Chapter 5: A Long, Lonely Highway
It’s a long, lonely highway when you’re travelin’ all alone,
And it’s a mean old world when you got no one to call your own.
--“(It’s a) Long, Lonely Highway”
****
The White Orchid Ball was hosted at Luthor’s home, the tallest building in Metropolis. Unfortunately, it was pouring down rain, so there was a flurry of people in raingear coming in and out of the building. I stood under the awning—dressed in the tuxedo I’d paid a significant amount of precious money to rent—and waited for Lois. When she finally did arrive in a cab, she was wearing a long raincoat and a hat and carrying a giant black umbrella.
She barely even acknowledged my presence as she walked up, saying only, “Go ahead to the ballroom. I need to visit the ladies’ room to freshen up.”
I followed her inside, annoyed with myself. Had I expected her to just hang out with me the whole evening? I was more her social tool than an actual date. She had more than made that clear.
A few minutes later, I was in the ballroom, feeling as if I stuck out like a sore thumb. I began to get antsy at the thought of meandering among the throngs of rich and famous people by myself the whole night, but suddenly I saw Jimmy and gave a low sigh of relief.
I hurried over to him, and he greeted cheerfully, “Hey, C.K.”
“Hi, Jimmy . . . . Boy, Lex Luthor certainly likes to put on a show,” I commented as I gazed around at the extravagance present in the ballroom. There was enough to impress, but not so much that it seemed distasteful. There was no telling how many decorators Luthor had hired to create this effect of luxury in his penthouse.
“That he does,” Jimmy agreed. “I’ve never met him, but I’ve read all his unauthorized autobiographies. The man practically owns Metropolis. He’s one of the richest men in the world, you know.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“He seems like a fascinating person, but he doesn’t give private interviews—just the occasional press release and things like that. Lois plans to get the first personal interview with him.”
I nodded in amusement. “She did tell me that.”
“She’s been after it for a while. But she just keeps getting calls back from one of his secretaries—when she gets a response at all.”
“I’m sure she’ll get what she wants soon enough,” I remarked.
Jimmy nodded in agreement. “She’s nothing if not persistent. You don’t stand between Lois Lane and what she wants—not if you want to keep breathing.”
“I can believe that,” I chuckled. I knew I certainly wouldn’t want to hinder Lois from getting something she wanted. I hadn’t known her long, and I already knew that such a move was borderline suicidal.
“Hey, look,” Jimmy said, making a slight gesture, “there he is.”
My eyes lifted to focus on where he had pointed. Lex Luthor began his descent of the great staircase, and I saw first his Italian leather shoes and then a suit of equally impressive quality. As his face came into view, his profile was suddenly highlighted by a flash of lightning from the window behind him. When my vision cleared, my jaw fell slightly in surprise. I recognized him.
He was moving very slowly, but apart from the carefulness of his movements, no one could have guessed he had been almost fatally wounded by a bullet a few days before. The look of pain he had worn when I first met him was utterly different from the cool confidence which now radiated from his person. I hadn’t realized I had saved the life of the richest man in Metropolis. The knowledge of it stunned me—and it brought up a whole host of questions which would probably never be answered.
It took him longer to descend than was probably normal, but he managed to do it with the utmost grace, and no one seemed to notice anything unusual in his bearing. He was the perfect picture of a wealthy and hospitable host, moving from person to person, greeting this man and that woman, noticing everyone he was supposed to. He was talking good-naturedly with a man I thought was a United States senator when Lois Lane’s voice carried through the room to him:
“Lex Luthor . . . Why have you not returned any of my calls?”
He turned to look at Lois, as did I. She stood several feet away from him with an air of expectance, a mysteriously beautiful woman who drew the eyes of others toward her. I had to force my own gaze away as she and Lex talked in lower voices to each other. She’d certainly captured the rich man’s attention. I had a feeling that the low murmur that had spread throughout the room concerned primarily who she was and what she wanted. And since she had wanted to be recognized, at least part of her plan involving Lex Luthor appeared to be working.
Jimmy continued watching their interactions and commented with a smile, “Man, Lois sure is something, huh?”
I made a vague grunt of agreement, trying to find something else of interest in the room, but my eyes soon returned to her. She was now dancing with Luthor. I wasn’t sure why, but it killed me to see her dancing with him. I wanted to break in, but I couldn’t—and shouldn’t—for a variety of reasons. I tried telling myself she was a viper, concerned only with stories and never with people, but I knew that wasn’t true. And so, I kept staring at her. She was a vision in blue . . . . And I wanted to move that little strand of hair in her eye to behind her ear . . . .
She laughed at something Luthor said, and he did something to her neck that was suspiciously like nuzzling. Suddenly feeling sick, I turned away. Jimmy had been sidetracked by a young woman with red hair, and he was talking to her in an animated fashion. I gave a small smile of encouragement to him as he waved, and then I returned my gaze to Lois yet again. She and Luthor were parting—he had several rich guests to tend to, after all—and I walked up to her.
“Did you get your interview?”
She turned to me, looking surprised at the vitriol in my voice. I hadn’t meant to sound so bitter; it had just come out that way.
“Something like that,” she answered vaguely as she began walking away from me.
“Where are you going?” I asked, following her persistently.
She entered a room that was obviously supposed to be off-limits to guests, and within moments she was snooping through Luthor’s things. The room appeared to be a private study, complete with an expensive-looking desk, lots of dark leather furniture, and several obviously priceless items that belonged more in a museum than a home.
“Lois, we aren’t supposed to be in here,” I hissed.
“It’s called being a reporter, farmboy,” she retorted. “Am I wrong, or isn’t that what Perry hired you to be? Look around and see if you can find anything. Or at least stand guard.”
As she disappeared into an adjoining room, I shook my head in annoyance. She didn’t seem to have any sense of boundaries. That was probably part of what made her such a good journalist.
Still, I had no intention of personally pawing through Luthor’s things, so I just walked past the burning fireplace and over to a group of weapons set against the wall. It was an impressive collection, and I imagined it was not even the tip of the iceberg when it came to what Lex Luthor had accumulated.
I was admiring a sword when a voice inquired from behind me, “Are you a fan of ancient weapons?”
I forced myself to turn with agonizing slowness, not wanting to seem overtly guilty, and I found Lex Luthor looking at me expectantly. His question seemed innocent enough, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something menacing hidden beneath that smooth façade of his.
“I particularly like the Macedonian sword,” I commented. Despite my attempt at coolness, my heart was pounding.
Luthor inclined his head. “It was the weapon Alexander the Great used to defeat Darius III.”
“Thus leading to his being proclaimed King of Asia,” I said smoothly, glad I hadn’t commented on the crossbow instead. “An important weapon, then.”
He gave me a tight smile. “Important indeed.” He appeared to be reevaluating me—apparently, my knowledge of history surprised him.
Lois came up to us—presumably to either save me from the big bad billionaire or make sure I didn’t jeopardize her chances of getting an interview with said billionaire—and remarked, “We were just admiring your home, Lex. It really is beautiful here.”
Luthor raised an eyebrow and looked at me. Apparently, he hadn’t known we were together.
Seeing his expression, Lois suddenly said, “Oh, I’m sorry, Lex . . . . I don’t believe you two have met. Lex, this is Clark Kent, a new hire at the Daily Planet.”
Luthor’s eyes widened with recognition at my name. “Clark Kent? Why, you could have just asked for a guided tour, all things considered.”
I smiled uneasily, feeling awkward. My discomfort increased when I noticed him carefully studying me. I felt like a lab rat trapped in a cage.
“But please,” Luthor said a few seconds later, taking his eyes off me, “let us return. I have some news that I think will interest the both of you.” He gestured us forward, and we returned to the party.
****
Lex Luthor’s announcement that he would be building a space station named after himself (like most of the other major companies in the city) was just as impressive as he intended it to be. Lois seemed especially enthralled.
“That hologram was just amazing,” she remarked afterward. We were still standing close to where the image of Space Station Luthor had been, though most people had returned to mingling. “That’s very kind of Lex to offer to take up the space station program like that. A lot of people have been counting on it.”
I gave a noncommittal grunt. I was torn on the issue. She was right that Lex’s announcement could mean good news for people like Platt’s daughter, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was not how it was supposed to be. Part of the point of the space station was that it was an international endeavor . . . . And I felt as if the idea for creating this space station should have taken a lot more time for Lex Luthor to generate. Were holograms that easy to create? Or had he just made some of his people work fanatically on the project to have it ready in time for the ball?
“Why a guided tour?” Lois asked abruptly.
I blinked at her, wondering at the non sequitur. Finally, I realized what she meant. “You’re talking about what Lex Luthor said?”
“Yes,” she replied, sounding annoyed. “Why did he say you could ask for a guided tour?”
I shrugged. I briefly considered whether I could hide the truth from her before deciding I might as well tell her. “I saved his life the other day,” I said, trying to sound offhanded.
She looked at me skeptically. “You saved the life of the richest man in Metropolis?”
I nodded, searching the room desperately for something to comment on. A vase looked promising, but I didn’t have enough time to formulate a sentence about it before Lois was speaking again.
“Why wasn’t it in the paper?” she demanded.
I winced. “Well, I wasn’t hired by the Planet at the time, and I didn’t know who he was anyway. I guess somehow he managed to keep it out of the press.”
“What exactly happened?” she asked suspiciously.
“He got shot,” I murmured.
Lois crossed her arms and gaped at me. “In Tinytown, news might be the latest downpour of rain, but here in the big city, the fact that Lex Luthor got shot is big news.”
“It’s old news,” I returned. “It happened two days ago. Wouldn’t it be embarrassing for the Planet to publish something like this a few days after it happened? And besides, I think Luthor’s space station announcement is going to be getting all the publicity right now—him getting shot days ago probably won’t even make people blink an eye.”
She stared hard at me, primed to argue just for the sake of not agreeing with me, but finally she nodded curtly. “All right, Kent. But next time, don’t be so sloppy.” Then she muttered something about finding the powder room and disappeared.
I sighed. Well, it could have gone worse.
****
It was well past midnight when Lois finally informed me I was free to leave my post as her indentured lackey. After telling her in a voice dripping with sarcasm that she was just “too kind” to release me like that, I left Lex Towers and returned to the Hotel Apollo. After the briefest of hesitations, I picked up the phone and dialed my parents’ number. It was late, so I knew they wouldn’t be awake, but I wouldn’t be able to go to sleep unless I talked to them.
“Hello?” came my mother’s groggy voice.
“Hi, Mom,” I murmured.
She was instantly alert. “Clark? Is everything all right?”
“Yeah. Well . . . kinda.”
My father picked up the other phone. “You all right, son?”
“I just got back from the White Orchid Ball,” I said awkwardly.
“Did it go okay?” Mom queried. She knew perfectly well that balls weren’t up my alley.
“I did learn something . . . . You know that man I saved?”
“Yeah,” grunted Dad.
“Well . . . it turns out it was Lex Luthor.”
“The Lex Luthor?” asked my mother in surprise.
Though they couldn’t see me, I nodded. “Uh huh. I don’t know why, but he makes me really uncomfortable.”
“Well, he’s probably done a lot of questionable things on his way to the top,” Dad noted. “I’d be careful, son.”
“I will.” I paused in hesitation. “There’s something I didn’t tell you yesterday.”
“What is it, Clark?” Mom asked.
I touched my locket—which was resting on my bare chest—only half-consciously. “I saw . . . this bus . . . . It went out of control . . . . And it—it killed two women and a baby.”
“Oh, honey . . . ”
“I saw it coming, and I yelled at them to get out of the way, but they just weren’t fast enough . . . . Human lives are just—just so frail . . . . ”
Mom was quiet for a second before speaking. “Clark, are you ever going to tell us what really happened in Africa?”
My hand closed on the locket. My voice barely above a whisper, I told them, “I can’t . . . . You wouldn’t . . . I just can’t.”
I couldn’t say much more after that—couldn’t explain how what happened in Africa was a burden I had to carry alone—and we soon ended the call. After talking briefly about me with each other, they would go back to sleep without any problems. But though I had called them to make it easier for me to go to bed, I knew my night wouldn’t be restful. My mind was now on Africa. I could never tell them about what had happened there—not unless I was willing to accept that they would think differently of me. Not unless I wanted them to hate me . . . like I sometimes hated myself when I was sitting alone in the darkness with only the sound of my heartbeat to keep me company.
