[Chapter 9: Storm]He was losing his vision. A dark fog had already overtaken his left eye and what little he could see out of his right only solidified the dire reality of the situation.
Distantly, he heard the soldiers who had retrieved him from the abandoned factory. The men who had risked their lives and, even now, were trying to save him.
Kal couldn't breathe.
He felt his life being yanked from him in a constant, unyielding stream. His back arched against his will as he released a silent scream.
The pain was beyond description, beyond imagining, beyond endurance.
His aura was threading in and out of his awareness, but each strand of sensation that managed to connect to his overwhelmed soul told him Ta'peel was eager to carry out his threat. And he would. He would if he wasn't stopped.
He would release his wrath on the people of Earth. And he would enjoy it. Immensely.
Desperation filled him. Pain became a distant thing. It no longer mattered.
He knew he was going to die. Knew that Ta'peel wasn't going to stop this time. This was it.
And there was nothing he could do. He had fought with all that he had all the times before and it had not helped then. And he had been stronger at those times. What chance did he have now?
But he had been fighting to stop the drain, to push him back, to get away. What if he . . . stopped resisting?
If he was to die anyway, why not try this one last thing?
After all, he was the Keeper of Earth.
He recentered himself, twisting his aura around, as if doing an about face.
The move was violent and unrelenting, but as sure as the dawn.
He welcomed Ta'peel's pull, hardening all that remained of himself, and pushed into the siphon, into the black hole of Ta'peel's core.
Kal lost all awareness of the physical world. All connection to his body.
Disorientation was all he knew for a long moment, but then he was submerged into a sea of shadows. Dozens upon dozens of murky echoes.
He slid forward, his aura subconsciously stretching out in an attempt to get some bearings. Instantly, he knew every shadow around him was the essence of a lifeform Ta'peel had fully drained. Every life he had ever completely absorbed for his own use, taking their uniqueness and adapting his body to imitate it.
His aura stretched further before he could attempt to question the wisdom of the act. And suddenly, he was immersed in what he could only conclude was each victim's final moment and last emotion.
Pain.
Fear.
Loss.
Terror.
Agony.
Shock.
Regret.
Sorrow.
Despair.
Surrender.
Hopelessness.
It was so heavy, so suffocating, but he didn't come this far just to give up and die.
Someone had to stop Ta'peel. Someone had to prevent this evil from continuing.
Fury surged, a rage of righteousness that overtook every shred of conscious thought. He pulled strength from the ashes around him. He twisted his aura into a storm, pulling every single shade within Ta'peel and harnessing them as if they were part of himself.
He yanked.
Uncaring of what it would do himself, his sole purpose in that moment was to end this evil. Even if it was the last thing he did.
In one ruthless, whirling strike, he released his grasp on the shards of raw power stolen from dozens upon dozens of murdered beings across the galaxy, sending them out in all directions and obliterating the center of what made Ta'peel.
In the warping silence, he felt upended with all of his energy sapped as his awareness slipped hard.
Was this death?
O o O o O
Kindlot was at a loss as the situation spiraled further beyond any hope of recovery.
In the few seconds that had passed, the drain was horrifyingly effective and evident. Superman's flesh had blackened where Ta'peel's hands were touching and the spread of burst capillaries and bruises were only expanding.
"Evacuate the area! Get civilians to safety!" Command ordered in his ear.
He understood the order, and part of him even agreed with it. But he still hated it.
There was nothing they could do to save Superman. He was likely already dead.
Kindlot opened his mouth to dish out orders to his men, but then an intense pulse of what he could only describe as immense purpose rushed over them all.
Superman?
They all gasped at the sensation as every inch of Superman's undamaged skin instantly turned a dull gray and Ta'peel staggered backward.
Ta'peel dropped Superman like a hot coal before clutching at his chest.
As if he was having a massive heart attack.
"Jamison, with me! Malsey, get Daniels!" Kindlot ordered, rushing forward to Superman's limp form as he distantly heard Team 6's leader report to Command of what was happening.
"AHHHKKK!!! GAAHH!!! NNOOO!! WHHAAKH!" Ta'peel rasped, clawing at his front before freezing in what could only be in absolute horror.
Kindlot began to pull Superman's body away.
And then they felt it.
It was so potent that the air, for a long unforgiving moment, felt solid.
It was what every individual would wish for and seek if they didn't already have it, and what every being fiercely loved and defended if they truly knew what they had: Freedom.
And then it was followed by spattering, foreign wisps of . . . ? Kindlot didn't know. He wasn't a spiritual person, but if he had to label them, he might have called them souls. Fragments of . . . something zipping through the air from Ta'peel's distraught form. Visible only due to the distortion they made while traveling through the dry desert air. However, they soon vanished into nothingness.
Ta'peel shuddered, his purple skin instantly turning pale white as he simply collapsed.
Dead.
The leader of Team 7 confirmed and ensured it with his firearm a second later, not about to risk it.
Ta'peel was now unequivocally mortally wounded.
"Bring the lights and that stretcher!" Kindlot ordered as he turned Superman onto his back for the second time that day.
The blackened handprints stood out starkly on the Man of Steel's gray, contused face. His left eyelid where Ta'peel's thumb had touched as it pressed on his eyebrow was as dark and as dead as a mummy's.
Now that the danger had passed, crowds began to grow across the street and near the front of the fitness center. They watched anxiously, wanting to know what was happening but wise enough to not distract from the teams' work or get close to the still burning helicopter.
Kindlot checked Superman's pulse and wasn't surprised by feeling nothing.
He immediately put his hands on top of each other directly over the center of the Kryptonian's bare chest to start CPR.
He pressed down as hard as he could and instantly found he couldn't press down as far as he knew he needed to on a human. The Kryptonian's ribcage was too stiff.
"Jamison!" he said, but Jamison already knew what he needed.
Jamison got on the other side of Superman and placed his hands on top of Kindlot's, positioning his body so that they would be able to work in unison without getting in each other's way.
"One-two-three-four . . ." Kindlot said, beginning the count as he and Jamison pressed together, compressing Superman's chest down to what they hoped was far enough to pump his heart.
Others worked around them, holding the lights above Superman's head and angled over his waist to shine as much extra light onto his horribly blemished skin as they also got the stretcher positioned.
"Come on!" Jamison pleaded as they continued the rhythmic pressing.
And then they felt him. His aura. Immense and vast, but erratic and thready before it condensed. They all breathed a sigh of relief when it seemed to suck into the lifeless form before them. They stopped CPR.
Grave gray skin shifted to pale olive and faint pink, although all the damage from Parasite remained. A second later, a still chest heaved in a breath of air.
But as much of a huge relief that was, they immediately realized there was something very, very wrong as his arms and legs went stiff before convulsing as his head went back.
"He's seizing. Get him on his side!" Jamison stated, immediately helping Kindlot do just that.
Kindlot supported his head and he was grateful there seemed to be no super strength present as another and Jamison made sure the sharp movements of his arms and legs wouldn't hit anything or anyone.
The seizure passed in less than a minute, closer to thirty seconds, and he went completely limp. However, those within three feet of him could all feel his aura weakly flickering in and out randomly. There was dense emotion within, but it was too murky to distinguish.
"Let's go!" Kindlot shouted.
They got the board in place before they secured everything, although the lights would be held instead of placed beside him like before, lest they break if he seized again.
"Clonic seizure," Jamison said, "That's what it looked like."
"Well, whatever it was, let's get him to Flagstaff Medical Center," Kindlot said, lifting the stretcher with another team member. "Superman, if you can hear us, Parasite is dead and we're on our way to the hospital. Dr. Klein is already there."
They hurried to the closest chopper and soon were on their way.
O o O o O
They had cleared the top corner of the hospital of patients in preparation of his arrival and had his room equipped with everything they thought they would need. They hoped it would be enough.
Dr. Klein took a deep breath as the helicopter landed on the pad on the hospital roof.
The military had been communicating Kal's condition to them for the last twenty minutes and Klein knew it was bad, but he wasn't prepared for what they saw. None of them were.
"His aura has become more erratic," one of the paratroopers warned as they got away from the chopper and entered the hospital. His name badge read 'Kindlot'.
Klein could feel the shifting aura and nodded in agreement, all while taking in the weight-loss, bruises, contusions, and horrid handprints all over Kal’s exposed skin, particularly the ebony ones on his face. Kal's blackened left eyelid and eyebrow especially made Klein's heart clench.
"Has there been any visible healing?" Klein asked as they maneuvered the stretcher down the hall and into the first bay.
"Not that I can see, but his body temperature has gone up to 85," Kindlot answered.
They moved him onto the room’s gurney, the nurses swiftly transferring the needed monitoring lines before a gasp from Kal immediately got all of their attention.
"Kal-El?" Klein asked, suddenly hopeful before Kal's aura pulsed.
Klein could feel him struggling to remain calm, a storm of emotion desperately trying to come forth.
Kal's right eye peeked open, while the nearby blackened skin remained firmly in place, as if it was stone instead of flesh. He immediately searched their faces and latched onto Klein's before reaching out his unsteady hand.
Klein promptly grasped it as a spike of what could only be described as turmoil brushed against them.
"Kal? What is it?" Klein asked. He had never felt Kal at such a loss.
“So many. . . .” he rasped, his voice strained. “He killed so many.”
“Ta’peel?” Klein asked.
“I felt them inside,” he whispered, his aura shuddering as his voice slipped to open thought. /Shades. Echoes./
“We saw them,” Kindlot stated grimly, much to the bewilderment of those who had not been there. “We saw them leave Parasite as he died.”
/I can’t . . . it’s too much. Imprints. Their last. . . ./ he tried to explain before his aura desperately and sporadically flexed and compressed less than a foot around him.
The heart monitor beeped in warning as his heart rate and blood pressure fluctuated dangerously.
Confusion, loss, and a dozen other feelings cascaded from him in thrashing waves as his control slipped and he continued to drown.
A tear trailed down from the corner of his right eye as, to their astonishment, he released a choked sob.
Klein clasped both hands onto Kal’s.
“Focus on us!” Klein exclaimed. “Don’t dwell on anything else! Use your aura if you need.”
Kal exhaled and they all felt his aura tentatively extend out, and wrap around them.
O o O o O
He could barely make out Dr. Klein's words amid the constant bombardment of chaos left behind by the echoes of beings long passed. But he heard him, and allowed himself to do what he advised.
He felt Bernie first, and it was easy to sense the devotion and care pouring from his old friend. He latched onto the tender emotions, allowing them to buoy his soul as his aura went further.
The nurses, doctors, and soldiers around him tensed at his shift in presence, but then they relaxed, bolstering him with their trust before he could even register their deeper feelings. And then he did.
It was beyond anything he had expected, and while he knew the people of Earth respected and appreciated him - accepting him perhaps even more than his own people - to experience the proof of it in such a tangible and personal way was more powerful than description.
They loved him.
The death and despair that he had been engulfed in was soon pushed aside as he simply let go.
The walls of the hospital provided no resistance, and though much of the ward had been cleared, his reach went far beyond that. Roughly a quarter of the hospital and well into the east parking lot.
For a split second, he felt surprise and bewilderment from the people he reached, but then they realized what, or rather who, they were sensing.
Awe, love and hope radiated to him, smothering whatever remnants there were of the residue from the black hole of evil he had destroyed in Ta'peel.
Gratitude overflowed and he eased back to himself, now exhaustion the only negative thing he could really feel.
Relief pulled him toward sleep and the last thing he was aware of was warmth bathing his skin and Klein giving his hand a squeeze. He wasn’t sure if he managed to return it.
O o O o O
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