Chapter 9
I’ve taken a chance, fueled by desperation, and am attempting to eavesdrop outside of Clark’s apartment. There are now only a few hours until the wedding and I’ve been awake since before dawn despite my very late night last night.
“So, neither of you saw him last night?” I hear Perry ask.
“No. Just that one phone call when he said he’d meet us back here.”
“No calls after I stepped out for that meeting?”
“Nope.”
So far I’ve heard Perry, Jimmy and Jack, so they must be talking about Clark. I’d seen Clark walk into the building yesterday after his run in with Lois in the convertible, well before anyone else did, and I hadn’t seen him leave. Jack and Jimmy had returned together, followed by Perry much later. Perry had left again and returned shortly after midnight but I hadn’t seen Clark at all.
There was some more mumbling I couldn’t hear clearly, before Perry’s loud voice, honed after years of shouting over the newsroom, cut through loudly.
“We can’t wait any longer. I’ll head to the police station. You two see if you can find anything on Clark.”
I step away from the door and out of earshot, hiding behind the corner to the fire exit. It takes another ten minutes but I watch as Perry, Jack and Jimmy leave the apartment, Perry locking the door behind him. I give them a head start before following, watching as Perry gets into a taxi, and the other two taking to the streets.
I’d love to follow Perry to the precinct, but I feel that’s too risky. I wouldn’t be able to find out what Perry is talking about and I’m sure I’d be recognized. Instead, I start the long walk to the LexCorp Tower.
Today I’m without the large sunhat, or baseball cap, no purse and wearing black dress pants and a white shirt. I’d intentionally dressed in a way that I could hopefully blend in with the caterers or other wedding help at LexCorp Tower. The only thing I have with me is a small duffel bag with Clark’s clothes and shoes, and I’m wondering what they’ll be needed for.
But, Clark is missing! He was here last night so where had he gone? Had Superman collected him last night for some reason? Passing a newsstand, I purchase a paper and flip through it quickly, looking for anything that would explain Clark’s disappearance. Not seeing any mention of Superman at all, I discard the paper and keep walking. Once more, I miss the advantages of an internet connection and a device that can give me immediate access to all the news I could need. The best way I can find out if there’s anything calling Superman and Clark away is to find a television which is showing the news.
I waste precious time watching a morning show on LNN and learn there were several incidents overnight throughout the world but no sign of Superman. The one anchor, after asking where Superman was, began a debate about the new reliance upon Superman and his abilities. As I continued my walk downtown, I pondered their words.
I’ve been back in time for a few weeks now, long enough for it to remind me of how visible Superman had been in that first year after his debut. As I’d lived the last few decades of no Superman contact, and after his withdrawal from Metropolis, I realize how much he’d been involved and we’d all taken it for granted. However, confirmation that he has been nowhere to be seen for the last twelve hours has the pit of worry in my stomach growing.
I turn the corner and step into the bright morning sunlight, stopping as I’ve reached my destination. The street is fairly quiet at this early hour and I wonder if I should attempt to gain access to LexCorp now, or when it gets busier. Opting for the latter, I find a place to sit in the shade, in full view of the building’s main entrance and prepare for a long morning.
Traffic, both vehicular and on foot, begins to pick up around an hour later and I watch two delivery vehicles park in the no parking zone at the front doors. The drivers climb out, open the rear doors, and begin to offload. A security guard and an employee of LexCorp rush out to them and begin arguing. I seize my opportunity, dash across the street, and grab a large flower arrangement from the back of one of the trucks, slipping past the arguing men then heading in the front doors.
“Excuse me! Lady with the flowers!”
I don’t stop and acknowledge the shout, hoping to rush by.
“You, with the flowers. Where do you think you’re going?”
As a security guard steps in front of me I have no choice but to stop.
“I’m to deliver these flowers,” I say, stating the obvious in the hope I can breeze past.
“Not through the main entrance you don’t. Service entrance is around the back. No deliveries through the foyer.”
I’m so close; the elevator door is ten feet in front of me and the doors have just opened. I weigh the chances of me being able to toss the flowers and make a dash for it, but I don’t think I can make it without being stopped.
“Sorry about that. I was told to come in this way,” I say as sweetly as I can before turning around.
Once outside I realize the delivery vehicle has gone and no one appears to notice me standing on the sidewalk with a ostentatiously large bouquet of flowers, holding onto a bag. I walk into the alley, past the parkade entrance, and find the service entrance. The delivery truck has backed up to a dock and is being unloaded. There isn’t an easy way for me to return the flowers or join the unloading without seemingly appearing from nowhere. Hiding the flowers and the bag of Clark’s clothes behind a dumpster, I try to casually walk by. The only entrance is the large garage doors for trucks to back up to and I return to retrieve the vase and bag. Continuing past the unloading area in hopes of finding a door, I’m stopped by a police officer.
“Miss, there’s no access to this building right now.”
“You don’t understand. I’m with the florist and these have to be delivered.” I wave the vase of flowers around to emphasize my point. The officer looks over my shoulder and I turn to see the florist delivery vehicle leaving.
“Do you have any identification on you?”
“No.” I’d thrown it out, sure I would have no further use of it and I’m glad I had. It had been a fairly obvious fake.
“You’re going to have to clear this area.”
Not willing to push my luck and end up arrested, I quickly leave. I walk into the sunshine at the front of LexCorp Tower amazed at how busy the street has become. Cars, taxis and limousines are pulling up to the entrance, dropping off their passengers and driving away. I cross the street, slip into the alley, and contemplate my next move. I’ve now got to try to gain access to the building. There had been a few emergency exit doors that I should try.
Thirty minutes later and I’ve come up short. I’ve tried every conceivable entrance, more than once, and cannot get inside. The only entrance that is open is the main one and I need to try to get in there. As I near the main road from the alley, I’m aware of the increased police presence.
“Hey! You!”
I curse to myself as I recognize the officer that found me earlier trying to find a way inside, and turn around debating if I should toss the bag and vase and try to outrun him.
“We’ve got this area blocked off so there’s no point in running.”
Slowing my pace, I turn and face him as a police car drives into the alley and passes us before stopping abruptly. More police vehicles follow, park, and a few officers join in a brief discussion, and I try to find a way to escape.
“Officer, what’s going on here?”
I freeze as I recognize that voice, a voice I haven’t heard in decades.
“She was trying to break into the service entrance earlier, Inspector, and she’s still hanging around.”
“Is that so?”
I turn around, holding the flowers so my face is mostly obscured. “Please, I need to deliver these and they won’t let me through the foyer.”
Henderson frowns at me as I tremble with nerves. I have no idea what revealing my identity to him would mean for either of us.
“I’ll deal with this,” Henderson dismisses the man.
“Care to explain?” He asks, his voice lowered so only I can hear.
“Explain?”
“Don’t play dumb, Lois. Is it still Lois?”
I wait for a fainting spell, similar to when Jack recognized me, but nothing happens and I slowly lower the flowers. Henderson takes my pause for defiance.
“I’ve had an interesting career, and have seen a lot of wild, unbelievable things. Though the last year has been more eye-opening than I’d ever dreamed of being possible. If you told me a year ago I’d be regularly conversing and working with a man who can fly, I would have thought you’d need a night in the drunk tank. Yet now I’m standing in front of a woman who is the splitting image of another woman I know, albeit with a few more years experience, who right now is somewhere in this Tower preparing to be married. Care to explain?”
He’s speaking quietly but firmly, and this isn’t the friendly Bill Henderson I worked with. This is Inspector Henderson on the hunt for the truth. I look around to see how close the officers are and look back at him warily. How can I possibly explain what I’m doing there without sounding like a lunatic?
“It’s complicated.”
He raises one eyebrow. “I have a few minutes. Try.”
“Do you know where Superman is? Or Clark?”
“Do you?”
“I know Clark is missing, but I don’t know about Superman. I believe they’re being held captive.”
“By whom?”
Instead of saying the name, I look upwards at the tower. “I know Perry came to you this morning and told you Clark was missing.”
“Perry White told me a lot more than that.”
“They did it then!”
“They did what?”
“They got you the evidence?”
“What do you know about that?” he asks sharply.
I can’t hint at my involvement, even though it’s only been pointing people in the right direction and maybe a little meddling to get Jack out of juvie. Henderson can’t know I was helping behind the scenes; no one can know.
“I can’t tell you.”
“So what can you tell me? You still haven’t answered my initial question.”
The banter back and forth has warmed Henderson’s tone towards me and I’m going to take a chance and hope he’ll believe me.
“I’m Lois Lane, only a Lois Lane you’ve never known. I’m here to help Clark, and that’s all. I’m trying to get in and out of this building without being recognized. I’m not here to do anything else.”
“Inspector,” an officer interrupts.
“Yes?”
“The Sergeant has the warrants. He’s on his way with Mr. White and two other young men.”
“Jack and Jimmy!” I exclaim.
Henderson excuses himself and has a brief conversation, quietly and out of my hearing, with the officer, before returning.
“Why should I help you?” He asks, not unkindly, when he returns.
“You know me.”
“I know you’ll do almost anything to get the story.”
“I skirt the law, I don’t break it… often.”
That earns me a smirk.
“What do you need?”
“I have to get inside. I’m not interested in anything other than finding Clark.”
“What happens when you find him?”
“I disappear,” I answer vaguely. I don’t know what will happen.
“How old are you?”
I laugh. “You can’t ask a woman that question!”
He smiles, and I’m filled with sorrow realizing he doesn’t have much longer to live. Maybe there is some room in this timeline for a little more meddling.
“Bill…”
“I’ll get one of the officers to get you inside. Stay away from the upper floors.”
I nod and he places a hand on my shoulder, shocked at his trust in me.
“I mean it. I can not find you inside. If you’re arrested, there’s nothing I can do to help you.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll never see me again. This has to happen and I won’t do anything to jeopardize that.”
“Good. Go find Clark,” he instructs as he starts to turn away.
“Bill, do yourself a favour.”
He pauses and looks quizzically at me. I take a deep breath and wait for the dizziness.
“Whatever promotion they offer you, whatever job you’re offered when this is over, take it.”
He doesn’t ask me for clarification, but briefly considers my words before nodding and walking away. By the time my eyes clear from the brief dizziness, an officer is by my side offering to carry the vase or the bag for me. Refusing to relinquish either, I follow him to the front of the building, and easily gain access to the lobby.
“Excuse me.”
We are stopped by security before I can get to the elevators which have a lineup of guests waiting for the next car.
“It’s ok. We’ve checked her out already.”
The security guard raises one eyebrow at the officer. “I thought you guys were just traffic control.”
“We are. The delivery truck is stuck further back and I offered to help.”
Something catches the security guard’s attention behind us and I wonder if I should try to make a run for it.
“Service elevator is down the hall, to the right.”
The guard rushes toward the main doors, the officer a few steps behind him. As I turn to head down the hallway, I can see a photographer being wrestled to the floor, his camera open and the film exposed. Lex had been insistent that there were no media present for our wedding beyond the few select professionals he had chosen. It doesn’t surprise me that a few photographers, likely from the tabloids of the city, had tried to gain access. They had been ready and waiting outside as I fled my wedding with my mother.
Every step closer to the elevator seems to take more and more of my energy. Earlier today it felt similar to the wobbly legs immediately after a longer run and now it feels like I ran a marathon after having the flu. I step in and select the floor with the conference rooms. The elevator makes one stop halfway up and several servers with the catering company, as well as trays of delicious smelling food join me. As the doors of the full elevator begin to close, I mumble something about taking the stairs and step away from the group before anyone realizes I’m not supposed to be there.
I slip into the emergency exit stairwell and begin the upwards climb. I know Lex’s secret staircase exists as I’ve seen it on the blueprints all those years ago. He’d explained that it was only there for him and those he trusted - which hadn’t been me until I’d inquired - and it didn’t access every floor. He’d explained that it was there in the event of a bomb threat or similar threat. He didn’t want someone to have easy access to his personal quarters on the various floors. Now I had to find one of those floors.
I passed another floor, I begin to feel stronger which immediately worries me. I’ve been feeling progressively worse all day so to suddenly feel an improvement means I’m heading the wrong direction. I can’t exit the emergency stairwell yet as I don’t know which floor I’m on. The LexCorp tower was huge, and most of Lex’s businesses were located here, with the exception of LexLabs and a few others. LNN, while it had its own building, had a floor of offices here, and other businesses leased space on several floors also. I could hardly come bursting through the fire exit on the floor into one of those areas.
The only floor I knew the hidden staircase would be on, other than Lex’s private quarters, was the large conference room where my wedding was about to take place. Reluctantly, I began to climb the stairs again, feeling more energized with each floor I pass.
I shudder as I approach the door, my heart hammering in my ears. Pausing briefly to get control of my breathing, somewhat laboured after all those stairs, I exit the stairwell and step into the conference room, my heart thumping away. It’s surreal to be standing in the room I’m about to be married in and know that things could go horribly wrong from here. What will change when I’m done messing with the timeline? I’ve been so focused on helping Clark that I haven’t thought about what will happen.
But this isn’t the time for those thoughts.
Using the flowers to conceal my face, I scan the room. Across from me I see two doors side by side and I hasten around the room toward them. I push against the first one and it doesn’t open, but the second one does and I step back into a darkened room.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust and with the sliver of light coming from the crack under the door I’m able to see a little. It’s a store room, holding more chairs, folded tables and shelves with various other items stacked on them. In the corner, almost hidden, there’s another door. If I hadn’t been looking for it I likely wouldn’t have seen it. Setting the vase down, I carefully turn the handle to the door, somewhat surprised when it opens.
Gleefully, I close the door quietly behind me and start the trek down the stairs. The walls are smooth, the steps steep, and I’m glad I’ve chosen to wear flats as heels would echo terribly. I know I’m on the right path as the exhaustion worsens and I put both hands on either side of the narrow stairwell for a bit of stability. It would be a long tumble down if I stumble. On the way down the seemingly never ending switchback of steps, I pass a few doors. None have windows or any markings and I have no idea where I am. I have to go down, until I can’t go any further.
Finally, my legs trembling, I see a doorway, with no door, and the end of the stairs. I had noticed the air becoming progressively cooler as I continued and now it’s making me shiver as I’ve stopped moving. I bring my hands together in an attempt to warm them up a little and stare in shock.
They’re - for the lack of a better word - fading!
That’s when it hits me. This whole time I’ve been avoiding seriously contemplating what Wells meant by ‘ceasing to exist.’ It was something I thought I’d get to when I get to it, which is apparently now. Essentially, I’m going to fade away, die. Soon. My life, and everything I hold dear, will be over. Even though I’m doing this to help me, it’s the other me. All those flashes I’ve been having are memories of things that haven’t happened yet, and they’ll never happen to me.
I’m on the verge of what I can only describe as a panic attack. On top of the exhaustion I feel that I have presumed was the sign that I was on the right path to helping Clark, and ultimately myself, I now have the weight of impending death staring me in the face and this time there will be no saving me.
Trying to shake those dark thoughts, I step through the doorway and enter the large, cool room. Two things grab my attention. The second are the large wine barrels that are stacked throughout the room, but the first thing I notice takes the longest to process. It’s a cage, and it’s glowing green.
****
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