TOCChapter 14: When Clark woke up, he felt a lot better than he had the night before. His limbs were still aching, as were his ribs and chest. But he no longer felt as weak as he had been before. Cautiously, he sat up, trying to avoid a dizzy spell. Besides the burning pain on his chest, the only thing amiss was a gnawing sense of hunger. He knew the feeling from his previous encounters with kryptonite. But he supposed that it was a good sign that his - or rather Luthor’s stomach - was demanding food. Maybe he was beginning to get better instead of worse.
After sitting for a couple of minutes without feeling like he was about to keel over any minute, Clark slowly got to his feet. He winced as the fabric of his shirt rubbed against his tender skin. Once he stood he swayed a bit, but not as badly as before. Looking around, he eyed his surroundings with curiosity. It looked like an old medical facility. The walls had once been white, tiles lining up the lower half, most of them now broken. There was an old, odd-looking table sitting in the middle of it, just as damaged as the rest of the interiors.
Clark knew this place. It was part of an old hospital that had been abandoned for years. He’d once written what Lois had called a ‘puff piece’ about it. The hospital used to be financed by a foundation, courtesy of an old lady who had passed away years ago. Her heritage had been lost due to financial struggles and new developments in the field of medicine. The hospital had been too small to compete with larger facilities, and in the end had been forced to close its doors. Now the grounds still belonged to the old lady’s family, but they were caught in a quarrel over the title to the land and there was no telling what would happen to the old building.
A small smile crept onto Clark’s lips as he recognized the room he was in. It was part of the old radiology department, which meant that all the walls were lined with lead. He remembered that this room had caught his curiosity, back when he’d trudged through the old halls, looking for an angle. For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine how he’d found his way here in his sorry state. But it seemed like some part of his brain had been active enough to save his own life. SuperLex wouldn’t be able to find him here. Now all he had to do was stay out of trouble.
His stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him that he had yet to eat. Clark searched his jacket and found the wallet he’d been wise enough to take with him during his too brief visit at his apartment. He shouldn’t let anyone examine it too closely, though, because if someone read Clark Kent's name on the driver’s license he was in for a long interrogation by the police.
Clark looked around one last time, then he left the room, careful not to cause unnecessary noise or give any other indication of his whereabouts. He hurried down the halls as quickly as his feet would let him, always afraid that Luthor would return to his own body and find out where he was. He needed this hideout, desperately so. If he had a chance to rest and recover, then maybe he would find a way to fight Luthor once and for all.
He managed to leave the facility without further incident. The old hospital was situated in Queensland Park, one of Metropolis’ poorer suburbs. It was approaching nine o’clock. The main street was busy, peppered with small shops, pharmacies, and delis. It didn’t take Clark long to find a place that served food, and the patron didn’t mind his shabby exterior at all. He even offered to give Clark a cup of coffee for free. But Clark declined. No matter how he looked, he didn't want to take the charity better spent on those who needed it.
Clark took his food outside and sat down on a park bench. It smelled delicious and his stomach growled even more hungrily. Yet, he took his time, chewing carefully. He didn’t want to make himself sick because he ate too hastily on an empty stomach. Who knew how long it had been since Luthor had last eaten anything.
While he savored the food, Clark watched the people passing him by. He felt strangely disconnected, which wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling in itself. Almost his whole life he’d missed that sense of belonging. But this was different. Even during his travels he’d never been merely a spectator. This life, however, wasn’t his. He wasn’t himself. He was someone who had to remain as unobtrusive as possible. This put keeping a low profile to a whole new level.
The worst thing about his current situation was that he had absolutely no idea what to do. He could try and call Lois, but there was the danger of Luthor overhearing what he told her over the phone. But even if he reached her and was lucky enough to avoid being caught, what was that going to accomplish? If he wanted to take on SuperLex, he needed a thorough plan. After what had happened at the docks the night before, there was no doubt in his mind that Luthor would stop at nothing to kill him.
Clark was almost finished eating when he spotted a small commotion in front of a shop that sold TVs. More and more people remained standing in front of the window, pointing at a TV screen. A sense of unease crept up on Clark. He stuffed the food container in a trash can and slowly walked up to the group of people, trying to remain in the background. Careful not to bump into anyone else lest the pain in his chest flared, he chose a place in the background.
The TV screen was above head level, so Clark had a good view of the news LNN was broadcasting. He saw footage of a large cruise ship that was about to sink. It didn’t seem far from the coast because Clark could see the ship in the background whenever the news station switched to the reporter who was fighting against the wind and rain, her long hair fluttering in her face. The news ticker at the bottom of the screen told Clark that the sinking ship was close to the coast of Rhelasia, a small insular state a few hundred sea miles southwest of Singapore. Apparently, the wind was too strong to allow for other ships to get close enough to help. It was dark already on the other side of the world, which made any rescue attempts even more challenging. And the cruise ship was having trouble with their lifeboats as well.
Clark couldn’t hear what the news anchor was saying, but he didn’t need to. It was obvious the situation was getting worse by the minute. His gut clenched with trepidation as he watched the news unfold, for once completely helpless.
“Why isn’t he coming?” a man beside Clark asked.
“They’re wondering the same thing,” a woman replied.
Clark’s gaze flickered back to the screen. He shouldn’t be torturing himself like that, but he couldn’t help it. He should be able to do something about this, help the people on board.
*No reports on other disasters,* the news ticker said.
LNN was switching to correspondents all over the world in quick succession. Each and every one of them was shaking their heads. It was part of a choreography Luthor had implemented quite a while ago. LNN had always seemed to thrive on all the things Superman couldn’t do. Clark figured that it was part of the war Luthor had fought against him, or maybe it was just the way journalism worked. Perhaps the constant reminder of his shortcomings hadn’t been Luthor’s idea after all. It sure seemed like it, though. Every pinprick to his heart weakened the opponent until he was unable to continue. Luthor would certainly rejoice if he could read Clark’s thoughts right now.
Clark clenched his hands into tight fists. Why wasn’t SuperLex helping? He’d helped with the fires, the one in the apartment building and the one at the docks. Had Luthor already decided that he had better things to do than keeping up appearances?
LNN was showing footage of the fire at the docks now. Brief reels showed SuperLex extinguishing the fires. The report switched back to the news anchor, who was now interviewing some self-proclaimed expert on Superman.
Clark let out a sigh and tried to drag himself away from the TV screen. But he was unable to really avert his gaze. It wasn’t hard to guess what they were talking about now - how Superman’s performance had been less than stellar in the past two days. He’d seen newspaper headlines on his way here.
Two hearts were beating in Clark’s chest. Part of him wished, prayed really, that SuperLex would finally do something about this tragedy. The other part, the Superman side of him, felt the pressure that came with the responsibility. It was so easy for people to judge on his performance, so much easier than making the decisions he had to make. The Superman side in Clark’s heart was screaming at the unfairness of it all. How would a man as vain as Luthor deal with that?
The footage switched back to the life feed of the tragedy unfolding. The lowest visible deck was slowly sinking under the waterline. The lights on board were flickering, as if trying to send an SOS of their own. Clark squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t just stand here and watch.
If only there was a way to force himself back inside his own body. But the switches just sort of happened; he had no control over them. And if he did find his way back, then Luthor would instantly know where to find him. Clark was painfully aware that Luthor had already proven he’d stop at nothing to get his hands on Clark. He’d blown up a major part of the docks just to find him.
Rescuing the people on board the ship was a huge risk. What if he saved those people from drowning and ended up getting even more people killed when Luthor came for him, perhaps ready to incinerate the whole suburb just to destroy one man?
Could he take that risk? Clark felt his throat tighten. He couldn’t make his decisions on the basis of such speculations. He knew that about a thousand people on that ship were going to die for sure if he didn’t do anything about it, assuming SuperLex wouldn’t decide to drop by after all. It was only a matter of time until the next deck would be swallowed by the stormy sea. People might be dying right now while he calculated the risks and agonized over what to do.
He couldn’t just stand here and wait!
Clark dragged his gaze away from the TV screen. He felt sick to his stomach, knowing that there was probably no right choice to make this time. He hurried away as quickly as his feet would let him. It was still an awfully slow process to find an alley that would shield him from the curious gazes of other people.
A few minutes later, Clark sank down behind several dumpsters and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was out of breath and his limbs were trembling from exhaustion. At this rate, he wouldn’t be getting anywhere trying to fight SuperLex.
He certainly wasn’t in any shape to try and outrun him a second time. His hideout in the abandoned medical clinic was too far to reach it in time before the ship would be beyond help. There was no choice but to try. Or wouldn’t it be wiser to concentrate on getting his body back? Because how many more people would suffer if he failed and Luthor stayed SuperLex forever?
There was that train of thought again. He was damned if he acted and damned if he didn’t. Clark closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of the house behind him. A thousand people would die for sure if he didn’t act now.
He took a deep breath and reached out, trying to find that sense of unease and dizziness that accompanied each switch. Where would his body be? At the Planet, perhaps? Or down in that old subway tunnel where he’d first woken up in Luthor’s body? Clark concentrated hard, fighting to feel that connection he had with his own body, searching for the strength that ran through his every tendon, muscle and bone.
The world around him seemed to tilt out of its axis. Black spots were dancing before his eyes and when he opened them again, the familiar buzz of the newsroom hit him with the force of a steam train. He flinched, gripping his desk to keep himself from losing his balance.
When the dizzy spell subsided, Clark looked up and spotted Lois sitting across from him.
She cast her eyes down as if she was afraid to be caught staring at him. Clark could see she was nervous. Her fingers played with the pencil in her hand, she was biting her lips and her frantic heartbeat only added to the impression. Every few seconds, her gaze darted toward the TV screens that were playing the same footage Clark had seen in the shop window. The only difference was that now he was able to hear it.
“There are still no reports of Superman rescues in other parts of the world. Meanwhile, the situation on the cruise ship ‘Voyager’ continues to worsen. Another section of the ship is under water and the weather conditions don’t allow for any rescue attempts of the coast guard. A single lifeboat has been launched, but there is a huge risk that the small craft will be smashed against the rocks of the island. Our prayers are with the passengers. If you hear this, Superman, please hurry.” Clark felt his throat tighten. He jumped up from his chair. There was no time to lose. But as he looked at Lois, seeing her so troubled, he knew that first he had to make sure she was okay. Who knew what had happened between her and Luthor? What if he… no, he didn’t even want to imagine that he might have hurt her.
He dashed toward her. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
She looked at him, her smile seeming forced. “Clark, why are you asking me this?”
“Because I can see how troubled you are. And I really should be going because - ” He caught himself and pointed at the screen, making a vague flying motion with his hand.
“Clark!” Her whole face lit up like a tree on Christmas. “Oh thank God it’s you.” She pulled him into an embrace and the words flowed from her lips in quick succession. “He didn’t want to go, muttered something about people expecting things from Superman he couldn’t possibly accomplish. I - Clark, he’s scary. We need to fight him. Where can I find you?”
“Lois, I…” he stared at her, feeling torn. The last thing he wanted was to put her at risk. What if he told her where Luthor’s body was right now and she rushed to seek him out, only to run right into Superman’s arms? And the ship was still sinking, he didn’t have time.
“Clark! You know you’ll need help,” she insisted. “Tell me where to find you.” Her voice broke. “I miss you so much.”
His heart constricted. “I miss you, too,” he said hoarsely. “You’ll find me in the old, abandoned hospital in Queensland Park.” He closed his eyes, hoping that he wouldn’t regret his words. “I have to go.”
Before he could drag himself away from her, she pulled him toward her. Her lips were suddenly touching his in a tender kiss that stole his breath and ended all rational thought. It was a peck rather than a passionate exchange. Still, he felt her warmth and inhaled her soft scent, wishing that, however chaste their encounter was, it would never have to end.
This kiss meant far more to Clark than the mere brushing of lips against lips. Though she did nothing to deepen the kiss, though it was modest compared to any other kiss they had shared, it meant so much more. Because this wasn't a ruse, it wasn’t a last goodbye if he could help it. It wasn't something that had been forced on her. Lois was kissing him willingly, throwing him the lifeline he needed so much. He felt confidence where there had only been devastation, and a sliver of hope had replaced the al- encompassing despair that had been weighing him down.
He drank it all in, savored the moment until he felt ready to pull back. Much as he hated it right now, Superman was needed elsewhere. And he had to help while he still could, while he was back in his own body.
“I need to go,” he muttered wistfully.
“Be careful,” Lois whispered. “And come back to me.”
“I will.” It was a promise he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep.
Clark took a step back and gave Lois one last smile, before he headed for the nearest exit. His hands were already going through the familiar motions of changing into Superman. He loosened his tie before he hurried down the stairs while he used his super senses to check for witnesses. Finding none, he headed for the next window and jumped out. It took all but the blink of any eye to spin into his costume.
Only as he sped toward Rhelasia did it occur to him that he hadn’t even checked if he was even wearing the suit. It was a good thing Luthor hadn’t decided to leave it at home or he’d be flying in his underwear. Clark wasn’t sure whether he should cringe or laugh at the image. But it was much more important that he saved the people on that ship. Superman increased his speed until he could hear the storm and the desperate cries for help of the people on board the doomed cruise ship.
The wind was rough, even on him. It took effort to fly a straight line and not be thrown off course by the wind billowing his cape. Torrential rain was pouring down around him, reducing visibility to a few yards at most. With the near complete darkness, his super vision wasn’t of much help either.
Eventually he spotted the ship. Another deck had been swallowed by the sea while he’d been kissing Lois. Clark felt his gut clench with guilt. This was his fault, all of it. He should have been here sooner. He should never have let himself be lured into a trap.
He gritted his teeth and pushed that unwanted thought away. There’d later be time to go through the endless list of his shortcomings. Right now, he was the only one who stood between the ship and the merciless force of mother nature.
Superman flew a circle around the ship to gauge the damage, using his x-ray vision to see what was going on beneath the waterline. Large rocks had torn several holes into the ship’s hull. Several sections were flooded as a result. While he might be able to repair some of the damage, he couldn’t fix the entire ship. Some of the holes were just too large. It would require hours to find the right materials to repair the damage - hours he didn’t have. But at the very least he could buy the passengers some time.
Superman dove into the water and looked for the first hole that needed repairing. He pulled at the metal and used his heat vision to wield the pieces back together. Steam clouded his vision. The process was going slow, and more than once Superman wondered if the result would be worth the effort. When he was done with the first hole, he proceeded to the second one.
From underneath the bottom of the ship, he felt the pull of the storm and waves throwing the ship and him around mercilessly. Several times he lost his hold and had to swim back. The metal groaned at the onslaught. The cries for help above him filled his ears, making his gut clench with guilt. A sense of helplessness settled above him. He was all too aware that he was running out of time. Still, the ship pushed him under, maybe sinking a bit slower than it had before, but not by much.
His vision blurred for a moment. Clark knew it was the first sign that Luthor was trying to push his way back into Superman's body. He gritted his teeth, putting all his willpower into keeping him out. Clark felt a sharp pain behind his eyes and winced as he pushed yet a little harder, fighting to retain control of his actions. His vision cleared again and he breathed a small sigh of relief.
Realizing that his current approach had no chance of success, Superman resurfaced and flew another round to gauge the ship's damage. The lowest two decks had gone under. The lifeboats were mostly floating in the stormy sea, hardly any of them occupied by passengers. He flew the few who had made it off board to safety.
But there were too many people to transport them all. If he’d have more time, he could try that approach, though he doubted it would work under normal circumstances.
The quickest way to rescue all people was to save the entire ship in one go. But that meant he had to pull the ship close enough to the harbor that the people could climb off. And all of that in the middle of a storm raging so badly that it repeatedly threw him off course.
The cruise ship was larger than anything he had ever lifted before. Since he could only apply pressure to a relatively small spot, there was also the risk of the ship breaking apart. Assuming he could lift it at all.
Superman heaved a sigh. There was no guarantee that any of this would work. All he could do was try.
He headed for the bridge, landing next to a senior officer. It was a tall, lean man with dark hair and pale blue eyes. The three stripes on his shoulder boards suggested he was the ship's first officer.
"Superman.” The man’s English was tinted with a slight accent, perhaps Russian or something similar. Clark wasn’t sure. "We're so glad you're here. Most of our lifeboats are out of commission. The damage to the ship is extensive. Several sections-"
"I know," Superman interrupted him. "I've repaired some of the damage, which should buy us some time. But I can't get the passengers off board one by one. That would take too long. I've got to try and pull the whole ship to safety."
The first officer's eyes widened. "But the ship weighs 180000 gross tons."
Superman shrugged. "I’ve lifted a space shuttle."
Again, he felt Luthor's mind trying to shove him out of his body. The headache returned, accumulating black spots clouding his view. Superman clenched his jaw and fought back. Droplets of sweat appeared on his forehead, which he wiped off surreptitiously. He blinked, focusing back on the first officer in front of him. His moment of unease seemed to have escaped the other man's notice.
Clark did his best to appear the controlled superhero. "We need to hurry before the state of the ship deteriorates further. Can you inform the Coast Guard?"
The first officer looked uncomfortable as he shifted his weight. "Where do you plan on pulling the ship?"
"To the harbor?"
Another man approached them from the far side of the bridge. His shoulder boards had four stripes, identifying him as the captain. Like his first officer, he seemed of European origin. He must have heard what they were talking about because he was already shaking his head.
"A ship this large can't get close enough to this harbor to get the people off board,” he said in nearly flawless English. “Particularly not with this storm. There would be a huge risk of further damage to both the ship and the harbor." Lines of worry creased his face. “And according to the latest weather report, the storm is going to get worse before it gets better. We’re running out of time. “
"Do you have a better suggestion?" Superman asked tightly.
The captain tilted his head in thought, then he went toward a table sitting in the middle of the bridge. He waved for Superman and his first officer to follow him. A large map of the surrounding sea was spread across the table. It showed a detailed picture of the island, most of which Superman hadn’t been able to see in the rain. The whole island looked a bit like a crescent moon.
“We’re here,” The captain’s hand tapped on a spot north-east of the island. “The closest harbor is Lemasi, just a few hundred yards from here. But the island’s north is too flat to offer much protection from the storm.”
His finger wandered down the rather short eastern coast and toward a bay. “There are hills surrounding this bay on the south side. The sea shouldn’t be too rough there, even with a storm as bad as this one. The water is deep enough that the ship shouldn’t immediately get stuck in the sand. But it’s not so deep that the ship can sink completely.”
The first officer nodded thoughtfully. “That seems like a good bet. The emergency services should be able to reach the bay over the streets here. And there’s a hospital close to that bay. Would you be able to take us to that bay, Superman?”
Clark drew in a sharp breath, trying not to let on that he had absolutely no idea. Pulling the ship further away from the safe land seemed like a very bad idea.
He squared his jaw into what he hoped was a neutral position. “How far from here?”
The first officer replied, subdued. “Six or seven nautical miles.”
“I guess we have no chance but to try,” Superman said quietly.
He was nervous. Luthor's attempts to fight him were becoming more insistent, the headache gradually turning into a constant companion, riddled with stabs of pain. It took up more and more of his concentration to keep Luthor out.
"I'll be needing your help. I won't be able to navigate underwater," Superman admitted.
It was only half true. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have much trouble orienting himself even in the complete darkness. But these were not normal circumstances, and he could use any help he could get. More sweat covered his forehead as his headache spiked. He managed not to wince.
"What can we do?" the first officer asked.
"Talk me through this," Superman replied. "The range of my hearing is sufficient. But the passengers should remain as quiet as they can. That way it will be easier to make out your voice."
The captain nodded. "I will inform the passengers. We’re counting on you, Superman."
Clark gave them a brief nod, then turned and left the bridge. He filled his lungs before he dove back under water, knowing that he had no time to lose. When he reached the bottom of the ship, he positioned himself underneath it using the full length of his body to lift the ship.
For several agonizing moments he thought that he'd overestimated his own capabilities. The ship didn't seem to move. He pushed harder, giving it every ounce of strength he possessed. He squeezed his eyes shut. Gradually, the ship moved up.
"He's really doing it, he's lifting the ship," the captain said in awe. His voice was muffled by the wind and the water.
Superman pushed further, the metal of the ship groaning above him. It was much harder than giving the space shuttle a lift. The ship was fighting against him, trying to push him back under.
"Okay, that's enough, Superman," the first officer said. "The ship's going to break if you lift it much further. Damn, do you think he can really hear us?"
Clark stilled his movement and closed his eyes, concentrating hard on the voices above him as he felt Luthor press into his consciousness. The headache became increasingly difficult to ignore. He needed more time.
*Stay out,* he mentally yelled.
He held onto this reality with everything he had. The feel of the metal under his fingertips, the pressure of the water around him, and the quiet prayers of the people who were counting on him. He gripped harder and started to push the ship forward. Again, nothing seemed to happen. And how was it even going to? He was so small compared to the large vessel above him. How could he expect to move such a huge ship?
He had to try. He kicked his legs in a steady rhythm, desperate to give himself some forward momentum while holding onto the ship and keeping it afloat. Propelling himself through the water, like he usually did, seemed too much to manage between holding the ship and keeping Luthor out.
"It's working!" The first officer's muffled voice resounded in his ears.
Clark hadn’t been able to tell. He had no frame of reference. It took all his strength to keep the ship afloat and moving. Every last bit of concentration went into keeping Luthor out of his body. The headache pounded in time with his heartbeat. Clark kept his eyes closed, focusing on the voice above him that helped with directions.
His back and shoulders were starting to protest against the effort. Even though the water was helping some, this ship seemed to be the heaviest thing he had ever tried to move. Was it just the added resistance of the water or the bulky form of the ship that made this so difficult? The forces of wind and water were working against him, trying to jostle him away from under the ship. Clark lost track of time.
All he cared about was the next kick of his legs, the next slight change in directions. Holding his breath was starting to get uncomfortable. But he knew that if he stopped now to catch a breath, he might not find the strength to continue.
"A few degrees toward starboard," the captain ordered.
Clark tried to comply. He was running on empty and wondered if the level of exhaustion he felt was to be expected. The ship pressed down on him. It became harder and harder to continue.
The onslaught of Luthor's mind became more insistent. Clark felt that his grip on reality was slipping. The headache was blinding. Dizziness washed over him, but he wouldn't give in now. If only he knew how much further he had to go.
Just another kick of his legs.
Just a few more yards.
Keep swimming.
It won't be long.
Keep moving.
The burning sensation in his lungs intensified.
Tremors ran through his body.
Don't give up. You've got to fight.
Keep Luthor from taking over.
Maybe this whole ordeal would end if he managed to fight Luthor long enough.
His lungs burned, his limbs ached. He'd escaped a kryptonite cage, but this wasn't so bad. Clark pushed himself further, trying not to think about how tired he felt, how much pain he was in. This was a fight he couldn't afford to lose, wouldn't lose, because people were calling him Superman for a reason.
He didn't give up.
Never.
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