Wednesday comes around very quickly for me.
In case you missed my post in the last fdk folder, I'd just like to repeat myself and thank everyone who is commenting so kindly on this story.
But, could you please be kind again.
Previously in My Wife The Boss:
The cop and the doctor grinned starkly, but the cop chose to be the spokesperson. “We're not asking you to, but we don't intend to let you do this on your own. Lead on.” The policeman pointed behind Jor. “Your eyesight is a whole lot better than ours. We'll do what you tell us and we won't get in the way.”
Giving in gratefully, Jor-El turned, and the little group entered the gloomy miasma that hung above the blast-center. The precarious surface grumbled and shifted beneath their feet, as if Mother Nature was displaying her disapproval on the violence humans had visited on her domain.
The air thickened, darkened. Jor chose to float above the surface, while the others tread carefully. Putting a hand to his lips, Jor signaled for silence, and once again his ears were assaulted by weak cries for succour. He pointed in the direction of the call and his helpers followed him closely. Their eyes watered and their lungs were choked by the smoke, but they did not falter. Soon the hero brought them to a man and a child, half-buried in the broken ground. It was the child who was crying. The father would never utter a sound in this life again.
With no words, but with stoic determination, the rescuers set about sustaining whatever life they could find in this nightmarish place.
*****
continued ...
Clark reached the square at a run ... and froze. It had been so long since he had confronted a scene of such immense criminal destruction, and neither his experience at the bank, nor the picture Matt had painted prepared him for the horror.
Through the drifting cloud of dust, the stage clung like a drunken shed to the front of the hospital, while many of the windows were gaping holes, some strung with giant, shark-like teeth. Building regulations might have been tightened over the years, but no glass could withstand such an explosion.
The ground itself was fractured ... torn, littered with large chunks of broken concrete, while the well-tended shrubbery of earlier days was razed and scattered; dirty, burnt shadows of their former glory.
Terrified onlookers escaped by any route possible, while others wandered aimlessly in shock, walking wounded scarcely comprehending what had befallen them.
A few more hardy souls were joining the medical teams in trying to help the wounded, too many innocent victims who had never dreamed of being assaulted on this sunny, auspicious occasion.
An eerie silence had fallen over the stricken arena, punctuated, now and then, by the agonizing scream from a survivor, or the soft barking of the police dogs as they went about their work, searching for the dead and injured. Further away, the sirens of the fire engines echoed through the canyons of downtown Metropolis, increasing in volume as they converged on the site.
Chaos reigned.
All around him, policemen, who had not themselves been injured, were desperately trying to bring order to the mayhem, and recognizing one particular officer who'd been at the bank, Clark went to offer his assistance. He couldn't offer super help, but today, he was pretty sure he was strong enough to make a difference to his stricken city.
The mystery bomber had struck again. There was no doubt in Clark's mind ... and this time, the brooding psychopath had unleashed all his fury. Clark clenched his jaw and his brows drew down, locking away his anger and revulsion. There would be time for those emotions later.
Standing amid the rubble in a business suit, he couldn't see it for himself, but never before had he looked more like Superman.
*****
The morning sun crept reluctantly across Metropolis's skyline, shrouded in dark clouds which held the promise of rain, communal tears suspended in a bank of freezing fog.
Inch by inch, an eerie half-light bathed the wrecked square in front of the hospital, illuminating, like wraiths, the members of the MPD detectives who'd taken over the tedious task of piecing together every tiny clue.
The injured had long since been removed for treatment to this or other hospitals, given the high numbers of casualties, and the fact that Metropolis General's staff was somewhat demoralized.
The dead had been taken to the city morgue, where the painstaking duty of identification would begin. In the aftermath of such a tragedy, many government workers were just beginning their gruesome tasks, but for one young hero, there was some measure of relief. He'd been told there was no more he could do but go home to rest ... for now.
Yet, at home, Matt sat in a large armchair, his head in his hands, his shoulders rigid -- not exactly an image of relaxation. His eyes were closed tightly, as if shutting out images he didn't want to revisit.
“Matt, don't,” Lois said softly, sitting on the arm of his chair, letting her hand run smoothly up and down his back, as she had consoled him all the days of his life. “It wasn't your fault. You couldn't know what was going to happen, and you did the best you could. Uncle Jimmy said your speed in getting people from beneath the rubble saved their lives.”
At first, he didn't reply, and Lois wasn't sure if he had even heard her. But then, a quiet, but fierce accusation -- thrown solely at himself.
“Two, Mom. I saved two!”
“From the blast zone, yes, but I doubt there was much you could have done for those close to the bomb. And you did save others who were caught outside the area.” She pulled him into a hug, resting her chin on the top of his head. “I've said it before and I'll say it as often as you need ... you do what you can. No one expects you to be God.”
“But I should have known.” His voice was as bleak as a winter's sky, yet he didn't move away. “Dad knew.”
“No, your dad suspected there would be another incident, but he didn't know where or when. He isn't a psychic either ... and he certainly didn't know the bomber was capable of such carnage.”
Actually, Lois suspected her last statement might not be true. Certainly, it would explain Clark's preoccupation with catching this villain.
“Dad did know. And he was right all along.” Matt's voice was muffled by her embrace, but there was no mistaking his dispair. “He knew the guy had something to do with cooking. All the witnesses said a fast-food stand blew up. So, he was right, and if I'd only listened and helped him search more ...”
“No, Matt,” Clark interrupted, grimly, as the outside door closed with a definite click behind him. “We were looking at cafes, not street vendors. So I didn't get it exactly right.”
Lois turned and saw both Clark and Jimmy come into the room. Both were dirty and disheveled, but abject misery seemed to cover Clark like a blanket. She rose from her seat, but didn't let her hand fall from Matt's shoulder.
“Clark, you were as close as anyone could be, and who's to say that that stand wasn't connected with a cafe; they're both in the catering business. Please don't castigate yourself ... either of you.” She tightened her hand on Matt's shoulder as she glanced between her husband and son. “Those backdoor cafes are all over Metropolis. You just didn't have time to check each one.”
“Yeah, and it's probably immaterial now, CK,” James added, sounding demoralized and exhausted as he crossed the room and let himself fall onto the couch. “The guy just blew himself up.”
“We don't know that.”
James narrowed his eyes as he looked up at Clark. “The police are staying very closed-lipped about this explosion, but I did get something from Jed. According to what he's hearing, his bosses aren't even looking at a link between the bombings. Completely different methods of delivery ...”
“That's crazy,” Lois declared, watching Clark carefully as he digested that piece of news.
James shrugged, wiping a dirty sleeve across his face. “Most profilers believe that a criminal doesn't usually change his modus operandi.”
“But it's not unheard of,” Lois said disdainfully. She kept her gaze on Clark, but his expression was closed and she couldn't read it. “So, after years free from terrorist activity, the police department believes that two completely unlinked crazy people decide to target Metropolis at the same time?”
Again James shrugged. “They're willing to consider a copycat.”
“But they aren't copycats!” Lois' lips tightened in exasperation.
“No, not quite. But it's possible the first guy set the other one off.” James squirmed a little under Lois' scornful stare. He sat forward, giving Clark a sideways glance, as if he expected his partner to jump into the conversation, but the veteran reporter remained totally silent. “Lois, I'm only relaying what I heard. To tell the truth, I'm with Clark here. It seems too much of a coincidence that there are two bombers ... and the police aren't ruling that possibility out.”
“Though their investigation seems to be leaning toward this latest explosion being a suicide bombing?” Clark eventually spoke up, though his voice gave nothing of his thoughts away.
“I guess you spoke to Jed too?” James asked.
“Yeah, briefly, but I also overheard some other conversations.” Clark touched his ear.
“Oh, I forgot some of your senses are coming back. Way to go, CK.” James gave a quick smile, his teeth gleaming whiter in his blackened face. “That's a handy skill for a reporter to have.”
Clark didn't return Jimmy's smile, and Lois' heart sank, but she said nothing, as her husband continued to speak.
“The investigations are still going on, of course. But you're right, Jimmy, they're definitely focusing on the fact that the vendor blew himself up along with everyone else.”
“You don't think that?” Lois asked.
“Not really. It is possible it was detonated remotely.” Clark's brow crinkled in thought. “A cellphone, perhaps?”
With a spurt of energy, Matt stood up. “Someone was using a cellphone when I landed, but then there was the explosion, and I forgot all about it.”
“That's not surprising, Matt,” Lois said, crossing her arms before her as her son moved out of range. “Your first priority was to help those who were hurt.”
“But what if I could have contained the explosion?” Matt's expression was stark. “I should have been able to stop it, somehow.”
“Son, don't torture yourself with 'what ifs'. You couldn't have foreseen what was going to happen.” Clark flexed his back stiffly. “Even Superman could only react to disasters. Sometimes he got lucky and managed to preempt them, but he had to know about them first. And that wasn't always the case.” An edge of emotion had crept into his voice as he tried to comfort his son.
“Exactly, and I'm sure there were lots of people using cellphones among that crowd,” Jimmy added with conviction. “The one you heard could just have been someone about to show their friends a video of Jor-El's arrival.”
“It's impossible to tell right now. But it's something to investigate ... later.” Clark turned to the stairs. “We've been on the go for hours now and I think we could all do with some sleep. The police are holding a press conference later today, and I'd like to rest up before I have to cover that.”
He started up the stairs, and Lois felt her anxiety mount at his hunched shoulders, his heavy tread on the steps. Some of his superpowers might be returning slowly, but she knew he still tired more easily.
“I could go check it out.” Matt wasn't prepared to give up on one possible lead.
That brought Clark up short. “No, Matt,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “Finding one small phone in that carnage is going to be difficult. Besides, if Jimmy's right, then the owner has probably taken it home with him.”
A shudder shook Matt's frame. “If they ever made it home.”
“Matt, a lot of people escaped,” Lois said, with a wealth of understanding. “And a lot of those who didn't at least made it into the hospital, thanks to you, the emergency services and a lot of very brave members of the public.” She linked her hand through her son's arm, while her eyes rose to encompass Clark and James. “The injured aren't going anywhere, so a few hours sleep won't hamper our investigation.”
“Our?” Clark locked onto Lois' stare, searching ... hoping.
“I think perhaps I should have paid more attention to your concerns earlier, Clark.”
Nodding his head, Clark's expression lightened just barely. “I doubt we could have stopped this, though.”
“I agree.” Lois walked her son toward the stairs, almost forcing him to begin the ascent to his bedroom. “But if your suspicions are right, maybe we can stop this from happening again.”
“Thank you.” Clark's voice was a tired whisper. He stood up a little straighter as he addressed their guest. “Jimmy, you're welcome to stay in the guest room for the rest of what's left of tonight.”
“Sounds good to me. I'm so exhausted, I doubt I'd make it home in one piece.”
With those final words, the group filed up the stairs, Clark giving each a quick glance. They were bowed, but not broken. Jimmy might need a little more persuasion to see things his way, and Matt ... well, he was probably biased in his favor. But Lois ... As she met his eyes, she smiled and gave a tiny nod of her head. Clark felt a spark of energy flow into his weary mind and body. Lane and Kent were once more a team, united in their determination to put this monster behind bars, to find justice for those he had killed and maimed.
While the group said goodnight, he felt Lois slip her hand into his and knew he would find peace in her arms, if only for a few short hours. He just hoped Matt could sleep and wouldn't be haunted by nightmares.
Matt was resolute and strong, but so young to be a hero. He hadn't had time to find his anchor.
In the meantime, Clark resolved to keep a close watch on his boy.
*****
to be continued ...
