Chapter Two
Herbert George Wells scratched his head in frustration. He had recently promised Clark Kent that he would help him find *his* Lois, so he had traveled back in time to the day that Lois had disappeared, May 16,1992. She had left the office in the early afternoon of that day. Wells arrived at noontime, hiding his machine in the alley adjacent to the Daily Planet. He sat on the bench by the Planet’s entrance, watching and studying each and every individual that came and went. Once he spotted her, he would follow her. Find out where she had gone that day. Then he would go back to 1997 and tell Clark Kent. Together they would brainstorm their next move.
Hours went by. Herb was fixated on the revolving door. Lois Lane’s exit would be hard to miss. She was such a bright, beautiful, vivacious lady with a great smile and curvy figure. No wonder all of the Clarks were destined to fall in love with their Loises, he thought.
Looking at his timepiece, he was stunned to realize that it was already five o’clock! An entire afternoon had passed, and he still hadn’t seen Lois Lane leaving the building. Was there a secret exit somewhere? He was pretty sure that there wasn’t any other way to get in and out of the building. There were door men and security everywhere.
Heading to the nearest phone booth, he looked to see if her number was published in the Metropolis telephone directory. There were plenty of “Lanes”, both no *Lois”. How could he get her address?
Approaching one of the security guards, he decided to “wing it”.
“Pardon me sir, but I had an appointment to meet with Lois Lane, the reporter. Do you know who she is?” he asked.
The guard stared at Wells’ unconventional attire with a smirk on his face. “Yeah, I know who she is – she’s a big shot reporter around here. She left the building hours ago, mister. You must have missed her. Sorry.”
Wells, completely taken aback, didn’t know what to say. He had been there the whole time. How had she eluded him?
“Thank you, sir. Do you remember what she was wearing, or if she goes to any local establishment after work where I might be able to catch up with her?”
“No, I don’t remember what she was wearing, buddy. She usually wears something dark-colored, loose and oversized. I guess she’s self-conscious about her body, if you know what I mean. And, if I had to guess, she’s probably a regular customer at the Metropolis Chocolate Factory, across the street,” the guard said sarcastically.
<My word, that’s not how the Lois Lane I know dresses>, Wells thought to himself. <But they apparently share a love of chocolate>.
“Sir, I’m sorry to keep bothering you, but *why* does Ms. Lane wear loose, big clothing? I’m afraid I don’t understand…” he trailed off.
“C’mon buddy. Lois Lane is a great reporter here at the Planet, but she’s really fat! She hides it the best she can…”
Stunned, Wells nodded his head, and replied, “Oh, yes. I can see what you mean now. Thanks again.”
It suddenly occurred to him that Lois Lane must have walked right past him, but he hadn’t recognized her. He chided himself for assuming that the Lois Lanes and Clark Kents of every universe would all look the same. He shouldn’t have thought that. Not at all!
Wells found himself assaulted by conflicting thoughts. Would Clark Kent still be able to love a fat Lois? Was it true that love, indeed, does conquer all? Should he stop searching for her and talk to Mr. Kent about it first before proceeding to try to find her? Everyone *says* that looks don’t matter but everyone *knows* that they do. Of course, in his time period, women were considered more attractive if they carried a few extra pounds. In the late twentieth century, however, it seemed that the world was enamored by skinny women with hardly any curves at all. <Quite a shame, actually>, he thought to himself. <But it *does* sound as if *this* Ms. Lane is carrying more than “just a few extra pounds.” Oh dear>.
At that moment, Wells spotted Perry White, who looked *exactly* the same as the one in the other Clark’s world. White was talking to, or rather yelling at, one of his reporters, and it appeared that they were heading to the café across the street for coffee.
Following them, Herb attempted to listen in on their conversation. Did they realize yet that Lois was missing? He caught up with them at the crosswalk, waiting for the “walk” signal.
“Perry…let me go with Lois. You know I won’t let you down!”
“Listen, Michaud. You stole a story from Lane three years ago without telling me ahead of time that it was her story you were working on. I’m not putting the two of you together on an airplane. That sucker would go down for sure with the volume of hot air you two generate when you’re in the same room!” Perry bellowed.
“Then send just me. Look at it this way, Perry. The airlines might make you buy two seats for Lois. They have new policies in place for overweight passengers, you know. If you send just me, you’ll save money. The suits upstairs will love you for that!”
Perry stopped dead in his tracks. “Stop talking right now, before I say something to you I’ll regret. You listen up, Michaud! Lois Lane is the best damn reporter I’ve ever met. I don’t care how much she weighs, if I decide to send her to Brazzaville – and that decision hasn’t been made yet, mind you - *she’s* the one I’m going to send. I don’t care if I have to purchase the whole damn row of seats! And Claude - quit trying to suck up to me. It’s getting a little nauseating!”
Following the two men into the café, Herb observed that Perry got a black coffee to go without saying another word to the Michaud fellow, who had sat down at the counter. Herb figured he might be able to glean some information from this Claude person, He seemed very frustrated indeed with Perry White.
Ordering tea, Herb sat down next to Lois’ coworker. “Good day, sir. If you don’t mind my saying, you seem a bit upset. I couldn’t help overhearing your argument with the other gentlemen. Is that your boss?”
Claude turned to look at this quirky man in the bowler hat and out-of-date clothes. “I hope you’re performing in a play with that outfit on, buddy; otherwise, you need to go shopping! Get in the twentieth century, will ya?”
Smiling broadly, Herb decided that yes, being an actor would explain his period clothing well. “Yes, I’m auditioning for the lead role in a play about a late 19th century scientist and writer. And *you* haven’t answered my question.”
“Yeah, that’s Perry White. He’s my boss at the Planet. I’m a reporter. He’s my editor. He’s tough, but I’m pretty good at wearing him down.”
“Oh, then you must know Lois Lane,” Wells replied. “I had an appointment to meet with her here at four o’clock but she never showed up. Would you have any idea where I might locate her now?”
“That depends. Why were you meeting with Lane? Are you one of her sources? You can tell me, I’ll get her the information.” Claude suddenly looked at the little man next to him with new eyes. It was no secret that Lane’s sources were an eclectic group of people.
“Tell you what, sir. If you tell me where Ms. Lane lives, I’ll give you a tip.” Wells figured his knowledge of the future would come in handy, now, as long as the information given out was relatively harmless and wouldn’t change history.
“Give me the tip first, and then I’ll tell you,’ countered Michaud.
“Frankly sir, my tip is your reward for telling me where Ms.Lane resides,” Herb replied. Playing his hand, he finished sipping his tea and got up to leave.
“Alright, you win.” Claude wrote down Lois’ address on a napkin and handed it to Wells. He hoped that she hadn’t moved since their date three years ago. “Now spill your guts, buddy.”
Herb leaned over and whispered to him, “Perry White is going to be thinking about going into politics. Someone in the computer field is going to convince him to run for Mayor. You should be able to use that to your advantage, somehow. Good day, sir.”
Leaving Claude Michaud a little dazed with a slight smile pasted on his face, Wells moved quickly before he could ask a follow-up question.,
He exited the café, and once on the sidewalk, he looked around the area for someone to give him directions to Lois’ apartment. He finally decided that hailing a taxicab would be the only way to get there. Thank goodness he had brought late 20th century currency with him.
Herb had taken a bag of coin from the turn of the century, in near-mint condition, and brought it to a pawn shop/jewelry store upon his arrival in 1992. He was absolutely astounded to find out what his 19th and early 20th -century British coins were worth in 1992. Nonetheless, it allowed him a lucrative way to explore the future.
Perhaps, he thought, he should consider purchasing some modern clothing while he was investigating Lois’ disappearance, he thought. He was making quite a disturbance dressed in his circa 1916 suit.
Arriving at Lois’ apartment building, after a thrilling Metro Cab ride, Herb approached the building’s security guard/door man. “Can you ring Ms.Lane’s apartment please? Tell her that ….Bobby Bigmouth is here to see her.” Herb remembered that he was one of the other Lois’ sources, and was hoping that it might be true for *this* Lois, as well.
Herb held his breath as the guard complied with his request. “No answer, sir; I’m sorry.”
“Is it possible for me to get upstairs and knock on her door? She might have taken a nap. We did have an appointment.”
The security guard scrutinized Wells in his outdated garb, and flatly stated, “No way, buddy. I’ve never seen you before, this is a secure building, and we’re not about to let weirdos like you get inside. Come back later. Maybe she went out to get something to eat. Did you try the Met Chocolate Factory? That’s probably where she is.”
<The Met Chocolate factory again. My word, no wonder Ms. Lane is a big lady> Herb thought to himself. <Now what do I do? Ah, yes. Go clothes shopping, and then head back to 1997 and seek Mr. Kent’s assistance. I hope he’ll still want to come after I tell him that Ms. Lane uh…is a bit larger than the other one…oh dear..>
Congo-Brazzaville, 1997
Medecins Sans Frontieres (Doctors Without Borders) camp
“Mademoiselle Smith! Mademoiselle Smith!”
MSF Volunteer Jane Smith turned to see several children from the orphanage that she was teaching at running towards her. They seemed more excitable than usual.
The official language of Congo-Brazzaville was French. Drawing on some of the French she had learned in high school, in the past two years, Ms. Smith had vastly improved on her language skills, having to use them daily. She hugged the small Congolese kids as they clung to her legs. “We saw Superman! We saw Superman!” they were nearly chanting.
Jane smiled. It made the kids’ day when Superman was in the area. Frequently, he brought medicine and food to various MSF locations in Africa. Ms. Smith was from the United States and the children kept asking her if she had ever met him. She had been working at the camp since 1995 and Superman didn’t make his first public appearance until 1996. The children, nonetheless, kept asking …they thought it was so amazing that both of them were from the United States!
Frankly, Jane had no idea how she had arrived in Africa. Her last memory was of entering her apartment in tears, taking a shower, and flopping down on her bed after taking several sleeping pills and sedatives to calm her nerves. She woke up three years later, in 1995, at a “doctors without borders” camp with no recollection of what had transpired to bring her there. The children said that she had come from the sky, that she was a miracle. It was assumed by all that she came as a volunteer from the States. And, as it turned out, a bright, intelligent woman in the midst of unspeakable poverty and disease was truly a welcome addition to their effort. Anything she could contribute to the lives of the Africans was so greatly appreciated! She felt loved and needed for the first time in her life. Not since she was a small, still thin child, had she felt so good about herself.
Some of the doctors were from Canada and the U.S., some were African, and the rest were European. Even though food supplies were limited, and she was thinner than she had been in years, she was still overweight by anyone’s standards. She figured that she was losing weight at the rate of about 20 pounds per year. Her stomach had definitely shrunk, but she was still hungry most of the time. What she would give for a double fudge crunch bar from the Met Chocolate Factory! However, when she looked around at all of the emaciated children being brought to the camp on a daily basis, she felt guilty for being overweight and even thinking about food!.
She *so* loved the children. They didn’t care that she was chubby. They loved her unconditionally. Whenever she thought about trying to go back to the States, she would consider their wants and needs and would ultimately decide that the unseen hand of fate had brought her to Africa. That was where she was supposed to be.
She also figured that eventually, if she stayed there long enough, she would lose enough weight to be considered “normal”. *Then* she would go back to the States and flaunt herself in front of Claude Michaud and tell him where to stick it when he asked her out again!
Ironically, before she was magically placed here in the heart of civil war, famine, disease, and poverty, she had been considering taking a leave of absence to investigate the gun-running story that she had argued with both Perry and Claude about. If Perry still said “no” the next day, she was going to max out her credit cards and catch the next plane to Africa. Now that she was there, she realized how foolish an idea that would have been. The unforgivable terrain, the lack of modern infrastructure – the daily rapes, the violence - she would have lasted two days and would have had to run home with her tail between her legs! If she had even been able to *get* home!
<Be careful what you wish for, you may get it>, she thought.
Clearly, her Daily Planet reporting career was in the past. No more chasing down leads to get the front page, one-upping Claude Michaud. Here she was making a bigger difference than she ever could have simply reporting the news. So for the past two years, she had totally immersed herself in helping others. No one knew her real name. She told the doctors that she was suffering from amnesia, and called herself “Jane Smith”. Even though she had arrived at camp under mysterious circumstances, she was such a welcome addition that no one questioned her any further. Nor did they have the time to really focus on her, anyway. Every day was a new challenge, one crisis after the other.
She thought about Perry and the Daily Planet quite often however, and wondered if they missed her. Claude must be thrilled that she was gone. No more competition! Well, except for Clark Superman Kent. It must be so easy for him to get scoops, with his super-powers and all. Suddenly she wanted to hear all of the details of his recent visit from the children. He was really good-looking. Those muscles - that outfit. It didn’t hide much. She smiled. <Lois Lane, you just forget it. Superman can get any woman he wants. If I was still in the States, we would have been coworkers. Well, last thing I need is for another good-looking guy to break my heart. He’s certainly not going to fall for an overweight woman like me when he can get one with a perfect body!>
It had been rumored that one of the reasons that Superman visited the MSF camps in Africa so frequently was because he was searching for a woman. She must be very special to him that he would travel across the world in search of her, Lois figured. Every now and then he would fly low enough thru the jungle for the children to spot him. At least once a month he would actually land and delivers supplies to the doctors
One of the little girls, Monique, started babbling about seeing Superman fly! Apparently he had been in the area again today, dropping off food and medical supplies, and had visited some of the sick children in the makeshift hospital. One of them asked if he could take them flying. Not wanting to appear to play favorites, he gently turned down the request. After all, quite a few of the children had to be confined to their beds and couldn’t be moved in any way.
Another child asked him if he was still looking for his girlfriend. Superman got a little embarrassed, they said, and he said that yes, someone “really special to him” had disappeared and there were rumors that she had gone to Congo-Brazzaville. He said she was a “beautiful, dark-haired American lady named Lois Lane”. He carried a picture of her and showed it to the children and the doctors. Everyone agreed that she was strikingly beautiful. No one recognized her and he was informed, as he always was, that no one there knew a Lois Lane. Superman looked really sad, they said, and flew off shortly, saying good-bye and hugging the children before he left them.
“Lois Lane? He said he was looking for Lois Lane? Are you sure?” Lois exclaimed.
“Oui, mademoiselle. You could tell by the look on his face that he loves her,” Monique asserted, matter-of-factly. “Superman is definitely in love. I hope he finds her. He’s really nice.”
“You said he had a picture of her? What did she look like?” Lois asked. <If he had a picture, why didn’t anyone recognize me? I mean, my hair is a lot longer than it used to be, but it’s still *me*!>
“Ah, mademoiselle, she was pretty. It was a picture from a newspaper. She looked like she could have been your sister,” another child, Pierre, piped up.
“Pardon me for saying this, but she was thinner than you, Mademoiselle. Her hair was dark like yours but shorter. She had your eyes. Are you *sure* you never met Monsieur Superman?” Monique asked again.
“No, honey, I’ve been here for two years, he didn’t exist until last year. Someday, perhaps, we’ll meet when he drops off supplies again,” Lois replied, her mind whirling at this information.
<A photo from a newspaper article? *Thinner* than me? Is he looking for Lucy and has us mixed up? But she has blonde hair. Something really strange is going on here. Perry must have put him up to this>, Lois reasoned. <We’ve never met. And if we had, he certainly wouldn’t be in love with me. Well, I guess whenever I decide that I want to go home, all I have to is tell everyone that my real name is Lois Lane and Superman will swoop by and fly me home. He’ll quickly figure out that he’s really looking for someone else, but by then, I’ll be home and it won’t matter.>.
Suddenly overcome by guilt in leaving everyone hanging by not telling her family and at least Perry that she was still alive, Lois retreated to her tent to regroup. A part of her knew that subconsciously, she was punishing everyone back home that never treated her that well by having them think was dead. Another part of her knew that Perry, at least, appreciated her, and that in spite of her parent’s divorce and her mother’s subsequent drinking, her mother and father still loved her as much as they were capable of. Maybe she should write to her family, letting them know where she was and that she was still alive. They could contact Perry and let him know that Superman could stop searching for her, because she was happy where she was, and really didn’t want to be found. Grabbing some paper, she began writing a letter to her mother. She would follow thru with notes to Lucy, and then finally, her father and stepmother, in that order.
*****
After sending the three letters, Lois expected that she would, at the very least, get some type of correspondence from her family, thrilled to hear that she was still alive. A letter begging her to come home - even if she didn’t want to go back there. Nothing.
Finally, weeks later, she received all three envelopes back in the mail. She was not prepared for the horrid news that awaited her.
The first letter – to her mother- had been returned to her – “Addressee deceased – return to sender”. The second letter, sent to the airlines that Lucy worked for, since she didn’t have a permanent home address, had the verbage “employee deceased – return to sender”. The third letter, to her father, was also returned. The envelope simply stated “forwarding address time expired – return to sender.”
Lois was completely taken aback. She had never even considered that her family might not be out there, waiting for her return. Seeking out the only real friend that she had made while in Brazzaville for comfort, she rushed into the tent of Dr. Bridget Crosby, a fellow American who had spent the last ten years overseas trying to make a difference as well.
“Jane? What’s the matter? You look like you just saw a ghost!” Bridget exclaimed. “Are you okay?”
Lois rushed into the safe arms of her friend. “No, no, I’m not. I just found out that my sister and my mother are dead.” Tears flowed onto her friend’s shoulder.
Bridget thought she knew Jane, who supposedly suffered from amnesia, pretty well. Hearing this news, however, the good doctor suddenly realized that there was a lot more to her friend that met the eye.
“So? You remembered who your family is and tried to contact them? Why didn’t you tell me your memory had returned? Oh, forget it - that doesn’t matter now. I’m so sorry…”
Between sobs, Lois blurted out, “I’m …I’m….my real name is L-Lois. L-Lois Lane.”
“The woman that Superman is looking for?? Omigod,” Dr, Crosby was totally amazed. “I didn’t recognize you from the picture that he showed us. But it was a grainy newspaper photo and you were in the crowd.”
“I don’t have any idea what picture he’s carrying around with him. And, I don’t know why he’s looking for me, because we’ve never met,” Lois said, still crying and taking deep breaths to calm down. “And I’m not beautiful. He told the children that I was beautiful.”
Bridget gave her friend a tight squeeze. Jane/Lois was the most beautiful person she had ever met. The way she gave selflessly to teach the children. Spent time playing with them. Helping out with what ever needed to be done at the camp. If she wasn’t beautiful, who was?
“Hush, honey. Just because you carry a few extra pounds doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful. Superman has X-ray vision, remember? That means he can see inside of you…to your soul. If anyone can see your inner beauty, it’s Superman. Remember that.”
“It doesn’t matter. I have nothing to go home to now, anyway. I had a job at the Daily Planet as a reporter, and I’m sure I’ve been replaced by now. I’m needed here more. I just want to be left alone.”
“Do you know how your mother and sister died?” Bridget asked gently.
“Not yet. But tomorrow, can I borrow your jeep to get to Les Depeches de Brazzaville? (Brazzaville’s newspaper) I want to see if I can do a little research.”
“We’ll go together. I’ll help you anyway I can, Jane..I mean, Lois,” she promised.
“Bridget…please don’t tell anyone my real name is Lois, okay? I don’t want Superman showing up trying to take me home. At least… not now…not yet. I don’t know what I’m going to do, I guess it depends what I find out tomorrow.”
“I promise, *Jane*. Although, if anyone else knew that Superman had been looking for them, they’d *pretend* to be you just for the chance to go flying with him. Are you *sure* about this?” Bridget asked, incredulously.
“Yes, I’m sure. And thanks, Bridget. You’re such a great friend.”
“Ditto”.
TBC...Thursday
