A black vintage car makes its way down the rural highway about 90 miles outside of Metropolis. The highway is empty other than the lone car, but the young man behind the wheel doesn’t seem to mind. In fact he preferred to travel the rural routes to avoid crowds, and the authority figures that go with that. But as it neared 2 am, the entire area looked deserted.
The man behind the wheel of the car looked like any normal young man in his mid-twenties, but the fact is he is far from ordinary. The word most used to describe him by those that knew the truth about him was: extraordinary. Well the nice word anyways, there was probably a hundred not so nice ones that was said way more often.
The young man’s eyes didn’t reflect his normal persona. They were the eyes of someone who had seen way too much pain and suffering in life. As Clark thinks about the pain he had suffered over the years, he had to wonder just how his life had gone the way it had. How one tiny baby that had been born on another planet, sent to earth, and found his way to where he is now.
His birth parents must have been extraordinary people. They'd sent him to Earth to save his life right before their world was destroyed. He had been fortunate enough to have been found and raised by farmers from Kansas. They'd treated him as their own son. His adopted parents had showed him that blood ties didn’t matter; all that really mattered was love. And they had given him plenty. And for the first twelve years of his life, Clark had been a happy child; surrounded by love and unconditional acceptance.
That is until Black Tuesday. That was the day he had been ripped from his life, from his home.
A couple had shown up that day claiming to be his parents. They'd told the Kents that Clark had been kidnapped from his playpen one day, and they only wanted him back. There had been paperwork - a birth certificate, pictures of his birth. It had been excruciating for the Kents to let him go. He'd begged them not to give him up, but what choice was there? They'd contacted a lawyer and the paperwork had been verified. Clark said good-bye to his parents and was carted off to hell.
Those people had not been his natural parents, of course. They'd been from a secret organization of the military that tracked alien activity on the planet. They'd known exactly who he was. He'd been studied and analyzed, his body tortured in the name of science and humanity.
At a point that the experiments reached its peak, Clark had contemplated putting an end to it all. He knew the lab had a substance that was potentially fatal to him, though it seemed to have no effect on the others in the lab. But he knew his death would only be the beginning of the torment of his body. The scientists would dissect him, trying to find out how his powers worked.
It was during the years of his personal hell, he had been given a reason to live; or more precisely three reasons to live: the small people in the backseat in the car. As he had that thought, Clark glanced in the backseat of the car. Three small children are sleeping in the backseat.
His son, Dean, is seven years old. The resemblance between father and son was undeniable: same dark curls, the same deep brown eyes that reflected that they had seen too much pain and suffering in life.
His oldest daughter, Lara, is five years old. She looks like the globe’s images of his mother; long dark brown locks fall freely down her back. She had the same brown eyes as her father and brother, but the hopeful light for good in them still burned.
Then there’s little Kayla, his youngest, is just barely four. She was the family’s ray of sunshine; as her childhood innocence hadn’t been damaged in the name of science. Her face and hair color was the same as her older sister’s; but the curls were entirely her own.
Just before they had left the lab, Clark had used his x-ray vision to scan their files. Clark knows that all the scientists think that Lara and Kayla are genetically one person; with every chromosome being the same. And they had planned to test if they reacted as two halves of a whole. But Clark knew they were really two different individuals. Their DNA might be the same, but they acted like normal sisters that age would act like.
Clark knew that the scientists had really used his DNA to create his children. For reasons he was unsure of, the scientists had allowed Clark to see the children. They had even been allowed to stay with him in his cell. The scientists probably wanted to see how the children would affect him, and study the interactions they had with each other. But what they hadn’t counted on were the bonds that the four of them would form. As unconventional as it is, the four of them became a family.
And it was when his children were starting to be experimented on that caused Clark to take his own actions. He had personally torn down the lab with his own bare hands; taken his children and fled. While he made sure no one was caught in the rubble, Clark’s message was clear: he was too strong to be kept prisoner anymore; and he was taking what he firmly believed rightfully belonged to him.
That was six months ago.
At first they stayed out of the United States, but they had returned to the states just three months ago and are trying to blend in; hence the use of a car instead of flying. Clark had taken to working any job he could find that would give him cash that couldn’t be traced and would put food on the table or gas in the tank. Clark knew that the children had more opportunity in the United States, and hoped that one day they would be able to live normal lives. His deepest wish is for them to be able to go to a real school one day and to have friends that weren’t each other.
Seeing a rest area ahead, Clark eased the car off the highway. Pulling into the overnight lot, Clark parks the car on the far side of the lot. He cracks the front windows, so the car wouldn’t get stuffy.
Getting out of the car, Clark goes to the trunk and took out one of the bags stashed in there. Clark then opened the back door and leaned inside. Opening the bag, he takes out the queen sized blanket that’s on top; he tossed it over all three of the kids before gently tucking them in. Clark also manages to work in a couple pillows for the kids. Clark then returned to the front seat, and took out a blanket and pillow of his own. Stretching out as much as the bench seat would allow him to, Clark plans on trying to get a few hours’ sleep before they have to get back on the road again.
Before Clark could go to sleep however, a small voice above him caught his attention. Looking up, Clark sees the curly head of his youngest peaking over the seat.
“Daddy, is it ok?” Kayla asks. Clark knows that she is more intuitive than other four year olds; so he knows what Kayla’s question really means: “Is it safe to sleep, or should they still be running from the government?”
“It’s going to be, Baby. Want to sleep up here with me?” Clark asks. And getting a nod from, Kayla before she clambered over the seat with all the grace of a newborn colt; narrowly missing kicking her brother.
Clark noticed that even though neither of his older children had moved, Dean had cracked open an eye as he felt his sister leave the back seat. Always the protective older brother; Dean had an almost frightening tendency to put his sisters’ welfare before his own. And Clark feared that one day it would cost his son his life.
As Kayla snuggled into his chest, Clark sent up a silent prayer to any deity that could hear him: to protect his kids, and help them have a good life. Bending his head, Clark plants a gentle kiss in the dark curls of his youngest; before closing his eyes and let the sounds of the crickets lull him to sleep.
