and open my eyes, immediately regretting the decision as the world seems to spin around me. However, I manage to struggle to my feet and stumble toward the road.
I’m here. Not helpful, I realize, and so I focus enough to project a vision of my location to him. There is a bookstore visible across the street, which may help, so I concentrate on that while limping slowly along the edge of the wall. Just a few more feet.
I hear a quick,
“Gotcha,” and see headlights approaching. I hold onto the wall as I glance around the corner. Down the street toward the high school, lights from emergency vehicles flash, and helicopters fly above, their spotlights shining down on the crowds congregating around the building. The bright lights hurt my eyes, however, and I quickly look away as Lois pulls the Jeep up along the curb. I let go of the wall and stumble toward the car, and Clark hops out of the passenger’s seat to help me, his arm looping around my waist.
Thank you. I can’t seem to speak, but I communicate my gratitude to him telepathically as he opens the door to the backseat and helps me into the car. And then I collapse across the seats and close my eyes.
36
Throbbing pain. My limbs feel like lead—heavy, unmovable. And when I open my eyes, the world swims. I don’t remember the effects of kryptonite lingering like this. Granted, I’d only had one exposure before. But this… It was not like this.
Lois stops her car outside my apartment, and I break the silence with a groan as I sit up. From the front seat, Lois shuts off the car, and Clark glances up and down the street before opening up his door and hopping out. Lois follows, and a moment later, they are offering to help me get out of the car. I wave both of them off; I can walk by myself now, right? It was just a very brief exposure. I should be fine by now. Right?
But as soon as I try to stand, my legs shake and give out, and I grab the side of the car to stop myself from falling.
I guess I’m not fine.
“Here, let me help you,” Clark offers, stepping over toward me.
“I should—I shouldn’t need help b-by now,” I object. However, I allow him to support me, and we make our way slowly up the steps to the apartment. Each step drains me, and I lean on him more as we reach the top of the stairs. “S-sorry,” I mumble. Even that small effort hurts, and my chest begins to burn with each breath.
Lois hurries ahead of us and unlocks the door, then holds it open while we limp through. Once into the apartment, Clark helps me over to the couch, where I lie down, and Lois turns on some of the lights and locks the door behind us. My eyes are squeezed shut now, and any movement exacerbates the nausea I feel and the pounding in my head.
“Why is it getting worse?” I blurt out, my hands trembling as I bring them up to cover my eyes.
A small hand rests on my forehead for a moment, and then I hear Lois stand back up and whisper to Clark. I can’t hear what she’s saying, however, and a strange sense of unease washes over me. I force my eyes open, ignoring the stabbing pain at the base of my skull, and turn my head slightly toward where they both stand. Clark has his arm around her shoulders, and they both stare at me expectantly.
Had they asked me something?
I shake my head, which is a bad idea; the room dances around me, lights swirling and stars jumping around in front of my eyes. I groan again and close my eyes.
“What’s happening? I-I haven’t felt this before.”
Again, I feel her hand on my forehead. This time, it lingers, brushing back my hair, which has fallen out of place. I hear her voice, but she sounds far away. The words are fuzzy, and I only make out random syllables and phrases.
“…kryptonite…melt…lasts long…hours…”
What? I don’t mean to communicate with him, but he hears my confusion.
“Lois said they have Superman’s medical files, so they will know this. When kryptonite is melted down and then resolidified, even a short exposure hits hard. The effects will last for a few hours, and it will get much worse before it gets better. I was exposed like this once.” I feel him push away the memory, intent on not sharing it with me, and for that I’m thankful.
Great. I hear muffled voices that I can’t make out. And even with my eyes closed and lying flat on my back on the couch, the room feels like it’s spinning. Lois’s hand moves from my forehead to my shoulder.
“She says she’s sorry she missed your calls earlier. And that we’ll stay here as long as you need us.” He hesitates and then admits,
“For me, the exposure was very brief, and the effects lasted about ten hours. I tried to sleep it off, but sleep is hard when everything hurts.” Ten hours.
Wonderful.
Please, tell her she doesn’t need to apologize. Pain.
I screw my eyes shut tighter and curl over onto my side.
God. This is the worst.Lois’s hand leaves my shoulder, but then returns a moment later. “…bedroom…more comfortable…”
Again, I only seem to be able to understand a few of her words, but I get the gist, and I force out a single-word response. “’K.” I try to push myself up, but I’m much too weak. “I-I can’t…”
“Let us help.” Pain rips through my abdomen and chest as I’m first pushed up into a sitting position and then hoisted to my feet. I feel Lois on my left and Clark on my right, and together, they haul me through the living room and to the bedroom. The pain intensifies more, and I collapse onto the bed with relief as my vision blurs again.
“Thank you.”
“Just rest now,” Lois says quietly. This time, I hear her voice, soft and kind. Someone slips my boots off, and a blanket is laid gently over me. I feel her hand caress my cheek. And then I lose consciousness.
