Chapter 14: Hound Dog

You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog,
Cryin’ all the time.
--“Hound Dog”

****

The next day was business as usual at the Daily Planet.

Because of my plans to fix Lois’s laptop with my powers, I didn’t give myself my meteor rock exposure that morning or the previous night, so I was careful about everything I did. Fortunately, I didn’t have any problems. Lois had completely pulled herself together and informed me in a tone which brooked no room for disagreement that she would be staying at her own apartment that night, which I felt strangely sad about, even though it had been hard for me to sleep at all knowing she was just in the other room. But Henderson had told us the blood on the picture of Lois had belonged to a pig, and that had calmed her a bit.

“It probably wasn’t that reassuring to the pig,” I’d mumbled, but she had ignored me.

During our lunch break, after what felt like hours of browsing and her noting the pros and cons of this model and that model, Lois bought a new laptop. At the Planet, she gave it to me to put her data on it, and I put it inside my desk. “I’ll work on it when I get home,” I promised her. She nodded and excused herself to go to the ladies’ room.

I was looking up the number for a former Sallya Technologies employee when I felt a presence behind me. Turning, I found Cat gazing at me.

“Clark, you still haven’t gone out for dinner with me,” she pouted. Her outfit was a red and gold ensemble that fit her usual motto of “showing more is more.” She leaned over my desk, giving me an unwanted eyeful of her cleavage.

I sighed as I averted my eyes from her. It was time for me to put an end to this once and for all. Steeling myself, I told her, “Cat, I’m sorry, but there can’t ever be anything between us . . . . ”

She looked at me for a few seconds before speaking. “You think I’m shallow, don’t you?”

“What?” I gaped. The fact that the thought had crossed my mind more than once made me feel guilty.

She crossed her arms and tilted her head. “You think that I can’t enjoy a nice dinner with a man if it doesn’t become physical.”

I squirmed in my chair. “Cat—”

The gossip columnist smiled. “Relax, Clark. I’m not a man-eater . . . . And I’ve noticed you only have eyes for one woman.”

“Wh-what?” I stammered.

Her smile became a Cheshire Cat grin. “I’m not blind, even if she may be,” she told me. And then she stalked off, swaying her hips to maximum effect.

I was pretty sure I had turned bright red. Fortunately, my attention was caught by the ringing of the phone at my desk. Grateful for the distraction, I picked it up and answered, “Kent.”

“It’s Henderson. Just thought I’d let you know—Prowse has a tight alibi. It’s not surprising since he wouldn’t get his own hands dirty . . . . If you and Lane are going to prove anything, you’re going to need to gather a lot of evidence.” He paused. “How’s she doing, anyway?”

I smiled to myself. Though Henderson feigned a dislike for Lois, I had realized they had built up quite a rapport over the years—though they would both bite their tongues off before admitting it. “She was a bit shaken last night,” I told him, “but she seems better today . . . . I don’t know, though. I’m worried about her.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “You think she needs some people watching her?”

I considered the idea for just a moment. “No. I think that was a scare tactic. But if things get a bit dicey, I might be calling you for some help.”

“All right. Take care, Kent.”

“Thanks. You too, Henderson.”

I hung up the phone and found my thoughts drawn back to what Cat had said. Was I really that obvious? If I was, this was bad. I hadn’t known Lois for that long, even if it did feel like a lifetime . . . . What would I be like when I had known Lois for an entire year?

Grimacing, I went back to work.

****

When it was time to leave work for the day, I hesitated. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right, Lois?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, her voice laced with annoyance. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

“Maybe I should see you home . . . . ”

“No,” she growled. “Look, Kent, I don’t want to see hide nor hair of you until tomorrow morning. No waiting around outside my apartment either.”

I sighed. “All right.”

I didn’t like leaving her since her life might be in danger, but I couldn’t spend every moment of my day watching over her. She didn’t want a bodyguard, and I wasn’t going to intrude like that . . . . No matter how much I wanted to. Still, the thought crossed my mind that maybe I should disobey her—but if I was caught . . . well, I would be apologizing for days.

I went home with Lois’s new laptop. My powers were returning. They were weak, but it was enough for me to manage a few bursts of heat vision and hyper strength. With the use of those abilities, some tools, and a few computer parts, I was able to get her old laptop up and running, even though the screen wasn’t usable. After some hard work, I salvaged her data and put it on the new laptop. Then, pleased with my success, I shut down both computers.

I opened the locket at my neck and exposed myself briefly to the meteor rock shard. The pain made me grimace, but I didn’t leave the locket open for long—I would give myself a more thorough exposure before I went to bed. Though I needed the meteor rock, I detested it at the same time. The green stone’s glimpse of “normal” haunted me. It felt as if the world was laughing at me when I had to go through the torture of using it time and time again. “Here is what your life could be like,” the world seemed to say, “if you hadn’t been given these cursed abilities.” But just as bad as that was the fact that sometimes I wondered—what if my abilities weren’t a curse . . . but a gift?

Mired in such contemplations, I fetched the box containing that strange globe and brought it into my bedroom. Opening the lid, I took out the mysterious item and looked at it. It was in the form of Earth, with its oceans and continents obvious. I wasn’t sure if it was supposed to symbolize something—was it a way of saying the whole world was in my hands?

In disgust, I put the globe back into the box, which I set on the shelf. If that was its symbolism, then maybe I was better off without it. Still, I couldn’t help but hold on to it. What if it held the key to my past somehow?

Exhaling heavily, I pushed those thoughts away. After giving myself a little more time to recover from opening my locket, I went on a walk.

I contemplated the hazy night sky as I went. I missed the great view of the stars which I’d always gotten in Kansas. To forego that and come to Metropolis had really been a big decision for me.

But I still couldn’t regret it. Even if my life wasn’t how I had dreamed it would be years ago, things had turned out much better than they could have. I was working with a great metropolitan newspaper, trying to track down criminals and put them behind bars. I enjoyed it—and it enabled me to save a few lives in the process. A criminal behind bars couldn’t hurt others as easily as a criminal roaming free.

. . . And coming to Metropolis had meant that I was able to meet Lois. I had only known her for a short period of time, yet she felt so crucial to my life that I wasn’t certain how I would ever be able to give her up. In fact, I hadn’t been able to do so when the time had come—when I should have just let her go up on the colonist transport.

Well, for better or for worse, Lois Lane was now a part of my life. And the only way that would change would be if I retreated to Kansas . . . . And I had no intention of doing that.

Still, it would be a lot easier for me if Lois did get a boyfriend. Every time I spoke to my parents, I had to try to be careful not to talk about her, though I failed miserably most of the time. Whenever I mentioned Lois, Mom got ideas about us getting married and having a houseful of beautiful babies together. But that could never happen, and the thought of it pained me . . . . If Lois had a boyfriend, then surely I would be able to pull my mind away from her.

An image of Lex Luthor floated up in my mind. From the way she talked about him, was he not something like a boyfriend?

That was different, I told myself. He was—what? I wanted to say “scum,” but I had no way of knowing what kind of person he really was. He’d been nothing but kind to me . . . . So why couldn’t I shake the feeling that something was wrong? Was it just jealousy?

My steps faltered as I saw a man walking up to an apartment building. His face and arms were scarred with terrible burns, and his movements were slow. As he closed the door to the building, I couldn’t help but turn my thoughts back to the good my abilities could have wrought. What if I had been nearby and in possession of my powers when he had been attacked by those flames? Whether he had been stuck in a flame-filled car or a burning building, I could have helped him. Maybe he wouldn’t be acting so morosely. Maybe he would have been able to stroll down the streets without a stranger staring at him.

I sighed and shook my head. This walk was doing nothing to clear my head. I retraced my steps and approached my apartment building. I passed a woman on a bench and nodded at her with a small smile, glad that at least nothing seemed to be wrong with her. When I came across a dog sitting at my front door, however, I faltered.

The dog seemed to be about twenty-five pounds or so. It was white and had pointed black ears and a black tail. It looked up at me with the canine equivalent of a grin and wagged the tail that curled over its back.

“Hey, there,” I said quietly, unable to help myself. “What do you need, buddy?”

The dog just continued staring at me happily.

I hesitated. “I bet you’re probably hungry, huh? Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

I disappeared inside my apartment and soon came back out with a plate that had a hotdog and some slices of ham on it. Not typical canine cuisine, but it would do.

The dog seemed ecstatic to get such fare and barked in anticipation.

“Shh,” I said with a grin as I set down the plate. “You don’t want to disturb anyone.” Not that a dog barking would distract many people. The city tended to be a loud place in general.

The dog engulfed the food and then looked up at me for more.

I picked up the plate in amusement. “I think you’ve had enough for now.” I opened the door and paused in the doorframe as I realized the dog was at my heels. I turned and shook my head. “No, you need to stay out here, buddy.”

But the dog tilted its head to look at me and then gazed into my apartment.

“All right,” I conceded with a sigh. “You can come in . . . . But just for tonight.” I gestured for the dog to enter, which it did with a mixture of curiosity and confidence.

I began to shut the door, but something prevented it from closing all the way. I turned and opened the door to find a pretty but bashful-looking young woman standing there. She had a black leash and a worn black collar in one of her hands and a paper bag in the other.

Seeing the leash and collar, I frowned. “I’m sorry . . . . Is this your dog?” I gestured toward the canine in question. It was sniffing around my apartment.

“Could I come in, Mr. Kent?” she asked, looking behind her nervously. “I have some information that might be of interest to you.”

Though I was suspicious of her reasons for being at my apartment, I reluctantly shut the door behind her and gestured toward the couch. “Please sit down.”

She sat obediently, and the dog walked to her with that canine grin. Patting the creature with a smile, she said, “Sit, Shelby.” The dog obeyed, prompting another smile from her. “Good boy.” Turning her attention to me, she told me, “My name is Keira Fisher—I used to work for Sallya Technologies. I heard from someone that you and Ms. Lane were asking around about the destruction of ST headquarters . . . . I tried testing her first, you see, but she had no interest in Shelby.”

My eyebrows came together. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“It was important that I find someone with an affinity for animals, you see,” she explained. “This dog is Shelby.” She kissed the top of the dog’s head, and he put a paw on her knee. “Ms. Lane showed no interest in him, and I was worried . . . . But you seem to feel kindly toward animals, Mr. Kent.”

Looking at the dog, who still seemed quite content, I asked her, “Why are you here, Ms. Fisher?”

“I was working on something called ‘Project Nemean Lion,’” she began. My face must have shown familiarity with the name, for she said, “You’ve heard of it?”

“Briefly,” I acknowledged. “But I don’t know much about it.”

“We were doing genetic research on animals with the aid of some different-colored meteor rocks that had been found after a strange meteor shower in Kansas,” she noted.

I had to fight to keep from betraying my surprise. Someone else had some of the meteor rock? And there were different colors? What specifically was known about that meteor shower? It was all I could do to stop from bursting out with questions.

“We were able to give certain animals—we worked with rats, dogs, cats, and apes, mostly—special abilities. We managed to give them higher levels of strength and intelligence. We could also give them near-invulnerability and longer lives, though it was rare that we managed to give an animal all of those qualities. We did, however, succeed with Shelby here . . . . ”

I frowned to myself. In a way, it sounded as if they were creating animal versions of me. But if I worried about whether I could control my powers . . . well, it was hard for me to even think of such enhanced animals. They wouldn’t know anything about responsibility—they would simply be guided by instinct.

“Do you think whoever is in charge intended to use this . . . process on humans as well?” I asked her, uncertain I really wanted to know the answer.

“I’m not sure,” she responded. “We hadn’t yet perfected our technique, though we got really close with Shelby . . . . ” Her expression suddenly became very earnest. “I want you to know something. I have always hated experimenting on animals in general, even if it’s been my line of work, and the thought of cruel experiments has always been utterly repulsive to me.”

I frowned. “Then why did—”

“Their life spans,” she interjected. “I’ve always been so upset by the fact that animal life spans are so much shorter than human ones . . . . The idea of giving them longer lives has always appealed to me, so I jumped on the chance. But I never participated in an experiment that violated my ethics—I never caused direct harm to any animal. I love them too much for that.” She buried her face briefly into Shelby’s fur before looking back up at me. “But I was naïve about something, Mr. Kent. When I finally realized that Sallya Technologies didn’t want to help animals but use them for destruction, I knew I had to do something . . . . A coworker—Mark Christensen—and I trashed the lab and freed the animals. We found good homes for all the animals with the help of our friends, though we tried to be careful about it. We made sure all the people involved were trustworthy and knew what they were getting into . . . . But evidently all the care we took just wasn’t enough. Mark was found dead the day after the Sallya Technologies building was destroyed.”

I hesitated. “Do you think he could have been behind the explosion?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No. He couldn’t have done that . . . . He wouldn’t have done that. He would never have been willing to jeopardize people’s lives like that.” She looked down at Shelby. “I have a few things I need to tie up before I leave Metropolis for good . . . . But I need somewhere for Shelby to stay for a few days so he doesn’t get discovered.”

My mind pulled back to the dog, I considered a few different dog breeds and ventured, “Is that dog part Spitz?”

The scientist smiled. “Not bad, Mr. Kent. Shelby’s actually a pureblood. His breed is a member of the Spitz family. They used to be referred to as the German Spitz, but now they’re called the American Eskimo.”

I frowned. “He’s a pureblood? But I thought American Eskimos were pure white and had long fur.”

She looked pleased at my knowledge. “You’re right. But I shaved him to make him less recognizable. You aren’t generally supposed to do that with his breed because they can get sunburned and their undercoat helps keep them cool, but his near-invulnerability means I don’t have to worry about it . . . . And I also dyed his fur.”

“You dyed his fur?” I asked skeptically. “Did you use some kind of special compound you came up with at the lab?”

She laughed. “You can buy animal dye at certain pet stores . . . . But you’re right—what I used came from a lab. Dr. Klein—he’s a friend of mine and works at S.T.A.R. Labs—made the dye. It’s completely safe for dogs, and it is specifically designed so you can’t wash it out. To get it out, you have to use the dye-remover Dr. Klein made—or ‘spot-remover,’ as I like to call it. He gave me the formula for the dye and the dye-remover, and they’re not that hard to make . . . . But that’s beside the point, I guess . . . . ” She took a deep breath. “Mr. Kent, do you think you could keep Shelby temporarily for me? I don’t want anyone to discover him.” She smiled hopefully. “He’s housebroken.”

I looked at the dog. He had rolled onto his back and was enjoying a belly rub from Keira Fisher. “All right,” I agreed reluctantly. “Just for a few days.”

She smiled and snapped the collar onto Shelby, who moved to a sitting position in anticipation of a walk. His eyes watched as she passed the leash to me, and I set it on a nearby table. She handed me the paper bag, and I peered inside.

“There’s a bag of dog food and some toys and treats in there . . . . I’ll pick up Shelby in a few days. I want to help you with your story, Mr. Kent. I have my suspicions about Sallya Technologies—everything there was too top secret. I’d like to poke around a few places . . . . I have a feeling that Sallya Technologies might be a subsidiary of LexCorp. Don’t you find it suspicious that LexCorp never tried to buy out Sallya Technologies, even though Sallya Technologies took quite a lot of business away from LexCorp?”

“Well, now that you mention it, it does sound suspicious,” I admitted. “But I don’t think you should go at this alone. I can help you out—and so can Lois Lane.”

She shook her head. “I want to do this alone. It’ll be dangerous enough with just me. Sometimes, numbers don’t bring safety.”

I considered arguing with her, but the fire in her eyes made me realize that there would be no talking her out of it. In that respect, she seemed to be a lot like Lois. “All right,” I conceded. Just like with Platt, I shouldn’t try to control people’s lives. Free will was too important to people.

She scratched under the dog’s chin and then held his head so that she could look into his eyes. “I have to go for now, Shelby. You’re going to be left to the care of Mr. Kent . . . . So make sure you obey him. Don’t give him any trouble, and avoid the temptation to chew on his shoes.” As she made that last statement, she glanced at me. She must have seen the alarm in my eyes because she smiled and assured me, “I’m just kidding—he hasn’t ever chewed up any shoes that I know of.” Then she turned to Shelby and hugged him. “Be good.”

Keira Fisher stood and said farewell after looking at Shelby one last time. I shut the door behind her. Shelby rolled over onto his back and twisted slightly to look at me. Rolling my eyes, I moved to kneel beside him. I hesitated before gently reaching down and rubbing his belly.

The dog enjoyed the attention, though I kept it brief. I was encouraged to find that touching the animal didn’t hurt me. I wasn’t sure if the meteor rock involved in Shelby’s transformation was diluted or what, but I was glad the dog’s presence didn’t cause any ill effects. I was just as glad that the dog was basically invulnerable. That was certainly convenient for me.

Realizing I needed an impromptu dog bed, I went and got a few towels out and put them on the floor.

Shelby looked at me, and I recalled that Keira Fisher had told him with success to sit. Assuming he might know other commands, I tried out, “Go lay down.”

The dog stood and then jumped on the couch and rested his chin on his paws.

“Not exactly what I meant, but I guess it’s my fault for not specifying,” I chuckled. I retrieved a bowl from the kitchen and filled it with water and then set it on the ground where Shelby could see it. “There you go. I’m going to have to leave, but I’m sure you’ll be fine. I shouldn’t be gone too long.”

The dog’s ears flicked in acknowledgement.

I picked up the phone and called Lois.

“Hello?” came her voice.

“Lois, it’s Clark.”

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you,” she said, obviously annoyed. “That included hearing from you, you know.”

I smiled to myself. “I have some information I think you would like to hear about tonight . . . . Would it be okay if I came over?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” she replied reluctantly.

“Great. I’ll see you soon.”

****

I went to Lois’s apartment, and she let me in with a sour expression. She was in her pajamas and a robe. “This had better be good.”

My eyes flicked to the kitchen and the ice cream scoop on the counter, and I couldn’t help but comment, “It’s good enough to interrupt eating ice cream, I assure you.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Get to the point, Kent.”

“Clark,” I prompted. I didn’t wait for her to correct herself. “I have your laptop with me.”

I took it out of the bag I’d had it in for safekeeping, and she grabbed it eagerly. “Thank you,” she told me as she took it to her coffee table and set it down.

Though she seemed so happy I didn’t want to spoil it, I couldn’t help but say, “Great novel, by the way. The heroine’s a real peach.”

Her joy turned instantly to horror, and she gaped at me.

I continued, “The male protagonist, though . . . I don’t know—he seems a little bit like a cardboard cutout.”

“You read my novel?” Lois demanded.

“I was, however, impressed with the end of the story—”

“Kent!”

“The beginning, though, could use a little work . . . . ” I trailed off and smirked as she began sputtering.

“You—you—I—”

I laughed. And then I took pity on her. “I’m just kidding with you, Lois. I didn’t read it.”

She relaxed visibly. “Good.” But she still looked suspicious.

Under my breath, I said, “Not the whole thing, anyway.”

She glanced sharply at me and growled, “Kent.”

“Ms. Lane,” I returned, the corners of my mouth tugging upward.

Irked, she changed the subject. “Did you come all the way over here tonight just to give me my laptop? I was eager to have my data back, but I could have waited a few hours.”

“No, that’s not it . . . . I had a very interesting visitor tonight.”

I explained about Keira Fisher and imparted most of the information I had learned. I did, however, out the part about Shelby. If Lois realized she had almost let something big slip past us, she would have been very unhappy, and I didn’t want to ruin the growing excitement in her eyes. I concluded my exposition with, “And Keira Fisher thinks there might be a connection to LexCorp.”

Lois shook her head. “I don’t think there’s a connection to LexCorp. There are plenty of companies that LexCorp hasn’t bought out. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I think you’re wrong,” I said firmly. “Sallya Technologies was a big competitor. LexCorp had a lot to gain from the destruction of that company’s headquarters.”

“LexCorp doesn’t just go around blowing its competitors up.”

“How do you know what LexCorp does or doesn’t do?”

“I just know,” she returned.

“Why? Because of Luthor?” I didn’t even bother to hide my bitterness. I didn’t know why, but the thought of him with Lois made me sick.

She crossed her arms. “Well, now that you mention him—Lex is a philanthropist. He has done great things for this city.”

“What do you really know about him, anyway?” I returned. “Maybe he has skeletons in his closet.”

“Everyone has skeletons in their closet.”

“Well, maybe he has particularly gruesome ones,” I persisted. “After all, who stood to gain from the destruction of the space program but LexCorp?”

“That’s ridiculous,” she said dismissively.

“Is it? If Luthor had been able to create his space station, it would have made a lot of money for LexCorp. Even if it isn’t Luthor specifically who’s involved, it’s possible it’s someone under him in LexCorp who is trying to destroy LexCorp’s competitors.”

Lois narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know that there’s a connection to LexCorp.”

“And you don’t know that there isn’t.”

She stared at me, and I stared right back at her.

In a quiet voice, I told her, “All I’m suggesting is that we leave it open as a possibility.” If the man was an evil mastermind, I wanted to find out—before Lois got hurt. But I didn’t have a clue how to go about making such a discovery. It was just my luck that the person best suited for such an investigation—Lois—thought he was heaven on earth. My mood darkened.

“Whatever.” She pursed her lips and looked at me for a few seconds. “So, are you going to tell me anything about that woman at the Magic Club?”

“Wh-what?” I stuttered. That had come from left field.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten. I told you about Claude—don’t you think you owe me a little honesty?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “You only told me about him because you thought we were about to die.”

“It doesn’t matter why I told you. The fact is I told you.”

“And the fact is I can’t tell you about Constance. I’m sorry.”

As I looked down at her hands, I could feel her eyes on me. I knew she was considering challenging me. She didn’t know that even thinking about Constance made me feel as if someone were stabbing me in the chest with a million knives.

But at last she sighed, and I glanced up and realized she was relenting. “Fine,” she said in an annoyed voice. “Now, let’s talk story strategies . . . . ”

I sat back and listened as Lois Lane did what she did best. A few hours later, I left and went to bed in my apartment, glad that Lois hadn’t tried harder to force me to relive some of those painful memories.

****

The next day, we did more legwork on the Sallya story while working on some minor individual pieces. We tried to trace money trails, but we weren’t having much luck. I found myself wishing I’d been given some way to contact Keira Fisher—she might have been able to point us in the right direction.

At the end of the day, I felt my powers coming on. I hadn’t opened my locket that morning on purpose, and I still refrained from doing so. It really bugged me that Metropolis had me relying so frequently on the use of my special abilities, but there wasn’t a way around it sometimes.

After work, I went to the rubble of the Sallya building and scanned it for meteor rock. I wasn’t able to find any, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. There could be lead in the building. I had no way of knowing for sure whether or not the meteor rock had been destroyed or recovered. Even if it was gone, the thought that someone else knew about it made me uneasy. If a private organization knew about the special meteor rock, did that mean the government did, too? My parents had told me that people from the government had been snooping around after I was born. But we had never known if they had actually found anything. Knowing that Sallya Technologies had found something just made me nervous.

When I went into work the next day, the situation just got worse. As I approached Lois, I found her tapping a pen on her desk and looking somber.

Concerned, I asked her, “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve been at work for a few hours . . . . And I have some bad news.” She turned to look at me. “I’ve been talking to a few of my sources and to Henderson. Apparently, they fished a body out of a dumpster in a bad part of town. It was Keira Fisher.”