Chapter Ten
It was a little after midnight in Metropolis. I’d been helping out at car wrecks, traffic jams, the occasional robbery, and an in-flight emergency over Virginia for most of the evening, and it felt good to use my powers openly. Several people thanked me profusely, two women offered to let me spend the night at their homes – one of the women wore a wedding ring and it wasn’t clear to me whether or not she wanted us to share a bed – and one man offered to pay me. I thanked the man and asked him to pick out a good charity and send the money there. He almost fell over himself as he agreed to do it.
Both of the women who’d offered me “shelter” seemed a bit disappointed when I told them I already had a place to sleep. Neither of them looked as good as Cat Grant, and they certainly didn’t come anywhere near Lois’ standard of beauty.
The thought surprised me. I had to stop comparing every woman to Lois. That was not a profitable line of thought.
And one mugger offered me a bribe to let him go – a hundred twenty-three dollars, his take from a previous robbery. I held him until a police car drove by and his latest intended victim flagged them down. After a lengthy explanation from both myself and the victim – along with a quick flight demonstration – the officers agreed to arrest the mugger and attempt to return the loot to its rightful owner.
I felt like I’d actually accomplished some really good things. But it was getting late, honest people were mostly headed home, and I wanted to get some sleep after my busy day. But there was one more errand I needed to take care of first. I only hoped my intended conversational partner was still awake.
He was. I wasn’t surprised that he was still hard at work. A man such as he didn’t knock off early without a specific purpose in mind.
I stood on the railing of Luthor’s office balcony until he noticed me. He finally caught sight of me and turned in his chair. It was too bad that all the documents I could see on his desk were for legitimate businesses. I would have loved to have gotten proof of his criminal involvement right then and there, especially if he were to invite me to enter his office.
I walked toward the door and he flipped a switch to raise it. Then he applauded sarcastically. “Astonishing debut, Superman!”
I lifted my eyebrows in surprise at his form of address. “Haven’t you heard?” he asked, his tone just short of mocking me. “That’s what they’re calling you. It’s international news! So, to what do I owe this honor?”
Now that I was standing in front of him, I wasn’t sure my idea to confront him was really a good one. It might backfire on me. But it was too late to fly away now. I tried to lower my voice to a register Clark Kent wouldn’t normally use. “I came to tell you that I know who you are,” I said as I stepped closer. “Who you – really – are.”
He tilted his head to one side as if he had no inkling of what I was talking about. I folded my arms and locked eyes with him, trying to be as intimidating as possible. “I suppose, on its face, it was a good plan. Destroy Prometheus so you could put your own space station in its place. Not only would you make billions from the patents on the vaccines developed and the patents which you would have owned, but you would also be the supposed savior of the space program.”
He stepped away and made a production out of lighting a cigar. “Well, it’s an interesting theory, Superman, but I’m afraid that’s all it is.”
I wanted him to show some reaction to my accusations, some kind of remorse. I wanted to know that he was still human under that facade of philanthropy and that very real criminal patina. “You are also responsible for the deaths of at least four people. Commander Ladderman, Dr. Samuel Platt, Dr. Antoinette Baines. Not to mention her assistant. Those probably aren’t the only skeletons in your closet.”
He didn’t appear the least bit intimidated, much less frightened. Not even nervous. “So you’ve become both my judge and executioner?”
I tried to look stern and unyielding. “Like any other citizen of the planet, I must obey the law. I am not above it. You, on the other hand, seem to believe that you are above the law, that it doesn’t apply to you.”
He adjusted his sports coat over his turtleneck sweater. I had to admit, it was a good look for him. “I hold a certain position in this city – ”
“Yes,” I interrupted, “you do. You have the honest people of this city convinced that you’re a successful businessman and philanthropist. And there is nothing that would please me more than to see you dethroned and behind bars like any common criminal.” I paused for effect. “And that day will come.”
His cigar must have been a good one. He certainly seemed to enjoy it. Or maybe he just enjoyed the thought of my challenging him. He lifted his eyebrows and said, “I trust not. But, as they say, let the games begin.”
“The games?”
He smiled as if he’d already won something. “The contest, Superman! The one between yourself and me.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not certain why you’ve chosen me, but I gleefully accept the challenge.” He stepped closer and blew a stream of smoke in my face. “And I’m sure that this contest will be – most interesting.”
Well. If I’d expected him to be quaking in his hand-made Italian loafers at my pronouncement, I was apparently destined for disappointment. I had nothing more to say to him, so I turned to leave.
But I couldn’t resist taking one more shot. “By the way, if you ever want to find me – “ I lifted up above the railing and glared down at him “ – all you have to do is look up.”
As I whisked out of sight, I glanced over my shoulder and saw him gazing up into the sky. The expression on his face was a mixture of surprise and determination.
But the thing I hoped I’d see – fear – wasn’t there. Not only was he not afraid of me, he wasn’t afraid of being found out or arrested or even accused of wrongdoing. He was probably the most amoral person I’d ever heard of, much less ever met.
And I wondered if what I’d just done had been a smart thing or a dumb thing. On the plus side, I’d let him know that I was on to his game and that I’d be watching him. But maybe I should have been more cautious. Maybe telling a cagey cat like Lex Luthor that he wasn’t a mystery to me was giving him an advantage. After all, he had no rules, and I’d just told him that I did have them. And he wasn’t the kind of man who believed in the concept of a fair fight.
But it was too late to change things now. I’d thrown down the gauntlet, and he’d picked it up and tossed it back in my face. It shouldn’t have surprised me.
Now all I could do was hope that I was as ready for him as he would be for me.
*****
Lois lurched up out of a deep sleep into panicked awareness.
It was dark and she was trapped in a small room with a bomb and she was tied to a folding metal chair with cloth chains and the smell of the chemicals was making her nauseous and something evil was stalking her. She gasped for breath and fought her bindings for a moment before realizing that she was wrapped up in her own comforter on her own bed. She threw off the covers and ran to the bathroom to stand over the open toilet.
Her stomach settled down without completing its rebellion. She drank three glasses of water, one after the other, and toweled her face and arms dry. Then she sniffed the shoulder of her pajamas and decided to change into fresh clothing.
Her dream, disjointed as it had been, stayed with her, as often do the dreams of those suddenly wrenched from them back into reality. She glanced at the bedside clock. Almost five-thirty, so it wouldn’t do much good to go back to sleep. And she’d been up until almost midnight writing up stories of Superman’s rescues and various good deeds across the city until Angelo, the Planet’s night editor, had ordered her to go home and get some sleep.
She pulled off her still damp sleeping garments and put on fresh underwear, then folded her sheets back so they’d air dry during the day. A quick glance into the living room revealed that if the night-owl who called herself Lucy Lane had come home after Lois’ bedtime last night, she’d made it to her own bedroom without kicking off her shoes or dropping other articles of clothing first. That usually meant that she hadn’t yet returned.
Feeling safe, Lois ventured to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice. Her dream was still in the forefront of her mind, so she decided to review it and see if there was any meaning or insight to be gleaned from it. And to keep the night feeling going, she didn’t turn on the light. The nightlight on the wall was illumination enough for her.
The first thing she remembered was the end of the dream, the part that had awakened her. There had been a terrifying feeling of being hunted by someone or something – no, it had been a thing, some monster in human guise, with fangs and claws hidden but ready to extend at a moment’s notice. That might not mean anything specific, though. She was on several hit lists already. Still, as soon as she got to work, she’d have Jimmy check on the people her investigations had put in prison. Maybe one of them was out and hunting her.
Her dream had begun so well, with her soaring through the clouds wearing a very elegant black evening gown. That part was easy. She’d been flying with Superman, and she’d heard soft music accompanying them. But he wasn’t carrying her, just holding her hand as she glided above the city beside him. She remembered looking at him in the dream and wondering if he could read her mind.
Of course he doesn’t read minds, she chided herself. If he could do that, he’d have reacted the day before while he’d been carrying her. Some of her passing thoughts would have been censored by Penthouse. She’d have learned then whether or not he could super-blush.
She tried to visualize Superman in flight beside her. He’d seemed open and friendly as she’d rested in his arms, yet stern and firm at the same time. And there was still a tug of familiarity with the face in her memory.
She thought of Claude and was almost surprised not to burst into tears. Oh, she still missed him terribly, but this time the pain didn’t threaten to cut through her chest and dump her heart out onto the floor at her feet. She smiled for a moment as she thought about him, then lifted her orange juice in remembrance of her late husband. Irrationally, she felt a warm frisson of comfort slide over her skin, as if Claude were smiling at her from whatever perch he now occupied in eternity.
The knowledge that Claude had loved her so much enabled her to take a step back from any other man and observe him more objectively than she might have had she not known such happiness. That really helped in thinking about Superman, because as far as she could tell there was not one thing about him that she didn’t like. If not for the memory of her loving relationship with Claude, his very presence might have completely overthrown her reason.
Claude couldn’t have compared to Superman either on a physical level or even with his looks, but Claude had loved her and she had loved him. That made all the difference, as far as she was concerned, and it meant that at least on one level, Superman couldn’t compete with Claude Rochambeau.
She finished her juice and put the glass in the sink, then frowned as she considered how familiar Superman had seemed to her as he’d stood beside her, tall and confident, in the colonists’ launch. And he still twanged some chord of familiarity in her mind. She tried to remember where she’d seen Superman’s face before. On the subway? No, that didn’t fit. Had he attended or even participated in a recent news conference? That didn’t ring a bell either. Maybe she’d seen him in the Chocolate Heaven? No, he didn’t look like he ate much chocolate. Was it –
– didn’t look like he ate much chocolate –
A cascade of memories tumbled into her mind and dropped her to the floor in a boneless heap.
Clark ate like an eight-year-old but looked like Mr. Hardbody.
Superman’s physique was a bodybuilder’s dream.
Clark’s mother was an artist who lived and worked in Kansas.
Superman told Amy Platt that his mother had made his costume.
Clark had a killer smile.
Superman had a killer smile.
Clark had an overdeveloped sense of right and wrong.
Superman had been out most of the night saving lives and catching criminals in the act. Nothing seemed to be beneath his notice. And she had neither seen nor heard from Clark since she’d sneaked off to stow away on the colonists’ launch vehicle.
Clark had torn the steel door to the EPRAD hangar off its hinges and thrown it more than thirty feet.
Superman had lifted the shuttle into orbit.
Clark had intended to do something to save them when he’d burst into the hangar.
Superman had swallowed a bomb with no more harm than a belch.
Clark had broken them loose from his chains and her cargo bindings with ease.
Superman was far, far stronger than anyone Lois had ever heard of.
Clark had carried both her and Jimmy an impossible distance to safety when the chemicals in the hangar had exploded.
Superman had flown Lois from EPRAD’s launch site back to the Daily Planet effortlessly.
Clark hadn’t been able to tell her how he’d gotten from the Planet to the hangar.
Superman didn’t need a taxi.
Clark hadn’t been the least bit bothered when Luthor had pointed that sword at his throat.
Superman seemed to be invulnerable. The guy could swallow bombs without injury.
Clark was eloquent and well-spoken and liked to joke when it was appropriate.
Superman understood colloquial English and had a good sense of humor.
Clark was self-effacing almost to the point of shyness.
Superman was confident of what he could do without bragging about it.
A man had been saved from a sewer collapse just before Clark showed up looking and smelling like he’d been crawling through a sewer.
And no one had ever explained the bulldozer malfunction which had enabled Clark to get the story of the theater closing, scoop Lois, and get hired at the Planet in the first place.
It all fit together. What a story! It would win her every journalistic prize available. She’d be feted from Andover to Zurich. She’d be the one who broke the true story of Superman’s real identity!
If she was right.
But it had to be! There was no other explanation that fit the facts. The hairstyle was different, but it was the same shade. The height, the build, the stride, they were all the same or very close. Even their voices were similar. Clark Kent was Superman!
Her train of thought was logical. Her conclusion was logical. But it wasn’t reasonable. Why would someone with those abilities hide them? Why reveal himself now? Why would he pretend to be a normal person? If she could do all those wonderful things, she’d do them all day long and tell everyone who she was!
Of course, she’d never have a private life. She’d be a target for the press, for charitable organizations, for criminals – her family wouldn’t be safe! Lucy wouldn’t be safe!
She gasped as she saw in her mind’s eye what her life as an openly super-powered woman would be like. And it wasn’t a pretty sight.
She’d have no personal time. None whatsoever. She’d always be at the beck and call of anyone needing or wanting help only she could give.
She’d never be sure that any man would love her for herself or for what she could do for him.
She’d have to quit the Planet. No one with anything at all to hide would trust her to interview them without fearing what she might do.
The government might even get in on the act. How would she react if some paranoid Federal drone decided she was a threat instead of a friend?
Anyone she cared for, or appeared to care for, might be used as leverage to get her to do or not do something. She might as well paint concentric circles on her back and chest and hand out t-shirts that read “Threaten Me – I Know Lois Lane.”
Sometimes epiphanies suck, she mused.
If she were right – if Clark were indeed Superman – then revealing his true identity would be the worst thing she could possibly do to him. Their budding friendship would never survive such a betrayal. And afterward, he’d never be able to trust her no matter how she tried to make it up to him, not for the rest of his life. And she’d surely put his mother in mortal danger, not to mention the people in his home town, the girls he’d dated, anyone he’d had extended contact with at any time in his life –
No. This story would never be published, at least not by her. True or not, she’d never breathe a word of it to anyone.
And she couldn’t let Clark know that she knew. This was his secret, and he seemed to have some very good reasons for keeping it. He wasn’t going to tell her now – they’d only known each other for like a week! And she understood completely. If she had a secret like his, she wouldn’t tell him about it yet either. She’d have to earn his trust before he’d share this with her.
The thought that he probably would tell her eventually made her smile. Maybe he didn’t trust her enough, not today, but she trusted him to tell her when the time was right.
Then she heard the front door open and close. “Lois?” whispered Lucy. “Are you up yet?”
She laughed. Leave it to her little sister to be her anchor to reality. “Yes, Lucy,” she called out, “I’m up.” Then she remembered that she was sitting on the kitchen floor, clad only in what their mother had insisted on calling her ‘unmentionables.’ “I really hope you’re alone, Punky.”
“I’m alone. Why?”
“I’m in the kitchen and I’m not dressed.”
Lois heard her sister drop her coat on the couch – couldn’t she find a hanger and put it in the closet? – and slide through the still-dark living room toward her. “What’s wrong? And why are you naked in the kitchen?”
My sister is a creature of extremes, mused Lois. If I’m not fully dressed, then I must be stark naked.
She looked down at herself and shrugged. “Close enough, I guess,” she muttered to herself.
Lucy turned on the kitchen light and leaned against the doorpost as a smirk spread over her face. “Well, well, well. Have you been drinking or did you get lucky last night?”
“Neither, smarty-pants. I had a pretty intense dream, that’s all.”
Lucy’s mouth twitched. “Must have been a real doozy to get you to walk around the apartment in your lacy black lingerie.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a soft drink can. “Did you at least get lucky in your dream?”
“Lucy! You’re incorrigible!”
The younger Lane sister reached out her hand. “I sure hope so.”
Lois took it, but before she pulled to lift herself to her feet, she asked, “Wait a minute. Have you been drinking?”
“You mean, am I as likely to fall over on you as I am to help you up?”
“Yeah.”
Lucy chuckled. “I’m not drunk and I won’t fall. Come on up. We’ll sit on the couch and tell each other about our respective evenings.”
Lois gave a mock groan as Lucy pulled her to her feet. “Sounds good to me. Just let me get dressed.”
“Or,” Lucy said with an impish grin, “I could strip down to my bra and panties and we can sit on the couch together and talk about boys like we used to when you were in high school.”
Lois rolled her eyes. “Maybe you should just go to bed and get some sleep. It’s about time for me to get ready for work anyway.”
Lucy’s response was occluded by a jaw-cracking yawn. “Wow! Okay, we can put this off until you get home. I’m still waiting to find out if you got lucky in your dream.”
Lois shoved her sister’s shoulder and guided her out of the kitchen and across the living room. “Put the soda back in the fridge and get some sleep, Punky! Maybe when you wake up you’ll remember your manners.”
Lucy gave her sister the once-over. “I’m not the one who’s almost naked sitting on the kitchen floor, smelling like I’d just run a ten-K for time.”
“Lucy, you’re – “
“Incorrigible, I know. Go to work, okay? You’ll be happier there anyway.”
Lucy shuffled to her bedroom door as Lois pondered her sister’s last statement. Was she a workaholic? Was she hiding from life behind her career? She didn’t know, and there wasn’t time to think about that. She still had a shower to take and a taxi to catch and bad guys to expose and a Superman to protect. Time for Mad Dog Lane to return to the fray.
*****
The morning after my ‘debut performance,’ as my mom had termed it, I walked down the ramp and saw Jimmy giving Lois a file folder. “Hey, Jimmy,” I called out. “Glad you’re back at work. How’s the head?”
He shrugged. “The doctor says I’m lucky that it’s harder than it should be. Perry said it was a good thing or I might not have recovered so quickly.” He pointed at his bandage-free cranium. “But, as you can see, I’m hale and hearty and ready for action!”
Lois smirked. “Hale and hearty? Weren’t they a comedy team on the radio a few decades ago?”
He turned to her in mock anger. “How can you treat me so badly after I almost gave my life for your story? Wouldn’t that have made a great headline? ‘Promising photojournalist cut down before he achieves greatness.’ That’s a natural!”
Her eyes twinkled. “Yeah, a natural disaster.”
Jimmy mimed being stabbed in the chest, then mimed pulling out a knife. He offered the imaginary weapon to Lois. “Excuse me, madam, but is this yours?”
Her eyebrow twitched. “You keep it. I’ve got lots more.” She made shooing motions at him. “Go! Earn your pay, smooth one.”
He grinned and winked at me, then left on some vital errand. Lois turned to me with a strange expression on her face, then it cleared. “Hi, Clark. Where’ve you been?”
“Around.”
Luckily she didn’t press me for details, but she did start walking back up the ramp to the elevators. “Well, not that it’s anywhere near as exciting as the stories you covered on the Smallville Press, but Superman was in the newsroom yesterday and I’ve just about nailed down the exclusive.”
“Congratulations, Lois. I know it’ll be a great story.”
She stopped and turned to me, her face aglow with – something, I wasn’t sure what. “Clark, you should have seen him. Up close, he is the most – the second most magnificent figure of a man I’ve ever seen.”
She didn’t say who was first, but I figured she was probably talking about her late husband. “It sounds like he made quite an impression on you.”
“Well, yeah, he did. He’s a very impressive guy.” She started for the elevators again. “Why? Are you jealous?”
I hoped this was the friendly banter it seemed to be. “Of Superman? Should I be?”
She turned as if to tease me, but then her face grew serious. “No. Superman is an ideal, a symbol for truth and justice as much as he is a real person who chooses to use his extraordinary abilities to help others. You,” she said as her face grew impish again, “on the other hand, are my partner, and since you still lack sufficient experience investigating and reporting the news, you are still the junior partner.”
“Fair enough. Hey, wait, where are we going?”
“Terrorist shootout on Sixth and Middleton. First reports say that Superman disarmed the bad guys and freed the hostages, but he didn’t hang around to answer questions. We’re going to interview the officers on the scene and the former hostages.” The elevator doors opened and suddenly she was in my face. “And Kent? I’ll ask the questions this time.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I’d rather she write the bulk of the Superman coverage anyway.
I stood behind her shoulder in the elevator and smiled to myself. I’d been right. Working with Lois Lane was going to be the greatest challenge of my life.
I already loved it.
