Chapter 13: If I can Dream
There must be peace and understanding sometime,
Strong winds of promise that will blow away
All the doubt and fear.
If I can dream of a warmer sun
Where hope keeps shining on everyone,
Tell me why, oh why, oh why won’t that sun appear?
--“If I can Dream”
****
The next day, I was working on a small piece at the Planet when Jimmy came up to my desk.
“Hey, C.K.,” he said quietly. He looked as if he felt a little awkward talking to me, and I could guess the reason why.
“Hi, Jimmy,” I responded feebly, feeling morose and exhausted. I’d barely slept a wink after seeing Constance. Too much had come flooding back to me.
Jimmy rubbed his arm. “I, uh—I heard a little bit of the stuff between you and that woman at the Magic Club. You don’t want to talk about it, do you?”
I shook my head and sighed. “No, Jimmy . . . . I’m sorry.”
“That’s fine, C.K. I understand. It’s just—I know what it’s like to have the past sneak up on you.”
I looked up at him, surprised to see the emotional pain spread across his face. I knew instantly Jimmy also had wounds that ran deep.
His story just confirmed it. “See, last year my dad came and visited me . . . . I hadn’t seen him in eight years. He had always been in and out of my life, but that was the longest he’d ever been gone . . . . I finally told myself I wouldn’t ever see him again—and then there he was.”
“That must have been tough,” I said softly. At least I had always had both my parents in my life—well, they were technically my foster parents. But they had been better parents than any biological ones I had ever met.
“Yeah. It was rough. And I said some really mean things to him. Maybe they’ll encourage him to come back sooner next time—or maybe they won’t.” He shook his head bitterly. “After all, what is he going to see when he comes to visit me? A copy boy at the bottom of the food chain. Replaceable, expendable . . . an all-around nobody.”
“Jimmy, you mean a lot to this paper,” I insisted firmly and sincerely. “It wouldn’t be the same without you. Don’t underestimate your contributions to it—you’ll climb up higher on the ladder one day. You’ll see.”
He gave me a sad smile, but I could tell he wasn’t buying it. “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”
“Thanks,” I told him, watching him walk away. “Hey, Jimmy?”
The young man paused and turned toward me. “Yeah?”
“Let’s go do something sometime soon. Anything you’d like—except a rave or a magic show.”
He grinned. “All right, C.K.” And then he wandered off.
I absently put my pen in my mouth and stared at the notepad in front of me. Jimmy had some self-esteem problems, and it was easy to see why. An absentee father, a job with long hours and little pay . . . . Though I could be a friend to him, I wasn’t sure I was what he needed. What he needed was a father—and I just couldn’t give that to him. I couldn’t exactly track down Jimmy’s dad and command that he be a good father “or else.” It just didn’t work that way. Life was never that simple.
My thoughts were interrupted by Lois’s approach to my desk. I took the pen out of my mouth and turned my attention to her. Something about seeing her suddenly brightened my day. I couldn’t escape the past, but maybe I could enjoy the present a little bit.
“You, Clark Kent,” Lois proclaimed with great aplomb, “are in for a treat.”
Intrigued, I tilted my head. “A treat, huh? Did you get me tickets to a game? A good bottle of wine? A vacation in Aspen? A picture of the Black Knight hanging upside down in a chicken suit?” That last one wouldn’t actually have been a treat, but I knew it would irk her.
“No,” she said, pursing her lips disapprovingly. “I’m sharing a story with you.”
I crossed my arms and stared at her with suspicion. “Lois Lane doesn’t share.”
“She does when it’s something this big,” she returned. “Do you know what happened last night?”
“A full moon led to a werewolf uprising?” That one surprised even myself. It had just slipped out somehow.
“Are you going to be serious or not, farmboy?”
“Sorry,” I said with a grin, enjoying having rattled her. I put my chin on my hand and looked up at her. “What happened last night?”
“The headquarters of Sallya Technologies were brought down by a bomb.”
I stood up straight. “What? How many people were killed?”
“Fortunately, it was late, so there weren’t many casualties.”
“Do the police have any suspects?”
She shrugged. “They’ve concluded it was the work of a disgruntled former employee due to some evidence found on the scene. Bobby Bigmouth, however, said he suspected it was more than that—he thought it was related to ‘The Boss.’”
I frowned. “Bobby who?”
“Never mind that. Anyway, Kent, the point is . . . ”
“Clark.”
“The point is,” she emphasized, “this ‘Boss’ character means business. I’ve heard him mentioned several times, but his name always seems to be spoken in a frightened whisper. Bobby wouldn’t tell me much, but I know there’s a big story here. We just have to do some digging.”
“All right then. Let’s start digging.”
****
With Jimmy’s invaluable help, Lois and I brought together all the information we could find on Sallya Industries, including a list of ex-employees who had been fired or who had quit in the past year. I was examining the list, not actually expecting to find anything useful, when something caused me to frown. “Lois, it says here that a few animal and genetic research scientists quit recently. Why would Sallya Technologies be employing people for that kind of research?”
She took the list and looked at it. “You’re right, Clark. It could be nothing, but it’s certainly strange since we haven’t seen anything like that from them before . . . . ” She lifted her head. “Jimmy!”
The young man came rushing over. “You yelled?”
“I was wondering if you might be able to use your . . . computer talents to help us out.”
He grinned. “What do you need?”
“We need to know about these animal and genetic research scientists,” Lois noted, pointing to the sheet of paper in her hands. “Were they working on separate projects? What were they doing?”
Jimmy took the list and went to his computer. Lois and I returned to looking over our notes on Sallya Technologies.
“Do you think the Boss could be a competitor?” I ventured a few minutes later.
Lois took a moment to consider what I had said. “Sallya Technologies was a big company, but they really don’t—well, didn’t—have much competition in Metropolis except for Luthor Technologies . . . . Maybe it’s someone who was interested in the projects Sallya Technologies was working on.”
Or maybe both, I thought to myself, my thoughts drawn again to Lex Luthor. I wasn’t sure why, but for some reason I wanted to pin every bad thing that happened in Metropolis on him . . . . I needed to just give it a rest. He was a philanthropist, for crying out loud. He’d done more good in one year than I had in my entire life.
When Jimmy returned, he told us, “It seems they were working on something called ‘Project Nemean Lion.’ I couldn’t find out much about it, but it looks like it might have something to do with animal DNA. The files on it are Top Secret, and I really couldn’t access much—not with the equipment that I have here.”
“Thanks, Jimmy—you’re the best,” I told him, and he returned to his desk with a pleased look.
“Nemean Lion,” Lois said to herself. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“The Nemean Lion was the first Labor of Hercules,” I explained, being somewhat familiar with Greek mythology. “Its skin was impenetrable, and Hercules had to strangle it to kill it.”
“And they’re working with DNA . . . . Clark, you don’t think they’re trying to make invincible animals—or humans—do you?”
I shifted uneasily. “I hope not.” The thought of invulnerable creatures being let loose on the city caused my fists to clench. Plagues of locusts were nothing compared to rampaging lions.
“I guess we need to draw up a list of former employees to talk to. Maybe someone will be able to tell us more.”
****
We had difficulty contacting the animal researchers who had quit or been let go, but we did manage to talk to a few former employees who had once been involved in research. Unfortunately, they all turned out to be rather close-mouthed.
“This is ridiculous,” Lois exclaimed as she hung up her phone. “We can’t contact most of the people we want to speak with, and those we can talk to seem to have forgotten how to talk. I’m going to call the president of the company.”
“Lois, with the building gone, you don’t have an office number where you can reach him,” I reminded her.
“That’s why I’m going to call his home phone.”
I shook my head. “I already looked, Lois. It’s unlisted.”
She rolled her eyes. “As if I can’t get my hands on an unlisted phone number. Jimmy!”
He came running over. “Yes?”
I just stared at Lois in exasperation. Couldn’t she give the poor guy a break?
“I need James Prowse’s phone number,” Lois told Jimmy. “He’s the president of Sallya Technologies, and his number isn’t listed in the phonebook. Think you can get it for me?”
Jimmy snorted. “That’s easy.”
As I watched him leave, I shook my head. “Reporters are probably hounding Prowse in the effort to get more information about what happened. What makes you think he’ll talk to you?”
“I know something they don’t,” she replied with that unshakable Lois Lane confidence. “It’ll be a piece of cake.”
When Jimmy came back with the phone number, Lois eagerly dialed it. She got a busy signal several times and expressed her annoyance about it quite vocally, but at last someone must have picked up, as her face changed from annoyance to attentiveness. “This is Lois Lane with the Daily Planet. I need to speak with James Prowse.” She paused. “You can answer any questions I have for him? Somehow, I doubt that. Look, I know something he would be interested in hearing about . . . . Tell him that it’s not a Herculean effort to stop . . . lyin’ around and talk to me. Please use those exact words.” She smirked at me and waited.
“‘Lyin’?’” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I’m trying to be subtle,” she replied defensively. “ . . . Oh, yes, hi. Mr. Prowse? . . . Yes, this is Lois Lane from the Daily Planet. I was wanting to set up a meeting with you . . . . ” She frowned. “Well, there’s no need to be rude. I’m a reporter, and I’m investigating that explosion, which you should be happy about.” She paused, tapping a pencil against her desk. “Don’t you want to know what happened?” She tilted her head as she listened to Prowse, her anger growing. “Well, regardless of whether you want to get to the bottom of it, Mr. Prowse, I do. I think it might have something to do with Project Nemean Lion . . . . How do I know about that? Well, I have my ways . . . . ” She was quiet for a long time, and the smugness on her face changed slowly to paleness. “I’m a journalist, Mr. Prowse. You can’t frighten me away with threats.” She slammed down the phone.
“What did he say to you?” I asked, worried. I didn’t know much about James Prowse, but if he was involved in the explosion, then he was a dangerous man to deal with. I probably should have insisted on talking to him instead of letting Lois do it.
But Lois just rolled her eyes and shook her head, covering up whatever it was that had disturbed her. “It doesn’t matter. It looks like we aren’t getting anything out of him. Come on. Let’s go visit some of these ex-employees. Maybe they’ll be more willing to talk in person.”
****
We didn’t learn anything new that day. The next day, we compiled some names for Jimmy to research, but we also hit a bunch of dead ends. After work, I returned to my apartment, where I called my parents and then turned on the television. I was flipping through channels when there was an insistent rapping at the door.
I jumped up from the couch and approached the door. After I opened it, Lois Lane entered in a babbling whirlwind.
“Hi, how are you doing? I’m fine. Well, I’m fine apart from the fact that someone broke in to my apartment. I still can’t believe what you’ve done with this place. From what I’ve heard, it was in pretty bad con—”
“Lois!” I said sharply. “Slow down. What happened?” I moved closer to her, concerned.
“Someone broke in to my apartment,” she repeated. “I don’t think anything was taken, but my stuff was scattered around, and some things were broken. And I got this.” She reached into her coat and pulled out an envelope, holding it out with a shaking hand.
The envelope had already been opened, and I took out a piece of paper from it. Handing the envelope to Lois, I unfolded the sheet. The first thing I saw was a picture of Lois taken outside the Planet. The photo was covered with blood.
My mouth became a thin line, and it was hard to keep from shaking. “This isn’t your blood, is it?”
“No,” she replied, her voice just as soft as mine had been.
Nodding in acknowledgement, I slipped the photo behind the piece of paper. On inspecting the letter, I found that it contained a series of threats, each of which made the icy hand gripping my heart clench tighter and tighter. When I had finished reading, I asked, “Have you called the police?”
She shook her head. “No.” She took the letter and picture from me and put them both back in the envelope. “Again—there was nothing stolen . . . . But my laptop was damaged, and its screen was bashed in.” She shook her fists at her sides. “Do you know what this means, farmboy? It means all the data that I had on it which wasn’t on my computer at the Planet is gone! And the most recent version of my novel . . . . Do you know how much work I’m going to be losing with my computer out of commission?”
“Maybe you can still retrieve the data,” I suggested. “Jimmy has a lot on his plate right now, so he might not have time, but I took some computer courses in college . . . . I might be able to recover your data if the hard drive isn’t damaged.”
“Really? Could you do that?” she asked hopefully.
I smiled. “I could—but my condition for doing so is that I be allowed to read your novel.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think so, farmboy.”
“Then I guess I can’t do it,” I said with a fake sigh.
“You can be infuriating sometimes, you know that, Kent?”
I grinned. “Clark.”
“Clark,” she said with distaste.
“Well, one could say the same about you,” I pointed out good-naturedly.
“Yes, well . . . ” She paused. “Can I stay with you for a night or two? I just don’t want to go back to my apartment right now alone, and it’d make me feel better if I could stay here with you. But if you don’t want me to, that’s fine, I underst—”
“Lois,” I broke in, “of course you can stay here . . . but only if we call the police and tell them about what happened.”
She stared at me for a couple of seconds, considering, and then she nodded. “All right.”
“Good,” I replied. “You can have my bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“I can’t kick you out of your bed—”
“Nonsense. I won’t have you sleeping on the couch, and that’s that.”
****
We went to Lois’s apartment and called the police, and then I stepped around the room, hunting for clues. I was careful not to disturb anything, but I kept hoping I would find something of note. While I investigated—without any luck—Lois packed an overnight bag and grabbed her laptop.
When the police finally arrived, I found I was glad to see Henderson among the group, though he hadn’t been much help with Platt. He seemed to be a good cop, even if he was skeptical sometimes.
“I see you’ve made a few more enemies, Lane,” Henderson commented dryly.
“You’re just worried you’ll never be able to catch up with me, Henderson,” Lois quipped.
“You want to tell me what went on here?” he asked, looking at me and ignoring her comment.
I turned to Lois. “Show him the letter and picture.”
She reluctantly got out the envelope and handed it to the detective. After reviewing its contents, he frowned and gave her a questioning look.
“I think James Prowse is behind it,” she told him. “I said some things he didn’t like the other day on the phone, and he threatened me.”
“I’ll look into it, Lane, but I have the feeling a bigwig like him would have covered his tracks—if it even is him. You’ve made more enemies than my wife has cousins—and her side of the family breeds like rabbits.”
****
After the police finished asking us questions, Lois and I went to my apartment, and she got out her laptop for me to examine.
Looking at it, I realized it wasn’t just the screen that had been damaged. But I thought that I could fix it with a few tools and a little use of my special abilities, so I told her, “I think your data is recoverable. I’ll just need a few days to fix it.”
“Great,” she beamed.
“But I’ll probably need your password,” I told her.
She looked at me warily before finally admitting, “Black Knight.”
I somehow managed to refrain from commenting on her choice of passwords, saying instead, “With or without spaces? Capital letters?”
She sighed. “No spaces, no capitals.”
“Okay. Now, how about I order us some pizza?” Pizza always made pretty good comfort food, though I had the feeling Lois’s comfort food preference was chocolate.
She nodded. “Sounds good!”
“Do you like pepperoni?”
“Who doesn’t?” she returned.
Smiling, I walked to the phonebook and looked up the name for a pizza place. After ordering two large pizzas, I noticed Lois was looking at something. My heart jumped in my throat. Soon after fixing up my apartment, I had put a small wooden box containing the globe my parents had found with my spaceship in that shelf. Had she opened the box?
I approached her in trepidation, and she turned toward me.
“Interesting sculpture,” she commented.
My relief that she hadn’t found the globe was short-lived as I rested my eyes on the piece. It was a dark wooden sculpture of a woman wearing a few bracelets and nothing else. Her face was turned up toward the sky and had a look of agony on it. “I got it in Africa,” I told her, swallowing.
“When you were studying abroad?” she asked curiously.
I nodded, keeping my face blank. “Yes.”
Unbidden, the memory of how I came into possession of it surfaced.
****
I paused in the hallway to shift my backpack. It wasn’t heavy—certainly not for someone who could bench-press tractors—but the weight distribution was uneven, and it was proving itself to be an annoyance. Unable to fix it due to the awkward object inside the bag, I gave up and continued on. Finally, I stopped in front of a pair of Americans gesturing wildly. They were probably doing something like swapping outrageous stories about fish or Amazonian women, but my presence caused them to pause and turn to me with wide and expectant grins.
“What’s up, Clark? Sleep well?” Anthony sniggered.
“Did you . . . dream about . . . baring your soul to someone—or maybe your body?” Kenny queried with an innocent expression.
My countenance dark, I unzipped my backpack and brought out the sculpture, which I had wrapped in a plastic bag. My tone was no-nonsense when I said, “Your juvenile antics have got to stop, guys. This is a piece of art—not a toy for a practical joke.”
That just started them off into a round of guffaws. It probably hadn’t helped that I had bared the sculpture’s unclothed anatomy to the world by taking it out of the plastic.
“So you woke up with a naked woman in your bed, Clark! Congratulations!” Kenny managed amid his laughter.
I crossed my eyes and sighed. One of the two—or maybe both of them—had bought the sculpture and set it circulating among the beds of their male companions. The humor inherent in the notion of someone waking up with a strange naked woman had been too much for them to pass up, and there was no telling how many times the sculpture had changed hands—or switched beds.
Anthony and Kenny could never be labeled anything but extreme . . . and taking anything they did or said seriously was never recommended. Still, I couldn’t help but be a little annoyed by their lack of respect for what was actually a very interesting piece of art. The look of pain on the wooden woman’s face was striking, and her supplication to the heavens was . . . well, almost thought-provoking.
“Bed-hopping is not what this sculpture was intended for,” I told them firmly, but I didn’t seem to be making any dent in their glee.
“If you’re so attached to the naked woman,” Anthony said at last, “you can keep her. If anyone deserves to wake up every morning with a naked woman in his bed, it’s you, Clark.”
I rolled my eyes and put the sculpture back in my bag. “Fine. I will keep her. But she’s not going back to my bed.”
That just set them off again, and as I left them, I couldn’t help but smile just a little despite myself.
****
I gestured toward the couch, resolving that I would move the box with the globe to the privacy of my bedroom in a few days. “How about we watch a movie? I have the first Lethal Weapon.”
“Sure,” she agreed.
Our movie-watching was interrupted briefly by the pizza delivery boy, but then we just went back to watching the screen with pizza in hand.
We didn’t talk much during the movie—I found myself holding my breath most of the time.
Being so close to Lois for so long was excruciating, intoxicating, bedazzling . . . . There were a few inches between us, and we weren’t touching, but I felt a heightened awareness of her proximity to me. I both loved and hated being so close to her, and it made me feel every bit the part of the awkward farmboy.
I had to keep reminding myself that I could never be in a relationship with her—that my eyes should be on the movie instead of constantly drifting to her mouth. I was almost done in when I saw her lick some marinara sauce off her lips. I had to briefly close my eyes and rein in my desire before watching the movie once more.
About three-quarters of the way through the movie, Lois put her head on my shoulder.
Though I felt I might melt, I tensed immediately. I wanted to say something, but my breath was caught in my throat. My head was at utter odds with my heart.
I knew I needed to ask her to move—I shouldn’t be allowing myself to become accustomed to her touch. It was already dangerous enough to be this close to her.
But I couldn’t bring myself to speak. I just sat there in silent turmoil.
Eventually, she lifted her eyes to my face. She must have noticed the tightness of my expression because the realization of what she was doing suddenly struck her, and she moved her head off me and scooted further away from me on the couch. “Clark, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to . . . I didn’t even realize . . . . ”
“It’s okay, Lois,” I said with a gentle smile, nodding my head to turn her attention back to the movie. After staring at me for a few seconds to make certain I really was okay, she returned to watching the movie.
I had to close my eyes for a few seconds before I did the same.
And though I told myself that it was for the best that she had put this distance between us, I couldn’t shake the strong sense of loss I felt.
