Lessons: 5/6 (almost certainly)
by Nan Smith
Previously:
Clark hadn't known that he couldn't be hurt. He could have turned and run, but he hadn't. That erased any questions she might have been harboring about his courage. He had taken on a man with a knife and another with a club for her. That he had been protecting her she didn't doubt for an instant.
The realization left her somewhat at a loss. Clark had proven, in that short, violent encounter, something that she hadn't really internalized. He cared about her enough to risk his life for her. He had faced down a man with a knife to defend her.
Superman was in there, somewhere, The right sort of motivation could probably bring him out. And it was beginning to dawn on her what that motivation might be.
**********
Part 5:
As they hurried toward her apartment house, Lois's mind was busy. The events in the park had set up a new train of thought, and she wasn't sure how to deal with them.
Clark Kent obviously cared a lot about her. As a matter of fact, what had just happened had shoved reality into her face with unmerciful clarity.
Clark had been willing to sacrifice his life for her. That was a humbling and rather frightening thought. Her greenhorn partner -- who was actually a darned good newspaperman in his own right, she acknowledged privately -- hadn't hesitated an instant to step in the way when danger had threatened her, just as Superman had stepped forward at once when Nightfall threatened Earth. That was not the behavior of a selfish man. It was the behavior of a man who felt deeply, whether for the whole Earth, as Superman, or for her, as Clark.
Even after all her earlier reasoning, a few doubts about Superman's motivations had remained, although she couldn't logically think of any good reason for them. It was probably just her natural skepticism of anyone's apparently selfless motives about anything, she told herself cynically. She had initially suspended such feelings about Superman until she had discovered that he masqueraded as an ordinary human, and then they had surfaced. It hadn't been until she thought he was lost that she had revisited them and concluded that his real motives might be innocent and perhaps, indeed, a matter of survival. Trask, after all, had wanted to kill Superman, even with every evidence that the visitor from another world was not only harmless, but beneficial, to Earth. And Trask certainly wasn't the only nut out there. If she could doubt Superman's motives, considering that she knew him in both his guises, how much more could someone like Trask, or, for that matter, ordinary Joe Citizen, distrust him simply because he was different?
One would think, she thought, that the evidence would now be beyond question, but apparently the chronically suspicious could even find a way around that. She'd heard some pompous talking head, right after the discovery of Nightfall, pontificating on the possibility that Superman's home civilization had actually sent the meteor to destroy the Earth so that they could conquer it and loot it of its resources. And there were probably some people out there who believed it, too.
But she didn't. She hadn't, even at the time she heard it. The whole premise was ridiculous on the face of it. If Superman's species, as a whole, possessed his incredible powers, not to mention the technology to travel between star systems, such measures wouldn't even be necessary. They could simply move in and take what they wanted, and no force on Earth could stop them. Heck, no force on Earth could stop Superman now, if he were to suddenly decide to make himself the ruler of the planet. But instead, he had risked his life for them.
Besides, she just couldn't see Clark as an evil invader. That had seemed unlikely, even when she had first made her big discovery about him. A lot of questions had swirled about in her mind but, whatever his purpose was in being here, she hadn't even considered that he might want to harm the people of Earth. It just wasn't in the character of either of his personae.
She had wondered why he had chosen to stay in Metropolis. Now she was beginning to have an inkling of the reason. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she wondered if it could be that simple. She had guessed, last night, that Clark didn't want a starry-eyed groupie, but a girlfriend. He'd traveled the world before settling in Metropolis, if what she had picked up from casual conversation was at all accurate. What if the reason was *her*?
Now that was a really scary thought.
Ever since his first appearance, the incredible super man from Krypton had been somewhere on the plane of a rock star or an actor. Teenage girls had all kinds of fantasies about their idols, all the while knowing that the person in question was far beyond their reach. But Clark Kent was all too thoroughly within her reach, if all the indications were right. And that meant that Superman was, as well.
They hurried up the steps of her apartment house and Clark courteously opened the door for her. She gave him a nervous smile and entered ahead of him.
All this was conjecture, she knew. And besides, if Nightfall hit, tomorrow, none of it would matter. What she had to concentrate on was getting Clark to remember his other self. If that succeeded, then she could deal with the implications of Clark, and Superman, being available to her if she wanted him. It might be a dilemma, but it would be nothing in comparison to the problems that she and the rest of the world would be dealing with otherwise.
As they traversed the short hallway to the elevator, Mr. Tracewski emerged from the manager's apartment, his toolbox in hand, and followed them. Lois held the door for him, and he smiled mechanically at her. "Hello, Ms. Lane."
"Hello, Mr. Tracewski." She nodded to her partner. "This is my partner at the Planet -- Clark Kent."
The manager nodded. "I see his name in the paper," he said. "I read your articles," he added, to Clark.
"Thanks," Clark said, glancing questioningly at Lois.
"Mr. Tracewski is the apartment manager," Lois explained.
The man lifted his toolbox. "You check your door lock," he told her. "Apartment 507 had a break-in. All this end of the world stuff, and people still steal."
"That's terrible!" Clark said.
"If that thing hits, it'll get worse," Lois said. "Anybody who thinks he can take something he wants from other people will be trying. Law enforcement will be overwhelmed."
"That's sure," Tracewski said. "I make sure I have plenty of shotgun shells." The elevator door opened on the fifth floor and he waved Lois and Clark ahead of him. "You be careful, Ms. Lane."
"You too," Lois said. "Nightfall hasn't hit yet. Maybe the Asgard rocket will solve this thing for us."
"Maybe," Mr. Tracewski said. "In the meantime, I put in better locks and my boys keep watch on back door."
That sounded like a good precaution to Lois. She fumbled in her purse for her apartment keys and unlocked the string of locks with which she had secured her door.
"You weren't taking any chances," Clark said, watching her.
"You heard Mr. Tracewski," Lois said. "Somebody broke into 507. It could just as easily have been my place, if I hadn't had extra locks."
"I guess so," Clark said. "Lois --"
"What?" She gestured him ahead of her and followed him in, pulling the door shut at once, and then spent several seconds re-locking the various locks.
"Do you think the rocket will work?"
"I hope so," she said. "If Nightfall hits, it's going to kill millions of people, even if it doesn't happen all at once. Professor Daitch said it could plunge Earth into another ice age. If it does, people are going to start fighting each other for food, and warm places to live. It could mean the end of civilization."
"Do you think Superman could stop it? He failed once."
"He broke it up," Lois said. "It was just bad luck that one big piece is still coming at us. Maybe if he'd tried to change the course instead of smashing into it like that, it would have worked better, and he wouldn't have been hurt."
"Do you think he'd be willing to try?" Clark asked.
Lois nodded. "If he's able to, he will," she said positively. "Superman is an incredible person. He told us when he first appeared that he was here to help, and I believe him. He won't stand by and let us die if he can do something about it." She turned her head as the apartment phone rang. "I wonder who's calling at this hour." She picked up the receiver. "Hello?"
"Lois, my dear!" Lex Luthor's voice said. "I've been trying to reach you for hours, but the phone service has been overwhelmed. I sent a message to your office, but they said you were out."
"Hello, Lex," Lois said. "I'm sorry -- I've been awfully busy, with this emergency."
"I am aware of that," Lex's voice said. "I wanted to give you my perspective on the crisis. You can be certain that all of my resources will be devoted to assisting the people of Metropolis to cope if the worst happens. Would you have time to drop by my penthouse this evening?"
"Well --" She glanced at her watch. "I'm not sure I can get a taxi."
"I'll send a car," Lex's voice said warmly. "I'm informed the taxi services have been unreliable at best over the last day or two. Nigel will meet you in front of your apartment house in ten minutes."
"Well -- all right." She glanced at Clark. "Will you be all right here for an hour or so?"
"I guess so." Clark looked worried."
"All right," Lois said into the receiver. "I'll be down there in ten minutes."
"Excellent," Lex said. "I'll look forward to seeing you."
**********
When Lois stepped off the elevator in Lex Luthor's penthouse apartment at the very top of Lex Tower, Lex was waiting, looking as urbane and sophisticated as he always did. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "My dear, I'm glad you've come."
"It's nice to see you, too, Lex," Lois said. "I wish it were under better circumstances."
"As do I." His expression became somber. "The Daily Planet has more information sources than I. Has there been any indication that Superman may have survived?"
That wasn't a question that she could answer directly. Although Lex could probably be trusted with the truth about Clark's other identity, it wasn't her secret to tell, and he would certainly be upset if she allowed anyone else to know, so she shrugged. "No one knows."
"I thought you might have some information that hadn't been released to the general public. He hasn't contacted the government?"
She shook her head. "If he has, they haven't released the information."
"Then they probably don't have it," Lex said. "They would certainly wish to avoid a panic."
"Probably," Lois said. "You said you had a statement to make to the press, Lex?
"Yes, certainly. I want the people of Metropolis to know that all my resources will be available to assist if this disaster comes to pass. I also wished to make you an offer."
"Oh?"
"Yes," he said with a smile. "As you know, I leave very little to chance. There will be survivors after the impact of Nightfall. Those survivors will need leaders, persons who can help to ensure that the human race continues on, even though not all members of it survive. I've taken steps to make sure that I am one of those survivors. I feel I owe it to the human race to be certain that I will be available in the aftermath to rally the survivors and help to build a new society."
"You want me to write about that?"
He shook his head. "No. I think that would be rather unkind. My shelter has room for only two hundred people, and supplies to last for three years. It has tools and implements for farming and manufacture; everything that the survivors will need when we re-emerge. It was originally built as a shelter to withstand a nuclear attack. I'd like to offer you a place on my ark."
She frowned. "Why me?"
He smiled. "The aftermath will be a cruel and lonely time for me without the companionship of a superior woman. I couldn't think of one more worthy of that position than you."
"I --" Lois felt as if the world had begun to revolve in reverse. What Lex was offering was obvious.
She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I can't."
"Think carefully, Lois," Lex said. "Mob rule isn't a pretty sight. You don't have to see it."
Again she shook her head, more decisively. "No. I have a partner that needs me and friends at the Planet that are more like family to me than my real family. I can't desert them." She smiled shakily at him. "I'm a journalist. If Nightfall does destroy civilization, I have to be there to write the story -- and see what takes its place. It could be the greatest comeback in history."
"Or the biggest knockout."
She turned to ring for the elevator. "Either way, I have to see for myself."
Lex inclined his head. "Very well, my dear. But if you change your mind, the offer is still open."
**********
The trip down to the ground floor of Lex Tower seemed much longer than the ride up. Lex's offer had come as a shock, although it shouldn't have. Lex hadn't gained the power and position he had without being somewhat ruthless in his dealings with others, and it had been obvious since their first meeting that he found her to his taste. The offer of "dessert", at their first dinner, would certainly not have involved food of any sort, either, had she accepted. She doubted that Lex had met with many refusals from women during his career. She was probably one of the few.
But she couldn't take him up on this offer, either. Not only did it seem like a betrayal of all her friends; the whole arrangement inexplicably repelled her. She could pardon Lex for asking, and even for believing that he could be the person to lead civilization back from savagery if the worst came to worst. But to survive as Lex's "companion" at the expense of everyone she knew and cared about wasn't something that she could do. If Clark couldn't regain his memory in time to save them he would need her more than ever, and, if her friends at the Planet made it through, then perhaps they could somehow help rally the survivors of the disaster. But she couldn't run. It simply wasn't in her nature.
The elevator slowed and stopped. She started to disembark, and then realized that she hadn't arrived at the ground floor. Another passenger was boarding -- two of them, in fact. A pair of men in business suits entered and stepped to the rear of the car. The door closed and they moved downward.
A pair of hands seized her, pinning her arms to her sides, and a wet cloth, reeking with some chemical, was clapped across her mouth and nose.
Lois drove the spike heel of her shoe down hard into her attacker's instep, and the arms loosened. She wrenched her head sideways, managing to free her face from the rag, and inhaled a lungful of air, but her attacker grabbed her again, and the other man helped bear her to the floor of the elevator. She was pinned motionless, and the cloth covered her face again.
She held her breath as long as she could. Her head was swimming, and her lungs were starving for oxygen. At last, she couldn't hold out any longer. The urge to breathe was too great.
After that, she remembered nothing.
**********
Lois Lane opened her eyes. The room was dimly illuminated by the lighted face of her bedside alarm clock, and she looked up at the dark, familiar ceiling of her room. She was aware of an overwhelming feeling of nausea, and closed her eyes quickly again.
It was hard to think. Her head was muzzy, and the smell of some kind of chemical in the air around her made her gag. She lay still, fighting the urge to give in to the nausea.
What had happened?
She couldn't remember, and it was too much effort to think. Time passed. The nausea slowly cleared, and with it the foggy feeling in her head. Her muscles felt as if she had been run through a washing machine and hung out to dry. Even moving was almost too much effort. Her brain felt slow and stupid, and it was almost too much effort to think.
For an undetermined time, she drifted between wakefulness and sleep, but very slowly her memory began to return.
She had been in the elevator at Lex Tower, and there had been two men. And now, she was here, in her bedroom, feeling as if she had been run over by a snowplow. What was going on?
But if she was back in her apartment, Clark should be here. The thought slowly drifted up from somewhere.
"Clark?" she called.
No answer. The whole apartment was completely silent.
"Clark?" she called again, more loudly.
Again, there was no answer. Slowly, fighting the sick feeling in her middle, Lois pushed herself into a sitting position and reached for the lamp on her nightstand.
The bulb blazed on and she shielded her eyes from the light.
It was her bedroom, all right, but how had she gotten here? Hadn't she been leaving Lex Tower, intending to return to her apartment and Clark, who had promised to wait for her?
She looked at her watch quickly. The readout said that it was almost two AM. Nightfall was due to hit the Earth in about sixteen hours and Clark was nowhere to be found.
The mystery of what had happened to her would have to wait, she told herself. She had to find Clark. Maybe, she thought, he had given up waiting for her and gone home. She reached for the phone and punched in the number for Clark's apartment.
But no reassuring dial tone answered her. No sound at all came from the receiver.
Could the phone be unplugged? She leaned forward, checking the phone's wire where it connected to the wall. Well, that wasn't the problem. Then what was wrong?
She braced her arms on the bed and slid her feet to the floor. Her stomach lurched, but she fought back the nausea and lurched to her feet, bracing one hand on her nightstand to keep her balance. The curtains were drawn across her bedroom window, and she managed to stagger to them and pull them back.
The brightness of a sunny morning met her gaze. Confused, she checked her watch again. It now said two-twelve.
Was it possible that her watch was wrong? But it hadn't stopped running.
Slowly, she made her way to the bathroom and turned the tap. Cold water gushed into the basin, and she leaned forward to splash the liquid onto her face.
Feeling weak but more clear-headed, Lois turned off the water and dried her face. She leaned over the basin and looked at her reflection. Her face was greenish-white, her hair mussed, and there were dark circles under her eyes. On one cheek she had somehow acquired a large, purplish bruise.
Her memories were becoming clearer now. She had been in the elevator, and two men had attacked her. They had held a rag, soaked with what was probably ether or chloroform across her face, and she had woken up here in what seemed to be her apartment.
Again, she looked at her watch. The little numbers in the lower, left-hand corner of the face showed the date. This was definitely the very early morning of the day that was scheduled for the end of the world. What the dickens was going on here?
Slowly, moving cautiously, in deference to her queasy stomach, she left the bathroom and moved into the living room.
It looked just like the living room of her apartment, and doubt shook her. Could everything that she recalled from the last couple of days possibly be a dream? No, she decided after a moment of disorientation. She was sure it wasn't. Something was very strange, here. She seemed to be in her own apartment, but that bright, sunny day outside certainly conflicted with her watch, and she knew that the battery was good. She'd replaced it only last month.
Only she had left the blanket that Clark had used the night that she had found him in Suicide Slum folded up on one end of the sofa and it was nowhere to be seen. And the bowls that she and Clark had used the previous morning had been in the kitchen sink, and there was no sign of them. Of course, whoever had brought her here could have cleaned all of those things up, but she doubted it.
Her handbag sat on the kitchen table. Slowly, she made her way to it and opened the purse.
Nothing seemed to have been disturbed. After a moment, she fished the roll of antacids from the inner pocket and swallowed two of them. It probably wouldn't do any good, but she figured it couldn't hurt. And maybe there was some aspirin in the medicine cabinet. With an effort, she turned back toward the bathroom once more.
The thought of swallowing more pills on an empty stomach almost made her gag. She wished that she were thinking more clearly. Surely she could have managed this a bit more efficiently. Slowly, she returned to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
This was definitely wrong, she realized, as soon as the door came open. An unopened carton of low fat milk occupied the top shelf, along with a bottle of orange juice, and a full carton of eggs on the next shelf down hadn't even been opened previously, as far as she could tell. A pound of butter sat innocently next to the eggs, and in the vegetable crisper she found a head of iceberg lettuce, a small bag of cherry tomatoes, a cucumber, and several other fresh vegetables.
After a moment, she shut the door of the appliance and turned to her cupboard.
The cupboard was well-stocked with canned food and several bottles of her favorite mineral water. An unopened can of the best ground coffee in the supermarket sat innocently on an upper shelf, with an unopened box of sugar next to it.
She closed the cupboard door.
This was unquestionably not her apartment. So where the heck was she?
**********
tbc
