Something was definitely wrong.
Shadbolt slapped his coffee on the table and lurched from his seat.
He opened the cell door and strode towards the unmoving figure. After kicking one of the rods out of the way, he crouched behind the prisoner.
He grasped the blanket and drew it back.
"AGGGGHHHHHHH!"
Part 3
Shadbolt jolted backwards, his heart hammering, his brain reeling. He spread his hand across his mouth, his fingers and thumb pressing deeply into his cheeks as he braced himself to look again. It was still there - the bony deadpan face of a skeleton surrounded by a shock of dark hair.
Shadbolt's hand dropped, and a string of expletives erupted from his mouth.
Almost a minute had passed before he regained enough equanimity to crouch low and grasp the corner of the blanket. He lifted it, revealing the length of the 'body'. He could see foot bones poking out from the bottom of the coveralls and hand bones from the sleeves.
Shadbolt replaced the blanket. He stepped back, pegged his hands on his hips, and slowly shook his head.
Surely not.
She couldn't have ...
But the alternative was that the prisoner had attacked Lois, and if that was what had happened, how had he managed to set up this? How had he managed to procure a skeleton? And coveralls?
This could not have been done without help.
Who?
It could *not* have been Longford.
Scardino?
No. He hadn't shown a scrap of interest in this operation in two years.
If anyone had engineered the escape of the prisoner, it had to be Lois Lane.
What now?
If she were in any danger, he needed to notify Scardino.
But this was bigger than just Lois's safety.
An alien - an accused killer - was loose.
For over three decades, Shadbolt's job had been to gather information to assist in the protection of the citizens of the United States.
He turned from the skeleton and hurried across the cell. He passed through the staffroom and climbed the stairs. At the top, he inserted his pick into the lock of Lois's office. It gave easily, and he pushed open the door and switched on the light.
Shadbolt ran his eyes over the bizarre collection of things that covered her desk and then stopped suddenly. *Two* racquets. Not one, but two.
He stepped up to her desk and rustled through it. There was a large mirror, a tin of white paint, half a bag of small nails, several off-cuts of lumber, a hammer, a saw, one tennis ball, a video tape of the movie Beethoven, and a jigsaw puzzle box.
Shadbolt picked up the box and opened it. Chunks of pieces were still hanging together - as if it had been pulled apart in haste.
This box had been in the cell. One of the racquets had been in the cell. He'd seen them in there. Both were too big to fit through the pet door. Someone had opened the main door.
If the prisoner had kidnapped Lois, would he have taken the time to pull apart a jigsaw puzzle and return it to her office?
Shadbolt took the telephone directory from her desk and looked up 'sewing machines'.
He found the number of the store in the arcade off Westborough Street and punched it into his cell phone. It was after eight o'clock. Hopefully someone would be in the store to answer the phone.
While the call connected, he returned the directory and left Lois's office. He locked the door, and half-way down the stairs, his call was answered.
"Janelle's Sewing Store," came a female voice.
"Could I speak with Angus, please?" Shadbolt asked.
"Angus?"
"Yes. He repaired a Pfaff machine two days ago."
"Sorry," she said. "You must have the wrong store. No one called Angus works here."
"You don't have a contractor? Anyone?"
"No. All repairs are done by Janelle and her husband, Steve."
"OK. Thanks."
In the staffroom, Shadbolt slumped into the chair, took a gulp of his tepid coffee, and stared at his cell phone.
He should call Lois.
If she answered, he would know she was all right.
But if she'd done the unthinkable, she wouldn't answer.
Shadbolt thumbed in her number and wasn't surprised when the recorded message told him that her cell was either out of range or turned off.
Could it be possible that she was unaware of this development?
No, he decided. From what he knew about Lois Lane, very little happened in her operation that escaped her attention.
The hair on the skeleton looked like the alien's hair. That meant someone had cut it. Shadbolt's eyes fell on the pet door. Had the real reason for its installation been so that he and Longford wouldn't notice what was happening in the cell?
A haircut.
Had Lois given him scissors?
Or had she cut his hair?
Either way, it showed that she trusted him.
Who had made the wig?
Regardless of who had made the wig, someone other than the prisoner had obtained the swimming cap.
The tennis racquet and the jigsaw puzzle could be attributed to trying to alleviate boredom, but there was no valid reason for a swim cap in a room with neither a shower nor a pool.
Shadbolt knew Lois had been into the cell. She'd said that Moyne had pushed her in, and perhaps he had. But she'd been adamant that the prisoner hadn't hurt her.
She didn't believe that the prisoner had killed Deller and Bortolotto.
Was Lois Lane the sort of person who could see injustice and accept it? Or would she try to do something about it?
Shadbolt knew the answer.
She would try to repair the unrepairable.
Just like with Layla's sewing machine.
Shadbolt shook his head.
He'd lost his touch.
Seven years of babysitting a ... a ... a whatever he was ... had blunted his ability to see beyond the obvious.
Lois Lane had been working *with* the prisoner almost from the start of her time in this operation. Had she been placed here - by Scardino or someone higher - to free the captive? Now that Trask was dead, was that how they had decided to terminate the operation?
Or had she acted of her own volition?
Either way, she'd had plenty of opportunity to reassess her involvement with the prisoner. She could have gone to Scardino, or higher, if she'd had any concerns about her safety. If she were with the prisoner now, it had to be because she'd chosen to be.
Should he call Scardino?
If Lois had done this on Scardino's orders, Scardino didn't need to be told.
If Lois had done this on the orders of someone higher than Scardino, that was good enough reason to leave him out of it.
But if she had done this without the approval of anyone, what she needed most was time.
For now, Shadbolt decided, he should make himself another cup of coffee and wait to see what happened next.
||_||
"What would you like for breakfast?" Lois asked.
"I don't want to go in anywhere," Clark replied.
"That's fine. I'll get us something and bring it to the car. We'll stop at the next diner."
"Thanks."
They had driven for over an hour as the sky behind them had slowly lightened. Lois had made occasional remarks about the passing scenery. Clark had stared out of the window, but if he saw anything that elicited his interest, he didn't comment.
She wondered whether he was actively observing or whether his mind was so preoccupied with introspection that there was no room to process what was happening around him.
Since leaving the motel, he hadn't inquired about either their location or their destination. Lois's plan was to get as far from Metropolis as possible. She hoped that soon ... tomorrow, maybe ... Clark would be ready to take some interest in their route.
They were heading west. And west led, eventually, to Kansas.
But Clark couldn't go home. As soon as their disappearance was discovered, the Kent farmhouse - and possibly surrounding areas - would be placed under surveillance. Soon, they were going to have to make the decision to veer north or south.
For now, she was staying on the highway. Distance was her priority. If things had gone as she hoped, no one knew they were missing yet. This afternoon, she would start to look for smaller, more remote roads.
She saw the sign for a diner and smiled across at Clark. "Let's eat, huh?"
He nodded.
"Are you hungry?"
"Do we have much money?"
"We have enough for now," Lois replied easily. "Don't worry about it."
But he was worrying; she could tell. About money. About her. About being hunted down. About assimilating into a society that had condemned him. About their future.
"What would you like to eat?" Lois asked.
"I'm not sure what they'll have."
Lois tempered her sigh, but perhaps Clark sensed something of it in her expression.
"Perhaps something hot?" he ventured.
Lois gave him a wide smile of encouragement. "I'm hungry," she said. "And I think we'll both feel better after we've eaten."
||_||
Clark sat in the car, open and exposed.
Lois had disappeared into the diner. He'd wanted to be alone. But now that he was alone, he wanted her back. She was his anchor in this daunting world.
His eyes were riveted to the door. It opened, and Clark held his breath. Two young men emerged.
Clark waited.
It opened again, and a woman and a child appeared.
The door began to swing shut, stopped, and opened again.
And there was Lois, her hands full with their breakfast. Clark watched her, torn. He should help her, but that would mean leaving the harbour of the car. He paused, and the moment was gone. He leant across the driver's seat and opened her door.
"Thanks," she said as if she hadn't noticed his inadequacy.
He took the two cups, and Lois lifted a flap from the centre console, revealing two hollow rings and a rectangular depression.
"Can you organise breakfast while I drive?" she asked.
"OK."
She put the bags of food in the pit and grinned at him. "I got you a hamburger," she announced.
A hamburger? That must be the cause of the delicious aroma that was pervading the car. "Thanks."
"I got a bagel for myself, and some cream cheese. There's a plastic knife in one of the bags. I don't take sugar in my coffee, but I got some for you." After a final smile, she pulled out of the diner and onto the road.
Clark put the two cups into the rings and opened the smaller bag. He cut the bagel in half, peeled back the top of the tub of cream cheese, and spread it over the bagel. Then he offered one half to Lois.
She glanced in his direction. "Thanks."
She drove. He handed her food and coffee. They both ate.
His hamburger - containing a thick and juicy patty with crisp lettuce and succulent tomato - tasted even better than he remembered.
And little by little, the world brightened.
When they were finished eating, Lois stopped on the side of the road.
"What's wrong?" Clark asked.
"Nothing," Lois replied as she wiped her hands and mouth on the napkin. "But there's more sun on this side of the car, so I think you should sit behind me for a while."
Clark was relieved that she hadn't suggested that he drive.
"Would you like to?"
"Yeah," Clark said. The sun would hasten his healing - and sitting in the backseat would give him some time and space to be alone with his thoughts. He opened the car door, shuffled across the back seat, and fastened the seat belt.
"All set?" Lois asked.
"Uh huh."
She pulled smoothly back onto the road, and their journey into the unknown continued.
||_||
Daniel Scardino was worried about Lois Lane.
He shouldn't have given in to her insistence that she oversee the final hours of the alien's life.
He'd been at his office since early morning, awaiting the phone call to confirm that Neville Moyne had arrived at the location of his new assignment.
Scardino had heard nothing.
And as each hour had passed, his anxiety had escalated.
There was a chance that something had befallen Moyne en route - but Scardino knew there could be many other explanations for his lack of communication.
But there was another thought that had started as little more than a vague notion and had expanded to the degree that it now filled his mind.
He'd never quite been able to dismiss the possibility that Moyne would seek revenge on Lois.
Was there any chance that he had delayed his departure in order to return to Metropolis and witness the alien's death? If Moyne was in regular contact with Menzies, there was every chance that he would know what had been ordered.
Three times, Scardino had called Lois on her cell phone - twice using her regular number and once using the secret number that was reserved for emergencies.
Every time, the response had been the same - the phone was either out of contact or turned off.
He'd come close to deserting his office phone and driving to the compound.
But Moyne - assuming he had actually gone - would have only a short window of opportunity to call as he passed through the last small town before leaving civilization to head into more isolated regions.
And Scardino had information that would be crucial to Moyne's assignment - information that hadn't been delivered until late last night.
Scardino leapt from his chair and paced the length of his office.
Why didn't Lane have her cell turned on?
And where the hell was Moyne?
||_||
Clark hadn't spoken or moved for a long time. Lois adjusted her rear-view mirror and discovered that his eyes were closed.
The sun rose higher in the sky, its rays strengthened, and Lois hoped they were rejuvenating Clark physically while sleep restored him emotionally.
It was well past midday when she left the highway as it curved through a town. She searched for a cafe near a park - somewhere quiet enough that Clark might consider leaving the car.
She found the ideal place and pulled into a parking spot. In the back seat, Clark stirred. He sat up and looked around.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"Pennsylvania," Lois replied. "Just short of the West Virginia border."
"What's the time?"
"Nearly one o'clock."
"We should get off the highway soon."
"Yeah," Lois agreed. "But we need to eat first."
Anxiety doused his expression as he peered out of the car window.
"I thought we could buy something and sit in the park to eat," Lois said nonchalantly.
Clark scanned the area.
There were only a few people in sight.
Lois held her breath.
"OK," he said.
"Great," Lois said. "I'll get us some food and drinks."
"Would ... would you like me to look for somewhere to sit?"
Lois had to restrain herself from lunging between the front seats and throwing her arms around his neck. She nodded with admirable restraint. "That would be good."
He looked outside the car again, his face filled with uncertainty.
"Clark?" Lois said.
"Uhhmm?"
"You have every right to be here. If you believe it, no one else will question it."
Clark's expression closed.
"Not everyone is like Trask," she said gently. "Relax - and no one will even notice you."
"Shall I take off the sling?"
"Good idea," Lois said. "It's always best to mix things up a bit."
He ducked his head and removed the sling.
"I'll get our lunch."
He nodded.
Lois climbed out of the car and forced herself to walk away. It felt like she was abandoning him. As she approached the cafe - without even a backward glance - she reminded herself that Clark had survived seven years of torturous imprisonment. He might feel as if his reserves of resilience were depleted, but she was sure that his innate strength and tenacity were still there.
He just had to regain some confidence in himself.
And now seemed like a good time to start.
||_||
Clark opened the door and inched out from the car. He could feel the warmth of the sun on his shoulders. His eyes flittered along the sidewalk. There were people everywhere. Two men were coming directly towards him.
They passed by - without even looking at him.
Clark stepped onto the kerb.
A woman came from the other direction. Her head turned. Her eyes fixed on him.
Clark held his breath and fought against the compelling need to shrink back into the car.
She smiled ... and continued walking.
Clark shut the door, trying to calm his thumping heart.
Around him, the cars whizzed by. Their fumes assaulted him. The noise of their engines roared through his eardrums.
About thirty yards to his right was the park - a rectangle of grass with a few trees and a strip of white ankle-high flowers. Between two of the trees was a bench. No one was using it. The park was empty.
Clark turned and walked forward, feeling the burden of a thousand pairs of eyes staring at him. He stalled a few yards from the bench. No one else seemed to be approaching it. He sat down, perched right on the end.
An elderly man with a brown and white terrier on a lead crossed the road. The dog looked at Clark; the man didn't.
On the other side of the road, a woman pushed a stroller with a small child toddling beside her. The child - a boy - tripped and almost fell. His mom stopped the stroller and bent low to him. She gave him a quick hug and a warm smile. He clasped the stroller again, and they continued.
"Good spot."
At the sound of Lois's voice, Clark looked up. She sat next to him - a wave of familiarity in an ocean of strangeness.
"I wasn't sure if you would want a cold drink or a hot one," she said. "But it was getting warm in the car, so I thought we'd start with soda."
He nodded and took the bag that she offered.
"I got you a smoked chicken and Swiss cheese melt and a side of fries."
"Thanks."
She popped the lid of her soda can. "Can I ask all of my questions and get them over with?" she said with a smile.
"OK."
"How's your shoulder?"
"Good. It feels no different from the other one."
Lois grinned happily. "You heal wonderfully well."
"The sun helped."
"How are *you* feeling?"
"I don't know."
"Better than this morning? Worse?"
"Physically, I feel better."
"That's good." Lois drank from her can, which gave Clark a moment to take a bite from his melt. "Is it all right if I ask more questions?" she asked.
Clark nodded.
"Do you know how long you will take to recover?"
"It varies. I'm probably recovered now."
"Recovered," she said. "But not 'super'?"
Super? "In the cell last week, it took about four days before I could lift off the ground. It was hard to tell, because I wasn't sure if someone was watching me, so I had to be careful."
She nodded. "But last week, you didn't have as much sun to help."
"And this time, I only had one dose of the rods."
"But it was a long dose."
Clark shook his head. "Not really."
She winced, and he saw the sympathy flood into her eyes.
"We should get off the highway," he said, wanting to change the subject. "They'll be looking for us soon."
"Do you have any thoughts about whether we go should southwest or northwest?"
"North?"
Lois nodded easily. "Any reason why?"
"I've never been north of Chicago."
Her look of surprise seemed to require an explanation.
Clark leant towards her and muttered, "Not at ground level, anyway."
Lois grinned. "North, it is then."
They ate in silence, and when the food and sodas were gone, Lois picked up the two McIntosh apples and offered him one.
"I need to stretch my legs," she said. "Would you like to come with me?"
Clark tried to control the impulse to scour the area for possible hazards. "I ..."
Lois smiled through her disappointment. "That's OK. I won't be long. You can wait in the car."
"No. I ..." A sudden vision flashed into his mind ... a vision of Lois's face as she had picked up the scalpel and placed it on his skin. Her horror had been heart-wrenchingly obvious. But she had overcome her aversion and done for him what he couldn't have done for himself. "I ... I'll come," he said.
Lois beamed. "Let's go," she said. "We can eat our apples as we walk."
Clark stood and followed Lois as she threw their trash in the can. She looked up at him with an encouraging smile.
His eyes travelled a wide semi-circle from left to right. They could walk *anywhere*. They could cross the road, they could walk through the park, they could continue ahead. His sweep finished with Lois, and her head turned to him with her ready smile.
He was so fortunate to have her.
Without her ... without her, he would be lost. Hopelessly lost.
Impulsively, he slipped his hand into hers.
She looked straight ahead and continued munching on her apple.
But he could feel her pleasure in the way her hand tightened around his.
||_||
Scardino glanced at the wall clock for about the thousandth time.
Where Moyne was, it would be late evening.
By now, it was too late for him to be able to leave the town. He would have to bunk down for the night - which meant he could try to call again if no one answered his first attempt.
Scardino had called Lane five more times, and both of her cell phones were still unavailable. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to know if she were all right.
He had to find out what was happening at the compound.
||_||
Lois's heart was singing at she strolled around the park with her hand firmly entrenched in Clark's.
She remembered the day - less than two weeks ago - when she had walked through Metropolis and her thoughts had been heavy with the appalling realisation of what imprisonment entailed for the man she was guarding.
Now, he was with her.
Judging by the slight jumpiness in his stride and the way his hand clenched reflexively every time there was a sudden noise, she guessed he wasn't actually enjoying the freedom to walk in the early afternoon sunshine. She wondered if the conglomeration of sights, sounds, and smells felt like a banquet or an assault on his senses.
She wanted to tell him how proud she was of him. She wanted to stop walking, and take him into her arms, and hold him ... to celebrate his freedom and saturate him with her optimism that this was a beginning, not an interlude.
Her hand squeezed his, and she looked up to him with a restrained smile.
His mouth didn't move, but Lois imagined she saw a tinge of relaxation in his face and the curve of his wide shoulders.
Tiny steps, she reminded herself. Tiny steps.
They had a lifetime to work at this.
||_||
By the time Scardino reached the door of the compound on Bessolo Boulevard, he had convinced himself that something had gone horribly wrong. He took out his frustration by drumming loudly on the door.
He was a fool.
He shouldn't have allowed Lois to do this alone.
If the alien had resisted ... if Lois had been hurt ... Scardino would never forgive himself.
As he reached into his pocket for his set of keys, he heard footsteps on the other side of the door and relief flooded over him.
The door opened abruptly - but it wasn't Lois who stared back, it was Shadbolt.
"Where's Ms Lane?" Scardino snapped.
"I think you should come inside," Shadbolt replied.
Scardino felt the cold drape of trepidation creep over him. "Is she all right? What happened? Why didn't you call me?"
Shadbolt stepped back and gestured for Scardino to enter.
He strode into the staffroom and fired his question before Shadbolt was completely in the room. "Where is Ms Lane?"
"I don't know."
"What? She's supposed to be here. She'd supposed to be watching the prisoner."
Shadbolt pushed open the door to the cell. "Perhaps you should look for yourself."
Scardino's eyes jerked from Shadbolt's inscrutable expression to the open doorway and back again. Something had happened. Something had gone wrong.
But if Lois had been hurt, surely Shadbolt wouldn't be standing there so passively.
Scardino stormed past Shadbolt and into the cell.
||_||
After finishing their apples and using the restrooms, Lois and Clark returned to the Buick.
"Will you be all right if I slip into a store for a few moments?" Lois asked. "I need to buy a couple of things."
"OK."
Lois handed him the keys, gave him a parting smile, and walked away.
||_||
Scardino stared at the grotesque face of the skeleton as rabid speculation blitzed his mind. He turned on Shadbolt. "Where is she?" he demanded. "What happened?"
"I don't know," Shadbolt said with exasperating calmness. "When I arrived, this is exactly what I found."
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I figured someone had ordered this. It's not my place to question the orders given to my boss."
Scardino scowled at him. "Don't give me that. You should have called me the instant you discovered that the prisoner had gone. Why didn't you?"
"I tried to call Ms Lane, but she is unavailable."
"That wasn't my question."
Shadbolt straightened his shoulders. "OK," he said. "This operation has been in your portfolio for two years. You came here for five minutes to meet us, and then we didn't see you again until you brought Ms Lane here two weeks ago."
His implication was clear - Scardino had done nothing to earn his trust.
Scardino deliberately wiped the animosity from his posture. "What do you think happened?"
Shadbolt shrugged.
"You must have some idea."
"I don't *know* anything," Shadbolt said quietly. "Anything I said would be mere conjecture."
"Do you think she has been hurt?" Scardino grated.
"No."
"You think she's OK?" Scardino asked, wanting to believe it might be possible.
"Yes, I do."
Scardino rubbed the bridge of his nose as, over his hand, he again looked at the skeleton.
"What are you going to do?" Shadbolt asked.
Scardino swept his hands through his hair and sighed deeply.
What *was* he going to do?
||_||
When Lois returned to the Buick, Clark was sitting in the front passenger seat. She slipped into the driver's seat and put her bag behind them.
Clark held out the keys, and their hands made brief contact as she took them from him. Lois pushed the key into the ignition, but didn't start the motor. She turned to Clark.
"Is anything wrong?" he asked.
"No," Lois said. "I just wanted to tell you that I realise how hard that must have been for you."
He looked discomfited by her words. "It was just lunch in a park," he said.
She smiled. This felt a little like some of their times in the cell. "Well, it might be just lunch in the park," she said lightly. "But I was impressed by your composure."
"It felt like everyone was looking at me."
Lois chuckled. "Don't worry," she said. "If anyone *was* looking at you, it wouldn't have been because they thought you were weird."
"How do you know?"
"Because if I saw you in the street, I'd look at you, too."
"Why?"
It was a genuine question - driven by the damage wreaked by years of abuse. Lois started the engine. "You're tall. You're dark. You're handsome," she stated offhandedly. "Three out of three - people are going to look at you."
As she backed out of the parking spot, she glanced surreptitiously at Clark and turned away to hide her smile.
His face was swathed in shock.
Lois said nothing. Let him stew on that for a while.
