5
Death is warm and bright. But painful.
Intense, overwhelming pain.
Unrelenting.
There is no sense of time. Just pain.
Then, I see a glimpse of her face. Her smile, compassionate and beautiful. She tilts her head slightly.
“I’m usually right about things.” Yes, you are, Lois.
Pain. Radiating from my chest. And reaching every cell in my body.
At least I’m warm. Almost comfortably warm.
Like my mother’s hugs. And her freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Her voice invites me to visit. And I see a memory. Mom stands next to me on the front porch. It is the day that I left for New Krypton. My new black suit feels heavy and itchy. Mom hugs me, filling me with love and warmth.
“I know this was a tough decision, and I understand why you have to leave. But promise me, Clark, that you will come back home to me.” I wrap my arms around her to steady myself. I will not let her see my uncertainty. I lean down and place a gentle kiss on her cheek.
“I will, Mom.” Promises broken. Intense aching and darkness.
Blood. Spilt on the dry, dusty earth by my own hands. I have let them all down. I hate myself. So much.
Pain.
More blood. Bodies on the ground below me. My sword stabbing, slicing, slashing.
Terrible. I am awful. An awful person. No, not even a person. A monster. I deserve this death.
My chest aches.
Then warmth and brightness return. Surrounding me. And I see her face again. She is looking into my eyes, smiling. Her eyes are so kind. So full of love. My own love for her pulses through me. I want to hug her. Instead, I’m pulled into another memory. I stand behind her at her desk, my hands resting on her shoulders. She is typing. I move one hand to the back of her chair and lean over toward her computer screen.
“It should read ‘A spokesperson for the FBI’ here.” She gives me a crooked smile and swats at me before resuming her typing.
“Don’t edit my copy, Kent, you know better.” I feel a familiar tug in my stomach as my hands settle back on her shoulders. God, I love this woman. I bend over behind her, brushing my lips lightly against her cheek. She shivers at my touch.
“Okay,” I say as I kiss her again.
“But you know when I do edit your copy, we usually get out of here a lot quicker. And there’s a few things I can think of that I’d much rather be doing right now.” Her heart races as I brush a stray lock of her hair back, my fingers grazing the soft skin of her neck. With a smirk, she repositions her cursor and corrects the error that I’d pointed out. I rub her shoulders.
“Mmm, better now,” I whisper in her ear, my lips again brushing her cheek.
A fog fills the room, and my vision darkens.
No. Please don’t fade away. Lois.
Pain.
I shift. My chest burns. Where am I? Oh, right. I’m dead.
Death is warmer and brighter than I expected.
But the pain. It fills me. Is time passing? I don’t even know. It just all hurts. So much.
I am briefly Superman again. I hover over Metropolis. It is my Metropolis. I recognize it instantly. I listen out beyond the city, sounds bombarding my sensitive ears. The world is chaotic. War is breaking out. Sirens blare. People lash out at one another. As though they have forgotten hope.
Darkness and pain. And then, I am flying over an open ocean. Ahead of me, across the water, I sense explosions, screaming, and confusion.
Wait. I’m not me. I mean, he’s not me. He’s him. The other me.
Confusion and pain course through me.
But then, the brightness and warmth surrounding me provide a small amount of comfort.
What is happening? Who is he?
Again, I hear sounds of senseless death. Civilians and children are in danger. No. They cannot die. Too many have already died.
Whoever he is, I feel his thoughts, and I communicate with him.
Help them all, I tell him.
Help them all.And then darkness enshrouds me again as I feel him acknowledge my words and race off toward the conflict.
Her beautiful smile brings me back to the brightness and warmth. Ah, yes, death is okay with her here. She smiles at me. I must have said something funny. Something about not jinxing it. Oh, right. Superman has had the day off. Her laugh fills my ears. I want to hear her laugh again. Maybe if I say it again. Say it again. Say it.
“Don’t jinx it.” That’s right. Her face falls into a frown. Why isn’t she laughing now? She’s upset. What did I do? Lois?
Darkness and pain.
You did it wrong. You can’t make her upset. You, you other me. I see the bullpen at the Planet. Yes, through his eyes. She walks ahead of him. You, you other me. You hurt her. He stops and grabs the railing. Pain engulfs me, and I’m back on New Krypton, a glistening black blade pressing into my chest. It pushes deeper. Are you feeling this too, other me? I should be there with her, not you. But I failed. I failed. Despite all I did. All the deaths at my hands. God, I’m terrible. Anger fills me. The tip of the sword disappears into my chest, blood oozing down the front of my tunic. Pain and anger. It is my fault she is upset. Not his. It’s mine. I failed. And now she is alone. My chest throbs. Her soft voice echoes in my head.
“Clark, are you okay?” No, Lois, I’m dead. I’m sorry. God, I hate myself. Blood spills on the ground in front of me as I stab my sword into a faceless enemy. Rage. Overwhelming, seething rage.
“Kal, please, stop!” His voice trembles in my head. My anger dissipates into exhaustion. And the brightness fades. I am cold and isolated. And I cannot feel her. She is gone.
Death is no longer bright and warm.
No. This Death is Hell. And I deserve it.
I reach out to empty space. I cannot feel her. How much time passes? Does time pass in death?
Then, echoing of loud gunshots. Children screaming. Through his eyes, this other me, I see children crying. Injuries inflicted by an assault rifle. I feel his pain now mixed with my own. Grief. Intense and overwhelming. Superman is not fast enough. He is not fast enough. I was not fast enough. A car wreck—a silver hatchback that flipped over five times before landing upright against the median—my cape wrapping around the lifeless body of a three-year-old girl with a broken neck as I pull her out of her car seat. Panic as my mind races—how can I get them all out? I am not fast enough. The explosion. Fire. Rubble. Dead bodies. My fault. I’m not fast enough. Hot flames dancing around me as I step through what used to be a doorway. I kneel down, trembling. She didn’t make it. The woman is dead. I lift her slowly, ash falling from the burning roof above me and onto her unmoving face. I am too slow. Pulling a school bus out of the river—the bodies of twenty-one children shifting as the dirty water drains from the bus. Failure. I failed them. I failed at it all. Not fast enough.
“Whatever you can do, it’s enough.”Lois.
I feel her hand on my arm. I see her kind, beautiful smile. I feel the warmth of her arms wrapping around me. Soft words whispered into my ear.
“You are enough.” I cry into her shoulder. The warmth and brightness returns.
Lois.
Thank you.
My chest aches. It is warm and bright here. But still, the pain. I cannot escape it.
Why is there so much pain?
I groan as a black blade slips through my sternum and pierces my heart. My own thoughts echo.
I can’t die here. No, no, no. Lois, I love you.
Lois, I love you. It is warm, but I slip into darkness.
Her voice brings me back to the light.
“Better hurry.” Hurry, Lois? But it’s warm and comfortable here. Why hurry? I miss you. Her eyes smile at me. God, I miss you. She grins at me.
Wait.
Not me. Him.
And her tongue darts out of her mouth. Chocolate? He knows to feed her chocolate. What else does he know? Lois, I’m here.
“Not now, Kal.” What?
Darkness. My chest aches now. The pain grows more intense.
Lois, where did you go? The shower. Lois in the shower. Hmm. Water droplets sliding down smooth skin. Her lips smiling against my chest. My fingers tracing down her back. Now she is dry and clothed. And beautiful. Her smile. I love her smile.
Lois, I love you.
“I know.” You do know. She moves toward me and reaches out to straighten my tie. My tie? No, his tie. Lois, he’s not me. You know that, right, Lois?
“Be careful.” Why is she sad? Hugs fix everything. Please, you, you other me. A hug will help her. I feel the hug. Even though it’s him, not me. I feel her body pressed against mine. Her head on my chest. I rub her back. Her hair smells of strawberries.
He tells her something. He tells her she is incredible and strong. I feel his words. He loves her. But she cries into him. No. She shouldn’t cry. I hate to see her cry. It’s my fault. Please, other me, don’t let her cry.
Why is she crying? I hate to see her sad. Please, Lois, don’t cry. Tell her that. Tell her I love her. Tell her not to cry. Please.
“Please, Lois, don’t cry.” Her arms tighten around his waist. I feel the embrace. Warmth and brightness envelop me. I love you, Lois. She looks up at me. At him. The tears on her cheeks, wipe them away. I want to feel her, please. Her skin is soft, and her lips—inviting. I want to kiss her. I miss her lips. He backs away.
My vision darkens, and I feel cold.
Where did she go? Anxiety tugs at my gut. I’m dead, I remember. I died. But he is there with her. And he loves her. He should be taking care of her. She should not be crying. I reach out to him.
Is she okay? Tell me she is okay. She should not be crying. Disbelief. He knows I am dead. But he replies.
“She is okay. She is strong.” Relief. And exhaustion.
And again into darkness. Where did the bright go? The warmth? Is it still here? Where am I? Oh, right, I’m dead. So does that mean I’m nowhere?
Mom. I’m sorry, Mom. I promised you. And I failed.
I see her. Through his eyes. She is crying. I’ve caused them all so much pain.
Stupid me.
Stupid death.
Mom, I’m so sorry. Her arms embrace me. Such a warm, comforting hug. Please don’t ever let go. This is better now. Mom, I’m so sorry.
“Clark, it’s good to see you again, honey.” You too, Mom. I miss you so much. An apple orchard stretches out around us. I shoulder my backpack. She smiles at me, holding an apple to her nose. I feel her love, and I smile back at her as she takes my hand.
“I love you, Clark. I’m so proud of you.”
“I love you too, Mom.” Comforting, warm hugs.
Back at the kitchen table. What? Lois’s apartment. Yes, that’s it. Mom is sad again. Why is she sad? It’s my fault. Please, other me. Please, tell her that I love her.
“He loved you so much. Your support and encouragement helped him grow into the man he became, and he was grateful every day for everything you and Mr. Kent did for him. Everything that he did was because of you.” That’s right. Thank you, other me. You understand. Your mom must be amazing like mine.
So tired now. Death is exhausting. I allow the darkness to embrace me. Almost like falling asleep this time. I still feel warm. But it hurts. Everywhere.
Now we’re flying. Alone out over the open ocean. I miss the ocean. He is anxious. The world wants to be at war. But he wants peace.
Every life saved.
No compromising.
He is a good Superman. Not like me.
Save my world for me. Stop this war. Please.
“I will do my best, Kal. I will do my best.”Exhaustion.
Pain is overwhelming. But at least again it is bright and warm.
I shift around in the brightness. Are my eyes open? Can my eyes be open in death? It is so bright. Everything is pure light around me. And so warm. My fingers curl into a ball. I can feel them. When did my fingers come back? The aching in my chest grows. I try to move my arm but it feels so heavy. So heavy. So tired.
“Lois… I’m so sorry.” Lois. He’s sorry. About what? She is sad. And lonely. He touches her shoulders. I can feel her soft skin under his fingers. He hugs her, and she cries. He is confused.
“Whatever you need, Lois. If you need me to move away. Just tell me.” No, please don’t do that, other me. I need you to be near her.
“No, you can’t leave. I need you.” I need you too, Lois. God, I love you.
Please, let me touch her.
I need to feel her.
I need it.
The pain in my chest is amplified as I force myself into his body. I hear his rattled thoughts echoing distantly in my head, but I block him out.
I stand next to her now, my hand cupping her cheek. So soft. So beautiful. I slide my hands down her bare arms. She is cold. I can warm her. My hands glide back up to her shoulders again, and I then wrap my right arm around her waist. She is pliant and willing, and I pull her in close to me, her hips pressing up against mine. My Lois. I stroke her cheek with my left hand, reveling in the familiar feel of her smooth skin under my fingers.
Lois. My lovely Lois. God, I’ve missed you.Briefly, I hear his panicked thoughts, but he is distant still.
“No, no, no!” But all I want is a kiss. One kiss. I’ve missed her so much.
I lean in toward her, and our lips meet, gently. So warm. I press her up against me tighter, feeling the warmth spread through my body. She invites me in, her tongue tracing my lips, and I gladly part for her. I feel his thoughts again.
“Incredible.” Yes, she is. Thank you for letting me have this moment with her. I taste her. Coffee. Mmmm. I’ve missed coffee too.
“No, no! What is happening?” Don’t worry, other me. I just need this kiss. This wonderful kiss. Lois, I’ve missed you so much. She deepens the kiss this time, and a quiet moan escapes her as I again explore her mouth with my tongue. Mmm, chocolate too. Lois, you taste good.
God, this feels good. Yes. It does.
“No. This is wrong. Kal, please stop!” I hear him stronger now, but I push him away. Just give me one more minute. It’s been so long. And I miss her so much. I love her.
God, the pain. My chest throbs. And I’m so tired. No, I can’t leave her now.
Both of my arms tighten around her waist now, and she moans again as her arms move up and around my neck. Her breasts press into my chest, and her hips… Mmm. Her fingers in my hair. Oh, God. More, I need more of her. I pull her against me.
This is better.
The best feeling.
“This is wrong. Kal! Clark! You’re not here—get out of my head!” His voice is loud in my head now. I’m not here? But I am here. Aren’t I?
No, wait. No, don’t…
I am far away from her now. Across the room.
No, wait.
I’m dead.
I’m not here. He’s here.
No. I just need… I need her. Lois, please, come back.
Pain explodes in my chest. And I’m so tired. So exhausted.
The room spins, fog rolling in and blocking the brightness. She fades away. But his thoughts still echo in my head, and I can almost hear her. Maybe if I try really hard.
“Lois, God, I’m so sorry. That wasn’t me.”
“No. It was him.” She knows. They know.
Oh, God, the pain. Why is it so much worse?
I feel him with me, a presence, stronger than any telepathic connection I’ve had in the past. He is so confused. He feels me too.
And he feels the pain.
But he is confused. He thinks I’m alive.
I’m not alive.
I’m dead.
Aren’t I?
I hear him talking to her, echoing his jumbled thoughts. He stammers a lot. I don’t do that.
“L-Lois, w-w-what did they do w-with—with…his…body?” My body? I’m dead. Why does that matter?
Lois is confused too. He asks her again.
A stabbing pain in the middle of my chest pulses through me, and I hear myself groan.
There is sound here, in death?
Am I…am I not dead?
“The Sun. They took him to the Sun.”The brightness around me seems to pulse, as though saying, “Yes, that’s right. I’m the Sun.” The Sun? The brightness and warmth.
Isn’t this Death?
I feel him again. He is reaching out to me. How?
Something is not right. I’m supposed to be dead. Am I not dead? Am I not…? I don’t understand. Dammit, please, can you please help me understand?
Please help me, I think again, this time using all of my strength to send him the message.
He knows. He thinks I’m not dead. He has heard my heart beating. In the Sun.
“God.” I feel myself drifting away now. The brightness fades. Pain engulfs me. No. Please help me. Other me. Other Clark.
He is closer now. He feels the Sun’s power. It is warm, isn’t it? I thought it was Death. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’m somehow not dead.
Please help me.
God, it hurts more. I feel darkness coming again. No. I don’t want the dark. Please. But it consumes me.
He is here. I feel him. Pain. It hurts. I groan. Please help me.
I want to speak to him, but no words will come.
I want to see him, but all I see is brightness.
A hand touches my shoulder. I’m sorry, Lois. I died somehow. Nor’s blade thrusts into my chest, and the pain is immense. I stagger and fall backwards onto the hard ground. I cannot breathe. I tried, Lois. Please forgive me.
It is dark and cold. And I drift away.
6
I suck in a deep breath of air, and pain radiates from my chest as my lungs fill. Exhaling is equally as painful. But I’m breathing. I’m breathing. I remember the last time I’d tried to breathe, after Nor’s sword had pierced through me—the disconcerting feeling of a weight on my chest and my lungs unable to fill with air. How is it that I can breathe now? Where am I?
“Urgh.” I think I made that sound. I cough a little, and the pain becomes so intense that I feel nauseous. I take another deep breath.
My hands grip a familiar soft material that is wrapped around me, and I feel a solid but forgiving surface beneath me. A mattress maybe. I need to see. I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids feel so heavy. And my chest hurts so much.
“Shhh,” a quiet voice next to me soothes. I recognize the voice.
“Lois?” My own voice is hoarse and raspy. I force my eyes open. Dim light filters in, but I see her outline through it. She sits next to me, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. I close my eyes again as a dull aching grows in my head. “Lois.”
“Shhh, yes, it’s me, my love,” she answers. I feel her hand on my forehead, brushing against my skin.
“First freeze the fuel rods. Right.”What? Fuel rods?
Oh. The other me. The other Clark. He is also Superman.
I open my eyes again. It is not quite as painful this time. I focus for a moment on Lois’s hand, gently caressing my forehead. I’m home. I inhale again—sweet, sweet, wonderful air—and I block the telepathic connection I have with this other me, this other Superman, who is apparently trying to freeze some fuel rods.
“Lois,” I say again. I swallow with the effort of using my voice. How long has it been since I’ve spoken? “Lois.” The word sounds so good, so right.
She laughs quietly and then leans over and kisses my forehead. “Clark.”
No one has called me that in a long time.
Ignoring the pain in my chest and the heaviness of my limbs, I push myself up into a sitting position. My vision swims, and I close my eyes. Maybe a bad idea. I should lie back down. That would be better. And she agrees with me. I feel her carefully pressing her hands into my shoulders.
“Just lie down, sweetheart,” she instructs.
“But I want to hug you,” I argue weakly. My voice still sounds foreign, and the effort it takes to sit up is draining. I allow her to help me lie back down on the soft bed. The material that had been wrapped around me—a bright red cape embroidered with a yellow ‘S’ shield representing the House of El—falls off my shoulders, and cold begins to seep into me. I shiver. As though she’d anticipated this, Lois reaches over to the end of the bed and pulls a soft white comforter up, draping it lightly over me. The slight pressure of the blanket is calming, and I close my eyes a moment. She presses her lips to my forehead again.
“I’m alive? I’m…The other me, the other Clark—he is…?” My question isn’t fully formed. Her hand strokes my cheek, distracting me.
“It’s a long story,” she replies quietly. I feel the bed move as she shifts next to me.
“I’ve got time,” I say reflexively. I don’t actually know if I have time. I don’t really know what’s going on. I look up at her, swallowing as our eyes meet. God, she is beautiful. I don’t care if I’m alive or dead, as long as she is here. I reach up with a heavy arm, and my fingers brush back a strand of her hair. My hand shakes badly. I feel so weak. She smiles at me. That helps a bit.
“Right now, he’s in Japan—something about a nuclear reactor meltdown, he said.”
“Ah, fuel rods, right.”
Her brow furrows in confusion, but she continues her brief explanation of my doppelganger. “He’s from an alternate universe,” she starts. She shifts almost uncomfortably, her features contorting for a moment as though she realizes the absurdity of what she’s about to tell me. “He was brought here by H.G. Wells shortly after you died. This world needed a Superman. It was really bad after you left.”
“H.G. Wells… The dead writer?” My head hurts.
She nods. “I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true. He’s not actually dead, and he can travel through time and across interdimensional boundaries. He brought Clark from an alternate universe in which New Krypton didn’t exist.”
Alternate universes. Time travel. Other Supermen. And zombie me, returning from the dead. How unreal.
Lois gives me a half-smile, as though she knows what I’m thinking. “It’s crazy, I know. I didn’t believe it at first either.”
I screw my eyes shut briefly as I try to wrap my head around it all. But I’m so tired, and I feel sleep tugging at me. One nagging thought bothers me, however, and I ask her quietly, “This other Clark, he didn’t mind leaving his world?” It seems outrageous to me, after all. How could he leave his friends, family, job, life—drop it all and come here, to help a world he doesn’t know for a man he’d never expect to meet? My jaw tightens as I realize I’d basically done the same thing when I’d gone off to New Krypton. Stupid sense of moral obligation to help those in need. It had gotten me killed.
“His world was…different,” she says carefully. I wait for her to explain, but she doesn’t. Her eyes study mine for another moment, and the small smile on her lips fades. “He’s been busy as Superman—much busier than you were. The world…it got really messy,” she repeats, and her eyes fall to my chest, now covered by the white comforter.
I remember the brief vision I’d had where he’d been flying across the ocean toward a growing conflict with a lot of civilian casualties. And another where he’d been thinking of how to stop a war and bring peace. The world had indeed gotten messy when I’d been gone. A wave of gratitude washes over me. He cares so much about my world and the people in it, including my Lois. He is a good Superman; I know this instinctively, even though I don’t really know him at all.
I exhale as a sharp pain pulses at the front of my forehead, and I close my eyes and clear my throat. My short-term memory is terrible, as usual, and I question again to remind myself, “And right now, he’s in Japan, stopping a nuclear reactor from melting down?”
“Yes. He left maybe thirty minutes ago,” she answers. Her hand once again brushes against my forehead, and I lean slightly into her touch. I thought I’d never feel this again. God, Lois, I missed you so much.
I should thank him.
I reach out telepathically and immediately sense him. He is working diligently, blowing freezing air on the containment unit of the nuclear reactor while also using his heat vision to weld the cracked reactor vessel. A complicated repair. He is quite skilled with his powers.
I struggle for a moment with what to say to him. But once I start, the words come easily.
You brought me home to her. There are no words to express my gratitude. The best I can do for now is thank you, Clark. I look forward to meeting you when you get back from Japan.Although he continues working attentively, he manages to respond with short, simple sentences.
“You’re welcome. And I look forward to meeting you as well.” His words are sincere, but his tone is carefully controlled and a bit guarded. Understandable.
I open my eyes again. Lois is leaning over me, watching me curiously. A single tear moves slowly down her cheek. With effort, I reach up and wipe it away. My hand then moves to her shoulder and around her back, and I press gently into her. I need a hug, please, Lois. She understands, and very carefully, she lowers herself over me, propping up on her elbows so her weight doesn’t rest on my chest. But I want her to be closer; I don’t care about the pain. I move both of my arms to wrap around her and then pull her into me. Three months. Plus whatever time I was dead. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve held her like this. I tighten my arms even more, and her body shakes as she lets out a sob, her head burying into the crook of my neck.
“I love you,” I whisper, my eyes closing. “I love you, so much, Lois.”
“God, Clark, I missed you,” she whimpers in response. Her tears wet my shoulder.
I’m so tired again, and I feel myself fading out of consciousness. I don’t want to leave her. But I’m so tired. I try to speak again. My words are jumbled, even in my thoughts.
“Tired now, sorry, Lois,” I mumble. Her hand strokes the side of my face, and I feel her lips on mine. I try to respond, but I don’t have the energy.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” Her voice is so comforting, soft, assured. “Just rest, my love.”
My love. My Lois, I love you. Everything fades away, and I drift off into sleep.
