Rachel took two steps toward the pond, but Lois’ panicked shout brought her up short. “Sheriff!” Lois screeched. “Call for an ambulance now! Gunshot wound!”
She looked toward the pond and saw the redheaded reporter lying face-down across Clark’s lap and the blood dripping from Clark’s hand.
No! Clark wasn’t shot! He couldn’t be shot! She could never shoot Clark! She’d aimed at the fake government man! And where was he?
“Rachel!” Lois yelled again. “Ambulance! Now!”
Right. Gunshot wound, ambulance, hospital. She picked up her radio microphone and began calling for help.
*****
Lois half-stumbled, half-collapsed beside Clark and Cat as her medical training kicked in. “Who’s hurt?”
Cat coughed and groaned. “I think – it’s me.”
Lois grabbed Clark’s bloody hand and blanched as the excess blood flowed toward his elbow. “Did – did the bullet hit you?”
Clark gently shifted Cat to the grass and rolled her over onto her back. “No. None of this is my blood.” He bit his lip, then said, “It’s all hers.”
Cat gestured weakly to her right side just above the bottom of her rib cage. “Got me – there – I think.” She turned her head toward Clark and coughed. “Trask?”
“The sheriff shot him,” Lois answered, then glanced at the few remaining bubbles on the water’s surface. “Hit him hard enough to – She’s calling for an ambulance for you now, Red. You’re gonna be fine.”
Cat almost smiled. “You – called me Red. Means I’m – bleeding pretty good, huh?” She lifted her left hand and tried to grab Clark’s shirt. “I don’t think – Lois would mind – hold me just – once more, Clark?”
He slid down beside her and slipped his right arm under her head, careful to move her as little as possible. “I’m right here, Cat. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her eyes closed and she smiled. “Just like – when you called me – Mags – in college.”
Lois’ eyes overflowed. “Why did you do that, Cat? Why did you jump in front of that bullet?”
Cat turned her head to Lois as she tightened her grip on Clark’s left arm with her left hand. “Didn’t mean to – get shot. But you – you need Clark.” She coughed and groaned, then said, “And the – the world – needs Superman.” She looked back at him. “I – I should have married you. I’m – I was a fool.”
Clark stroked her cheek. “We’ll discuss that later, okay? Right now you need to stay with us. Stay with us, Cat.”
Cat’s breath came deeper, faster, and a little bit ragged. “No. Not Cat. Cat’s – she’s stupid. Doesn’t know a – a good man – when she meets one.” She panted a few times and shook her head loosely. “The name is – Mags.” She patted Clark’s arm with her left hand. “Mags is – is in love with – a good man. A – a very good man.”
Rachel ran to them and knelt beside Clark. “Ambulance is on its way. I brought my car’s emergency first aid kit. It’s all I got. Lois, you were a medic in the Army, right? Your training is better than mine.”
Lois wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Yes. I was. Thanks.” She opened the small bag and rummaged around in it for a moment, then pulled out a small syringe and a pressure bandage. “Best I can do right now. Cat, I’m giving you a shot of morphine, then I’m going to put a bandage on your wound.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “Be – gentle.”
“Shh. For once, try not to talk.”
Cat didn’t speak, but she did smile. Clark said, “How you doing, Mags?”
She relaxed as the morphine hit her. “Better. Doesn’t hurt – as much.”
Lois gently patted Cat’s leg. “Please don’t talk, Thelma. You know Brad Pitt doesn’t like chatty women.”
“Clark – does. He never minded – listening to Mags talk.” She turned to him and smiled again. “Tell me about – about the – the forever and a day love – again. I’ll – I promise – I’ll listen – this time.”
Cat’s eyes drifted shut as she took a labored breath. Clark gave Lois an almost panicked look. Lois forced back a sob and whispered, “Tell her what she wants – what she needs to hear.” She forced back a sob and added, “Please.”
He blinked to clear his eyes and nodded. “Hey, Mags? That forever-and-a-day love is what my parents have. From what you’ve told me, I think yours do too. It’s how—” he glanced at Lois again. She nodded through her tears for him to continue. “—how I feel about that redheaded beauty I saw when I was registering for my classes, the one who makes the best spaghetti on campus, the one who writes so well that she’s gonna be a famous and successful reporter by the time she’s thirty. I just know she’ll win all kinds of awards and be the talk of the town by then.”
Cat smiled again. “Flattery will – get you – lots of places – Mr. Kent.” She stopped and coughed wetly, then groaned. “How – how about – you and me – we – get married – and move – to the – couple’s dorm?”
Clark leaned down and gently kissed the corner of her mouth. “That sounds like a marvelous idea, Miss Mayfield.”
“No,” she whispered. “Mrs. – Kent. Tradition – you know.”
Lois heard the siren howling down the highway. As high-pitched as it was, Clark must have already noted it, she thought, even without his powers. The big white-and-blue truck’s tires complained loudly as the driver took the turn to the Kent farm with a definite lean, then it thundered down the gravel road almost to the sheriff’s car. The driver expertly executed a Y-turn and stopped with the rear doors less than ten feet from Cat’s position.
Two EMTs jumped out of the back and shoved a gurney toward Cat. The redhead’s lips were suddenly flecked with pink foam. She rolled her eyes at Lois and whispered through the bubbles on her mouth, “Bye – Louise. We – woulda – had – fun—”
Cat coughed, moaned, and rolled her head to the side. She didn’t inhale again.
Lois screamed.
Clark put Cat flat on the ground and started chest compressions. “Lois!” he barked. “Breathe for her!”
Lois wiped her face and leaned over her fallen friend to clear her airway. She counted ten cardiac compressions and blew into Cat’s mouth to fill her lungs as Clark paused. One of the medical techs, a young man seemingly just out of high school, ran back to the ambulance and dragged out a portable IV pole, along with a bag of plasma and tubing. The second tech, a black woman in her late thirties, knelt beside Lois, then pulled a stethoscope out of her pocket and signaled for Clark to take a quick break. She listened to Cat’s chest for a moment, felt both sides of her neck, then said, “I can’t get a heartbeat or a pulse. Keep going.”
The second med tech slid to his knees near Cat’s lower legs and started to clear her right elbow for the IV needle. Then he froze.
“Jolene.”
“What!”
“Look at her right side.”
The woman glanced and said, “She was shot, Ken! Of course there’s blood there!”
“No,” he said quietly. “It’s still pulsing out past the pressure bandage, but only when she gets chest compressions. That means that—”
“That her heart has a hole in it and it’s leaking into her chest cavity.” Jolene sighed. “Seen it before, with dumb hunters shooting each other.” She reached up and touched Clark’s shoulder. “Mister, stop. It’s not helping.”
Clark kept going. “What do you mean? She’s got to have blood flow to stay alive!” He pumped a few more times and yelled, “Come on, Mags, breathe! Breathe!”
Lois’ tears began anew. “She – she’s – oh, Clark, she’s – she’s dead!”
“No! We can save her! We can bring her back! Keep going!” He stared open-mouthed at Jolene. “Come on! Don’t let her go now! Help her!”
Jolene slid her hand down his arm and squeezed gently. “Mister, I’m really sorry, but she’s gone. All you’re doing now is pushing out the blood that’s leaked into her chest. Whatever made that wound in her side also tore a hole in her heart.” She squeezed a little tighter. “We can’t help her now. The only thing we can do is take her to the hospital.”
He stared at Jolene for a moment more, then turned to Cat’s waxen features. “Oh, Mags, I’m so sorry! Please forgive me! I wish – I should’ve – I—”
He broke off as Lois wailed again. Clark knee-walked to her and took her in his arms as his tears mixed with hers.
Ken and Jolene gently lifted Cat’s body onto the gurney and strapped her in, then raised the gurney and wheeled it to the ambulance. Rachel pushed herself upright and walked stiffly to the open rear door and spoke with the EMTs for a moment.
Lois didn’t bother to listen to the conversation. She was trying to comfort Clark while he was trying to comfort her. She didn’t move as the ambulance pulled away.
Rachel knelt beside them. Lois heard her say, “I’ll see to your folks, Clark. You two – y’all just take your time, okay?”
Lois felt his head move. Might have been a nod, might have been a pained look, might have been a grief reaction. She only knew that she’d fall to the ground like overcooked pasta if he were to let her go.
She barely registered a three-way conversation on the other side of the pond, probably among Rachel, Jonathan, and Martha. Again, she didn’t try to listen in.
After a long moment, Rachel knelt beside Clark again. This time she felt him raise his head to listen. “Clark, I talked to Burt on the radio, and he’s gonna meet us at the hospital to take our statements. Your folks said that the only person who needs medical care is Wayne, but your mom said he’s conscious, just a little disoriented. I think he tried to fight the guy I – the EPA guy – and got whacked pretty hard. I’m gonna call the hospital and find out if I can bring him in if I drive slow. If I can, I’ll take all of us as soon as the other bus gets here to pick up the – for the guy in the pond.”
Lois tried not to hear any more. A madman had shot and killed her best friend. And she hadn’t been able to help her. Despite her training, despite her experience, despite her love for Cat, Lois could do nothing for her.
Except – maybe she could honor Cat’s final act of love.
*****
Rachel waited for one of the other two to speak or move, but neither one did so by the time the ambulance’s siren faded from her hearing. So she slowly stood and looked around the farm, trying to figure out what to do next.
Clark finally turned and crawled to the edge of the pond where he tried to wash Cat’s blood from his hands. Rachel handed him a rough towel from the trunk of the car, one with a few old stains of various hues that would never wash out. As he was drying his hands, Rachel knelt beside Lois. “I got a glimpse at your knee. Looks like it’s all swole up. I’m gonna load all of us into my car and drive us to the hospital as soon as the second ambulance crew gets here for the – the EPA guy in the pond.” She exhaled roughly. “I’ll have Burt meet us there and take our statements.”
Lois nodded to her without speaking. Rachel stood and looked across the pond where the Kents were. Jonathan was lying down, propped up on one elbow, talking – or maybe quietly arguing – with Martha. Clark was making his way to them, visibly limping and favoring his left side. Bet that crazy man kicked him there, she mused.
He’d never hurt Clark again.
She forced herself not to look at the pond.
Dave Harris, her father, had been county sheriff for twenty-eight years before he retired. He’d never fired his weapon in anger that whole time. He’d never taken aim and deliberately put a bullet into a living human being.
Rachel had been sheriff for just over two years and she’d killed a man.
She knew what would come next. The state of Kansas would put her on mandatory suspension, then conduct an investigation and decide if she could go on being sheriff. She thought they’d probably exonerate her, then return her to active duty.
There were a couple of newspapers in neighboring towns who wouldn’t want to let it go, though. They’d published editorials opposing her campaign and articles slanted against her before and on the day of the election, hinting – or even saying flat out – that she was too young or too nice or too inexperienced or too girly to do the job right. Her opponents in the next election would say things that would undermine her authority, call her a killer, call her gun-crazy – assuming she wasn’t removed from office in a recall election.
Her friends would treat her different now – they might not want to be friends with a killer like her. Even the deputies in her department would treat her different. There would be a barrier between her and them, and good people like Burt would back away from being her friends.
She’d be different, too. She already knew she was changed and there was no going back to the way she used to be. And there was no way to predict what the EPA might decide to do.
Part of the post-incident process would be at least one session with a psychologist. If she decided she could trust him – or her – there’d be a good bit of stuff to work through.
She wiped her eyes. That was for later. This part wasn’t done yet.
She walked to the Kents and helped Jonathan to stand. “Thanks, Rachel,” he grunted. “I’m not used to this kind of sudden exertion.”
She turned eyes she knew were red to him. “I don’t think anyone is. You want me to help you to my car?”
Martha touched her on the shoulder. “Please, let me do that. Wayne needs some help too, and you’re stronger than I am.”
“Sounds good, Mrs. Kent.” She looked at the car and heard it dinging softly. “Huh. Guess I left the keys in the ignition. Leastwise the doors are all open.”
Jonathan shifted his weight to his wife’s shoulder. “Martha’s got me. You go help Wayne.”
She nodded and walked to the older man. “Hey, Mr. Irig, how you doin’?”
He lay on the ground on his side. His eyes rose to hers and he lifted his bound hands to her. “I can honestly say that I’ve been better.”
Rachel almost smiled, then knelt down and examined the rope. “I think it’d be quicker to cut it than to untie it. That okay with you?”
“Fine,” he breathed. “Just get me to the hospital, please. I don’t feel so good.”
She reached into her pocket and slid out a folding Buck camp knife. “That’s where we’re all headed.”
Rachel helped Wayne to stand, then guided him to her cop car. I don’t feel so good either, Wayne, she thought.
*****
Rose McKellen, the MD on call for the Smallville General Hospital Emergency Room, nodded at the sheriff when Rachel walked in. “Rose, we need two stretchers for injured adult males. They’re both awake and alert but they’ve both been beaten. Y’all need to check ‘em out pretty thoroughly.”
Rose turned and lifted two fingers in a ‘V’ formation, then pointed at two young men standing and waiting for instructions. Each man grabbed a gurney and wheeled it outside to the open police car.
Rose turned back to Rachel and quietly asked, “Is this related to the gunshot victim we got a little while ago? The young woman?”
Rachel nodded. “If it ain’t here already, there’s another bus bringing in another body. A man. That one was shot with a .38 Special revolver.” Her hand touched the butt of her weapon. “This one.” She closed her eyes and tightened her face as if grabbing her emotions and wrestling them into submission. After a long pause, Rachel spoke again. “That’s the one I – I shot. The first DOA was killed at the Kent farm, too. The second victim – the one who’s coming in shot the first one.”
Rose put her hand on Rachel’s arm. “Sounds like a justified shooting to me. And it kind of sounds like you saved some lives.”
“Yeah. Keep tellin’ me that, will ya?” Rachel turned and waved at the ER entrance. “Got three others beside the stretcher cases coming in. Martha Kent, Clark Kent, and Lois Lane. I don’t think any of ‘em are hurt bad, but if you could check them out I’d appreciate it, ‘cept Clark got punched out pretty good and Lois hurt her knee and might need some painkillers, maybe even a x-ray. And I told her we had a orthopedist here who might could help her.”
The doctor assayed a small smile. “I thought I was doing triage today.”
The sheriff gave her a sad look that said that Rose’s comment might be funny on some other day. “Please check on the three older adults ASAP,” Rachel said. “Jonathan and Martha Kent, along with Wayne Irig. I’d guess you’ll want to keep all three of them overnight if not longer, but you gotta make that call.”
“Got it,” said Rose. “What about you? You need some medical attention?”
Rachel smiled mirthlessly. “Thanks, Rose, but you don’t do the kind of doctorin’ I’m gonna need.”
*****
The orthopedist was a short, fat-fingered older man with a gossamer touch. Dr. James examined Lois’ knee with a minimum of pain, then nodded. “I usually don’t concur with my patients’ self-diagnosis, Ms. Lane, but you’ve got this one right. Ice, elevation, and rest is my recommendation, something you no doubt already knew. Unless you want some fairly extensive joint replacement surgery, there’s not much more I can do for you.”
Lois nodded. “Thank you, Doctor. I assume I can leave now.”
“As long as Dr. McKellen clears you, yes.”
Rose did clear Lois and signed the necessary release forms. After Officer Burt took their statements, Clark, who had already been released, drove Lois back to his parents’ house and put her to bed in his old room. She turned her dry, weary eyes to him and said, “Thank you for taking care of me.”
He stroked her hair. “It’s my pleasure. And my privilege.”
She reached up and pulled his hand to her mouth and gently kissed it. There was something in his touch and in his face, something familiar, something that Lois thought she recognized. After a long moment, it came to her.
She looked into his eyes and saw her long-time companion, her always-near nemesis, looking back at her.
Guilt.
He blamed himself for Cat’s death. Probably for her unrequited love for him, too.
Clark stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. As if he’d read her thoughts, he quietly said, “She loved both of us, Lois. And she showed us how much she loved us.” His eyes closed and he shuddered.
She reached up and cupped his cheek. “Clark. I love you. Don’t forget that, okay?”
Before she could say anything else, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Try to get some sleep. You’ve had a really tough couple of days.” Then he gently closed the door behind him and ghosted down the stairs.
Lois wept again, more quietly this time. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she and Cat had gone shopping for new clothes, Lois to impress Clark and Cat to look spectacular in Smallville. That blue shirt that Cat had bought was now a blood-soaked wreck. And Lois’ dress was smeared with Cat’s blood.
Lois would never wear the dress again. Even if it were cleaned and restored to pristine condition, she could never bear to look at it, much less put it on.
And Clark would never see her in it again.
Not that he could see much of anything at the moment. Cat’s body, lifeless in his arms, was surely all his eyes would register, all his mind would conjure up. He probably saw it even with his eyes closed.
Lois cried because she’d never talk to Cat again, never cry or laugh with her, never confess to her how much she loved Clark but was scared of that very love, never see the pain in Cat’s eyes again when she thought about Clark and what might have been.
She wondered if Clark had cried – no, he’d cried for Cat. Lois wondered how much he’d already cried and how much he’d cry for her in the future. And how many times he would wake up screaming from dreams of Cat dying in his embrace.
It was the perfect recipe for a classic case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. And Lois knew exactly how he must feel.
Cat’s death wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t responsible. Trask was responsible for her death. Not Clark. Not ever Clark. But even Superman was vulnerable to something like this.
Dana Friskin’s voice sounded in her head, telling her that while her feelings about the combat she’d seen, the guilt she carried for shooting people who were trying to kill her were natural and human, the pain and loss she’d suffered when the wounded she treated on the battlefield hadn’t survived, they weren’t justified. She’d followed orders, followed procedure, acted heroically, and saved a number of lives. But seeing Clark going through the same kind of pain that she’d experienced made the doctor’s reasoning crystal clear in her mind and heart.
She finally understood what she had to do.
She’d have to forgive herself, just as Clark would have to forgive himself. Different circumstances, different acts, different reasons, of course, but the same inescapable pain. Forgiveness was the only way back to real life for Clark.
For her, too. And it was hard to accept how much she’d have to let go.
That forgiveness meant that she’d have to release herself from the responsibility of making everything right that she’d put wrong. She’d have to release the self-blame and self-recrimination from her evening ritual. She’d have to put it all behind her, to the extent that it would not guide her every thought, decision, and action in the present. It might even put a stop to her frequent nightmares. At least, it should slow them down.
And it would remove that comfortable pain in which she’d nestled herself for so long. The pain didn’t bring comfort, of course – it was just that resting in the pain was easier than all that effort to work on her healing. It was a hard road, but one she had to travel to recover who she really was.
Clark would have to do the same thing. And she could help him take the first steps to that self-forgiveness.
She owed him that much. And she loved him enough to give him so much more.
She sat up and pushed the covers back. The sooner the better, she told herself. There was no time like the present.
