PREVIOUSLY...
A short time later, Linda returned to her room to finish her unpacking. This time, Lois didn’t join her. She was still reeling slightly from Linda’s description of her family and was suddenly thankful for her own childhood and her parents’, sometimes turbulent, but always solid, marriage. As she settled back onto her bed, her mind drifted back to one incident in particular and a small smile settled on her face as the adventure of a nine year old child came to mind.
AND NOW...
* * * * * * * * *
September 1976
* * * * * * * * *
Lois walked over to the television and turned it off. Her favorite show, Batman and Robin, had been cancelled today so that they could show some stupid sports event. Really! She should write a letter to the station and inform them exactly how rude it was to replace her favorite show with something as trivial as sports.
Not that writing them would do any good. She hadn’t even received a response to her last letter which had clearly informed them that since Robin was also a girl’s name, they should replace the boy currently playing that role with a girl. Having a male/female team saving the world on a weekly basis would be so much more fun to watch. It would, of course, make more sense if the most important character was a woman. And the person named first was always the most important character. That character was the one making the majority of the decisions and boys were dumb so having a girl in that role made more sense. But she’d settle for Robin as a woman. After all, Batwoman sounded funny. Of course, if they really wanted to do it right, they could call the show Robin and Batman.
With a heavy sigh, she walked over to the window and stared outside. Now that her show was not coming on, what should she do with her afternoon? Lucy was having a nap. Mrs. Walker, the housekeeper, was busy in another part of the house. Her folks were still at work.
As she stood there, she saw a van pull to a stop further along the street. Two men jumped out, dressed totally in black.
Lois leaned closer to the window. They were some distance away which made it hard to see them clearly, but everything about those men screamed ‘mobsters’ to Lois. So what were mobsters doing here? It must be something nasty. That was what mobsters did, after all. She ducked behind a curtain when one of them glanced in her direction - no doubt checking for witnesses.
Summoning up her courage, she glanced around the curtain in time to see one of them pull open the back doors of the van. He reached in and handed something to the other man. The sunlight reflecting off the object kept Lois from seeing it at first, but once she did, she gasped. Shovels. What did they need shovels for?
Her question was answered a moment later when she saw the two men, working together, pull a long, black bag out of the back.
A body! They were disposing of a body! What other explanation could there be?
So what should she do? She had to do something. Maybe she should go get Mrs. Walker. No. Mrs. Walker wouldn’t have a clue what to do.
Maybe she should call the police, except that by the time they arrived, the body would be disposed of and the mobsters would be long gone.
Suddenly, an idea struck. What she needed was evidence - something that would allow the police to find and identify the men when she did call them.
She grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the closet, reaching up to remove Daddy’s new Polaroid camera. Instant pictures. She wasn’t supposed to use it without her mother or father, but this was an emergency. She clicked the button to expand the camera from its collapsible position and prepare it to take pictures.
Rushing back to the window, she raised the camera and snapped a picture, but... Wait a minute! She was too late. A picture of the van would be helpful but the men and the body were gone. But where... Wait!
She caught a flash of movement coming from the path that led down to Hobb’s River. That must be where they had gone. The river shore. Okay, well the shovels were gone, too. So they would have to dig a hole. That should give her plenty of time to sneak down, take her pictures of them burying the body and get back here to call the police. Dropping the photo of the van on the couch, she ran to the door to pull on her shoes.
* * * * * * * * *
The adrenalin pumping through her system gave her an extra boost of speed and courage as she ran down the familiar path towards the shore of the river, the camera dangling around her neck. Hearing voices up ahead, she came to an abrupt halt. They weren’t far now. If she continued on this path, they were sure to see her.
Thinking quickly, she darted into the woods. There was a tree that jutted out sideways over the river. If she climbed out on that, surely she could get her photos without being spotted. The leaves on the tree were more than sufficient cover. She would just have to be careful not to fall. That would surely be the death of her because she would most certainly attract the attention of the mobsters and end by sharing a grave with the person who was currently being carted around in that black bag.
Leaving the camera around her neck to ensure she didn’t drop it - Daddy would kill her if it did - she carefully climbed out onto the tree trunk that grew almost parallel to the ground. Slowly. Ever so slowly, she maneuvered herself around branches until she was finally in position. Lying down along the trunk, she reached out to push the branches aside.
She knew it! There they were. Digging a hole. The long, black body-bag stretched out next to them. The victim must have been a tall man.
Fumbling slightly, she grabbed the camera and, one hand on the camera, the other pushing a branch aside, she tried to snap a picture. Realizing she was holding the camera wrong to push the button, she let go of the branch and readjusted her grip on the camera. Once she was satisfied that she was ready, she reached out to grab the branch again.
Her hand missed. She let out a shriek as she lost her balance and plunged head first towards the ground, still grasping the camera as if her life depended on it. Irrelevantly, just before she hit the ground and everything went dark, the hum from the camera informed her that she had taken a picture. She wondered if her father would be mad about the waste of film like he had been when she and Lucy got carried away during a recent family trip to the zoo.
* * * * * * * * *
“That’s Lois Lane. Come on, bring her over here.”
Lois’ hearing was the first thing to click in, noting in confusion what sounded like a crowd of people as she was jostled in the arms of... someone. She attempted to open her eyes, but shut them instantly with a small whimper when the bright sunlight caused pain to slice through her head.
“What happened?”
Mrs. Walters. Lois knew that voice, even if she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard the woman sound quite so upset - not even when Lois had killed all her geraniums by dumping too much fertilizer and water on them. Who knew you could kill a plant by giving it too much food and water?
“She fell out of a tree,” the man holding her said. “Down by the river.”
“What was she doing by the river?” Mrs Walters asked before seeming to decide that the question was irrelevant because she continued without giving anyone a chance to respond. “Quick. Bring her inside. I’ll call her father. He’s a doctor. He’ll know what to do.”
Lois wanted to tell them not to bother calling Daddy. She knew what they needed to do: they needed to stop jostling her around because suddenly she felt very sick to her stomach. She opened her mouth to tell them to stop but before she could, she threw up.
Panic seemed to follow her actions. Voices began talking over each other. Was the whole neighborhood here? She just wished they’d all shut up and leave her alone.
Time had no meaning. And she wasn’t sure how long it was before she heard the comforting sound of her father’s voice.
“Princess, can you hear me?”
She cringed. “Don’t yell, Daddy. I didn’t mean to take that picture. It was an accident.”
“Okay,” he whispered, sounding relieved.
Had he really thought she’d want to take a picture of falling? And was it really okay now that he knew it was an accident? Adults sometimes really confused her.
“Can you open your eyes for me?” he asked, using that same soft voice.
She screwed up her courage, expecting the same sharp pain as before, and opened her eyes. She was relieved to realize that the room was in shadows. Someone had obviously thought to draw the curtains. She glanced around. It seemed that most of the people had cleared out. But she could see their neighbor, Ms. Bellcanto, hovering near the door. Her mother was sitting on the foot of the couch and her dad was squatting beside her. Lucy was curled up on a nearby chair. She could see Mrs. Walters puttering nervously in the background. Then her eyes focused on the shadow standing against the wall.
“That’s him!” she gasped, pointing. “He was one of the people burying the body.”
Her father glanced over to where she was pointing.
“He’s the one who carried you up here,” her father corrected.
Lois shook her head vigorously, regretting the action almost immediately. “He’s a mobster and he and his friend were burying a body down by the river. He...” Her voice trailed off in confusion when the shadow stepped away from the wall and she could see him clearly for the first time. Yes, he was dressed in black. But he was no man. He was a high school boy. So what...
“I’m Greg. Dick and I were digging a fire pit for a party a bunch of us are having tonight on the river bank when we saw you fall out of the tree. Or... actually, when we heard you hit the ground. We assumed you’d fallen because of the broken branches. Anyway, we brought you up to the street and started yelling. Your neighbor came out and told us to bring you here.”
Lois eyed him warily. “So what was in the black bag?”
“A tent,” Greg responded. “Anyway, I’ve got to get back and help Dick finish up. I’m glad you’re okay.” He nodded once to Lois before turning towards the door.
A tent? A fire pit? But she had been so sure it was a body.
“Is she going to be okay?” her mother asked nervously as Greg walked out the door.
“I think she’s got a bit of a concussion. I should take her down to the clinic. We can get an x-ray done there and it’s a lot closer than going to Met General. But she should be fine.”
With that pronouncement, the room seemed to come alive once again as everyone hurried off to tend to their own lives and matters.
Lois relaxed back into the sofa. Okay, so she’d been wrong... this time. No mobsters trying to dispose of dead bodies. But she had to admit, it had been exciting. Following a lead. Matching life and death with the bad guys. Trying to get the evidence. In fact, she just might want to find a way to do that when she grew up. If only there was a job that would combine that with her love of writing... Now that would be a job worth doing.
* * * * * * * * *
September 1987
* * * * * * * * *
Lois smiled. She hadn’t known it then, but that was the moment her life had changed forever. That was the moment that had brought her here today. That was the moment that she had become an investigative reporter.
* * * * * * * * *
June 1997
* * * * * * * * *
Clark felt completely drained. He’d searched both Rome and Casablanca for hours, but there had been no sign of Lois. It was as if she’d disappeared into thin air. He’d had no choice but to finally admit defeat and return to the time machine with a relieved looking Herbert George Wells.
The machine had barely re-materialized in Clark’s apartment, before Clark was out of it, plopping down onto the sofa in defeat. The sofa was pushed against the wall, as was all the furniture in his apartment to accommodate the awkward machine, but Clark didn’t care. The sofa was soft and comfortable. That was all he knew. His arm flung half over his face, he didn’t see Wells disembark the machine. However, some instinct told him that Wells was watching him.
“What?” Clark asked morosely.
“You do understand, don’t you, my boy?”
Clark didn’t respond. Instead, he merely let out a breath, wishing the older man would just go away.
“No one knows exactly how changing the past would affect the present, since it’s never been done before,” Wells said, completely oblivious to how much Clark didn’t want to hear him. “And I strongly advise that we don’t want to be the ones to find out. One theory, of course, is that any change to the past would be like throwing a rock into a pond. The ripples would start there and ripple forward in time, making changes as they went. You would have no control over how those changes would affect your own time. It could even threaten your own existence. Other theories suggest that even the smallest change in time would be like a nuclear explosion, simply obliterating your entire world.
“Now I know how much you wanted to save Lois. I understand that. But think about it. If Lois had been around the past four years, can you honestly say that the present would be the same? She would have been fighting corruption. She could do nothing else. And although that might seem like it could only make the world better, there is no way to know that.”
“And how could it possibly make the world any worse?” Clark asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
“Let me give you a hypothetical. Let’s say during the four years since her disappearance, Lois had decided to investigate Senator Heston and she found out say... that Heston was taking bribes in exchange for granting government contracts to specific individuals and she exposed it to the world.”
“That would hardly be Lois’ fault.”
“Of course not. But Senator Heston is now...”
“...the President of the United States...” Clark said.
“Exactly! The President of the United States. So if Lois had exposed Heston for some hypothetical corruption before he ran for President, and as a result, Heston had never become President, the question would be: who is the current President? And what if that President made different choices and as a result of those choices, the world was now involved in a nuclear war? As I said, any change could have catastrophic effects. And the further back in time one were to go, the greater the chance that even a small change could have catastrophic consequences.”
“But four years. Surely the chances that things would be better if Lois survived are far greater than that of something catastrophic happening,” Clark argued back.
“You can’t... Let me rephrase that. I won’t be party to letting you find out. I’m sorry, my boy. I know how much you are hurting. But this isn’t right. This isn’t the way to fix your life.” He climbed back aboard his time machine. “I am so sorry I wasn’t able to find Lois Lane for you - that she didn’t somehow survived her trip to the Congo and was just lost. And I do wish you the best of luck,” Wells said before dissolving into mass of brightly colored pixels.
Clark stared at the spot where Well’s time machine had sat only a moment before, unconsciously willing him back. Suddenly, he caught sight of something lying on the floor where the machine had been located. A large, folded paper. Curiosity getting the better of him, he rose to his feet and walked over to retrieve the item. Unfolding it, he stared at it for a long moment before understanding what he was seeing.
Hope rose in his chest only to be crushed almost as quickly by Wells’ dire predictions. No. Wells was right. It would be highly irresponsible of him to change the past - even if he now had the blue prints for Wells’ time machine.
He gripped the paper his hands, preparing to tear it to shreds. After all, that was the responsible thing to do. Destroy it. Remove the temptation all together. Tear it into so many pieces that even he could never return to its original state. Maybe followed by a blast of heat vision.
Stepping over to his book shelf, he took the paper and, after folding it once more, shoved it inside an old copy of H.G. Wells’ Time Machine, before shoving the book back onto the shelf. After all, wouldn’t it be better to keep it just in case he might have dire need of a time machine in the future?
* * * * * * * * *
November 1987
* * * * * * * * *
Lois leaned back in her chair and smiled as she allowed herself to reread the words on the monitor. It had taken two and a half months, but she’d finally done it. She’d finally broken the biggest story the Ink and Quill had ever seen - guaranteed to have the entire campus in an uproar when the paper came out tomorrow.
Still... she frowned slightly at the screen. It was missing... something. But what? She snapped her fingers when it finally hit her. The personal touch.
She had the facts, all carefully backed up by copies of account ledgers taken from the football coach’s office, a photo of a cheerleader sitting in an exam room for a course she did not attend, even a copy of a letter by a disgruntled cheerleader to the coach stating that she no longer felt comfortable writing exams for one of the football players and a half finished letter from the coach reminding her that he could ruin her if she refused her continued cooperation. Lois had even found a complete list of all the players who were receiving ‘special educational assistance’, a euphemism the coach had coined to identify players in need of assistance. Yep, breaking into Coach Black’s office had provided Lois with a goldmine of evidence.
The original tip had come from Joe Malloy. The quarterback of Lois’ high school football team - and sometime boyfriend. Oh, not that they had ever been serious. Debbie had been the great love of his life. Still, whenever he and Debbie broke up, he’d come to Lois for comfort. Not that she’d exactly provided ‘comfort’ - or at least not in the way that Debbie undoubtedly feared. No. She and Joe were friends. They’d go out, share some basically innocent kisses, and then Joe would go back to Debbie.
Not that Lois minded. She’d been far too busy to date anyway. But Joe had been a nice distraction from time to time.
Joe had graduated the same time as Lois - and had also ended up at New Troy University. He’d spent most of the year sitting on the bench, being a freshman and all. But when he’d gotten wind of a rumor of the cheerleaders writing exams for some of the star players, he’d immediately passed the information on to Lois.
He was a good friend.
Still, he wasn’t who she needed to elevate this story from excellent to exceptional. No, what she needed was a personal confession. But who... Lois had approached the disgruntled cheerleader who had written the coach, but the young woman had run in horror in the opposite direction. So who else might be willing to...
Lois suddenly sat up straight. Hadn’t she heard recently that Catherine Grant, one of the cheerleaders in question, had recently had a miserable breakup with the star quarterback of the New Troy Devils - Donald Landover. Apparently, she’d caught him in bed with another woman. Perhaps...
Without completing her thought, Lois grabbed the phone book for the University Campus. A few moments later, she was dialing the phone.
Having placed her call, Lois hung up the phone with a smile. It seemed Catherine Grant, or Cat as she’d just informed Lois she liked to be called, was prepared to meet with her at The Outpost, a popular hangout among the athletes. Of course, Lois hadn’t said exactly what she wanted to talk to Cat about, just that Lois thought Cat might like a chance to get her own back after what Landover had done to her. Cat had definitely been intrigued.
Of course, that would make it tight getting the story into tomorrow’s weekly paper. All submissions had to be in by nine a.m tomorrow morning. But that still left her... almost twelve hours. And so... it was worth taking the time to make this earth-shattering story even better.
“Hey, what are you doing in here?”
Lois quickly saved her story, closed the file and began shut down procedures on the computer before turning to look at the young woman who had entered the study at the Alpha Nu Rho sorority house.
“Hi, Linda,” Lois said.
“Don’t ‘hi’ me,” Linda said. “Is this where you’ve been hiding out the past few days? Russell told me what you did.”
“Russell?” Lois asked distractedly.
Linda rolled her eyes. “Russell More! My step-brother. You know, the one who’s had a crush on you since you came over to my place for supper last month! The one I set you up on a date with! He told me you called and cancelled.”
“Oh, that. Right. Well, something came up.”
“Again?” Linda let out a breath. “At least tell me you have a date for the party tomorrow night.”
“Not yet.”
“You can’t keep showing up stag to these things - when you even bother showing up, that is. Hey, I know! Why don’t you ask Bob?”
Lois growled. During the passage of time since their initial meeting, the relationship between her and Bob Stafford had not improved - a point Linda liked to rub in as often as possible, usually along with an admonition that when trying to win a man it was not wise to alienate his best friend. And since, for reasons that completely evaded Lois, Paul and Bob were friends... “Bite my...”
“Of course, Bob might not be available,” Linda rushed to continue, cutting Lois off.
That got Lois’ attention. “You mean he actually got a girl to go out with him?” she asked in disbelief. “We’re talking about a real live girl here? Not one of those blow up dolls?”
“Rumor has it. Carol something or other. Another science geek. Bob and Carol...” Linda paused for a moment. “Actually, it sort of has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Anyway, you’d know about Bob’s new girlfriend if you ever bothered to be social.”
Lois concentrated on gathering her stuff together, stuffing the documents in a file folder. “Look, Linda, I appreciate your efforts to get me to go out more, but, really, it’s not necessary. I’m too busy. Of course, that could change.”
Linda’s eyebrows knitted together. “Wha...” Suddenly what Lois was saying hit her. “Lois, give it up. Paul doesn’t even remember your name. It’s ‘hey, you.’ Or if he does make an effort it’s... well, whatever name comes to mind at the moment he needs you to do something.”
“That’s not true! He knows my name and you know that! In fact, he’s been quite friendly lately.”
“Okay, maybe. But friendly is a long way from his ‘one true love.’ He just doesn’t see you that way, so unless you’ve got some sure-fire way to get his attention, give it up.”
A mysterious grin suddenly settled onto Lois’ face.
“What?” Linda asked suspiciously.
“Nothing,” Lois said, trying to avoid her friend’s eyes. She rose to her feet. “I’m sorry, Linda. I’m in a bit of a rush. If you don’t mind... We can talk later.” Without waiting for a reply, Lois grabbed her jacket and turned towards the door. She needed to stop by her room at the dorm before meeting with the cheerleader so that she could drop off her file on the story. After all, she didn’t want to risk misplacing all her evidence.
Linda watched her go before turning to stare at the computer, deep in thought.
* * * * * * * * *
June 1997
* * * * * * * * *
The screams of terror. Screeching metal crunching in on itself. The high-pitched squeal of steel on steel. Whimpering cries. Pleading with deities. Howls and whines and whimpers. The last gasps of the dying.
Clark was off the couch, dressed in the Superman suit and flying through the window of his apartment almost before he realized he was moving. He streaked across the night sky, throwing his entire being into getting to his destination as fast as possible.
Twisted metal. Blood. Severed limbs. Crushed bodies.
Two passenger trains had collided head on. How it had happened, Clark had no idea. But there was no time to worry about the cause as he rushed from emergency to emergency. Making decisions in the blink of an eye that would save one person while another died. Never knowing if he could have, somehow, saved both - if only he’d made a different decision.
Eery shadows were cast as fires grew in intensity. There wasn’t time for Clark to worry about any that didn’t threaten human life. The distant wail of emergency vehicles. The soft weeping and occasional cry from the injured and dying. The sickly-sweet smell of burned flesh mixed with gasoline and burned ash. The blank eyes of the survivors.
The battle went on through the night. Emergency workers arrived, lightening Clark’s load. But the bulk of the burden remained squarely on his shoulders.
The sun was beginning to rise by the time he stepped, dirt, sweat and blood coating every inch of his body, through the door to his apartment. He would not be going to work today. No one would expect him. The single benefit of everyone knowing he was Superman.
Stripping out of his suit, his eyes mostly closed with exhaustion, he stepped into the shower and turned the water on as hot as he could. As the burning stream flowed over his body, he sank to the bottom of the stall, buried his head in his hands and wept.
* * * * * * * * *
November 1987
* * * * * * * * *
Lois rushed into the study at her sorority, her eyes sparkling, her heart pounding, a smile threatening to split her face wide open. She’d done it. She’d gotten Cat Grant to spill her guts.
Cat was everything Lois had expected. A strawberry-blonde bimbette with hair that practically filled the room. She had to have some brains hidden somewhere beneath all that hair, otherwise she’d have hardly been writing exams for the quarterback. Still, Lois found it hard to warm up to a woman who worked so hard at turning being an airhead into a virtue.
The best part of interviewing Cat was that Lois had gotten her to implicate not only Donald Landover, the star of the New Troy Devils, but at least a dozen other players. And... best of all, Cat had actually told stories of cheerleaders who had attempted to get out of the scam only to be threatened, and in one case where the young woman had persisted, how Coach Black had managed to get her kicked out of university. That single act had silenced all further discontent. Heads were definitely going to role. And...
“...I got the whole thing on tape,” she sang to the empty room, holding up her recorder in triumph. Now, all that remained was to add the information she’d obtained from Cat to her story and she’d have the story that would not only mark her as an A1 journalist and stir up all kinds of hell around the university, but would also gain her the attention of her one great love.
She didn’t even bother sitting down before firing up the computer - not sure that she’d ever known such a high.
“It’s better than booze. Better than a perfect report card. Better than... sex!” she exclaimed. Then, dropping into the chair in front of the computer, she added, “Not that I’d actually know about the last one.” She giggled as she watched the computer power up. “But that might change soon.” She quickly glanced around, relieved that she was still as alone as she thought she was. Still, it was only a matter of time now before Paul realized what she had known since the moment she’d first laid eyes on him - that they were meant to be together.
She quickly began typing commands into the computer, impatient to finish her story. A few minutes later, she was staring at the monitor in confusion, the bubble of her high slowly deflating.
* * * * * * * * *
Molly Flynn woke disoriented to the sound of someone pounding loudly on the door to her room. At the end of her second year of university, she’d been invited to move into the sorority house - and she loved it. Loved the camaraderie of the girls. Loved the parties and social functions. Now that she was in her third year, and one of the leaders of the sorority, she loved it even more.
Sure, learning the ins and outs of computers was stimulating, but even more so, she loved her life as a sorority sister, and all of her free time went into making Alpha Nu Rho the best sorority on campus. Computers might be her major, but she was beginning to have second thoughts about the technological revolution. Technology seemed, more and more, to be separating people from each other - and Molly found that disturbing.
Not that she’d expressed these growing concerns to anyone. After all, they’d have thought her nuts - especially with everyone clamoring to own VCRs and computers and all the other latest gadgets. She was in on the ground floor of what promised to be a very lucrative career. In fact, even with most of this year and all of another to get her four year degree, she’d already been approached by a man Molly believed was a real up-and-comer, a Steve... oh, what was his last name again? Steve... Spartan! That was it. She knew it was some kind of apple. He’d made her an almost unbelievable job offer. She’d put him off, not entirely sure she wanted to work in the private sector. Maybe she could use her skills for the good of all.
Not that she’d turned him down completely, of course. He’d left his card and told her to contact him if she decided she wanted the job.
“Come on, Molly! Open up!”
Lois? That was Lois’ voice, yelling at her through her closed door. But what was Lois wanting at... She glanced at her bedside clock. ...almost two thirty in the morning?
“Hey, are you dead in there?” Lois yelled again, pounding even harder. “Come on, Mol. Open up!”
“Okay, okay,” Molly yelled back. Blurry-eyed, she stumbled to her feet and slipped on her robe before opening the door.
Lois was in the room without further ado, pacing and talking a mile a minute - although exactly what she was saying wasn’t quite able to penetrate Molly’s sleep-clogged mind. Molly flipped on the light and closed the door.
“What are you doing?” Lois demanded. “We need to go now!”
“Go? What are you talking about? Is the place on fire or something?”
“Worse! My story’s gone.”
Story? What on earth... “Okay, why don’t you start from the beginning?”
“We don’t have time for this,” Lois insisted, grabbing Molly’s hand and attempting to drag her to the door.
Molly snatched her hand away. “Well, make time. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s...”
“Okay, fine,” Lois interrupted. “I saved my story on the computer and when I came back later tonight, it was gone. You have to help me find it. There has to be a way after all...”
“A story... You mean a story for the Ink and Quill? You saved it on the computer and now...”
“It’s not there! I had to make some changes to it and...”
“Let’s see if I’ve got this straight,” Molly interrupted, holding up her hand. “You woke me up at two thirty in the morning to find a story for you? Lois, couldn’t this have waited until morning? After all, it’s not as if you can submit it tonight.”
“No, it can’t wait until tomorrow!” Lois insisted, grabbing Molly’s hand and entreating her with her eyes. “I’ve got to find that story. I had it fully written. I just needed to add some additional information. And it has to be submitted by nine o’clock this morning to make it into this week’s edition of the paper.”
Molly stared at her sorority sister for a long moment before sighing. “Okay, well, if it’s on the computer, even if you accidently erased the header, we should still be able to retrieve it - provided, of course, that someone didn’t use the computer after you and managed to overwrite your story.”
Lois gave her friend a look of gratitude. “Thank you,” she said softly, then shifted again into motion. “If we have to get to the computer before anyone else overwrites my story, time really is of the essence.” Tightening her grip on Molly’s hand, she turned towards the door.
“Well, even if they’ve overwritten it, I may be able to retrieve it,” Molly said as allowed herself to be pulled from her room. “Not that anyone is going to be working on the computer at two thirty in the morning - or at least anyone without the last name ‘Lane.’”
* * * * * * * * * *
“What do you mean it’s not there?” Lois demanded, looking intently over Molly’s shoulder.
“I don’t know what to tell you. Are you sure you saved it?”
“Yes, I’m sure! I saved it and shut down the computer.”
“Well, it’s not here now.”
Lois looked over Molly’s shoulder to read through the computer code that Molly had been studying, not understanding a word. “Are you sure it’s not there?”
“Like I said, someone could have used the computer after you left and wrote over your story.” She did some more typing. “Yes!” she exclaimed after a moment.
“What? Did you find it?”
“No, but I think I know what happened to it. Someone did use the computer after you.” She pointed to some lines of code on the screen that meant nothing to Lois.
“Who?”
Molly shook her head. “There’s no way to know but there is something odd here.”
“What?”
“Well, it seems that whoever it was might have purposely erased your story. ‘Cause it hasn’t just been overwritten once. It looks as if someone deliberately overwrote it a number of times.”
“What?” Lois exclaimed.
“Can you think of anyone who might do that?”
“Quite a few people, actually. But how would they have known...” Suddenly, Lois’ voice trailed off, causing Molly to glance back over her shoulder.
“I’ve got to go,” Lois said suddenly.
“Where?”
“My room!” Lois grabbed her coat, pulling it on as she continued to speak. “I left the evidence for my story there. If someone knew enough about what I was doing to erase my story, they’re probably looking for the evidence, too.”
TO BE CONTINUED...
ML
