Dying for a story was bad enough, but the thought that the story might not even make it on the air was maddening.
Anita Mendosa straightened her shoulders and then looked grimly into the camera and tried not to cough. The exhaust fumes this close to the highway were pervasive, but it was important that she be here.
Cell phone networks were down all over the country. So many people were calling, trying to find out if their loved ones had survived or were surviving that the call volume was overwhelming the networks. She’d tried to call her mother, but had only gotten a busy signal. THE rest of the crew had tried as well.
Her satellite feed was all right for now, but there were no guarantees that anything was going to get out.
Interviewing Superman on that shipping dock had seemed like the break she’d been waiting for. It had done great things for her career, getting her a shiny new job with a major network. She’d gotten a higher salary and a higher profile. When they’d called she’d jumped at the offer.
It hardly seemed like it had just been a couple of days. She’d taken the job, and with it had come an airline ticket and a story.
This was supposed to be her first big story for the network. Instead it was going to be her last.
“My name is Anita Mendosa, and I am reporting from Interstate 70 ten miles west of the beltway in Denver Colorado. With all airline traffic stopped, people are resorting to other means to evacuate the city.”
She gestured behind her, where from their position on the hill they could see traffic stretched out for miles. “According to reports traffic on Interstate 70 is gridlocked. Traffic stretches back into the city for a distance of seventeen miles. My sources tell me that the other major highways heading west, north and south are all similarly gridlocked.”
People had panicked, and in their haste, there had been accidents. Now people were trapped. Many of the people on the road weren’t even in their cars. They were standing outside of them in small groups, craning their heads to stare off into the distance.
“Cell phone traffic all across the country is down, and with the deadline rapidly approaching, it is apparent that for the majority of these people, this is the end of the line.”
Anita sighed slightly. “There’s no news helicopter waiting to pull me and my crew out. All such vehicles were commandeered several hours ago to transport city officials and their families.”
It was difficult to keep the anger and bitterness out of her voice. What those people had done was criminal and craven, and she hoped that whatever came out of the wreckage of all of this, they’d pay for deserting everyone.
Her parents were watching, and she wanted them to be proud of her. She stared into the camera and said, “All of this while tens of thousands of poor and middle class families are stranded on the road or in their homes waiting for the end to come.”
Clearing her throat slightly, she said, “We’ll continue to report for as long as we are able.”
She saw something in the distance and her cameraman turned.
All she could see was a streak of color, red and blue moving almost faster than the eye could see. It streaked ahead, out of sight.
Cars began honking up ahead and she could hear an unfamiliar sound from up ahead.
“I hear something,” she said. “It sounds like…cheering.”
A moment later her cameraman filmed a crushed car flying smoothly overhead, borne aloft by a familiar figure in blue and red.
“He really is Superman,” Anita murmured to herself. Realizing she was on camera again she flushed and said, “We have a new development. Traffic is starting to move.”
**************
When the lights went out, there were a few screams and Melody could hear the sounds of people sobbing in the darkness. She held tight to her father’s hand and listened to him praying under his breath.
The last of the busses had left an hour ago, and it was becoming clear to everyone they weren’t coming back. The few parishioners who had cars were reporting that the interstates were jammed with the cars of those desperate to leave.
The wealthy had left days ago, and all that were left were the people least able to take care of themselves.
According to her father, the Church was on a hill at least, so it might provide some sort of protection from the bad gas that everyone said was coming. There was something the adults weren’t saying though, a look in their eyes that frightened Melody in ways that nothing else had.
She’d seen that look before, when her family had lost their homes in New Orleans. It was a look of defeat and anger and hopelessness.
Everyone had gathered together in the old church, and people who hadn’t spoken to each other in years had hurried to mend fences. They’d said what needed to be said, because in their heart of hearts everyone knew this was going to be their last day on earth.
Her father had tried to get her on one of those busses, but they’d been too crowded. There weren’t many children in this crowd; most of her friends had managed to catch the bus, although there wasn’t any guarantee that they’d ever see their family or friends again.
Melody felt people moving around her as people began to calm down.
That calm shattered a moment later as the sirens began to sound. It was a sound she’d only heard before when there were tornadoes coming, but Melody knew this meant something else, something much worse.
A tornado would destroy houses and individuals. This was going to destroy everyone.
She leaned against the window and tried to stare outside. It seemed to take forever for her eyes to adjust, especially as there were no street lights outside. The only light came from the fullness of the moon, and viewed through a distorted piece of stained glass, she couldn’t see anything.
The sound of the sirens droned on and on, and deep in her soul Melody realized that this was the end of the world.
“Come away from there,” she heard her father say distantly. “It’s not safe.”
He pulled her on top of one of the pews, as he’d once put her on top of furniture in the face of the rushing waters. “We’ll be safer up here.”
She felt someone unfamiliar hug her from the other side and she stiffened before relaxing. Human contact was what she needed at the moment, and it comforted her a little.
In the darkness she heard a deep voice begin to sing. It was a song that she’d heard as long as she could remember, but she’d never heard it with such conviction or beauty.
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…”
Another voice, shaking a little took up the song, and then another and another. Soon she found her own voice rising with the others.
For a little while, at least their voices drowned out the sounds of the sirens and they were together.
*********
It wasn’t going to be enough. He’d cleared the roads to the west, but there wasn’t going to be time to get everyone clear. It was only a matter of time before there were more accidents. People were nervous and edgy and in a hurry. It was a bad combination.
He could hear the sirens starting in the distance, and he knew what they meant. It was time to face the rift that had already killed dozens of people.
There was no way of telling just how large it was going to be this time around. The East Coast rifts had been larger in the air but smaller as they’d approached the ground. The rifts had been growing gradually larger as they’d moved west.
The rift above the petroleum plant had already been a large one the first time around, at least as large as the Metropolis rift. This time it was going to be larger. The question was just how much larger.
The sky was dark, and the sun was just falling behind the horizon. To the people down below it was already night; the high mountains brought sunset early in these parts.
The petroleum plant was deserted, with everything securely padlocked away and wind whistling across the deserted parking lot.
There was a memorial in the middle of the lot, a small shrine covered in flowers and pictures of the men who had died. It sat abandoned and forlorn.
Clark spoke into his microphone. “”I’m about to deal with the Denver Rift. I don’t expect to be available for a while. Unless you have something that’s going to kill more people than this will, don’t call.”
Lois’s voice spoke. “We understand. The people here want to thank you for everything you’ve done.”
A chorus of voices rang out in his ear.
“I want to thank you,” Lois said. Her voice sounded hoarse, throaty, and Clark had a moment where he wondered exactly what she meant.
The sky began to glimmer, reminding him a little of the aurora borealis. It took him a moment to realize that this was it.
The rift seemed to cover half the sky.
“Oh…” he said.
“What?”
“It’s here,” Clark said. “And it’s huge.”
*****************
Driving the news van across the median and onto private property hadn’t been easy, even with the easing congestion on the roads. Anita comforted herself with the knowledge of just who was in the air above them.
If he really was everything he said he was, then they were going to be safe.
If he wasn’t, then it wasn’t likely that they were going to be able to get far enough to be safe anyway. Traffic was still moving slowly, and it was only a matter of time before another accident of three stopped traffic dead in its tracks again.
If she was going to die, she was going to be remembered. This was her chance to show the world what she was really made of.
She’d given them Superman. Now she was going to prove it.
Setting up the cameras took only a matter of moments. She stared up in the sky at him, and a moment later a sound that reminded her of a jet engine emerged from above, even though not a single gust of wind touched her skin.
Yet all she could see was him floating in the middle of the air standing up.
It took her a moment to remember.
The rifts were invisible. The gas was invisible. Visually this was going to be a bust.
“We may as well pack it up and try some of the back roads,” she told her cameraman. “Let’s not make this any harder for him than it has to be.”
There wasn’t any point in risking her life if nothing exciting was going to happen.
************
This sky glimmered and shone above him with a sort of ethereal beauty. It was something he wished he could share with Lois, although to the naked eye it would have been invisible.
Taking as deep a breath as he could, he began to blow.
This wasn’t his most powerful ability, and it wasn’t one he’d have chosen for himself. Yet at this moment, the fate of the people on the highway and the people back in down depended on his ability to hold back the wind.
The knowledge that there were a thousand rifts opening all across the Midwest even now bothered him. If there had been a way to use sandbags to block the portal away, he’d have done it.
Yet here it was, seemingly covering half the sky, and all he could do was hold.
He breathed, and for a moment he feared that it wasn’t going to be enough. After a moment he realized that he’d increased the pressure on this side enough that nothing was getting through.
Now all he had to do was hope that his breath lasted longer than the portal did. The time it would take to take a single breath would be enough to disperse a massive amount of gas over a huge area. Even tiny amounts would be lethal.
No matter what happened, he had to hold on.
*****************
“Is it getting bright outside?” the driver asked.
The cameraman was putting his camera away.
“Get it out,” Anita said. She slammed the door to the van shut and said, “You’re going to have to shoot it through the windshield.”
Half the sky seemed to be brightening above them. Unfortunately, it was the part behind Superman.
“Watch out!” she found herself shouting, forgetting that the reporter was supposed to be simply an observer, not part of the story.
Then the sky caught fire.
************
Another rift was opening, and this one was at least half as large as the other one. The sound of thunder almost distracted him, but he forced himself to keep blowing.
Everything was brightening, and it took him a moment to realize that the new rift was one fire.
It took him a moment to realize what was happening. Although he was holding most of the hydrogen sulfide back, some was still leaking through, at least at the upper levels, and with the fire emerging from the second rift, it was only going to be a matter of time before—
The world exploded into flame and involuntarily he took a breath.
************
Anita barely had time to scream as the flames engulfed the van. It took her a moment to realize that they were not on fire. Somehow the flames were around them but not touching them.
The heat was rising inside the van, and Anita coughed. It was getting a little hard to breathe.
It took a moment for her light dazzled eyes to see the silhouette of a figure standing in front of the van. Superman’s arms were outstretched as though he was going to hold the fire back with his arms.
For a seemingly endless moment, nothing seemed to happen. Finally the monstrous fireball began to move back.
The fireball was massive, covering the entire sky. In truth it was probably only a mile wide, but to Anita it seemed like it covered everything. Worse, it didn’t fade or burn away. It was as though the fire was continuously being fed from inside the rift.
The sound of the wind was like a hurricane, but this time it wasn’t something to fear. It was the sound of Superman saving them.
Anita glanced at her cameraman. His camera was up and the light was on. They were broadcasting. Whether anyone would see it was anyone’s guess.
******
He pushed, and the fire moved back. His only consolation was that the fire seemed to be burning the hydrogen sulfide off as fast as it could enter the atmosphere. He was tempted to grab the van and run, letting a small area burn, but there were cars just across the ridge.
Worse, he could hear the sounds of people singing just down the road. There was a church on a hill there, and the people had to see the light of this by now. They should have been screaming in fear or fleeing for their lives.
Instead they were singing, raising their voices over the sound of sirens and wind and fire.
He couldn’t let them down. He wouldn’t. If there was breath left within him, he’d stop them from burning.
Clark felt light headed, but he continued to blow.
Staying as close to the flames as he could without actually being inside them, he beat them back one step at a time. If he could get them close enough to the top he’d be able to dash away and get a gulp of air before the flames were able to rush down and envelope everyone.
As he closed with the first rift, he tried to stare into the second. He didn’t know where the fire was coming from, but there didn’t seem to be an end to it and no matter how he blew, there always seemed to be more.
It wasn’t until he was almost to the rift that he saw the shadow inside the second rift. It took him a moment to realize that it was coming toward him, like the shadow of a shark coming from deep inside the water.
Before he could react it was coming through.
It was a 747 and it was on fire. If it had been empty, he’d have let it crash. He had more important things to do than grab an empty piece of machinery, and the plane would have missed the news van in any case.
But there were people inside the plane, and they were screaming.
He felt time begin to freeze around him as his body went into overdrive. At this speed the plane seemed frozen above him, trapped in a hideous sort of limbo where people were trapped between hell and a better place.
Even through the brightness above him, he could see the light of the first explosions from the chemical plant. Some of the fire had managed to drift downward far enough to light something important. He wasn’t sure what sort of chemicals this plant produced, but there was no way to be sure that the fumes weren’t going to be as toxic as the ones from the first rift.
With the news van and the highway filled with motorists behind him and to his left, the church downwind and to his right and with the airplane coming in from above him, he had a choice to make.
He wasn’t going to be able to save all three. Even Superman had his limits. At this speed he could conceivably grab the van and move it out of the way, but the people inside would be turned into a paste. There were limits to how much protection he could give to things.
Clark could pull the airplane up and away from the fire, but that would incinerate the news van, and the fires would hit the church.
Clark felt a moment of hopelessness. It was what he’d always secretly feared, even more than being rejected as an alien freak. He’d hidden and told himself that it was because he didn’t want to be hounded by the world. The truth was far simpler.
He’d failed his parents the night he was ten. He’d been too slow, too weak, and he’d been forced to watch them die and burn. The reason he hadn’t done any of this until he’d been prompted by Lois was because he’d known he was going to face choices like this.
Because of him, people were going to die.
If he grabbed the plane from below, he wasn’t going to be able to maintain the wind that was the only thing keeping the fire from engulfing them all. If he grabbed it from above, there was a good chance that the skin would rip despite all his power and the people inside would plummet to the ground.
If he let the people in the plane die, there wasn’t any guarantee that he’d be able to keep this wind up long enough for the rift to close. His lungs were already screaming for air, and it was only going to get worse.
The plane moved slightly and he realized that whatever happened, he had to make a choice.
The world seemed frozen for a moment as Clark floated, indecisive.
At last he straightened. He’d made his choice. One of the three groups had to die.
Like hell they did.
The world burst into motion around him and he grabbed the plane from the side. He let the other side dip, ignoring the screams of the passengers as he continued to maintain the wind.
It took him a moment to register how cool the surface of the plane was, given that it had just come through a sea of fire.
His breath screamed within his lungs as he slowly dropped toward the ground, letting the fire above him expand. His fingers dug into the side of the plane, holding the ribbing.
The ribbing began to snap and the thin skin of the plane began to peel like tissue paper. He was going to drop them and all of this was going to be for nothing.
Suddenly the plane buckled under him and he felt it slipping. He couldn’t even afford to look down.
He scrabbled to find a handhold, a place where the plane didn’t tear itself apart under him. The slide stopped suddenly and Clark risked a glance down.
There was a hand coming from the underside of the wing, and a moment later a face appeared from behind it as well.
The face was his own.
