[Chapter 7: Triangulate]"Thanks for having me. Perry demanded I head home for some rest, but . . . I didn't want to be home alone," Lois said, sipping a creme soda in the dining room of the Hendersons'.
She would be staying that night in their guest bedroom.
"It's no problem. When you said Clark was out tracking leads, I knew he would rather you be with friends than alone due to . . . everything," Bill said before sighing softly. "I take it he's in Arizona?"
Lois swallowed thickly, and she blinked away tears as she managed to reply. "Yeah."
He nodded sympathetically. “If anyone can find Kal-El, it’s him,” he said as Donna brought in dinner from the kitchen.
Lois choked back a sob and covered her face with her hand as she nodded.
“You okay?” Bill asked, a little taken aback.
Lois cleared her throat and took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just. . . . ” She couldn’t continue.
“You’ve been forcing everything down while you’ve been at the Planet, putting on a brave face, but you can’t keep that up forever. I get it. It’s okay. Kal is . . . he means a lot to all of us, but I understand, to you, he’s . . . more.”
She didn’t stop the tears that time and silently wept.
Donna quietly put the casserole down on the table and quickly retrieved a tissue.
“Here, Lois,” she said tenderly.
“Thanks,” she whispered, taking the tissue appreciatively. "I felt what was happening. For a split second, I felt . . . Bill, it was awful. Those parasites. . . ."
She took a deep breath, knowing his kids were in the house and could overhear.
Bill stilled. "What did you feel?"
"The . . ." She lowered her voice. "The pain was . . . immense. I felt like I was dying. . . ."
"Melissa felt some of that, I think, but more distant than what you experienced," Bill said.
"I'm glad she didn't feel what I did," she said, before blowing her nose, still a bit weepy.
She tried not to feel self-conscious when Melissa and Paul took their places at the table after setting the silverware. She quickly dabbed her eyes.
Bill began serving the kids the food and filled the air with lighthearted talk, asking them about school, to which they half-heartedly replied. Well, Melissa replied, Paul played with his fork.
Lois was grateful, taking the moment to excuse herself. She cleaned herself up in the hall bathroom and returned looking and feeling more put together.
She sat back down and for some reason couldn't help but dwell on the fact it was Tuesday. Kal had been taken Friday night.
Schools around the world had closed, and it wasn't really a surprise. The world was under assault, attacked at random by two super powered evils every six to ten hours. Families wanted to stay close to their children if at all possible and no one knew when or if it would end. Many places beyond schools had also closed, although still others remained open – some in defiance, though most simply because what else could they do? They couldn't nestle inside a box indefinitely. But no matter the reason, she knew the world couldn't remain in this state for much longer.
Dinner was a quiet affair, and while she felt bad for likely dampening the mood further, she couldn't help but grow even more grateful to the Hendersons for being so gracious.
Clean up commenced after they had finished eating, and Lois quickly brought her plate to the sink and began taking care of the dishes.
"Oh, thanks, Lois," Donna said as she helped Paul clean up his area.
"No problem, Donna," Lois said, opening the dishwasher. "The meal was delicious, thanks for cooking."
Donna smiled, clearly touched, and Lois was reminded how they likely rarely had people over for dinner. She was glad she was one of them.
Lois finished clearing the sink, about to turn around when a mental jolt shot through her, as if she was suddenly remembering something extremely important.
An image came to her mind's eye, as clear as anything ever had.
A filthy, rusted sign reading:
——ield's PaintThere was a dingy blue streak across a pale diamond shape beneath the words.
And then she felt him.
He was there with her. She could feel his aura around her.
"Kal?" she whispered, even as she thought his name as hard as she could, hoping he would hear her.
Hoping he would know they were looking for him. That they hadn't given up.
A spike of surprise and relief rushed forward.
And then he was yanked away from her.
"Melissa!"
Lois caught herself on the counter as she heard Bill's shout and felt a shade of agony lace through her.
"Dad?"
Lois staggered out of the kitchen to find Melissa seated on the couch with Bill kneeling beside her.
"Are you okay?" he asked his daughter.
"Yeah, sorry. It was really disorienting," Melissa said.
"It was Kal," Lois cut in. "I need to use your phone."
Bill quickly nodded. "What did he tell you?"
"He showed me an image, and I'm certain it'll lead us to where he is," Lois stated, determined. "I think he's at an abandoned paint factory."
O o O o O
The soldiers moved quickly.
The United States military, under the guidance of General Burton Newcomb, had not been idle.
They had placed as many strike teams throughout the States and the world as they could, hoping by chance they would get lucky and the Parasites would attack a protected location. The nickname Lois had created had not been an original thought and soon the entire intelligence community was calling the purple aliens ‘Parasites’.
Every strike team was armed with the sound weapons that had proven effective against the Man of Steel years before. Hopefully they would be just as effective against an enemy that now had his abilities. Coupled with the sound weapons, a few had special ammunition they were instructed to only use if they were confident of a successful hit, and to only continue using the ammunition if it showed to be effective.
The team commanders asked no questions when they loaded their rifles with the green glowing bullets.
It was early morning when their chance came.
The second parasite, to which they had no official name, landed in Miami, Florida.
Twenty seconds later, the strike team climbed into two helicopters upon learning the parasite was downtown, wrecking havoc. Less than a minute later they landed and engaged.
The team of four did not hold back.
The sound weapons were immediately effective, bringing the alien down to his knees to his clear dismay as the targeted weapons fire pierced into him as easily as it would any normal mortal.
He was dead before he fully hit the ground.
O o O o O
[Wednesday 1:40am]
The phone kept ringing.
Tabitha Johnson sat up, still half asleep and wondering who on earth would be calling her at this ungodly hour. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, her heart stuttered in her chest.
Was her sister okay?!
"Hello?" she asked, bracing herself as well as she could for bad news.
"Tabitha? It's Deb. This is an emergency! I cannot express how much! Have you ever heard of a paint making company called
Smithfield's Paint?" Deb asked.
"Uh, yeah? It was closed down a long time ago. It used to employ hundreds of people across the US before World War 2. It was founded in our state. Why?" she said, immediately rattling off what she knew. She was a historian and never passed up an opportunity to share her knowledge to a willing recipient, even before the crack of dawn.
"Do you know the address? The address of the factory?"
"Not off the top of my head, but it shouldn't be hard to get it. It's near a ghost town I can't remember the name of. It's in the archives," Tabitha said, royally confused.
Was she dreaming?
"I don't care if you get to the library in your slippers and hair rollers, get there as soon as you can. I'm going to begin calling the phone at the main desk in ten minutes and won't stop until you answer. I'll be connecting you to Lois Lane-Kent as soon as you answer. And yes, it's
that Lois Lane. Now go! Go, Tab!"
"What?!" she asked, baffled.
"They have a lead on where Superman is, and they're certain he's at that factory! I'll explain the rest later. Now go!"
Tabitha hung up and dashed out to her car as soon as she was barely presentable.
She soon went over the speed limit, which, admittedly, wasn't a wise thing. She got pulled over.
She rolled down her window in record time as the officer walked up to her door.
"Good very-early-morning. Do you know how fast–Tabitha?!" the officer began to question before cutting off upon recognizing her.
"Jeff, this is an emergency! I need to get to the archives now!"
"What? Why would you possibly need to–"
"Deb called me. You know, my old friend who now works for the governor? Some important people called her and they need to know the address of an old factory ASAP. Jeff, it's about Superman! They think he's being held there!!"
"What? Okay, okay, but let me take you. You're a scary driver," he said, opening her door.
"That's why I don't drive in the dark anymore, but I didn't have a choice tonight," she complained, hurrying behind him.
She got into the passenger seat of the patrol car and he turned on his sirens and blazed them to the library, ignoring the two stoplights on the way. Not that there was anyone else really driving at the early hour, but still.
He stopped at the entrance and she ran out, fiddled with the keys for a few seconds before unlocking the front door of the library and hurrying inside. The phone began to ring four seconds after the door closed behind Jeff, who had left his cruiser parked right outside.
"Hey, Deb, I'm here," she said into the phone, out of breath.
"Wow, you must have really been speeding! Anyway, keep the line open and get the address and any other information you think might be helpful. Mrs. Lane-Kent will be on when you return," she instructed.
Tabitha set the phone down but didn't hang up. She jogged to the back of the library, leaving Jeff behind, and began digging in the archives.
Fourteen minutes and three papercuts later, she had the address, an old map of the grounds, and even old blueprints of the plant.
She returned to the front desk where Jeff was waiting uncertainly.
“I got it!” she declared, before lifting the phone to her ear. “Uh, hello?”
“You have it?! The address?!” an unfamiliar voice asked.
“I do. Mrs. Lane-Kent?” she asked, heart thundering in her chest.
“Yes. Please, what’s the address?” pleaded the one who had essentially named Superman.
This was real!
She read off the address, along with directions and the names of the roads leading to it.
After closing down in the 1930's, the town near it, Smithville, had dissolved and the desert sand closed in around the factory, although the single road leading to it likely remained.
“Thank you, thank you so much!” Lane gushed.
"I also have blueprints of the floorplan. The place is huge," Tabitha added. "I could try to fax it in pieces?"
"Oh! Yes, that will be a huge help too!" she said before giving her the fax number.
"Got it," Tab said, writing the number. "I'll send it all right away."
“Thank you so much! I’ve got to go, but I will never forget this! Don’t be surprised if the Foundation calls you later!”
The line went dead, leaving Tabitha alone with a very confused Jeff.
"Okay, Jeff, could you help me with these? As soon as these are sent, we can go to that 24-hour egg place and I’ll tell you everything," she said. "I might break my rule and have a drink before noon, assuming they sell wine that early."
"Was that really Lois Lane?" he asked, having overheard the conversation – because how could he not?
"Yeah. It was," she said, barely able to believe it herself.
"Did you just help find Superman?" he asked slowly.
"I . . . think so. But they could also use the blueprints, so come on, help me," she said, shifting the folded blueprints in her grip. “We’re going to be cutting these and numbering them, so grab those scissors and follow me.”
Jeff quickly did as he was told, deciding not to ask if they were really going to cut up historical documents so they could fit them in a fax machine.
O o O o O
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