More Arsenic and Old Lace, more traipsing back to bygone days --
Special Thanks to Laswa -- this was a difficult segment for me, somehow.
Hope you are still with me.
From part 10:
Mortimer/Clark: [To Aunt Abby/Beatrice.] You can’t do things like that. I don’t know how to explain this to you, but it’s not only against the law. It’s wrong! [To Aunt Martha/Miss Libby] It’s not a nice thing to do.
[Aunt Martha/Miss Libby stands and takes a few steps away from him.]
Mortimer/Clark: [Crosses closer to her.] People wouldn’t understand.
Miss Libby’s eyes filled with tears and she ran from the rehearsal room.
“Let’s take five,” Martha Kent told her actors, and followed Libby out of the door.
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Now here's Part 11
Butler County, Kansas
Sunday,
February 6, 1994
3:00 p.m. CST
“It wasn’t a nice thing to do,” the young Luthor said, smiling at the man in the ski mask who was counting the money that Jaxon had thrust upon him. “Mr. St. John was an old and trusted friend,” Jaxon reminded him, continuing to grin sadistically. “And last night that convenience store...”
“No, not nice at all,” the man repeated. “Good thing I was able to make bail. Working for you has proved to be very lucrative,” he said as he pocketed the money and turned to walk out of the underground granary.
“Did you complete the other assignments?” Lex’s son asked.
“Yes,” the man said turning back to look at his employer. “The next three have already been rigged--one at any moment, and the others tomorrow morning. And as arranged, I will expect final payment tomorrow night.”
“No, I think I’ll give you your final payment now.” Jaxon told him as he removed a gun from his coat and fired point blank at the man.
Jaxon leaned down and retrieved the money clasped in the dead man’s hand.
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Smallville, Kansas
Sunday,
February 6, 1994
3:10 p.m. CST
Gretchen Kelly looked at the dead man lying on the autopsy table. She unclasped his hand and retrieved the crumpled piece of paper that was in it. Resurrection, she read. Gretchen tore the paper into several strips and hurled it into the nearby wastebasket.
Dr. Kelly signed the file she had just completed. She smiled as she read it once again. Deceased: Nigel St. John, Caucasian, Male, age 54. Date and time of death: February 6th, 2:00 p.m. Cause of death: Botulism Poisoning
Gretchen placed the file on top of several others. She glanced briefly at the names and causes of death indicated on the tabs of each of the manila files. She had recently ruled Antoinette Baines’ death an accident and had been on tap to announce Barb Friskin’s death as a suicide.
She had done exactly what Lex, the love of her life, expected of her; and Dr. Kelly was happily anticipating spending the night with him at his new apartment. Thank goodness they didn’t have to meet at the abandoned farmhouse any longer. Lex was now ensconced as Richard Thurston, and as such, he would soon put an end to the Smallville Players, then he was going to be all hers.
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Smallville, Kansas
Sunday,
February 6, 1994
3:10 p.m. CST
The actors watched as Libby Barton ran from the room. Martha signaled to the rest of the cast to remain where they were while she rushed after Libby.
Clark stood quiet for a moment, and then closed his script and returned to sit next to Lois who was attempting to memorize the next scene she was in.
Lois watched as Clark walked toward her. She thought about getting up and going somewhere, anywhere, but just remained silent and closed her eyes shutting everything out. Life was becoming difficult and she felt that she was being pulled in so many directions at the same time.
She was a teacher, and an exceptionally good one. But recently she seemed distracted. Yet, why wouldn’t she be? She was engaged to be married to a superhero and their lives were anything but simple. And then most of her spare time had to be devoted to the play. Thank goodness she didn’t have that big of a role. It just felt like...like the separation between life on stage and off was losing its definition. The two worlds were colliding head on.
Elaine Harper, the character she was playing, was madly in love, which Lois totally understood. Elaine was smart and somewhat sophisticated for a minister’s daughter of 1938 and yet...and yet...Elaine wasn’t sure what was happening around her. She was unable to discern that trouble was brewing and put her faith in simplistic answers. Elaine almost was childlike in her ability to judge people and required “looking after”. Had Lois herself fallen prey to that subservient role? Had her real life become one where she needed to be “looked after”?
Lois sighed. Last night *had* been a roller coaster ride. First there had been the robbery at Mrs. G’s convenience store. The thief had brandished a gun at the two frightened women. Lois bit her lower lip as she remembered the incident and how close she had come to being killed when Richard Thurston entered the store. The nervous gunman fired and Richard jumped in front of the bullet meant for her and saved her life.
A few moments after the gunshot had rung out, Clark, as Superman, arrived on the scene and while he captured the robber who had bolted out of the door, Lois had encouraged Richard to come back to her place so that she could bandage his hand. She owed him that much, at least. Clark had shown slight irritation at her decision, but she had dismissed it.
Once at Lois’ the two had decided to use the time to go over one of their scenes together. Maybe it *was* a silly thing to do. But perhaps it was a way to relieve the situation--perhaps it was a means of escaping the reality and hiding in a fantasy for awhile--but Lois had inwardly thanked Richard for his consideration and suggesting this method of defusing the tension.
The scene demanded Richard as the prodigal brother, Jonathan Brewster, to be menacing to Lois who as Elaine Harper had found herself face to face with this monstrous looking man who had a fondness for murder. Richard played his role extremely well and Lois had no trouble gasping and screaming as he approached her.
Clark’s second attempt to save her that night was as unsuccessful as the first. He had burst in like a bull in a china shop and just as untactfully had insinuated that she and Richard were...were....
Lois thought back at how angry she had become and how she had lashed out at Clark. Maybe it was the situation, maybe she was just exhausted, maybe it was the deaths of the people she knew and her own second brush with death. Maybe it was everything rolled into one, but she had said things she wished she hadn’t. Yes, they had made up but...then....
Lois closed the script she was really not reading and wondered about Libby and Martha. Clark was using this time to grade a few papers he had brought with him to work on in between scenes. Clark never needed the time to go over lines. He only needed to glance at them a few times, run the scene once or twice and he was able to commit everything to memory. Superpowers did have its up side. But it also had its down side.
Lois looked at Clark who reached out to take her hand. She got up and walked toward the window and looked out at the night sky.
Richard watched the lack of exchange and smiled. He thought back to the night before. Saturday had gone just as he had planned it. It was the beginning of the end.
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Smallville, Kansas
Saturday,
February 5, 1994
9:20 p.m. CST
Right after the somewhat heated exchange between Lois and Clark that night, Richard Thurston walked away from Lois Lane’s house and returned to the convenience store where he had parked his car. He had successfully planted the first seed of doubt--the seminal occurrence that would lead to the demise of Lois and Clark’s engagement and eventually to the finale of the Smallville Players. He and he alone was going to ring down the final curtain on these amateurish dilettantes--on these nonentities, these silly ciphers. How dare any of them, whether in fact or fiction plot against him, dismiss his power, attempt to end his life.
Lex Luthor was put on this earth to reign supreme. Nothing could ever stop him.
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Smallville, Kansas
Saturday,
February 5, 1994
9:20 p.m. CST
Miss Libby Barton was using Saturday night to go over the lines for Sunday’s rehearsal. She said her line out loud.
Aunt Martha/Miss Libby: Abby, what *are* we going to do?
Libby stopped and decided to try the line again with a different inflection.
Aunt Martha/Miss Libby: Abby, What are we going to *do*?
That was better. Libby looked at Aunt Abby’s response.
Aunt Abby: Well, we’re not going to let them stay more than one night in this house for one thing. What would the neighbors think? People coming in here with one face and going out with another.
Libby closed her eyes and began her next line.
Aunt Martha/Miss Libby: I will not let Jonathan....
Miss Libby Barton stopped suddenly. Her script fell to the floor.
She looked at the book lying open to the pages of that scene. Reminiscences were hitting her. Almost sixty years before her uncle had walked through a door with a new face to cover his villainy--a new face to conceal...murders.
There were murders here now. But who would want to hide, to conceal? Oh!!!! “Jonathan Brewster....Richard....Lex!!!!” she exclaimed.
**********
Lex drove away from the convenience store. If he calculated correctly, Nigel St. John was just hanging up from his follow-up phone conversation with Mayson, the conversation he, Lex, had written. “Mayson,” he spit the name out. “Not much longer, you female miscreant--you disloyal siren,” he protested. “But first I need you. And before you, we lose Nigel.”
Lex was sorry to eradicate such a faithful factotum especially when he carried out his assignments so proficiently. But there had to be no loose ends.
Richard Thurston looked at his watch. At this point, Mayson would be making a telephone call--a call encouraged...maybe too dulcet a term. Ah! A call manipulated by Nigel, he corrected.
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Smallville, Kansas
Saturday,
February 5, 1994
9:20 p.m. CST
“So I should keep doing this?” Clark asked her as he continued to kiss her.
“Hmmm, yes.” Lois told him capturing his mouth again. “I mean no!” she said pulling back.
“Wha..t?” Clark asked startled.
“I can’t think when you do that.”
“Let’s not think,” he said, leaning down toward her waiting for her response. “Well, can’t you take a hint?”
“Hey, that’s my line from the play,” Lois chuckled.
“Well, maybe *we* should rehearse a scene as well,” Clark told her, trying to kiss her again.
“Now you run along home. And I’ll call you tomorrow,” Lois told him pushing him gently.
“Wait a minute. Now who’s doing whose lines?” Clark reminded her. “Mortimer says that.”
“Caught me! It’s been a long day, Clark. And we should...”
“You’re not still angry, are you?” Clark asked as he took his hand and cupped the side of her cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It’s just that I get worried about you.”
“I know,” Lois said. “But you have to stop being such a mother hen. You can’t always be there, and I have to be able to handle some things on my own.”
“You’re so stubborn,” Clark told her, taking her arms and putting them around his neck, as he leaned in to kiss her.
She heard Clark’s words while his incredible eyes focused on her lips, encouraging her to move every closer to him. Just at the moment their lips were about to touch, she removed her arms from his neck only to place them on his chest as she pushed him back yet again. “I’m not stubborn,” she said, with a semi-stern tone in her voice.
“Loissss,” Clark hissed as he put his arms around her waist and tried to pull her back against him, but Lois wasn’t cooperating.
“*I’m* not the one who’s stubborn, you are the one who is stubborn and who keeps saying that I’m being stubborn, but who’s the stubborn one here now. I mean just don’t try to tell me what to do,” Lois said.
“You’re babbling,” Clark informed her putting his finger on her lips. “Don’t talk, just kiss me now!” he said deliberately.
“Don’t try to be masterful.”
“Not that *is* one of Elaine’s quotes from the play. Okay, I’m game. Mortimer then says--When we’re married and I have problems to face I hope you’re less tedious and uninspired!” he told her chuckling.
“Ooooh, I hate that line,” Lois told him. “But then I get that great comeback. Let’s see. Oh yes. And when we’re married, *if* we’re married--I hope I find you adequate!”
“Is this adequate enough?” Clark asked as he pulled her into his arms once again and
kissed her gently--then deeper, and just as he tried to maneuver her toward the couch, the phone rang. Lois sighed and walked over to pick up the phone. “Yes,” she said quizzically. “It’s for you, Clark.”
***********
Mayson waited for Clark to pick up the phone. After her previous meeting with Nigel St. John and his urgent phone call, she had to talk to someone. Someone *had* to learn that Lex was alive and that the deaths in town could be attributed to him.
“Clark,” Mayson said instantly. “I have to see you right away. I have to talk to someone about this.”
“About what?” Clark voce came over the phone.
“Please meet me at the Silver Unicorn. And don’t tell anyone. Not even Lois. This concerns her and I don’t want to scare her.”
Mayson heard several protestations from Clark’s side of the conversation.
“Clark,” Mayson continued adamantly. “We were very good friends once, and I need you. Lois’ life depends upon it.”
***********
Clark stared at the phone and sighed. He had to help Mayson, but with Lois’ current attitude about this evening’s events, this was all he needed.
“I’ll be right there.” Clark responded, as he turned to avoid Lois seeing the concerned look that must be in his eyes, since he wouldn’t be able to explain.
“What is it, Clark?” Lois asked, knowing something was wrong. She thought the woman’s voice was familiar but she wasn’t really sure--maybe one of Clark’s students. But calling him this late at her house, it must be something serious and she wasn’t about to let him go away without telling her what was happening.
“I’ll be back soon,” Clark told her. “There’s something I need to do.”
“Not return a video,” she chuckled. “This sounds like one of your phony Superman excuses when there’s no need to do that. Remember, I know you’re Superman now,” she reminded him hoping that the levity would allow him to explain.
“No, I...I.... Something else,” he explained and hurried out the door, leaving a stunned Lois behind.
“He’s so stubborn,” she said out loud and slammed the door.
***********
Libby Barton opened the door to the attic. Richard Thurston had to be Lex Luthor. He had joined the cast because he wanted, no needed, to play Jonathan Brewster--he had wanted to be near the Smallville Players to seek revenge for that night last November. That made so much sense but yet it didn’t. Lex Luthor was dead. He was dead. If Luthor was alive, there could only be but one explanation and the explanation was here amid all the memories of a past life she wanted to forget.
If Richard is in actuality, Lex, he must have been...but he couldn’t have been...but then what other explanation was there?
Libby wrestled with her fears and stepped into the attic--the attic she had not dared enter since she first returned to Smallville in 1948.
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Smallville, Kansas
Saturday,
October 30, 1948
2:15 p.m. CST
It had been ten years, ten years since her family had died. Libby again stood in front of the house at 417 Maple and looked up at the door, this time alone--no little Martha in tow. She had made this pilgrimage several times since she returned to Smallville last July. But this time it was different. This was the anniversary of....
Her eyes drifted up to the round window at the top of the house, the one that held the attic behind it.
Libby’s first remembrances were of that window--playing up in the attic while her aunts worked in the laboratory--a section of the attic that was barred from her--but the window was in the part of the attic that held old clothes, old toys and trunks of different things to discover. By the age of six, Libby knew all the treasures that that nook of the attic held. She would dress in her mother’s or grandmother’s clothes and dance around in front of a large mirror and then peek out of the window pretending to be a princess in some tower.
She learned to ignore the sounds and smells coming from the enclosed room that took up about three-quarters of the attic. Aunt Lavinia had explained that she and Aunt Leticia were making special preserves and were growing and cultivating herbs in that room and that since some of the herbs could be dangerous if not used correctly, it was best that Libby did not go in there.
The nine years she had spent locked up had given her time to think and reflect--to try to understand who she was and why she was. The physical prison from which she had recently been released, had been in was not as bad as the emotional prison in which she had enclosed her own soul. The pain she had suffered losing her child was only part of the penance she saw as her just deserts.
The now twenty-two year old Libby entered the house and slowly walked into the living room. She surveyed the sheets used to cover up the furniture and walked toward one cloaked piece. She removed the sheet and stared at the radio. Libby grasped the knob and then released it. That would be an exercise in futility since there was no electricity in the house.
Libby recovered the radio and climbed up the stairs toward the attic. Her arm reached out to turn the door handle. She took a deep breath. She had avoided both the attic and the cellar since coming back to Smallville although she visited the house once a week. Somehow if she didn’t visit those areas, they didn’t exist, the past didn’t exist, the demons--the ghosts were quashed.
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Silver Spring, Maryland
Saturday,
October 30, 1948
3:15 p.m. EST
He looked down at the solitary grave by the Hydrangea bush. He had avoided the gravesite since coming back to Washington, D.C.; although he got as far as the cemetery gates several times. Somehow if he didn’t visit, it hadn’t happened, the past didn’t exist, the demons--the ghosts wouldn’t haunt him or enrage him.
Jason was expected home, but today was an important day. It had been ten years since that supposed hoax--the Martian invasion of New Jersey. Yes, it had been a hoax then, but the young man knew better. He had seen the evidence in Roswell, he had talked to others who had had similar experiences; and, most importantly, he had helped convince the recently established Department of the Air Force to create Bureau 39 to meet the onslaught that was destined to come with all that he and others like him could muster.
Jason clutched the single lily he held in his hand and slowly the anger rose up viscerally from deep inside him. He crushed the lone flower and flung it down. The newly promoted First Lieutenant attached to the special-forces unit delegated to work on suspected alien activity, turned on his heels and fled. One petal hung in the air and slowly wafted down to finally alight on the grave marker, the grave of Mary Trask.
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Smallville, Kansas
Saturday,
October 30, 1948
3:20 p.m. CST
Libby’s hand held the doorknob to the attic. Opening the door would be reopening a door to the past that she had tried to spend ten years forgetting. But she knew that she had to face it sooner or later.
She was now living with the Clarks and paying her way by helping to take care of little Martha. Mr. Clark was attempting to track down the source of the Barton’s income and see if the funding was still available for Libby. She was now the owner of the house at 417 Maple and Mr. Clark had paid the taxes each year to maintain the house for her. But it was in sad need of repair and totally unlivable and, even if she could have moved into the house, Libby had no way to support herself. So she had to be content with the weekly visits.
She slowly opened the attic door. The familiar part of the attic was as she had last seen it--trunks and boxes piled up holding the fond memories that belonged to the innocent childhood of an unaware twelve-year old. Libby turned and entered the abandoned laboratory. The young Barton moved toward the long table sitting in the center of the segregated room and gingerly reached out to touch it.
Visions of her aunts, uncles and...and...her... No, she couldn’t think about it.
Libby opened a drawer in the center of the table and removed a small bound volume. She clasped it to her chest and slumping to the floor, she began to read.
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Smallville, Kansas
Saturday,
February 5, 1994
9:30 p.m. CST
The sixty-seven year old Libby opened the door to the attic. Although having hidden her family’s dastardly legacy many, many years before, she didn’t hesitate for a moment and made directly for the loose floorboard right under the round attic window. She bent down and pried open the dried gray clapboard to reveal a metal box about eighteen inches square. She lifted it out and held it in her lap as she sat on an old trunk.
Libby closed her eyes and although long ago deciding there couldn’t be a god, prayed to some higher power, and then opened the box. The dying woman, who if she had been someone other than Libby Barton, would want the book to be there--be there for herself--to somehow change her terminal prognosis. Miss Libby did want the book to be there--but to satisfy herself that it wasn’t being used--being used by a vindictive villain.
Libby opened her eyes. The book was gone and Lex Luthor was alive.
**********
The very much alive, although physically altered, Lex Luthor parked his car across from The Silver Unicorn, a bar and grille frequented by the more affluent members of the Smallville community. Lex watched as Clark Kent rounded the corner and walked into the establishment now owned by Luthor Inc.
Clark looked around the restaurant and discovered Mayson Drake sitting at a table for two situated by the corner window that overlooked the river on one side and yet could also easily see those that entered the restaurant.
Mayson looked up and attempted a slight smile.
Clark joined Mayson at the table. She had obviously been crying and looked scared. “What is it, Mayson?” Clark asked her concerned for both the woman sitting there and for about what might be harmful to Lois.
“I don’t know how to tell you. I don’t know if you will be able to believe me,” she sniffled.
“We’ve known each other for a very long time. Our mothers are best friends; but, when you first came back here and joined forces with Lex Luthor, I did lose trust in you.”
“I know,” Mayson replied.
“But,” continued Clark. “You really redeemed yourself and showed your loyalty when you came to tell Lois and me about Lex’s diabolical scheme. I know that you are no longer a part of what remains of the empire he built. I trust you now and I *will* believe you.”
Clark took Mayson’s hand and held it.
Mayson leaned in and kissed Clark gently on the lips.
***********
Outside in front of the Silver Unicorn, two people watched the friendly interchange between Clark and Mayson--Lex Luthor sadistically monitoring his creation from across the street behind the safety of tinted glass and Lois Lane who had just arrived on the scene.
tbc.
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