Chapter Twenty-four
>>>Monday, 10:36 AM
Rebecca usually enjoyed her job, but she didn’t like fielding calls like this one, where the caller was asking her for permission to do something she couldn’t possibly approve and who would not accept ‘no’ for an answer.
“Yes, sir, the LexCorp building is indeed an architectural wonder. We’re quite proud of it ourselves. I’m sure you’d love to have photographs of the interior, but you’ll have to be cleared through security just like everyone else. No, sir, I can’t make an exception. Because I’d lose my job. Yes, sir, our security people are difficult to deal with at times, but they – No, sir, I’m sorry, I can’t put in any words for you, good or bad. Let me transfer you to security now and you can speak to them. Yes, sir, speak to them again.”
She hit the hold button before the caller could begin another inane question and transferred the call to the security office. “Randy?”
“Yes, my lovely turtledove?”
Oh, good, she thought, he’s in a playful mood again. You’d think a fifty-one year old retired FBI field agent would be more serious. “Stow it, Gramps. I have a guy on the phone who wants to photograph the interior of the main lobby. Says it’s for a magazine layout.”
“Did he say what magazine?”
“Wouldn’t say. And before you ask, he said he wasn’t freelancing or doing it on spec.”
“He wants to take pictures of our facilities without telling us who he’s working for? He’s got to be kidding us.”
“No, I don’t think he’s kidding. You have to talk him out of it.”
“But, my dear one, you have such a dulcet speaking voice and men just love to hear – “
Randy was a nice guy, but sometimes his folksy manner got on her nerves. “Randy! Talk to the man! Be the voice of authority for once in your misbegotten existence!”
“Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “I’ll break the news softly but firmly.”
She disconnected and allowed Randy to tell the man ‘no’ for a few minutes. Maybe he could convince the caller to go away.
She sat back and blew out a long breath. He seemed to be a nice guy, but she’d seen her father be charming when it suited him. Rebecca didn’t quite trust him, but since they didn’t report to the same director, it didn’t matter that much. She’d much rather deal with Clark.
Whoa, she thought. Does that mean I trust Clark?
A tap on her shoulder startled her and she spun around to see her relief operator. “Carly! You’re early today. Or is it lunchtime already?”
Rebecca looked into Carly’s face and saw bad news. “Carly, what’s wrong? What is it?”
“You’re wanted in the main assembly room on the second floor. Go now.”
“Why? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
Carly shook her head. “Can’t tell you because I don’t know. Just go up there right now. I’ve got the desk.”
Rebecca was shaken. Whatever it was, it had to be really bad.
She handed her headset to Carly and trotted towards the elevators, but when she saw how many people were waiting, she veered towards the stairwell.
What could be wrong? she wondered. Why are so many people headed for the second floor?
She burst out of the stairwell and found herself in the middle of dozens of anxious people milling around in front of the conference room. She grabbed the arm of an older man who looked familiar. “What is it? What’s going on?”
He shook his head. “They said they won’t tell us anything until everyone’s here.”
She frowned. “Who won’t tell us? Who’s in there?”
“Mr. Luthor. I think Mr. St. John and Mr. Asabi are here too.”
The big boss, his executive assistant, and his valet are all here? What could be so bad that it would take all of them to say it?
We’re all getting laid off, she thought gloomily. They brought in the heavy hitters so we won’t make as big a stink about it.
As she turned to look into the conference room, Nigel St. John appeared in the doorway. “If you would all come in and find a seat, please, we’ll begin.”
Rebecca tried to read his face but couldn’t. He was definitely not happy, but she couldn’t tell if it was because of what had happened, because of what was about to happen, or because his feet hurt.
She followed the crowd and found a seat towards the middle of the room. Mr. Luthor was standing on one side of the small stage with his head down. Mr. Asabi was beside him, holding his elbow and speaking firmly to him.
She’d never seen Lex Luthor with his head down before, nor had she ever seen him so pale. That scared her more than anything else had so far.
When they were all seated, a couple of security people closed the doors. Mr. Luthor took a deep breath and stepped to the front of the stage. Rebecca took a quick look around and estimated that there were about a hundred and twenty people in the room. She also saw a number of blue-shirted people standing around the walls of the room, but before she could decide who they were or why they were there, Luthor began speaking.
“I know you’re wondering why you’re here. It’s because each of you has a family member or a close friend who works in the Luthor Technologies lab on South Parker Avenue.”
He stopped and looked towards Asabi again, who nodded back to him. “I’m sorry. This is possibly the most difficult announcement I’ve had to make since the company was founded.”
A woman near the front called out, “So tell us already! Not knowing is terrible!”
There was a murmured chorus of assent. Luthor held up his hands for quiet. “Very well. This morning, about forty minutes ago, a bomb exploded in the lab – “
“A bomb!”
“What?”
“How many are hurt?”
“Is my Harold all right?”
“What about my wife?”
“Tell us!”
“Please!” Luthor’s voice carried over the tumult and they quieted down. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just come right out with it.” He closed his eyes and took another deep breath, then opened them. Rebecca thought he’d gotten even paler in the past few moments.
“At the moment, the police and fire rescue teams on the scene are telling us that – that they do not believe that there are any survivors.”
A shocked silence gripped the crowd. No one dared to breathe for a long moment. Rebecca’s jaw dropped open, and she watched Luthor to see when he’d laugh and admit that it was all a nasty practical joke, that one of his friends had put him up to it and that he’d bet a fancy dinner on the outcome.
But he didn’t. He only stood there with a stricken expression on his face.
And then the first person cried out. A young man in the back row fell on the floor and curled up in a fetal position and began howling. He started a chain reaction of shock that knocked a number of people to their knees, caused others to fall to the floor completely prone and possibly unconscious, and turned many others into screaming statues. A few pulled out cell phones and began dialing frantically.
That was when Rebecca saw the blue-shirted medical teams move into action. They knelt beside people or helped them sit down and managed to get a grip on the situation to prevent anyone from injuring themselves.
She felt like she’d been punched in the belly by a professional welterweight boxer. All those people dead! She’d met the switchboard team when they had trained on the phone system, and she’d spoken to several others during her time at the front desk.
And now, apparently, they were all gone. She’d never see them again, never talk to them, never trade witty remarks about the weather or the technology they dealt with.
They were – gone.
She turned to the front of the room again and thought she saw a tear glistening on Mr. Luthor’s cheek, but he turned away and spoke to Mr. Asabi before she could be certain.
And then she saw the slight Indian man moving towards her. He took her hands and led her to a relatively quiet corner.
“Miss Connors? I have volunteered to pass this message on to you. Mr. Luthor would have done so himself, but I fear he is too distraught at the moment.”
She frowned hard. “What message? I know some of – knew some of the employees in the lab, but I wasn’t related to any of them and I wasn’t all that close to anyone there. Why am I in here, anyway?”
His gaze bored directly into hers. “Because the computerized visitor’s log has been recovered. It shows two names which are most familiar to you.”
Fear began taking large bites from her heart. “What are – who are they, Mr. Asabi?”
He grasped her hands more firmly. “Lois Lane and Clark Kent.”
She felt her knees go slack. She sensed, rather than saw, the stout young man who caught her before she hit the floor. Her vision narrowed until all she could see was Asabi’s eyes. She found out later that she hadn’t made a sound as she fell, or after they’d gently laid her on the floor, but at the moment all she could hear were those names.
Lois.
Clark.
Oh, my friend Lois!
My – oh, Clark! I didn’t even know you that well, and you never knew – we never – I never told you – didn’t have the chance to –
She didn’t know how long it took for her to recover, but when her vision cleared she was seated on the floor and leaning against the wall. Lex Luthor was kneeling beside her and holding her right hand, along with a broad-shouldered young man in a blue shirt who was taking her pulse from her other hand. Rebecca also saw Mr. Asabi standing behind Mr. Luthor, gently fending off several hysterical women who were trying to get to their boss.
Rebecca looked at the owner of the company she worked for, but all she saw was a man in pain and barely holding on to the edge of self-control. The sight of him in so much obvious distress lent her some composure. She wasn’t the only one who might have lost a future which was yet to be realized.
She leaned towards him. “What do the police say? Is there any chance there are survivors buried in the rubble?”
He squeezed her hand. “There’s always a chance, of course. They haven’t had the time to do a complete search. But the canine teams haven’t located anyone alive as yet, and the robot sniffer they’ve sent in has had very little success in finding any passages through the debris. Whoever set off this explosion knew exactly what he or she was doing.”
She nodded absently. “What if – what will you do if – if Lois – “
He shook his head. “I will go on. I will suffer loss, not only of what is, but what might have been.” He shuddered slightly and looked away for a moment, then turned back to her. “And I think I would risk my heart no more.”
She nodded. “I understand. I think I know exactly what you mean.”
He looked deeper into her eyes. For a moment, his voice broke. “Of all the people in this room, I believe that you and Asabi may be the only ones who truly do understand.”
She nodded again. “How will you – how do you keep going? When there’s so little hope?”
His face seemed to grow paler and thinner as she watched. “As long as there’s no body, as long as no one can point to a table in the morgue or a grave and headstone and say, There lies Lois Lane, I will have hope.”
“But – “
“I have to have hope, Rebecca. I don’t have any choice.” He shifted his weight. “And you have to have hope, too.”
He released her hand and stood. She saw him gather his composure and steel himself against the emotional tsunami that was battering him. She watched as he turned to the other people in the room and looked for someone else, someone he might help.
That kind of courage was contagious. She pushed herself to her feet, straightened her skirt, and sought out someone she could help.
Even if all she could do was cry with that someone.
>>>Monday, 11:52 AM
Jonathan drove up to the house for lunch, curious as to why his wife’s car was not in the driveway. He parked the pickup beside the barn and got out.
As he entered the kitchen, he heard the shower running, then he saw his son sitting on the stool beside the phone. “Clark? What happened?” Then he noticed his son’s condition. “Whoa. You look like someone dropped a building on you.”
Clark nodded without turning his head. “That’s pretty much what happened to us.”
His son’s flat tone startled him. “Us? Who is us?”
The shower shut off at that moment. “Lois and I went to a lab to – “
“Lois!” he burst out. “Lois Lane? You mean she’s here and – Clark, who was in the shower?”
“Lois was. She was as dirty as I still am.”
“Dirty? Your clothes are a disaster!”
He glanced at his garments. “Yeah, I know. That tends to happen when someone drops a building on you.”
“But – but why are you here now? Why aren’t you working to help the other survivors?”
“There aren’t any survivors.”
“What? But that’s ridiculous! Even if the building had collapsed – “
“Someone set off a bomb, Dad. A really big bomb, or maybe it was several, I don’t know. The building is just a pile of junk now. Lois and I were the only survivors, and we’d both be dead if not for my powers.”
Jonathan sat down heavily. “Are you saying that someone blew up an entire building just to try to kill you and Lois?”
Clark shook his head slowly. “No. There was something else going on. I think we were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe someone was trying to take out multiple targets with one shot.”
“Oh.” He sat and thought for a moment, then listened to the little after-shower noises coming from down the hallway. “Is Lois okay?”
“What? Oh, yes, physically she’s fine.”
“But maybe not emotionally?”
Clark sighed. “I don’t know.”
Jonathan put his hand on Clark’s shoulder. “And what about you, son?”
Clark shrugged. “I don’t know.” He put his hands over his face and leaned his elbows onto his knees. “Maybe you could tell me another one of your war stories from Korea. We can compare the body count and gross-out factors.”
His hand slid off. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“No, Dad, it wasn’t, and I’m sorry, but right now I don’t feel like being nice.” He sat up and rubbed at his eyes. “I called Perry to let him know we were okay. He told me that there were at least fifty other people in the building at the time of the blast. So far the authorities haven’t found any survivors. They haven’t even found anyone who didn’t die immediately.”
“Is that why you’re not there helping with the rescue and recovery effort?”
Clark bowed his head. “Part of it.”
Jonathan waited, but his son didn’t continue. “What’s the other part, son?” he asked softly.
Clark took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The smell.”
“What about the smell?”
“The air. After the explosion. It smelled like – like the ship when – the ship Lana was on.”
Jonathan knew that could be a clue to discovering the identity of the bomber, but he also realized that it was a subject best left for a later discussion. “You said the rescue teams at the scene haven’t found any survivors. Do you think you might have found some?”
“I checked before we left. No one – no one was alive. Except me and Lois.”
“So, there was nothing you could have done to help them.”
“No. There wasn’t.” Clark turned pain-filled eyes towards his father. “We’re going to get whoever did this. We’re going to make sure whoever it was doesn’t kill again.”
Lois softly called out, “Clark? I think it’s your turn in the shower.”
*****
Lois watched Clark plod past her without making eye contact. She’d shut down the link at her end as soon as she realized that they were the only survivors, and apparently Clark had done the same. The experience was too new, too raw to share just yet.
It seemed that Clark was taking these deaths personally, and she didn’t blame him for feeling that way. She felt that way herself, and there was nothing she could done to change anything that had happened.
She pulled the towel wrapped around her hair from her head and draped it around her neck and shoulders. “Mr. Kent?” He didn’t respond. She pulled her fingers through her hair to straighten it a little. “I know I’m not your favorite person, and I understand why, and I can’t say that I blame you. I just want you to know that coming here was Clark’s idea, but I think it was a good one. Right now, the best thing for us to do is let whoever tried to kill us think we’re dead. That person will probably make a mistake, and our boss will find out about it, and we’ll have a lever to pry open their organization.”
He nodded. “Makes sense. It’s kind of cold-blooded, but it makes sense.”
She sat down across the kitchen table from him. “I know it sounds that way, but it’s also the most we can do for the other people who were killed this morning.” She took in a shuddering breath. “It’s difficult for me to accept that all those people I met just today are – are gone. And I’ll never see any of them again. Dr. Platt, the guard who took our names at the door, the little Oriental cleaning lady who passed us in the hallway and smiled at us so brightly, that couple we passed in the hallway who looked like they were about to start a honeymoon, Dr. Baines – “
She stopped and frowned. “Baines. She did something, something with that panel, something Dr. Platt tried to stop her from doing.”
“You think this Baines person set off the bomb?”
“No, of course not. It killed her, too. But she was trying to do something else – not sure what. I’ll have to talk to Clark about it.” She shook her index finger in the air. “Maybe – maybe that’s our lever. Maybe we can track back from her and find the spider.”
Jonathan frowned. “The spider?”
“Yes!” Her face and voice finally showed some animation. “Like the bad guy in the Sherlock Holmes stories, Morty or something like that – “
“Professor Moriarity.”
She looked up at Clark’s father. “Yes, that was him! How did you know that?”
“Young lady, who do you think read all of Arthur Conan Doyle’s detective stories to Clark when he was young?”
“Oh.” She blushed slightly. “I’m sorry, I just assumed he’d picked up most of his reading on his own. Or that his mother had read to him a lot.”
“A lot of it, yes, he did on his own, but we both tried to instill a love of reading in him from the time he was old enough to sit still long enough to listen to ‘The Cat In the Hat.’ That was one of his favorites, by the way.”
“It was my sister’s favorite, too. But I guess you could say that about a lot of kids.”
“What about you? Was it your favorite?”
She made a face. “Not after I recited it to Lucy the eight hundred and twelfth time, no.”
Jonathan’s voice perked up. “You read to your sister?”
“You’re surprised?”
“Usually the parents or grandparents do most of the reading to the little ones.”
She sighed. “I was the only one there to do it. Our grandparents didn’t live close enough to make a difference in that area of our lives. My father was – away a lot. Usually working. My mother was too angry or too – too indisposed – to sit still long enough to read to either of us, so when Lucy wanted to hear her favorite books, she brought them to me.”
He nodded. “I see. That was very nice of you.”
She tilted her head. “You still sound surprised.”
He sat back in the chair. “I am a little surprised, yeah. Not that you can read, of course, but that you’d take time out to read to your little sister. I had this image of you in my mind that you were this – this selfish, evil fairy-tale wicked stepmother-type witch who only thought of herself, and ever since you came in here you’ve been acting out of character.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. You’re not at all like I pictured you.”
She smiled slightly. “I’m glad. I hope you aren’t too upset to find us here.”
“No. Now that I know why you’re here, I’m not upset. And I should have known that Clark wouldn’t befriend anyone who was anything like Professor Moriarity. Which, by the way, I’m sure now that you aren’t.” He stood. “I bet you haven’t had lunch yet, have you?”
*****
With the shower running, Clark couldn’t eavesdrop on the conversation between Lois and his father. He only hoped that Lois could keep her cool. She hadn’t had any chance to get used to her powers yet. He’d already fixed the crushed doorknob on the inside of the bathroom door, but it appeared as if Lois had been careful otherwise. He hoped she hadn’t gained his vision powers, or that she didn’t get upset and fly away, because he didn’t relish explaining that little detail to his parents, at least not yet.
He finished and turned off the water. From the sounds he could pick up, it appeared that his father and Lois were both still alive and at least being civil to each other. He dried and dressed as quickly as he could and made his way to the kitchen.
As he rounded the corner, he was shocked to see Lois and his dad laughing together. Lois said, “And then he – ha-ha – he told me to watch out for the rats!”
Jonathan burst out with a big belly laugh, then looked up and saw him. “Clark! Come on in. Lois was just telling me – ha-ha-ha – telling me about that chop shop stakeout you two went on.”
Clark crossed his arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “I’m glad you enjoy my embarrassment so much.”
“Oh, Clark,” said Lois, “don’t be such a fuddy-duddy. Are you hungry? I didn’t know your dad was such a good sandwich-maker.”
Jonathan shook his head and chortled. “They’re just sandwiches, Lois, not gourmet cuisine.”
“Maybe not, but just the same, if you ever want to start a new business, I bet Lex would invest – “
She stopped cold. “Lex! Oh, no! He must – he probably thinks I’m dead!” She stood and reached for the phone. “And Rebecca! She’s probably scared stiff worrying about you!”
Jonathan obviously tried to keep his voice level as he asked, “Who’s Rebecca, Clark?”
Lois stopped with her hand on the phone and shot a look of apology towards Clark, who said, “Rebecca’s a young lady I met recently. She works for LexCorp and is studying to be a marine biologist. She’s almost finished with her master’s degree.”
Softly, Lois said, “I’ll call her if you want me to.”
“No.”
“Okay, you can call her after I – “
“No, Lois.”
She frowned at him. “What do you mean ‘no?’ She and Lex both need to know we’re alive.”
“Not if either of them have any connection to the ‘Boss’ you’ve been chasing.”
She turned to face him, her eyes narrowed. “Don’t start that again, Kent. We don’t have any proof that Lex is the criminal mastermind we want and you know it.”
He tried to keep his voice level. “We also don’t have any information that incriminates anyone else on your list any more than any other person. I agree that we don’t have proof that Luthor is the bad guy – or that he’s even a bad guy – but we also can’t clear him based on what little we know. Besides, if he knows you’re alive and well, he’s going to show it. Whatever else he may be, he couldn’t pull off an acting job like that without lots of coaching.”
She frowned, but nodded. “Neither could Rebecca.” She stepped back but didn’t relax her frown. “Okay. We don’t tell them until we show up alive. But I want to see Lex first.”
He nodded and lifted his hands in mock surrender. “No problem. Now, how about one of those sandwiches?”
Jonathan stood. “Coming right up. I hope you still like turkey.”
*****
Martha fretted and fussed the whole time she was gone. Surely Jonathan wouldn’t make Lois leave if she were in trouble, would he? Surely he wasn’t that angry with her? And if he was that angry with her, surely he’d wait until she had some other place to go, wouldn’t he?
She was so worried she risked several speeding tickets and ran the red light at the intersection of the highway and Smallville’s main road. She uttered a prayer of thanks that no other cars, including any police cars, were anywhere near the intersection when she zoomed through it.
If the driveway had been paved, her tires would have squealed as she slid to a stop on the gravel. She’d convinced herself that Jonathan would be trying to club Lois into paste with the toaster, that Lois would be standing in the middle of the floor passively awaiting the death blow, and that Clark would be trying to restrain his father without injuring him.
She was astounded – and almost disappointed – when she burst through the kitchen door and saw all three of them sitting at the kitchen table, eating strawberry ice cream and smiling. Jonathan grinned at her and said, “I’m glad you’re back, Martha. I still have some chores to finish before dark, and sunset’s coming quicker every day.” Then he arose and kissed her cheek over the bags she was carrying.
Clark stood with him. “I can give you a hand with them, Dad. It’s the least I can do for keeping you away from work.”
Jonathan chuckled. “Anything that keeps me from restringing barbed wire is a good thing in my book.”
Lois, still wearing Martha’s robe and slippers, also stood. “Thank you so much, Martha. I hope you kept the receipt, because I plan to reimburse you for the clothes and for the gasoline you used.”
Lois took both large bags from Martha, then smiled at the two men and went to the bedroom to change. Clark tapped his father on the shoulder and said, “North fence or east?”
“East,” replied Jonathan. “About two hundred yards from the north end. The wire and the tools are already out there.”
“Okay. I’ll go get started.”
“Leaving me to clean up the dishes?”
“Of course. What are fathers for, anyway?”
The two men shared a chuckle as Clark slipped out the door. Martha dropped her hands to her sides. “Would you like some iced tea, Martha?”
“Um. Yes, please.”
“Lemon?”
She sat down gingerly. “No, that’s fine.”
He set the tall glass in front of her. “Hope it’s not too sweet. Clark made it.”
She sipped it, and despite the over-abundance of sugar, she smiled. “No, it’s perfect.”
“Good. I think Clark and I can finish the fence before – “
“Stop right where you are, Jonathan Kent.”
He did.
She pointed at the chair beside her. “Sit down, please.”
He complied.
She leaned her elbows on the table and stared into his eyes. “Please explain how it is that I found you and Lois sitting calmly at this table with our son, with all three of you smiling and carrying on a friendly conversation.”
He let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Oh, that. Well, it turns out that I might have been slightly wrong about Lois. She’s not quite the horrible monster I thought she might be.”
“No, she’s not. What else did the three of you talk about?”
“Oh, a little of this and a little of that.”
“I don’t suppose you could be a bit more specific.”
He smiled. “She told me about how they each had to use the back side of a dumpster as a bathroom during a recent stakeout. At separate times, of course.”
Despite herself, Martha laughed. “Well – I guess that’s better than what I was imagining.”
“Why? What were you imagining?”
“Never mind!” She patted her husband on the forearm. “I’m just glad you and Lois aren’t enemies.”
“No. We’re definitely not enemies.”
“Good. She and Clark are going to be friends for quite some time, and I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable visiting us.”
His smile faded slightly and he leaned back. “As long as they’re just friends, I don’t have a problem with Lois.”
She frowned. “Do you have some other problem with her?”
He made a face and frowned. “I don’t dislike her, Martha, but I can't help comparing her to Lana, and at least in my mind, Lois comes up short of Lana.”
Martha nodded. “Then it’s a good thing that neither of us will make that decision for them. Besides, Lois shouldn’t have to measure up to anyone else’s opinion of her, or to anyone else, period.”
“That’s true, but if Clark and Lois ever become involved romantically, don’t expect me to throw a parade for them.”
She drew back slightly. “I understand. I don’t necessarily agree with you, but I understand how you feel.”
“Are you sure? Because I don’t want any misunderstandings between us ruining our relationship.”
“No, Jonathan, I do understand. Lois isn’t Lana, and you don’t believe that any woman could ever replace her. You miss your daughter-in-law as much as you would miss your own daughter. You think Lois isn’t a bad person, but she could never walk in Lana’s shoes, or even put them on. Does that about cover it?”
One side of his mouth twitched. “Pretty much. Like I said, I don’t dislike Lois, I just don’t think she’d be a good match for Clark.”
Martha nodded and leaned back in the chair. “I suspect that’s a moot point, because I have neither seen nor heard of any hint of romance between them.”
“Neither have I. And I was looking for it.”
“Well, then, you don’t have anything to worry about, do you?”
“Guess not.” He stood and stepped towards the kitchen door. “I’d better go help Clark with the fence wire before he does it all himself and then teases me about it.”
“All right, dear. I’ll see you for supper, if not before.”
*****
Lois blew her nose and finished tying the laces of her new tennis shoes. They were stiff but serviceable, especially since she apparently didn’t have to worry about such things as calluses or blisters any more. The underwear fit, and her jeans and shirt would do until she could get back to her own wardrobe in Metropolis. Martha had even bought some makeup for her, and while it wasn’t Lois’s usual brand, the colors worked well with her skin tones.
She’d heard every word the Kents had spoken. She hadn’t intended to listen in, and in fact had tried not to hear them talking, but it was as if her ears had suddenly decided to pick up on every single sound within ten miles. She heard not just the Kents, but two teenaged boys playing hooky from school and fishing in the brook Clark had recently showed her, the clanging of someone trying to force a rusted tractor wheel off the axle, along with the unimaginative swearing of the young man swinging the tire iron, and every car or truck or motorcycle on the highway or any of the nearby country roads or in Smallville itself. She even heard the wire Clark was working with squeak as he unrolled it and bent it into shape, and the small creak the wood made as he shoved in the nails with his fingers.
And every word Jonathan Kent had spoken had hurt her. She knew he wouldn’t have said anything if he’d known she could hear him. She knew that his words weren’t motivated by anger or resentment or extreme dislike of her. No, Jonathan had decided that she didn’t measure up Lana Lang’s legacy, and even though she agreed with him, it wasn’t pleasant to be judged and found wanting by someone she knew only slightly.
Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be able to decide not to hear things like that.
-* Clark? *- she sent. -* Are you busy right now? *-
-* Good to hear from you. Do the clothes Mom got for you fit okay? *-
-* They’re fine, Clark. But I need to talk to you. *-
-* Sure thing. What about? *-
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. -* About how not to use these powers you’ve lent me. *-
-* Oh. I take it you’ve either seen or heard something that you weren’t intended to see or hear? *-
-* Yes. *-
-* All right. Is later this afternoon a good time, or do you want to do this right now? *-
She wanted to tell him to come back immediately, that she had to speak with him right at this moment. But she knew that might appear suspicious to his parents, and she didn’t want anyone to know about her powers until she could either get rid of them or learn to control them. -* Later is fine. Just let me know when you’re ready to start. *-
-* Will do. *- He stopped sending for a moment, but Lois could tell that there was something else on his mind. And she knew that he’d send it if he wanted her to know it.
He did. -* I think we ought to check in with Bob before we start teaching you too much. *-
-* That’s a good idea. We’ll see Bob, too. *-
He didn’t send anything else back, but she could sense that his father had arrived and that Clark wanted to focus on repairing the fence. And that triggered an old memory of one of her classmates reciting Robert Frost’s work “Fences” where the poet’s friend kept repeating the phrase, “Good fences make good neighbors.”
She’d have to work on building her own fences.
