TOC Chapter 12:He blinked into the night, spluttering slightly as rain hit his face. During his absence, the steady drizzle had turned into a downpour. Clark looked around, trying to orient himself. He was closer to the docks than he’d been before, no longer hidden by shadows. Luthor had used the opportunity to put Clark into a position where he would have a much easier time finding him. Also, there were no headphones stopping him now.
A shiver ran down Clark’s spine. He knew he wasn’t in good shape. He snorted. As if anyone could be in a good enough shape to outrun Superman. While he’d learned a lot during his latest switch back into his own body, it put him into a very dangerous situation now. Clark stumbled on, as quickly as his tired limbs would let him. His breath already came in panting gasps, his sides hurt and he felt lightheaded again.
He could barely see where he was through the heavy rain. It would make Superman’s life harder, too, but only marginally compared to his own, now rather dull, senses. Clark tried to recall what he knew about the docks. He must have flown over this area like a million times.
But with his chest aching and his limbs protesting, it was hard to think. There were hundreds, if not thousands of freight containers, neatly stashed in groups, two or three atop each other, rows and rows of them. It might be a good place to hide if the person looking for you couldn't fly and didn't have x-ray vision.
Clark staggered as the idea hit him. X-ray vision! Most of the freight containers were covered in lead paint. He remembered that from his futile attempts to scan the docks for human trafficking.
A sliver of hope fought its way through the deep sense of despair that encompassed Clark. It was a chance, a slim one, but a chance.
The problem was that in his current body, he couldn't discern which containers would shield him from Luthor’s view and which wouldn't. And even if he was lucky enough to pick the right one, Luthor could still hear him. After all, the containers were impervious to his x-ray vision, but they weren’t soundproof.
He feared that his heart was beating so loud now that even human ears could pick up the sound. Had Luthor obtained enough control over his hearing abilities to use them to his advantage?
Well, he'd find out soon enough.
Clark had almost reached the docks when his legs threatened to give out on him. Only a few hundred yards separated him from the first freight container, but it seemed like an endless run. He pushed himself to go further. Everything depended on him not getting caught. He focused on Lois, on what Luthor would have done to her, could still do to her if he failed.
Lois was the only other person who knew about the danger everyone was in. He couldn't leave her to fight this war alone. Those were his powers, his responsibility.
And he couldn't assume that Luthor would spare his life because he inhabited his body. He’d already tried to kill him once.
He wouldn’t claim that he truly understood what was going on. But something told him that Luthor had no interest in keeping him alive. Clark strained his ears, trying to listen for every faint sound that might announce Superman’s arrival. But the rain was pounding on the ground, drowning out every other sound to his not so sensitive ears. The hairs in the back of his neck would have stood on end if he still had some.
He felt like fainting with relief and exhaustion as he passed the first container. Quickly he scanned his surroundings. It was dark, save for a few lamps. Their light was veiled by the dense curtain of rain. Would one of the containers even be open? Did he have the time or the strength to try? His lungs were burning as he forced himself to run faster despite his weakness.
He didn’t know where Luthor was exactly. But he knew how fast he could fly. It would take Superman only seconds, if that, to reach the docks. Maybe Luthor would spend a few minutes talking to Kelly, trying to find out what had transpired while he’d been gone.
Not much time, not much time at all.
Clark nearly missed an open container to his right. He stumbled and almost fell as he spotted it from the corner of his eye. He slowed, desperate to keep his footing, because he wasn't sure he'd get up again.
Did it have lead paint on it? His heart raced.
Try this one or find another? He was running out of time. But his life was too important to play Russian Roulette with.
Looking up briefly, he searched the sky for the red and blue uniform. Would Luthor even bother to wear it? Would he dress in black and become invisible in the dark night sky - like Clark used to do when he’d hidden from the world?
He had to decide now. There was no guarantee that this container was safe, but the same was true for the next one and every other one after that. Every moment he hesitated would play into Luthor's hands.
Fully aware that he might trap himself, Clark climbed into the container. His heart was hammering in his chest as if it wanted to break out of it. His breathing was labored due to exhaustion and fear. He looked at the door, agonizing over whether to try and close it to better his chances. Would the door squeak and alarm his enemy to his exact location? He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that he had to risk it. He couldn't even be sure the lead shielding would work. But if it did, he'd only become invisible if that door was shut.
Maybe SuperLex was already here, maybe he had already found him and was having a good laugh over his lame attempts at saving himself. Clark didn't really want to think about it. How often had he watched people firing rounds at him in a desperate attempt to stay out of prison? Now he didn't feel so smug.
Clark reached out and pulled at the door. It was heavy. He sighed - in this body, it seemed that everything was heavy. He pulled harder, putting his full weight into the task. The door moved in a painfully slow crawl. His heart was hammering even harder. His gut clenched and cold sweat drenched his already soaked body. He pulled more, pulled with all he was worth.
Any moment now, he would hear his own laughter. He would see his own hand stop his tremendous efforts with ease, tearing the door off its hinges as if it were made of foil.
The door closed further, inch by painful inch. Clark was panting from the exertion, stars dancing before his eyes. His heart pounded in tune with the rain.
His fear grew.
The gap was still too broad, several inches left. Inches that might well make the difference between life and death.
Was it even lead paint that was going to shield him?
He was a sitting duck, trapping himself in his own tomb, because getting out might well be just as difficult. Still he pulled. He didn't have a better plan. He breathed hard, wheezing, feeling lightheaded and on the verge of collapsing.
Just a few inches more.
He could do it, he had to.
Clark pulled with all he was worth, praying, trembling, grunting. He kept his ears trained on the outside world, listening carefully for the first sounds that would announce SuperLex' arrival. But there was nothing but the thundering beat of the rain.
He had to close this door.
But it felt like his arms had been pulled from their sockets.
It wouldn’t take more than a flip of the other man’s pinky finger.
How had he never realized how scary that was?
The door finally slid shut and Clark stumbled back, landing on his butt. He was completely winded. An intense tremor ran through his arms and heavy legs. Trying to catch his breath, Clark listened to the rain pouring down on his container and attempted to discern other sounds. Still, he couldn’t hear a thing other than the staccato drumbeat of raindrops and the soft wheezing of his breath as he fought to gulp in enough air.
Where was Luthor? Was he trying to fool Clark into believing he was safe? Was he just biding his time before he struck? Would he just rip open the container Clark sat in until he was exposed to the rain again? Would he look into glowing eyes before they incinerated him?
Clark heard his own voice in the distance. “Don’t try to hide, I know you’re here.”
It sounded strange to his own ears. Loud and crude, familiar but also different. His breath quickened and he fought hard to get it back under control. He mustn’t make a sound if he wanted to survive. Fighting against the feeling of suffocation, he kept his breathing as shallow as possible. His chest hurt.
“You know I’m going to find you.” Luthor laughed. “I bet you’re not so smug now. I have all the trump cards. I have your powers, your valiant lady and your life. What little good it did you to escape my cage.”
He laughed again, a cruel laughter that chilled Clark to the bones. Vivid memories of the last time he found himself in this position danced before his eyes. Trapped, at Luthor’s nonexistent mercy. The pain in his body wasn’t quite as intense, not quite as agonizing. But it was there, weighing him down, leaving little doubt that while his death wasn’t quite as imminent as it had been in the Kryptonite cage, it was still looming over him.
Luthor’s voice was getting closer. “I bet you thought you’d won our war when it was really just a battle. There is no way you’ll ever be victorious - not-so-Superman.”
A loud bang made Clark flinch. The metal walls around him rattled and he lost his balance as the container he hid in slid several yards across the ground as if it was nothing but an empty can. He held his breath, clutching at the flooring with everything he was worth, lest the bang of his body jamming against the walls alert SuperLex to his exact whereabouts.
Assuming Luthor didn’t already know and was just playing with him. Clark’s gut clenched with dread. It terrified him that there wasn’t a thing he could do to get out of this terrible situation. He couldn’t crawl out of the container and hope that he wouldn’t be spotted. He couldn’t run, he couldn’t cry for help, because there wasn’t a single being on this planet who could possibly help him.
He'd never considered implementing safety measures. Had he been so arrogant to believe that he could never be compromised? It had already happened once, when an illusionist had hypnotized him.
More sounds of screeching metal filled his ears, this time a little farther away than before. Undoubtedly, it would only be a brief respite.
Clark squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight the panic rising in him. He couldn’t lose it now.
*Stay silent,* he told himself.
*And perhaps he will just go away.*But Luthor wouldn’t leave before he had what he wanted. He wouldn’t let himself be interrupted by a call for help; he simply wouldn’t bother. Clark felt nausea rise in him as he thought about all the people who’d die because he’d helped the wrong man across the street.
“Your attempts at keeping me confined in Lois’ apartment were pitiful,” Luthor taunted him. “What did you tell her? Did you think she’d believe a word you said?”
Clark heard the sound of metal grinding over metal and a series of loud bangs as more containers crushed into one another. One banged into his, sending him to the floor and leaving a huge dent in the side.
The door on the far side of the container was slightly ajar now, making him so much easier to spot.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway!” Luthor yelled. Another loud crush shook the ground, a tell-tale sign of his increasing anger. “Because I will find you and kill you. It’s only a matter of time.”
It was. Clark knew that. If only he could get back into his own body and send Luthor to a place from which he couldn’t return. But nothing would keep him for long. Even if he were lost, it wouldn’t take but a quick flight into the stratosphere and he’d see exactly where he was. It wouldn’t take him more than seconds to get back.
And where would that leave him?
In another container, perhaps.
“Get out here and face me like a man, you goddamn coward,” Luthor shouted. His voice cracked, obviously crazy with rage. More containers banged into each other, the metal groaning loudly.
And then Clark heard a strangled cry, ripped from deep within SuperLex’ throat. He knew that cry, and it terrified him just as much as it had during his teenage years. His heart nearly stopped as he realized what was going to happen. The air sizzled with the sound of suddenly evaporating water. A burst of intense heat nicked one edge of his container. Clark held his breath, expecting the metal walls to melt around him. Seconds ticked by, each one seeming to last an eternity as he awaited the heat vision to strike again.
And then everything happened at once. The deafening sound of an explosion, something slamming into his container and sending him flying. The wind was knocked out of him as he crashed against the wall. Pain exploded in his chest and shoulders as he fell back on the ground like a rag doll.
He felt intense heat and then nothing.
***
Clark woke to the sound of sirens. Groggily, he blinked, trying to open his eyes. It took a few attempts until he could make out blurry spots of light. His ears buzzed with a high-pitched noise. He felt dizzy and his head hurt. Clark sat up gingerly. A stabbing pain shot through his ribs, leaving him gasping for breath. His whole chest seemed to be on fire.
*Just wonderful,* he thought wryly.
*More aches to add to my long list of complaints.*Slowly his vision cleared, and he saw flames bathing his container in a flickering light. His glasses lay on the floor next to him. Clark picked them up and put them back on. His ribs protested against the movement, but not quite as violently as before. The skin on his chest itched, feeling too tight. He hissed in pain. Careful not to jostle his upper body more than he had to, Clark crawled back to his feet.
Was Luthor still here? Or had he flown off after the explosion? Clark inched closer to the partly unhinged door and steadied himself against the wall. The metal was warm to the touch, but not yet hot.
He peeked outside, spotting firefighters standing with their backs to him and trying to kill the flames with foam. Blue and red lights flashed from the fire trucks.
The firefighter closest to him was talking into his radio. Then he listened and with every passing second became more agitated. He started to look around, shielding his eyes with one hand while his eyes scanned the sky. His gaze darted back to the other men and after a couple of seconds, he resumed searching the dark sky.
"Where's Superman?" The man yelled. "We could really use his help. I just learned that there are some nasty chemicals stored in these containers."
One of the men looked over his shoulder. "Don't you think they blew up already, Chief?"
“I’d rather not bet our lives on it,” the chief replied. “Come on guys, let’s move back to a safer distance and call for reinforcements.” He looked up again. “Where is this guy when we need him?”
“I’m sure he’ll be here as soon as he can,” the other firefighter replied. He looked at his comrades. “Okay, guys, we all heard the chief. Move it.”
Clark let out a breath, quietly slipping out of the container and into the shadows behind it. He couldn’t be seen. Even if the firefighters didn’t recognize him for Lex Luthor, he’d bet he looked like hell. They’d have him wrapped up on a gurney before he could outrun them, insisting that he’d go to a hospital. And they’d probably be right about that, too. Resting up in a hospital bed might sound wonderful right about now, which was rather disconcerting in its own way, but he couldn’t run away from this fight.
Guilt gnawed at him as Clark sneaked away from the firefighters, who were hoping for his help. Well, not
his help, exactly, because there wasn’t a thing he could do about this fire. And with each step, he prayed that Luthor would stay away from the fire, too, at least long enough for him to make an escape. That only added to the guilt flooding him.
He shot a quick glance back over his shoulder and saw the firefighters continuing to stand their ground, albeit at a safer distance. He knew there wasn't anything he could do without his powers, so why did it still feel like he was running away?
He wrapped his soaked coat more firmly around himself and hissed at the pain that caused. Then he turned up the collar and moved on, one painful step after the other. Clark was aching all over, feeling cold and numb. It was only a matter of time until he would collapse from exhaustion. He only hoped that he could find himself a safe spot before that happened.
His knees buckled and he tried to lock them underneath himself. The world turned into a haze of shapes and colors and pain. Everything vanished but the next step and the next breath he took. Clark couldn't say where he was going.
He just moved, vaguely registering a bus and catching a ride, paying the driver with a bill from his wallet that by dumb luck had survived the whole ordeal so far. He got off far away from the docks, in the outskirts of Metropolis - an area that he vaguely remembered from one of his assignments. Though he was running on empty, he continued, each painful step getting him to what he so desperately needed - a place to hide.
He was unconscious by the time his body hit the ground.
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