Thanks to everyone for your patience. Here, at long last, is part 9.
Nan
Smallville: 9/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"That partner of yours isn't here, is she?" Wayne asked suddenly.
"No," Clark said. "You really don't need to worry about her, though. She's a good friend of mine."
"Maybe not good enough," Irig said. "I wanted to talk to you alone."
"What about?"
"A couple of weeks ago there was a bad storm here," he said. "Real bad. Blew down the oak tree out back."
"You told me that this afternoon," Clark said.
"Yeah, but I didn't tell you the rest," Irig said. "Last week there was a bit of a thaw. I found somethin'. Musta been buried deep, way down under the roots o' the tree -- but it came up when the tree did. It's somethin' you need to see."
"Okay," Clark said, thoroughly mystified. "Where is it?"
"I got it out in the barn," Irig said. "Might as well show you now. Come on."
**********
And now, Part 9:
The barn was cooler than the house, but considerably warmer than the outer world. The six Irig cows were each in their stalls, and the heat of their bodies warmed the barn, aiding the four small electric heaters that graced the walls. A pair of cats looked up from warm nests they had burrowed in the hay, and from somewhere, Clark could hear the faint cluck of a drowsy chicken.
"I got it in the back," Wayne said. "Didn't want nobody to see it before I showed you."
"What is it?" Clark asked.
"It's a rock -- actually a crystal. Never seen anything like it," Irig said. "Green color, and it glows in the dark. Eerie thing." He looked sideways at Clark. "Figured you were the one to talk to about it."
"Oh?"
"Yeah." Wayne stopped, looking slowly around the dimly lit barn, and then reached up to pull on a cord that dangled from above. An unshaded lightbulb sprang to life, and he switched off his flashlight. "I remember the first time I saw you. Martha and Jonathan were awful proud of you. I remember thinkin' then that you didn't look much like either one of 'em, but I figured it wasn't none o' my business." The old man smiled briefly. "Sometimes it's better for everybody else if'n you just keep your mouth shut.
"Anyway, a couple o' days later these men came around. You remember those guys you and your partner reported on a few weeks ago -- the Bureau 39 people. I recognized the drawin' of that one guy that was their leader. I'd never forget him. He came around here, lookin' for somethin' he said was a crashed chunk of satellite. Practically accused me of lyin' when I said I didn't know nothin' about it. He tore up one of my fields, lookin' for the thing and then told me not to tell anybody, or else. Name was Trask. Jason Trask." Wayne shook his head. "The guy scared me. There was something about him -- a kind of look in his eyes, I think. Mean. I never told anybody, 'til now. Figure he can't do much to me from federal prison." The old man gave another dry smile.
"He can't," Clark said. "Don't worry about that."
"I ain't worryin'. But it made me think a bit. Put some pieces together. 'Specially after you printed that stuff about that bunch huntin' UFOs. That's what they were doin' when they were here, wasn't it?"
"Probably," Clark said, keeping his voice neutral.
"I figured. They came after this Superman guy your partner wrote about. Thought he was some kinda invader."
"He isn't," Clark said, a little too quickly.
"I know that," Irig said, placidly. "I usta know you pretty well, Clark. You know, you still don't look a bit like Martha or Jonathan. You got brown eyes, too, an' their eyes are blue. I seem to remember in school somethin' about that, but that still ain't any affair o' mine. But I remember when you didn't usta wear glasses. You were a good-lookin' kid. I figgered you'd be a real lady killer in a few years. You weren't, though." Irig nodded at his glasses. "But I got a real good memory for faces. Especially when I saw that picture o' that Superman guy in your paper." He started forward again. "Anyway, after I found this crystal stuff, I decided that the person I oughtta tell was you. Mebbe you got some idea what it is, because I ain't ever seen anything like it before, an' the last people I want to see get hold of anything that might have somethin' to do with that thing back in 1966 is somebody like Trask or his buddies."
Clark mentally told his heart to stop racing. He'd always suspected his crusty neighbor was a lot smarter than he let on, and what Irig was saying now confirmed it. "Wayne --"
The farmer shook his head. "Don't tell me nothin'," he said. "If'n I don't know for sure, I can't give nothin' away. You were always a good kid. I figure that hasn't changed."
Clark smiled a little. "Thanks for your faith in me," he said. "Superman would appreciate it, too, I'm sure."
"Umph." Irig led the way toward the back of the barn and opened a small wooden door, then reached around the frame, and a light bulb came on. The room was small and cluttered with various items, from a rake and shovel leaning against one corner, a stack of hay bales, an ancient engine block that probably had been sitting in the same place for half a century, and various farming implements hanging from the walls. A pile of wood lay against the bales of hay, a radio sat on a shoulder-high shelf, and Clark could hear occasional crackles among the wood and hay -- probably a few mice that had taken up residence in the barn, he thought.
A metal tool chest sat on the shelf and Irig picked it up.
"I put it in here," he said. "Didn't want nobody gettin' curious about it before I could show it to you." He removed a key ring from his pocket and selected one of the keys.
The padlock clicked smoothly open with well-oiled ease and Wayne removed it carefully. He fumbled with the latch for an instant and opened the lid. From within the box, a pale green luminescence became visible.
Pain lanced through his gut. Clark doubled over and a groan was wrenched from him.
Wayne Irig turned toward him in surprise. Clark dropped to his knees, unable to stay on his feet.
"Clark? What's the matter?" He barely heard Wayne's voice through the sudden ringing in his ears and tried to answer, but his voice wouldn't come. The last memory he had was of the floor coming up to meet him.
**********
The waltz had finished. Lois and Pete retreated from the dance floor and Pete glanced around. "I don't see Clark."
"Uh--" Lois hesitated, wondering if she should say anything. "He went to check on something."
"Oh?" Pete raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me the intrepid team of Lane and Kent is on the trail of a story."
"Well -- maybe," Lois said. "We got a lead earlier today, but it might have turned out to be nothing. Lots of them do, you know."
Pete was frowning a little. "From what I've seen of your work, you tend to investigate big-time crime. What would interest Lane and Kent in little old Smallville?"
"We don't always investigate big-time crime," Lois said, trying not to seem defensive. "Clark's good at the touchy-feely pieces, too. Better than I am, actually."
"True," Pete said. He glanced sideways at her. "What was it?"
"We weren't sure," Lois said honestly. "That's what Clark is checking out."
"Oh." He didn't answer but he eyed her thoughtfully. Lois suppressed the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. Pete Ross couldn't be stupid, she was sure -- no more so than William Henderson in Metropolis. She hoped Clark would get back quickly.
But Pete smiled crookedly. "Clark wouldn't appreciate it if I stuck my nose in his business," he said unexpectedly. "I've noticed when it comes to investigations, he can pretty well take care of himself."
"Yeah," Lois said. She glanced around at the touch of a hand on her shoulder. Jonathan Kent stood there. He looked quickly at Pete Ross.
"I hate to interrupt," he said, "but do you mind if I steal Lois, Pete?"
Pete grinned. "No problem," he said. He smiled at Lois. "I hope I see you again," he said. "If you and Clark stay partners, I probably will."
"Then you will," Lois said. She yielded to the insistent pull of Jonathan's hand, tugging her toward the exit.
"What is it?" she asked, as soon as they were out of earshot.
"Wayne Irig called Martha," he said tersely. "Something's wrong at the Irig place -- with Clark."
Lois experienced the feeling of her heart dropping into her shoes. "What is it?"
"Wayne didn't say. He just said there was a problem. We're headed over there now."
"I'm coming along." She hesitated. "What about Jack and Denny?"
"We'll drop them off at the farm on the way past. Grab your coat."
Lois quickly located her coat on one of the hooks in the entranceway. Jonathan pushed the outer door open and Lois felt the sting of tiny flakes brushing her face. Martha had apparently gone for the truck while Jonathan was fetching Lois, and was waiting for them, Denny beside her in the cab and Jack sitting in the bed of the truck, a heavy blanket wrapped around him.
Jonathan gave her a nudge. "Get in the cab," he said. "I'll climb in the back."
Lois started to protest and then obeyed as Jonathan climbed determinedly into the bed of the pickup. Martha put the truck in gear and they pulled away from the Smallville community center and the Christmas party, leaving behind a spray of muddy snow.
Sitting beside Lois, Denny yawned widely. Lois glanced at Martha. "What did Mr. Irig say?" she asked.
Martha shook her head. "He just said something was wrong with Clark and we needed to come right away."
What could possibly be wrong with Clark? He was Superman!
But something in Shuster's Field had affected him, two weeks ago, Lois thought abruptly, so Superman could be hurt, and the Irig farm wasn't all that far from Shuster's Field. She shut her lips together and silently urged the truck to greater speed.
The Kent farm was about ten miles from Smallville. They dropped Jack and Denny at the gate, Jonathan climbed into the cab, and Martha turned the truck toward the Irig place. With the boys no longer in the truck, Martha put her foot down and Lois gritted her teeth as the truck bounced and jolted over the rough spots on the country road. A mile down the way, Martha swung right onto the snowy, rutted dirt track that led to the Irig farm.
Lois glanced at her watch. It had been seventeen minutes since they had pulled out of the parking lot at the Christmas party.
Martha brought the truck to a sliding stop in the snowy patch of dirt in front of the Irig farm and cut the engine before they had come to a full halt. Lois scrambled out of the cab on Jonathan's heels and half-ran toward the front porch of the building. The door came open as Lois's foot hit the wooden step and Wayne Irig's face looked out.
"What's the matter with Clark?" Lois demanded.
Irig opened the door wider. "Come on in," he said. "Clark's in the kitchen. He ain't feelin' so good."
Clark was sitting at the kitchen table, his face resting in one hand, but he lifted his head and tried to straighten up as Lois entered the room. The overhead light illuminated his face, and Lois could see that his complexion was alarmingly pale.
She hurried to the table. "What happened?" she demanded. "Clark, are you all right?"
Martha and Jonathan followed on her heels, and Lois heard Clark's mother suck in her breath sharply.
"I'm okay -- I think," Clark said.
Lois looked helplessly at Martha Kent. Clark's mother had hurried to the table and now rested a hand against his face. "Honey; you're burning up!"
Lois ventured to put a palm against his forehead and nearly jerked her hand back at the temperature. Surely, no ordinary person could be that warm! What could possibly have happened?
Jonathan looked levelly at Irig. "I think you better give us the whole story," he said.
Martha had gone to the cupboard to get a glass, and now was filling it from the faucet. "Here, honey, drink some water," she urged.
Shakily, he obeyed. "Wayne wanted to show me something he found," he half-whispered. He cleared his throat. "A crystal."
Lois swallowed and looked quickly at Wayne Irig. "A crystal?" she said. "What kind of crystal?"
Irig dropped into the chair across from Clark, looking tired. "That last snowstorm," he said. "It blew down the big tree out back. After the thaw last week, I found this thing -- weird-lookin' green crystal -- that musta come up with it. I never saw anything like it. I figured Clark was the one to tell about it."
"He'd guessed about me," Clark said.
Jonathan gave his neighbor a sharp look, but said nothing. It was Martha who spoke. "Never mind that. What happened?"
"I showed it to Clark," Irig said. "He passed out. I figured somethin' about the thing musta done it and shut it back up in the tool box."
"I want to see this stuff," Lois said, grimly. "If there's more of it in Shuster's Field --" She looked back at Clark. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I think so," Clark said uncertainly. "Except --"
"Never mind," Martha said determinedly. "I want to get you home and into bed. You'll feel better in the morning."
"Where is this crystal?" Lois insisted. "If this is the stuff that can hurt Clark, we need to know what it is."
Clark gave a faint laugh. "Show it to her," he told Irig. "She's right."
The old farmer looked dubious. "I'm not sure I oughtta open the box again," he said.
"It's out in the barn." Clark took another drink of water. "I think I'm probably safe here. Just make it a quick look."
Irig heaved himself to his feet. "Okay. But after she's seen it, I'm gonna dump it down that old dry well out back. Well's a hazard anyway. Might as well fill it in now before one of the livestock falls in it or somethin'." He cast another worried look at Clark. "You sure you're gonna be all right?"
"Go on," Martha said. "Hurry up, Wayne. Jonathan and I will help Clark out to the truck in the meantime."
**********
Lois pulled her coat more tightly around her as she stepped outside with Wayne Irig. The old farmer's weathered, lined face gave no clue to his thoughts, but Lois could guess what they might be.
"It wasn't your fault," she said suddenly. "You had no reason to think this crystal might be harmful to Clark."
Irig shrugged. "Well, now I do," he said. He glanced sideways at her. "What about Shuster's Field?"
So he'd picked up on that. "Clark took me there a few weeks ago," Lois said. "To show me where Jonathan and Martha found him. When we got close to it, he started to feel sick, but we didn't have any idea why. He's stayed away from it ever since."
Irig grunted. "Small wonder. Now I ain't surprised Jonathan's started puttin' his stud bull in the field."
"Yeah," Lois said, a little uncomfortably.
"I wouldn't leave it that way for long, though," Irig said. "Might be a good idea to go in there with metal detectors or something, come spring -- see if you can clear whatever it is out."
"We'd already thought of that," Lois said. She glanced sideways at the farmer. "You're a good friend of the Kents."
"Known 'em for forty years," Irig said.
Lois nodded. "Clark said you were," she said. "Maybe I should tell you, Clark and I are engaged to be married. He was going to tell you, but it's a secret for now -- until we finish an investigation in Metropolis."
"Mm." The older man nodded briefly. "That makes me feel better. In here, now." He pulled open the battered side door of the barn and let her enter ahead of him.
There was a distinct animal smell in the barn. Irig closed the door behind him and reached up to pull on a string that dangled from above. The warm, yellow light of an unshaded bulb illuminated the room.
Several stalls held the Irig dairy cows, and she became aware of the needle-like cries of a litter of kittens from the loft, followed by silence. A black-and-white cat appeared from somewhere, to strop against Irig's leg, and he stooped to pat the animal on the head.
"This way," he said shortly, and led the way toward the rear of the barn.
The tool chest sat on a battered work bench, a padlock lying beside it, and the farmer went to it without comment. "This is it. I'm gonna make this fast, just in case. Ready?"
Lois nodded.
Irig opened the box.
Lois wasn't sure what to expect, even after the description she had heard but what she saw made her draw in her breath.
The thing was a chunk of rock of some kind, and from it sprouted several crystals, each glowing with an inner green fire. She stepped back from them, almost instinctively, and Irig closed the lid, cutting off the light.
"I've never seen anything like those things before," Lois said. "They can't be from here."
"Yeah," Irig said. He carefully locked the chest with the padlock and picked it up. "I'm gonna dump it down the well right now. Mebbe throw some junk on top of it, and tomorra I'll fill it with dirt."
"If anybody asks," Lois suggested, "you could say one of your chickens fell down it, or something."
"Might do that." Irig led the way from the room without further comment. When Lois climbed into the pickup truck minutes later, she could still hear in her mind the muffled clunk of the toolbox against the stones and junk at the bottom of the dry well. Irig had heaved several branches, a rock, and a broken saw down after it and covered the opening with an ancient board. "That'll do 'til tomorra," he said with his typical brevity. "Around this way. Jonathan's already got the motor runnin'."
"I'll get in the back," Lois said, but Jonathan vetoed the offer.
"Get in. You and Martha are skinny enough, and Clark's not exactly fat. It'll be a tight fit, but it isn't a long trip."
Lois looked dubiously at the confined space, but decided not to argue. Clark's pale face was enough to quell her instinctive protest. She squeezed in beside Clark's mother and Wayne Irig slammed the door.
Jonathan was right, of course. The cab of the truck was extremely snug but it was only a few minutes before they pulled into the open space before the Kent farmhouse and Jonathan cut the engine.
Clark was able to help himself somewhat, although he leaned heavily on Lois and Jonathan. The short trip up the front step and into the house was accomplished quickly, and Martha hurried to the kitchen to look through the back window.
"Jack and Denny are taking care of the animals," she said, returning to the living room, where Lois and Jonathan had settled Clark on the sofa. "The light's on in the barn." She turned to Lois. "What did you see? What did Wayne show you?"
Lois had seated herself beside Clark and had taken his hand.
"How are you?" she asked anxiously.
Clark had leaned back against the cushions of the sofa and closed his eyes, but now he opened them to look at her.
"I feel better," he said. "I think I feel better -- but my powers are gone."
"I figured that," Lois said practically. The last thing Clark needed now, she told herself firmly, was a bunch of female hysterics. "I want you to lie down and rest. Whatever that stuff was, it must have hit you like a sledgehammer."
Clark gave a ghost of a smile. "That's a good description. What was it?"
"Didn't you see it?"
He shook his head. "No. All I saw was a green glow, coming from the chest. Then I was lying on the floor and Wayne was waving a rag soaked with ammonia under my nose. What did you see?"
Lois described the thing that Wayne Irig had shown her. "It wasn't like anything I've ever seen before," she added. "I don't think it was from Earth."
"Probably not," Clark said. "It might be the same stuff that's in Shuster's Field. It seems likely."
"Maybe a meteorite," Lois said. "Maybe several."
"Maybe," Clark agreed.
"Whatever it is," Martha said, "it's poisonous to you. You're not to go near Shuster's Field again until we find it and get rid of it."
The kitchen door banged shut as Jack and Denny entered, and they heard the heavy inner door close a second later. Martha held a finger to her lips.
Jack appeared in the entryway from the kitchen, pulling off his hat and coat. "Animals are okay," he said. "I fed the cat, too. Some of the kittens are starting to open their eyes. You okay, Clark?"
"Yeah. Thanks," Clark said, a little uncomfortably.
"What happened?" Denny asked, appearing behind Jack. He had removed his jacket, and now he dragged the knitted hat off his head. His hair was standing up crookedly on his head and he smoothed it with one hand.
"Uh -- allergies," Jonathan said. "Clark's allergic to Wayne's dog."
Jack's eyebrows went up. "Dog?" he said.
"That's right." The look Martha shot her husband could have killed at thirty feet. "He's got an Afghan Hound that Clark's allergic to."
"It nearly put him in the hospital last year," Jonathan added. "Asthma. Clark has to be real careful about long-haired dogs."
"Huh!" Jack said. "But you're okay now?"
Clark nodded. "Wayne kind of panicked," he said. "He called Mom when I got sick. I'll be all right now that I'm away from the -- dog."
"That's good," Jack said.
"It's late," Martha said. "You and Denny hang up your things and go upstairs and get ready for bed. Tomorrow's Christmas, remember."
Jack nodded. "Sure," he said. "Come on, Den."
"You *sure* you're okay, Mr. Kent?" Denny asked, anxiously. "Your face looks kinda green -- the way Jack looks when he gets carsick."
"Clark will be fine by tomorrow," Martha said firmly. "You boys were real good, taking care of the animals like that, but Santa can't come 'til everyone's in bed, so scoot."
Jack gave her a pained look but said nothing as he and Denny ascended the stairs.
Martha got to her feet. "I'll get your sleeping things, Clark," she said. "You sit still. Your dad can help you get changed."
"Mom, I'm not that bad off," Clark protested. "I'm really starting to feel better."
Martha gave him a skeptical look, but didn't argue. After several seconds, Jonathan got to his feet. "I think I'll double-check what the boys did," he said. "Just to be sure everything's okay."
Lois thought Clark looked slightly relieved as his parents departed on their respective errands, as if he was unused to people making a fuss over him. She smiled and squeezed his hand. "Sorry," she said softly. "We just want you to be all right. I'm allowed to worry about you, you know. I'm going to marry you, and it's in the contract. In the fine print."
Clark gave a soft laugh. "You win. But are you sure you don't want to change your mind, after all this?"
"Not on your life," Lois said. "I told you that once I agreed to marry you, you'd never get rid of me. Come on. I'll just give you a shoulder to lean on to the bathroom, so you can change in private."
**********
tbc
