<><><>
Part 3/5
<><><>
Two hours later the truck pulls into an industrial area. We roll to a stop outside the high chain link fence and watch it back up to a loading dock. The truck's engine shuts down and the driver gets out. He goes around to the back of the truck for about a minute and then he walks across the lot to a small sedan. He gets into the car and drives away.
Clark looks over at me. "Do you want to follow him?"
"No, it's the truck we're interested in."
"So now what?"
"Now we go check the trailer."
"How do we do that?"
"Over the fence. Unless you can fly, I guess we'll have to climb it."
He frowns. "I don't suppose you'd consider just watching it from here, would you?"
"Maybe later." I get out of the Jeep and start to climb the fence. Why doesn't he want to check the trailer?
Clark hangs back until I'm putting my leg over the top. "And what are we going to tell them when we get caught?" he asks as he starts climbing to follow me.
"We're looking for a lost puppy."
We sneak across the lot and onto the dock. I struggle with the latch on the trailer's door. Clark finally takes pity and forces it open. The door swings wide and I stand there in stunned silence.
There's nothing in the back of the truck.
Clark looks resigned, but not all that surprised. "Do you think they switched trucks on us?" he asks.
"But where?" I'm still trying to come to grips with the fact that we've been led on the ultimate wild goose chase. And my partner is probably Superman. Both of these things make me feel deeply inadequate.
"Maybe the truck was never loaded before leaving Metropolis?" Clark suggests.
"You mean it was empty all this time?" Talk about a metaphor. Empty truck. Empty-headed Lois. Both of us heading hundreds of miles in the wrong direction for way too long.
"Looks like it. What do you want to do now?" Clark now looks slightly too amused for my taste.
What do I want to do now? The honest answer is I want to smack him. Really, really hard but that would hurt me more than him. It's not his fault the truck is empty. Well, no, actually that might be his fault, too. If he had just let me look in the warehouse to begin with I'd know what it was they were hiding.
The memory of him dragging me out of the warehouse comes back to me in a rush. No wonder I couldn't get free. I can feel my cheeks flushing - pinned to the wall by Superman, there's a sensory reminiscence to add to my fantasy file. What about that kiss we shared last night? I know I was kissing Clark, but was I kissing Superman, too? I think I'm about to hyperventilate. Clark gives me a concerned look.
"Lois, are you okay?"
I feel utterly lost. What do I do now? "I guess we should head back to Metropolis."
"That's it? You don't want to try and find the driver?"
"How are we going to find him? And, even if we did find him, where's the story in an empty truck being driven to the middle of nowhere?" I hate that my voice goes high like that when I'm flustered. "I'm going home."
<><><>
We're back on the highway when I decide to poke at the hornet's nest some more.
"Clark, does he knock on the window when he comes to visit you? Or does he just come in? Does he have a key to your door?"
This time Clark doesn't even ask who I'm talking about. "Lois, you seem more preoccupied with Superman than usual."
"I'm just curious about him. That's not new."
"No, it's not," he says. "Do you want me to drive for a while?"
No, I want you to pick up this vehicle and fly it back to Metropolis, thereby sparing us hours of driving to get home. What if I'm wrong, though? What if he isn't Superman and they're just friends after all? Obviously he's not going to confess. I'm going to have to find a way to make him tell me his secret.
"No, I'm fine," I tell him.
How do I do it? How do I get Clark to confess he's Superman? Should I stalk him until I actually see him putting on the suit? And, if I do prove it, what then? What will happen between us if I'm right? Can we still be friends? Can we still be more than friends? Will he ever kiss me again like he did last night? Or will Clark start treating me with the same polite distance as Superman? I couldn't handle that. But I also can't stand letting him think he's still getting away with it.
<><><>
We stop for lunch at a roadside diner. A radio behind the counter is playing a country song as I watch Clark eat a greasy burger and fries. "Don't you ever worry about cholesterol?"
"No," he says simply.
My lip curls in disgust at both the grease and his apparent good luck to consume whatever the heck he wants. My salad is mostly yellow and wilted and I push it away.
"So, Clark, you never did say where you were that weekend that you were supposed to be with Mayson."
He pauses in his chewing and looks at me in guilty astonishment. He shakes his head as he swallows. "I'm sorry? You want to know where I went?"
"Yes, it's not like you not to call Perry and say you weren't coming to work. Or to call someone after you've made plans to let them know you weren't going to show up."
"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think." He won't look me in the eye. Apparently the paper placemat beneath his plate holds the secrets of the universe.
And maybe I know you better than you think. I let the subject drop. His non-answer is all the answer I needed.
The song on the radio ends and it goes into the news.
"…And over in Fulton we're now in the third hour as they try to free four year-old Alex Martin from a thirty-foot deep well. Rescuers are hampered by the need to drill through bedrock to reach him. Special equipment is on the way but doctors fear that the little boy may be going into shock and…"
"Excuse me, Lois, I, uh…" Clark gestures in the direction of the restrooms. "I'll be right back."
I watch him disappear into the men's room and wonder what he would do if I drove to Fulton. We passed it about twenty miles ago so it wouldn't take too long. Still, there's probably no way I could get there before he came back here.
"Will you give me a head start?" "This isn't hide and seek, Clark."
Oh, it so is. Let's just see how he gets back to Metropolis without me. I slide out of the booth and go to the front counter to pay. The girl behind the counter is flirting with a customer. She waves at me to acknowledge that she sees me, but she doesn't come over to the register.
"How do you know that's what I meant?" she coos to the guy.
"Oh, I know what you meant," he says, leaning across the counter to whisper something in her ear that makes her blush and giggle.
I clear my throat. She whispers something back to him and they both laugh.
"Excuse me?" I say loudly. She gives me another wave, more dismissive this time.
Why, oh why, wasn't I carrying some cash instead of a credit card? If she doesn't hurry Clark's going to get back and I'll have to find another way to subtly let him know that I know. I roll my eyes; this is so stupid. I'm no better than the waitress and her boyfriend. We all know something, don't we?
The radio breaks in with a special announcement that Superman has arrived on the scene and is tunneling down to where Alex is trapped. I bet if I checked the bathroom right now I wouldn't find Clark inside. Will he stick around to sign autographs and pose for pictures? If he does, I might be able to get out of here before he gets back.
The girl gives one last giggle and comes over to the register. "How was everything?" she asks.
I glare at her in response as I hand her my credit card and she just smiles. "Where y'all headed?"
"North," I say curtly. Does she really think she needs to chat me up or is she just that dense?
She swipes the card and we wait for several long seconds. She sighs and gives me a half-hearted shrug. "This stupid machine. It doesn't always want to work." She swipes the card again. I can hear the faint electronic screech as the card reader connects with its server. Several more seconds drag by while she sends googly eyes to the guy who knows what she means.
The machine begins to print the receipt. Are they always this slow or is it just me? She tears the receipt off and starts looking for a pen.
"No, I have one." I dig through my purse. I know I have one. She finds one first and sets it down on the counter. I scribble something resembling my signature and she hands me back my card.
"Y'all drive safe!" she calls after me as I rush from the diner.
My fingers feel numb as I fumble through my purse in search of the keys. C'mon, c'mon… He has to have saved that little boy by now. I breathe a sigh of relief when I find the keys. I'm unlocking the door when I hear Clark call out. "Were you going to leave me here?"
I suppress a gasp and turn around with a forced smile. "No, of course not. I was just… I don't like the smell in there."
"Uh huh." He adjusts his glasses and we both eye each other suspiciously. "Would you like me to drive for a while? Give you a break?" he asks.
"You really thought I would leave you here?" I hold out the keys to him as a peace offering and he takes them, his fingers brushing against mine. His eyes darken just a little and I have to swallow to work free my voice. "Why would I leave you here?"
"You tell me," he says quietly.
I give him a weak smile. What if I'm wrong? What if it really is just a coincidence that Clark went in the restroom while Superman was saving little Alex? Was I really going to ditch him here and see if he made it home?
"I wasn't going to leave you here," I lie as I go around to get in the passenger door. "What kind of a person do you think I am?"
He doesn't answer.
<><><>
I watch him as he drives. Clark's profile is absolutely the same as Superman if you take away the glasses. Slick back that cute little lock of hair from his forehead and… my god, I was so blind. Every now and then Clark glances over at me, an apprehensive look on his face. Finally he breaks down and asks me, "What?"
"What what?"
"Why do you keep staring at me like that?"
"Maybe I like looking at you."
He blushes and shakes his head.
I stare at the scenery rushing by outside instead. I do like looking at him. I did even before I thought he might be Superman. I can usually ignore how attractive Clark is - unless he smiles at me. Clark has a smile that ought to be illegal. I'd wager he's charmed the pants off half the girls in Smallville with that smile. And the way he kisses? The memory of last night's kiss makes me blush. Two more minutes of that and he could have charmed my pants off.
I wonder if I'm the only female who's ever said no to him. Shame, deep and painful, floods through me as I remember how I turned him down and then threw myself at Superman. This is why he hasn't told me. He thinks I love Superman more than Clark. This is why he was never going to tell me. I can appreciate why he hasn't said anything - it certainly gets complicated if I know.
Why is he willing to date me as Clark, but not as Superman? Because, my mind whispers, Superman isn't real. He's just a disguise. That's why he never tells you anything about himself, no matter how many hints you drop about wanting to know what kind of music he likes or if he has a favorite color. You already know all that stuff about Clark.
I look at him again. Is he? Or isn't he?
Clark sounds a little paranoid when he realizes I'm watching him again. "Seriously, Lois, what?"
I give him a tight-lipped smile and look away. After a couple of miles I have to say something. "Did you know you talk in your sleep?"
He looks over at me with an odd, almost anxious, expression on his face. "I do? What did I say?"
"Not much, it was actually more like mumbling."
"Oh." He looks back at the road.
"It was something about sauce." I put that out there to see if he'll bite.
"Sauce?" He shakes his head. "What kind of sauce?"
"I don't know, you tell me."
"I don't remember what I dreamed about. I'm not sure what a person says in their sleep should be used against them."
"You don't believe it's something in your subconscious bubbling to the surface?"
"There's nothing about sauce in my subconscious."
"Well, I found it interesting. I wonder what kind of sauce it was? Duck sauce? Soy sauce? A creamy Alfredo? Stop me if anything sounds familiar. Maybe it was some kind of dipping sauce? Maybe you were dreaming about a barbecue? Do you know any good recipes for sauce? I just love a good sauce."
He shakes his head. "If I don't remember the dream, how could I know what kind of sauce it was?"
Liar! I can't imagine being able to argue with Superman like this and it leaves me tongue-tied to think I just might be provoking him right now. Clark, on the other hand… I have no problems picking a fight with Clark.
We're coming up on a sign for a scenic view ahead and I point at it. "Can we pull in there? I need to stretch my legs." Truthfully I just need a few minutes to get my thoughts straight. I can't think clearly when I'm trapped in the same vehicle as him and last night's kiss is replaying in my mind. I keep picturing Clark dressed as Superman, but still wearing his glasses as he eases me across his lap and lays me down next to him.
Clark takes the exit and we roll to a stop in the deserted parking lot. There's a small brick building containing restrooms. A couple of picnic tables and a large wooden sign that reads 'Murphy's Leap' sit next to the building. I get out of the Jeep and walk over to read the sign.
'Near this spot on 2 October, 1723, Daniel Murphy leapt to escape a Cherokee war party.' Below the inscription is a drawing of a man on horseback plummeting down a steep slope. Beyond the sign is a split rail fence. I go over and take a look. The ravine's slope is precipitous and thick with brush as it descends about fifty feet. There's a small creek at the bottom.
Clark comes to stand beside me. "The sign didn't say if the horse lived, did it?"
"No, but I'm going to assume it did."
Clark stuffs his hands in his pockets and rocks back on heels. "I could see you doing something like that."
"Like what?"
"Leaping blindly over the edge without considering the consequences."
I'm not sure whether I'm offended or not. "The difference is he was being chased, I only leap in pursuit of something."
Clark gives me an affectionate smile. "That's true. You don't back down under pressure. I'm just not sure that's always a good quality."
I'm definitely offended. "Take me or leave me, you can't pick and choose my character flaws…"
"I didn't say it was a bad quality, just that it's not always a good one," he cuts me off.
"Well, you're hardly perfect either! You, you lie about stuff and you disappear all the time and you…"
"I lie about stuff? What stuff am I lying to you about?"
"You tell me!"
"Lois…" Clark spreads his hands in a helpless gesture. "Are you feeling okay? You've been acting kind of weird all day. This…" He hesitates and I almost feel bad at the hurt look on his face. "This isn't about last night is it?"
Last night? He thinks I've been acting weird all day because of last night? Does he really believe I'd abandon him at some roadside diner because we kissed? Oh my god, which one of us is more obtuse?
"Never mind." I head back to the Jeep and sit in the driver's seat. Clark gets in on the passenger side and hands me the keys. We both put on our seat belts. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. Why won't he just break down and admit it? How many hints do I have to drop?
"Is there anything you want to tell me?" I ask as I start the engine.
"Like what?" he asks.
I shrug. "I don't know, anything. Anything at all."
Clark shakes his head slowly. "If you have something to say, Lois, just say it. I can't read your mind."
"I bet there are lots of things you can do that you haven't told me about."
He freezes, his gaze locked on the picnic table in front of us. "Like what?"
"You really aren't going to tell me, are you?"
"Tell you what?" He sounds as frustrated as I feel.
I put the Jeep in reverse and back out of the parking space, then continue across the lot in reverse. I brake and look over at him. My heart is pounding so hard it hurts. I can't believe I'm thinking of doing this.
"Last chance, Clark."
"Last chance for what?" he asks in exasperation. "Lois, what is going on?" He looks at me like I've lost my mind. Maybe I have.
"If I'm wrong, then I apologize in advance." I shift the Jeep into drive.
"Wrong about what?" Clark asks.
I stomp on the accelerator and we speed forward, onto the grass and past the picnic tables. Clark yells, "What are you doing?"
As the Jeep plows through the fence I'm horrified by the thought of actually going over the edge and the realization that Clark isn't leaping out of the Jeep to stop us. I take my foot off the accelerator and go for the brake. Clark reaches between the seats to yank up on the emergency brake. By that time, though, the front end has gone over the edge, the weight of the engine pulling the rest of the Jeep along behind it.
"Oh, damn," I whisper.
<><><>
End 3/5
