Honeymoon in... Vegas 4/7
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Late Friday night
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"Excuse me, can you help us?" a female voice asked. The clerk glanced up to see an anxious-looking middle-aged couple.
"We're looking for our son, Clark Kent, and his, uh, his wife, Lois Lane. We were told that they were patients in this hospital."
The clerk tapped on the keyboard in front of her. "Your daughter-in-law is in room 314 and your son is currently in surgery."
"Surgery," Martha repeated in disbelief. "Our boy is in surgery, Jonathan."
Jonathan's hand touched her elbow supportively. "What about Lois? Can we see her?" he asked.
"I'm sorry. Visiting hours ended at nine o'clock."
"Can you at least tell us what's happened to them?" Martha asked.
The phone began to ring and the clerk spoke rapidly as she reached to answer it. "I don't have that information. Let me get this call and then we'll see if we can have someone from the CCU come talk to you."
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The previous Tuesday morning
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"I'm not a patient man," Mickey snarled. "And I got places I need to be. So you're going to tell me what you two are doing out here in Vegas, and don't you dare say it was to get married."
"We just followed you to the airport," Lois told him as she watched Clark shift his jaw experimentally. He looked dazed as he repeatedly touched his lip where it was bleeding. Tony's fingers were too tight on her arm and she wondered if he was cutting off her circulation.
Clark was still reeling from the fact that he was hurt. He couldn't understand what had happened. The taste of his own blood was sickening, but there was no sign of the gut-churning, muscle-spasm-inducing side effects he always experienced with Kryptonite. Even worse was the realization that he had failed Lois. They were going to hurt her and it was entirely his fault.
"Let her go," Clark said. "Just give Lois the keys to the truck and let her drive out of here and I'll tell you everything."
"You're in no position to be bargaining. How about you tell us and I'll make it quick for her instead?" Tony countered, jamming his gun into her ribs so hard that she flinched.
"We don't know anything," Lois said, her voice pitched high with anxiety. "We just got a tip that you were involved in something big."
Mickey laughed. "Who told you that?"
"An anonymous source," Lois replied.
"Anonymous, my as*. Tell me who said that." Mickey crossed his arms, letting them rest on his ample belly.
"I don't remember," Lois answered.
"He thinks you do." Mickey pointed at Clark and addressed his next comments to him. "You expect me to believe that you two just followed me to the airport and flew out here on the chance that I was going to be doing something big?" His arms came free so that he could finger-quote the word 'big'.
"It's the truth," Clark said. He imagined grabbing Lois and flying away but it was only a tantalizing daydream. Not matter how hard he concentrated his feet remained firmly on the ground. What in the world had happened?
"You're going to kill us for nothing. We don't know anything." Lois looked up at the clear blue sky above them. There was no sign of him. It was foolish to think that somehow Superman would have known they were in trouble and shown up.
Mickey shrugged. "Get rid of 'em."
Lois felt her stomach flip over in cold terror. This was it. This was how it ended. On a perfectly beautiful, clear-skied day she was going to be worm food.
Tony kept his tight grip on her arm as he pushed her forward. "Up there, let's go. You, too, lover boy." He motioned to Clark with the gun before planting it squarely in her back. "Last chance, honey. You make me happy and I'll let you live."
"I'd rather be dead," Lois answered and began climbing the hill. Her legs felt heavy and completely independent of her control.
"What if I said I'd let him live?" Tony taunted.
Tears came to her eyes. She wasn't about to dignify that question with an answer, but in her heart she knew that she would have done anything to save both herself and Clark. Letting Tony rape her wasn't the answer. He was going to kill them no matter what. Their only hope lay in turning the tables on him. Clark was ahead of her as they moved up the hill, although he kept half-turning like he was checking on her. Who would Tony shoot first? Her vision blurred as she realized it would probably be Clark. There had to be a way to save him, to save them both. Her mind raced as her feet slowly plodded closer to their grave.
Clark had tried again and again to take flight but the ability was gone. It was as if he had never flown at all. There was nothing there. With each step he took, he weighed the odds. He had to get between Tony and Lois. Mickey and one of the men were leaving now, driving away in the SUV. That left only Tony and Randy - and Randy was waiting down by the truck, smoking a cigarette and apparently unconcerned that he was about to become an accessory to murder.
His frantic mind looked for a way out. If he could get between Lois and Tony, maybe he could overpower the man and take away his gun. And then what? Randy also had a gun. It would end in a shootout with them trapped in the mine. If that happened, Randy would have the advantage over them.
They had reached the mouth of the mine. Lois took a deep breath - it was now or never. One step inside. She had to do it. Two steps. Do it now. Three steps. There wasn't any time left. It had to be now.
She steeled herself to stop shaking and kicked at Clark, catching him off-guard so that he sprawled forward. Tony had been forced to stop short behind her and she drove her free elbow back into his gut. He swore and hit her back. Stars exploded in her vision as the gun slammed up against her cheekbone. There was a roar near her right ear, and then another, leaving her reeling and almost deaf in that ear.
She brought her elbow back again, this time jerking it upwards to strike Tony beneath his chin. The world went off-kilter as she was pushed sideways. First her hip, then her shoulder slammed into solid rock. Before she could scramble away she was kicked in the ribs. Lois fell to her knees and then onto her stomach, gasping against the pain. Another kick and then another and she let out a choked cry as she realized that she had completely misjudged Tony. For a few precious seconds she wasn't sure she'd ever breathe again. Then she heard another shot and something hot sliced through her left shoulder.
Clark had been surprised when Lois kicked him off his feet and even more surprised when a bullet had gone through his thigh. It burned and stung and it took him several seconds to be able to stand up and throw himself in the direction of Tony. His heart stopped at the single gunshot and the cry of pain from Lois. He lunged towards Tony, tackling him down onto the dusty floor of the mine. They rolled deeper into the mine, both of them fighting for control of the gun. Tony was larger and had at least fifty pounds on him, but Clark was driven by anger and fear.
Lois pushed herself onto her elbows and coughed, tasting blood in her mouth. Her shoulder ached and it hurt to breathe. She could hear the grunts and scuffling of Clark and Tony deeper in the mine but she couldn't see either of them. The gun roared again, the sound echoing in the narrow chamber.
"Clark," she whispered, terribly afraid that Tony had finished him off. But the sounds of struggle continued until there was another gunshot, then another in quick succession and Tony let out a loud bellow that fell away with an echoing Doppler effect. There was a sickening thud and the mine fell silent.
"Clark?" she said, deeply frightened that he wasn't going to answer.
"Lois?" Clark could barely get her name out. He had been shot again in the struggle and he could feel this bullet, hot and deep to the bone at the bottom of his right rib cage. He rolled once to get away from the edge of the shaft that Tony had fallen into, groaning as his chest made contact with the hard ground.
There was a long blaring noise outside as the horn on the truck honked.
"We have to do something," Lois said frantically. "He's going to come up here and we're just sitting ducks."
"Gun," Clark rasped out. "I have the gun, but I can't... Come get it. Be careful. There's a drop."
She crawled in the direction of his voice, her knee catching on the bottom of Clark's jacket that she was still wearing. Her hand bumped into leg and she felt him wince as he let out a moan of pain. His hand found her arm and then he pressed the gun into her shaky hands. Outside she could hear grunting and swearing as the other man made his way up the hill.
"Tony?" the man called out.
Lois said a silent prayer that he would just turn around. Don't check. Just go. The entire left side of her body felt like it was on fire and she was sure the man would hear her breathing long before he got there. She knew he would kill them, but she still wasn't sure she could shoot him. Just go away, her mind chanted. Just go away.
A dark silhouette appeared at the mine's entrance. "Tony?"
Lois swallowed, her finger trembling on the trigger. Go away. Just go away. Beside her Clark became absolutely silent and still.
The man took a step inside. "Tony? This ain't funny." He reached into his jacket and pulled his gun out. Lois shot in his direction and he swore and raised the gun. She squeezed off another round, wondering just how many were left in the gun. The man quickly turned and disappeared. Several seconds later the truck roared away.
"Clark?" Lois touched his face, unable to make out his features in the dim light of the mine. His glasses were missing and she wondered just how blind he was without them.
"He's going to... bring back... the others. You... have to... get away from here," he wheezed. "Just go."
"Can you stand up?" Her hands moved to his shoulders and for a moment she remembered kissing him last night, how thrilled she had been by those shoulders. What if she never got to kiss him again?
"Lois, please..." She had to get out of here; it wouldn't take too much time for Randy to catch up to Mickey. They were going to come back.
"Would you leave me?" Lois was horrified that he would even suggest she abandon him.
He tried to reason with her, panting against the pain. "Places reversed... I could... carry you."
"Then I'll carry you." She tugged on his arm, forcing him to a sitting position.
He groaned in agony. "Too heavy."
"I won't leave you. So quit arguing with me. If you want me out of here, you're going to have to go with me."
Clark was sweating now and he gulped in air. "You're killing me."
"I'm trying to save your life." She ducked and looped his arm over her shoulders to help him stand. "Ah, oh god, ow," she moaned as her entire body protested the effort it took to get upright with Clark's weight pressing down on her.
Clark let out his own barely stifled moan. He leaned heavily against her and Lois bit her lip to keep from crying out. She took a couple of shallow breaths - it seemed impossible to take a deep one anymore.
"Ready?" she asked, not entirely certain that she was ready to move.
Clark grit out a soft, "Yeah," and they slowly shuffled forward together. He leaned against her and she moved along the wall of the mine for support. Lois had no clue what she was going to do when they actually got out of the mine. She braced her knees, keeping her arms clasped around him and almost laughed at the thought that they were like carefully stacked cards - each of them was holding the other up. They stopped at the mouth of the mine, squinting against the dazzling brightness outside.
"Which way should we go?" she asked, sounding like just talking was an effort for her as well.
"Back the way we came... Get lost in desert... Go in direction... we know... we can find a town." He could barely get the words out.
"What if they come back?"
"Dust... on the road... before... they get here. We can hide." Clark wasn't really sure that they would be able to hide, but it was the only shot they had.
Lois moved forward and he went along with her. Stark fear stabbed through him when he realized that Lois was limping. He had thought it was the mine wall causing her uneven gait but now he could see that she was favoring her right leg. Her face was covered in blood. Her lip had been split and her nose was still bleeding. Guilt and grief washed through him. He should have protected her. If only he could get her to leave him here. She was going to waste valuable time lugging him along.
"You'll never... be able to..." he started but she cut him off.
"I'm not going to argue with you, Clark. Can you sit down? We can scoot back down the hill on our butts."
He saw the wisdom in her suggestion. The incline was steep and, in their condition, they were likely to trip and fall. He wasn't sure he could hurt any more than he already did, but he wasn't about to test that theory.
It seemed to take forever for them to work their way down the hill. Clark was almost angry with her as he contemplated how to get her to leave him there. She was in slightly better shape and he knew that her efforts to help him were costing her dearly. Each time he brought the subject up she dismissed it.
At the bottom of the hill Lois took his jacket off and threw it aside. For the first time Clark realized that she was hurt worse than he thought. The sleeve and shoulder of her shirt were soaked in blood. With dismay, he saw that his own shirt was just as bloody. His suit pants were dark, hiding the blood. They were both coated with dust. It clung to their clothes, adhered there by their blood and sweat and the slow slide they had taken down the hill.
"Shot you..." he said weakly, pointing at her shoulder.
Lois looked at the crimson stain on his shirt. "He shot you, too."
"Your face..."
"My face?" she shot back. "You should see your face before you start making fun of me."
She reached out as if she meant to pull up the hem of his shirt to check on his wound. Clark jerked away from her.
"Let's go..." He gave up talking and struggled to his knees, then to his feet.
Lois stood up and put her arm around his waist. They took a few unsteady steps together before they were able to work out a system that put the least strain on both of them.
"Remember how you said I could ask you anything?" she asked.
"Yeah," he answered.
"That candy bar, on your desk? When we get home, can I have it?"
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They had been trudging slowly along the road for almost an hour. They would stop every twenty steps of so to catch their breath. Clark was almost hopeful. It was easier to breathe now even though he could still feel the bullet inside him and the dull throb in his leg had not abated. The hot sunshine beating down on them had him concerned. They were both sweating, they had both lost blood. Lois' steps were becoming shorter and she was leaning more heavily against him. It was just a matter of time before they passed out or Mickey returned. As they passed over a dry creek bed, Clark got an idea.
"Wait here," he told Lois, stepping away slowly so that he didn't knock her off-balance. "I just want to check on something." He half-slid, half-walked down the steep slope at the side of the road and let out a sigh of relief when he saw what he had been hoping for. The creek bed passed under the road through a corrugated steel pipe culvert that was about four feet in diameter.
"Lois," he called to her. "Lois, come down here. There's shade."
"Shade?" Lois hobbled to the edge of the road and looked down at Clark. It seemed like a very long way to go even though the distance was only about seven feet. "Where?"
"Down here," he gestured in front of him. "Under the road. Here, I'll help you." He held one hand out and she had to slide a couple of feet down the slope to catch his hand. He steadied her as she slid the rest of the way.
Inside the culvert it was cooler and they both panted with exhaustion and pain, grateful for the reprieve. Lois weakly pushed aside the pebbles to clear herself a spot to sit. Beneath them the dirt still held a tiny bit of moisture. It wasn't enough to be mud, but it was enough to make her thirst seem even worse.
"How bad are you hurt?" Clark asked, wincing as he settled opposite her and tried to stretch out his legs.
Her eyes had begun to adjust to the shade and Lois looked at him, horrified by just how beat up he looked. "You're worse off than me. We'll check you first."
Clark shook his head. "Ladies first."
Lois lifted her left shoulder slightly, then cringed at the pain that caused. "I think the bullet went straight through. It's not bleeding anymore. At least, I don't think it is."
"Can you check and make sure?"
Lois struggled to pull the top of her shirt clear of her shoulder and then realized it was impossible. To hell with it, she thought. He was hardly going to be gawking at her now. She yanked the hem of her shirt to her midriff and then almost cried in frustration.
"Help," she panted.
Clark moved to kneel next to her, sucking in a breath at how much that hurt to do. "Can you raise your arms?"
She was able to lift her right arm and he worked the shirt free of her arm and head before sliding it carefully away from her left arm. She was wearing a black bra but his eyes were drawn to the bullet hole just below her left shoulder. He shifted forward, bracing one hand against the pipe to look at her back but he couldn't see an exit wound.
"It came out here," she said with a whimper as she raised her arm slightly so the he could see where the bullet had left her body.
She was right, it wasn't bleeding very much. That, at least, was a good sign. Then Clark caught sight of the bruises and welts on her ribs. "Oh, Lois," he breathed. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Lois self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest as he leaned closer to look. "I couldn't. You wouldn't have come with me. I couldn't leave you."
She heard a gasp and saw with surprise that his eyes looked glassy. "How bad is it?" he whispered.
Lois shook her head. "I don't..." It wasn't worth lying about. It hurt like hell. "It hurts to breathe," she admitted. "It hurts to walk. It hurts to do anything."
"Are your ribs broken?"
"I don't think so. I hope not." She didn't dare to tell him that she couldn't take a full breath. There was nothing he could do to help anyway.
Clark turned her shirt right side out and held it up for her. She gingerly slid her arms in and he helped pull the shirt back over her head and down her torso.
"Your turn," she told him.
"What?" His mind went blank as he realized what she was asking.
"Let me take a look at you."
"No," he rasped, backing away from her and hugging his arms across his abdomen. "I'm okay."
"Clark, come on. It looks like you're still bleeding." Lois gingerly worked herself onto her knees and tried to shuffle closer to him.
"No," he said stubbornly.
Lois was surprised by his refusal. It had to be the heat and the blood loss that were making him recalcitrant. She reached for the hem of his shirt but he caught her fingers.
"I'm so sorry." He looked almost desperate as his voice dropped to an urgent whisper. "Please, Lois, don't be angry."
"Angry?" she asked, thoroughly confused. She tugged her hand free of his and pulled his shirt up.
Clark let out a groan and dropped his head back. It hit the side of the culvert with a dull 'thunk'. "I'm sorry, Lois. I should never have let this happen."
"This isn't your fault..." Lois paused, unable to process what she was looking at. There was a bright blue fabric beneath his shirt and her mind seemed to stutter as she tried to make sense of it. She blinked and wondered if the heat was making her delusional. The material was ripped where a bullet had entered and it was stiff and dark with blood. Even so the Suit was still recognizable.
"Please don't hate me," he said softly.
Her mind went into overdrive, remembering the intensity in his voice and the tension - no, the power, in his posture when he told Mickey to leave her alone last night. She recalled Superman's expression at the accident scene. He hadn't been surprised that she was in Vegas. Her first impression had been right. It was worry - because she had seen him there. That it was a staggering coincidence only occurred to her now.
Their eyes met and she knew. It wasn't a hunch; it was the truth. She knew it as surely as if he had spoken the words.
Clark was Superman.
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End 4/7
DJ can vouch for me - the line about the candy bar was there before everyone commented on it in part 3. Many times I'm just writing to amuse myself. That was one of them.
