From part 37:
It had to have been this rock that had affected Clark. There couldn’t possibly be *two* entirely different individuals or groups, with *two* entirely different, effective means of harming Superman, could there? That was entirely *too* coincidental, even for someone who believed in coincidences – which she did not. No, it had to be one and the same group. So this Trask guy was the person she and Clark had been seeking.
Now all she had to do was find a way to stop him. She looked carefully through the outer walls of the ballroom again. The SWAT team – from the number of men, it might be more than one team - were still moving around, and there was a command station being set up across the street. The street had apparently been blocked at both ends; there was no moving traffic on it, anyway.
Maybe she could cause some sort of diversion that would allow the SWAT teams to enter…
But what? ---
The Girl Next Door, part 38:
If only she could reach Clark! She hadn’t realized how much she had come to depend on being able to bounce ideas off him.
And she still had to warn him. Because she had absolutely no doubt that if he had any idea what was happening, he would rush bravely into the conference center.
But in this case, that would do neither of them any good. He couldn’t come in as Superman, not even at super speed. It only took an instant to open that box again, and if it was open both she and Clark would be vulnerable.
She would be unable to help him, and they would shoot him.
Kill him.
Even the thought of Clark being shot, falling helplessly like the people who’d been shot tonight…
Falling, to lie cold and still and unresponsive…
<Clark!> She shuddered violently. She *couldn’t* let that happen.
She would even risk exposure if it meant she could save him. If she had to, she would draw the men’s attention, draw their fire, to herself. But if they opened the box... She looked around, desperate. How… What could she do?
The man who had attempted to call for help on his cell phone suddenly coughed weakly.
Trask whirled and shot at him without warning, narrowly missing his own man, the medic working on the wounded man. People screamed and flung themselves out of the line of fire, all except for the woman who had been sitting next to the injured man. At some point, she’d lifted the man’s head into her lap, and now she bent over him, sobbing, as he gasped for breath.
The medic, who’d flinched and ducked instinctively, cursing, at the sound of the gunshot, straightened and shot a glare at Trask. He gestured a quick ‘ok’ to the second medic, who’d looked up in concern, before turning his attention to the people around the wounded man.
He appeared to be speaking – Lois extended her hearing as he finished in a hoarse whisper, “…bullet hit you? Where? Move over here – easy and quiet, okay? I’ll get to you in a minute.”
A middle-aged man, white with pain and with one hand clamped to his upper arm, scooted awkwardly toward the medic. Blood oozed between his fingers.
Trask resumed his pacing, ignoring the activity in the group into which he’d just shot.
Lois stared in horror, first at Trask and then back into the group on the floor as the medic bent over the first wounded man again.
All he’d done was cough – and not even very loudly. And Trask had…
She was scared.
Scared for the people around her, scared for Clark.
She couldn’t save them.
She couldn’t save him.
The minute Clark showed up, Trask would open the box. And if he decided to open it beforehand, she’d be completely useless. She shut her eyes in despair.
More useless than she was now.
In her distress, she shifted onto her knees, and was startled to feel Perry’s hand suddenly clasp one of hers, still fisted at her sides. Opening her eyes, she stared at him blankly for a moment. Focusing on him, she could clearly see his worry. “Stay down, Lois,” he whispered.
Just as he began to speak, they were startled by a loud crash from the dais as Trask suddenly threw the podium over the front edge of the platform, cursing. As the people closest to the dais scrambled back, scooting and crawling, Trask began pacing again. Suddenly, he shouted, “Where is it?”
Two of Trask’s men closed in on him, and the three stood in a small huddle. She listened in to their heated whispers only long enough to determine that they were trying to calm him down.
The man seemed to be losing it, and it was beginning to look like at least some of his men recognized that fact. In the two or three minutes since he’d sent the podium crashing off the dais, three more of the uniformed men had moved closer. All of them still held their guns across their chests, but not resting casually across their arms like before. Instead, their hands were far apart on their weapons; each man had one hand on the trigger and one hand supporting the barrel.
Desperately, forcing back a sudden urge to cry, she tried again. <*Clark*!>
The reply was instant and startled. <Lois?>
She sank down into a sitting position and shut her eyes, concentrating. <Clark, where are you?>
Trask was pacing again, and suddenly he shouted, “Where is it? What’s taking it so long?”
<I’m over the Atlantic, still over international waters.> She could feel his confusion. <How is this possible, Lois? How are you reaching me? What’s happening?>
Having made the breakthrough in reaching him, she was finding that she didn’t need to concentrate to speak – think - to him. Keeping a wary eye on the group on the dais, she began to explain. <Clark, listen. This is very important. A madman calling himself Jason Trask has taken us all hostage. He’s ->
<I’m coming!>
<*No*! No, Clark!> It was the equivalent of a shout. She felt his confusion, and rushed on. <No, Clark. You can’t come. He’s looking for you. He’s after you – after Superman. He has some kind of weird glowing rock in a box. He opened it, and it made me feel really sick. I think that’s what happened to you.>
On the dais, Trask suddenly shouted, “Shut up!” She saw the man he’d been talking to, one of those in black, raise his hands in an I’m-backing-off gesture as Trask continued, “Where is this thing? Why hasn’t it shown up? It came for the bombs! It came for the plane!”
She felt sick. Trask was talking about Clark. About Superman.
<Lois!> It was a frantic reply. <Are you all right?>
<Yes, yes! I’m fine, Clark. He closed the box almost immediately. I feel fine.>
Perry shifted, tucking her slightly behind him. Beside him, Jimmy moved closer, so that both men were between her and the open space across which they watched the increasingly agitated Trask pace on the dais.
<I have to stop him, Lois!>
<Yes, but not like you usually do. He’s insane, Clark…>
<I’m here, Lois. I can see you. I can see the men with guns -> She could feel the steel resolve in his thoughts.
Frantically, trying to keep her breathing slow and even, she flung her thoughts at him hard and fast. <Where? Where are you? You *can’t* come in here, Clark! Wherever you are, stop! Even if you come in at super speed, he’ll have time to open the box.> She shut her eyes, bending her head. <*Please*, Clark.> She could feel tears pricking behind her eyes.
The reply felt softer, warmer and more gentle. <I’m above the convention center now, Lois. I’m watching. I won’t come in until we discuss our options… Unless he tries to hurt you. I won’t let that happen, Lois.>
She loosened her clenched fists. If she’d been vulnerable, she’d have drawn blood where her nails had been digging into her palms. <He probably has people watching out for you, Clark. I don’t think his organization is real. Or at least, if it is… He’s a maniac. How can he be in charge? We need to find out if he’s legit.>
<I’m up too high to be seen at the moment. There are police and SWAT team members here – it looks like they’re working to surround the building. I imagine that they’ll be ready to move in another thirty minutes or so. If they can get to him before he hurts anyone… First he needs to be stopped – then we can figure out who he represents, if anyone.>
<He’s… he’s on the very edge, Clark. I don’t dare call any attention to myself - or to anyone else. He already shot two people earlier, and now he’s beginning to shoot even more indiscriminately at anyone who disturbs him. He… He shot at a man who coughed…>
She paused for a moment. She could almost feel Clark waiting for her to finish, which was uncanny. To be able to pick up cues like that without being face-to-face with the person to whom you were speaking… The telepathic ability must be strongly linked to their emotions, and now that they’d made the breakthrough to emotions other than happiness, it seemed they could also pick up the emotional nuances behind the thoughts, as well as the actual thoughts.
<Clark, even if the SWAT teams try to negotiate before they… I don’t know, storm the place? …Anyway, people are going to get hurt. We – you and I – have to come up with a way to neutralize this guy before anyone tries anything from outside.>
Calmer now, she lifted her head, opening her eyes and glancing around swiftly. On the dais, Trask was again in heated and hushed argument with the men around him. She could hear his men arguing with him that maybe Superman was busy elsewhere.
<Clark, I know you want to rush in here and take him out - but you can’t. That’s what he wants you to do. We’re going to have to do this a different way. You have to listen to me! If you come in, he’ll open the box. And you know what will happen.>
<Lois, you know how fast I can move. I could…>
<No!> She could feel her heart rate accelerating again. <Clark, no matter how fast you move, the risk is too great.> She fought back tears. <Please, Clark.>
Again, she felt the warmth of his love settle over her. <All right, Lois. Tell me what you want me to do.>
She forced her clenched fists open again. <I think... I think he originally intended to leave that box open; it would incapacitate you the minute you arrived. One of the other guys with him got him to close it, though – the rock glows, so they’re worried about radiation. But we can’t afford to have that box opened… and we also can’t afford to have someone take it while we’re trying to save the day.>
<Okay… Good point, honey. Any ideas on how to disarm him?>
<Um…> Could Trask’s increasing instability work to her advantage? Would he become discomposed enough to move away from the drab little box on the table? Or would he -
<Can we… maybe distract him, somehow?>
“Where is it?” Trask shouted again. “Why hasn’t it shown up yet?” He lifted his gun and aimed it out into the room. “I’m going to start shooting people! You hear that, alien?”
She had to think.
They needed some way to sidetrack this maniac.
She glanced up and around the room.
Trask fired a shot wildly into the room; people scrambled frantically in several directions as one of the wall sconces exploded.
“Geez, Jason! You’re gonna hit one of us, man!” one of the men in black standing closest to Trask exclaimed.
<Lois?> Clark’s alarm washed over her.
<I’m okay, Clark.>
“You need to calm down, Trask,” an older man in a military uniform commanded.
“Or what?” Trask snarled.
The man – he was one who’d almost caught her using her cell phone - stepped directly into Trask’s personal space and leaned in close. Several of the other men on the dais moved in close behind him. “Or I will *personally* disarm you and we will abort this mission,” the man hissed.
The two men glared at each other, noses practically touching, while the whole room seemed to hold its collective breath. Then Trask backed up a step. “I just want the alien,” he said, and resumed his pacing.
<Lois, while he’s moving away from the box – can we create some sort of diversion? What about… maybe the electricity? I could cut the main lines out here…>
Even as she listened to Clark, she watched Trask pick up the box; she tensed, then relaxed slightly as he put it down. He paced a few feet away, then suddenly whirled back and picked up the box again. He hefted it slightly in his hand, and she watched him warily. If he decided to open that box, she wouldn’t be able to help Clark at all.
<Lois?>
Trask had put the box down again and was moving jerkily up and down the dais, never more than three feet or so from the table before he would whirl and stride back, scanning the ceiling as if he thought Superman would drop through it any minute. The men around him, however, seemed increasingly more concerned with watching him than with watching the crowd.
<I don’t know… He’s pretty hair-trigger, Clark. If the lights went out… He might shoot in the dark, and he’s… He’s desperate. I know you can see him right now, but you wouldn’t be able to see him while you were cutting the wires. You’d have to time it just right or he would be close enough - and fast enough - to open that box.>
<How about the sprinkler system, then? If you hit it with your heat vision - That’s easy and discreet… And, I imagine, a fairly effective distraction.>
<He might grab for the box anyway. Watch him, Clark. See how close he’s staying to it? What if, one of these times, he does open it? I won’t be able to help you if he does…>
<I see him.> He paused. <I think you’re right; he’s on the very edge, and if he gets desperate enough…> He paused again, and she knew he was watching Trask closely. <I think we’re running out of time, Lois. We have to find a way to distract him - or lure him away from that box.>
Trask was within a foot of the table again; as she watched, he picked up the box, hefting it as before in his hand, and then set it down, turned, and paced away.
<Yes… But it has to be a distraction that won’t let him open that box.> That box *had* to stay closed. She wouldn’t be able to help either Clark or herself if Trask got it open even briefly.
It needed to be locked.
<Wait a minute, Clark…> She trailed off, thinking.
Maybe… <Clark, how easily does lead melt? What if… What if I sealed the box closed with my heat vision… or melted the lead around the green rock. Could I do that?>
<…Yes…> She felt a burst of something wash over her like sunshine after rain – not joy, exactly – more a mix of relief and happiness and admiration, seasoned with love. She closed her eyes as it enveloped her. If one of Clark’s special smiles could be felt physically, this must be what it would feel like.
<Yes, Lois!> he repeated. <I don’t remember the exact numbers, but lead is much softer than steel and I know it has a lower melting point. And I know I can melt steel, although it takes some time and a lot of concentration. So yes, I think you can seal the box relatively easily – you’ll just need to be careful not to melt it enough so that the green rock is exposed.>
All she had to do was heat seal that box.
Or melt it enough so that Trask couldn’t open it.
But not so much that the green rock was uncovered.
She had a sudden and almost crippling moment of self-doubt. She’d never tried something like this. Had never attempted to… deliberately and with precision melt something, on demand.
That didn’t mean she *couldn’t* do it, though.
Mad Dog Lane never backed down from a challenge.
It would have been nice to be able to practice a little, though. Melt a few lead boxes, seal a few shut…
<Lois?>
Okay. Time to set this up. <Clark, can you find a way to warn the SWAT teams to hold off until I do this? We don’t want them storming in here and making Trask dive for that box. But be careful; Trask may have someone watching for you. Can you see anyone who seems to be… I don’t know… some sort of lookout?>
<Yes. No. That is, I haven’t seen anyone obvious, like on the roof or anything, and I haven’t heard any transmissions to the guys inside the convention center… say, from a plant on the SWAT teams, or something. And I can go high, go wide, and approach one of the police – hopefully, Bill Henderson – from the far side of the SWAT team’s perimeter…>
<Wait - can you land and approach as Clark? Say you have a message from Superman? You can tell Bill that Superman has been listening in and needs to stay out of sight.> If she was feeling his emotions, he was probably feeling hers. Right now, though, she didn’t particularly care if she came across as scared, or begging. <Please, Clark? It’s safer that way.>
Once again, a warmth blanketed her briefly. <Yes, honey. I’ll approach Bill Henderson as Clark. I might have to get creative to leave him again to go be Superman, though…>
<Thank you, Clark.> She paused a moment, thinking. <What if you said you had to return Bill’s answer to Superman?>
<Yeah - I can say that Superman asked me to bring him a return message. And if Bill knows you’re in there, I can explain my urgency to get back to Superman as worry for you. Thanks, honey. I think that will work. Let me go do that now.>
<Okay… And once the box is sealed, should I hit the sprinklers, too?>
<That’s probably not a bad idea. Hang on a moment, okay?>
She waited, expanding her hearing to listen as Clark approached someone.
Yes, it was Bill Henderson. Good. Bill was a good man, and he’d be willing to work with Superman on this.
She listened as Clark gave him Superman’s message. She didn’t watch, though – she’d have to take her attention off Trask to do that. Bill immediately began barking orders, presumably into his radio, and merely grunted, “Be careful, Kent, and stay back,” when Clark made his worried-for-my-partner exit.
<Okay – I’m back up here, watching, honey. We do still have to worry about the rest of this guy’s men, too, Lois. What if they start shooting?>
She considered that briefly. <I don’t know… Maybe not. They don’t seem to be as… committed to this whole thing as Trask is. In fact, I wonder if they’re just obeying orders, because… well, they’re watching him more than they’re watching us, Clark.>
<No way to know that for sure, though…>
Trask was still pacing and muttering, but now he was waving his gun around again, and pausing at the box more frequently. Even the men in black – who had reacted more slowly to Trask’s increasing agitation than had the uniformed men - were watching him pretty closely now. And as she watched, several more of the uniformed men drifted nearer.
She and Clark needed to get this over with. <Clark, you watch them, okay? As soon as I melt the box closed, I’ll hit the sprinklers. Then you come in, okay? Wait until the sprinklers go off.>
<Whenever you’re ready, honey.>
She took a deep breath and moved slowly away from the protective shadow of Perry’s body. She’d have to be extra careful, here, too, so that nobody shifted into her line of vision while she was aiming at that box.
Perry looked at her in concern as she moved, and she gave him a discreet thumbs-up. She couldn’t very well tell him what she was going to do, so hopefully he’d just think she was shifting for a better view.
She looked toward the dais. Yes – that worked. She was wide open – she had a beautiful, clear shot all the way to the table.
She waited until Trask turned to move away from the box, then focused on it carefully, and began to slowly increase the heat of her gaze. She felt shaky inside – she’d had no opportunity to practice this at all. What if she got it wrong and melted the box too much?
Concentrating on her task, she still managed to pick up Perry’s movement just before he shifted into her line of vision. She shut her eyes quickly, struggling to get control of the heat. Oh, God, that was close! After a moment, she opened them again.
And met Perry’s worried gaze. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again.
He looked like he’d aged several years since they’d entered the convention center. He had to be worried about Alice, who was sitting within the fringes of the group into which Trask had shot.
And did Perry… know? Had he guessed her secret?
<Lois?>
She shut her eyes again, even though she knew Perry was still looking at her.
<Clark… I almost burned Perry, I think.>
<What happened?>
<He moved when I wasn’t expecting it.>
<Are you okay?>
She couldn’t prevent a small smile at that. It was so typical of Clark, to worry if *she* was okay after she’d inadvertently nearly hurt someone. <Yes, but I need to try again. I only got the lead a bit hot, I think. There’s no way the box is sealed yet.>
<Well, I’ve bought us some time as far as the SWAT teams go.>
<How?>
<After I gave Bill Henderson Superman’s message, he called in more reinforcements. He also got someone to start trying to verify this guy’s legitimacy. As of right now, the SWAT teams are waiting for Superman’s signal - >
She opened her eyes as she felt Perry take her hand. <Clark… hang on…> She looked at her editor inquiringly.
He looked her in the eye, then looked toward the dais. He squeezed her hand once - and shifted slowly to one side, not releasing her hand.
Startled, she looked at him.
Without taking his eyes off the dais, he gave a barely perceptible nod.
He couldn’t possibly know, could he? And how did she feel about that if he did? And how *could* he know, unless… She drew a quick breath. *Had* she burned him? Heart pounding, she began to look him over. It would be his shoulder, or side, or ear -
<Lois?>
<Um, Clark… I think…> Did she really need to tell him this right now? <I think I’m ready to try again.>
She stole another look at Perry, but he was gazing at the dais, not looking at her. But he hadn’t let go of her hand, and as she looked at him, he squeezed it again, gently this time - two squeezes with a pause between them. Some sort of signal?
<Okay, Lois. Take your time. I’ll be quiet until you give me the word, so I don’t distract you.>
<Okay.> She took another deep breath and focused carefully on the box.
She had just begun to cycle up the heat when Perry squeezed her hand hard – hard enough to bruise if she hadn’t been invulnerable. Quickly, she shut her eyes, concentrating on turning off the heat, and then opened them again in time to see one of the armed men crossing in front of the table, passing between her and the box.
Had Perry just warned her?
This was seriously nerve-wracking. She glanced at him again, but again, he wasn’t looking at her. He was still watching the men on the dais.
Trask was still pacing restlessly, but he hadn’t made another outburst since the older man had confronted him. Once again, he moved toward the table and reached out for the box, hesitating at the last minute.
And she almost felt her heart stop. She was positive – almost positive – that she’d managed to heat that box up at least a little. What would happen when this madman touched the little gray box and found it hot?
Time slowed and she held her breath.
She felt Perry’s grip tighten on her hand even as she tightened hers, only just remembering in time to keep her grip light.
Trask looked out over the people huddled on the floor, looked at the ceiling, raised his gun, lowered it, and with a curse, moved away from the table and resumed his tight and jerky pacing.
And she, who could hold her breath for twenty minutes with ease, gasped for a breath she’d held for barely a minute, if that.
As Trask moved away from the table, Perry shook her hand a little, a gesture she easily interpreted as ‘go!’.
Okay. No more messing around with tentative little bursts of heat.
She focused carefully on the box again and cycled up her heat vision.
She had to do this fast.
She’d originally planned to hit the box in short bursts, timed as Trask was moving away from the table, but he’d come so close to picking it up…
But now she was seriously afraid that he would pick up the box – try to pick it up - before it was properly sealed. And if he even *touched* it, the game would be up. The box would be hot, and there would be no logical explanation for that – other than that it was Superman’s doing.
So she needed to do this all at once, as fast as possible. If he got hold of the box before she finished, and managed to open it, she would be out of luck and out of power.
Quickly, she traced a line around the cover of the box on the two sides she could see. The clean line where the cover met the box began to blur. She turned up the heat just slightly, and saw the box begin to sink lopsidedly as the lead heated up.
Her concentration was once again interrupted by the suddenly fierce grip Perry had on her hand. She immediately shut her eyes, powering down the heat, and then opened them to see one of the armed men crossing in front of her, directly between the dais and the group of people where she and Perry and Jimmy were sitting.
As the armed man moved on, allowing her a clear line of sight to the box, she zeroed in on it and looked it over. The box looked pretty sealed to her. It was slightly misshapen, and the two sides she could see were smooth. All traces of the gap where the box opened were gone.
She looked at Perry. He smiled very slightly and nodded, then let go of her hand and spread both of his slightly in a “what now?” sort of gesture.
She couldn’t help it – she smiled at him and winked, then glanced quickly at the ceiling.
<Clark… you ready?>
<Yes,> came his immediate reply. She felt the warmth of his appreciation as he added, <Good work, Lois. I don’t think they’ll be able to open it.>
Despite herself, she smiled. <Okay,> she thought at Clark, eyeing the sprinklers. <Here’s step two…>
She looked quickly at Perry again, catching his eye for a brief moment, then deliberately looked up at the sprinklers again and fired a short, quick burst of heat at one halfway across the room.
The immediate deluge as the water burst from the sprinklers created instant chaos as the people on the floor shrieked and hurled themselves every which way in an effort to avoid the cold downpour.
There was an outraged shout from the dais, and Lois and Perry both turned in time to see Trask hurl himself at the table. He grabbed the misshapen lump that had once been the box - and immediately dropped it, screaming and wringing his hand.
Lois smiled grimly. Apparently, the lead was still too hot to touch.
At the same moment, he was trying to bring his gun up, and he fired one wild shot into the ceiling.
Simultaneously, there was a huge crash as Clark – Superman - came through the ceiling fast and grabbed Trask, hoisting him into the air and disarming him in the same instant. Then there were men coming in the windows and doors, shouting, “Police! Put down your weapons! Hands where we can see them!” The men who had been on the dais with Trask were throwing down their guns and dropping to the floor, hands in the air.
Within moments Trask was secured tightly, cuffed hand and foot with the plastic ties the SWAT teams carried. He lay ignored on the floor of the dais, almost frothing at the mouth in incoherent rage and hatred. His men were sitting with their backs to him and their hands behind their heads, unmoving, as the SWAT team members cuffed them one by one.
---
To be continued
Author's Note:
The melting point of lead (chemical symbol Pb) is 621.7 degrees Fahrenheit (327.6 degrees Celcius) (
Jefferson Lab: It\'s Elemental (Lead) )
The melting point of steel varies depending on its exact composition, but a good number for comparison is about 2500 degrees Fahrenheit (1370 degrees Celcius) (
Jefferson Lab: Melting Point of Steel ).
The Superman Through the Ages website says that Superman’s heat vision ‘enables him to apply intense heat to any substance except lead’ (
Superman Through the Ages: Powers ) - which doesn’t make sense to me. I’ve always pictured the two powers as different points on the electromagnetic spectrum – the heat vision more like, say, microwaves, and the x-ray vision more like, well, x-rays. <g> So of course he can melt lead; he just can’t see through it. Different wavelengths.
(
NASA: Imagine the Universe )
