You can find the
Another Dimension, Another Time, Another Lois[/i] TOC here.
Where we left off in Part 22 …Dr. Carlin pushed Lois into the conference room and shut the door behind her.
[i]Because she blamed us for Lex’s death.
Lois froze and leaned against the door, swallowing a new supply of bile. “Lex died? I thought he survived being shot.”
The doctor stared at Lois and took a few steps back. “Lois, of course Lex died. Don’t you remember?” She looked both scared and angry, her voice hollow.
Lois’ brow furrowed. Why would the doctor be scared of Lois? Why did she sound nervous? It seemed a reversal of the woman’s earlier demeanor.
Because she blamed Superman for not saving Lex’s life, and she blamed you…“And she blamed me, because he loved me,” Lois finished Clark’s sentence, focusing her eyes on Dr. Carlin. “You were once married to Lex Luthor.”
Dr. Carlin smiled, her eyes cold. “Yes. Yes, I was, and he loved me… until you came along…”
“Lex didn’t say anything about being married,” Lois said, not in real life and not in her other life, where they were engaged to be married. “He said I was the first woman he had ever loved.”
“
I’m the only woman Lex has ever loved!” roared Dr. Carlin, rushing at Lois.
Lois blocked her both with a half-front roundhouse and a punch with the palm of her hand, knocking the woman against a side-table and sending her crashing into the lamp that had been there. “You’re insane!”
Dr. Carlin looked up from the table and hissed, “You’re lucky I’d do anything to make Lex happy.” She bled from cut on her cheek and from the corner of her mouth.
“Lois, open this door!” Perry ordered from behind her, as Lois was still leaning up against the conference room door.
She stepped away and let her boss and Jimmy in. “Dr. Carlin is nuts, Perry. She attacked me.”
Perry looked between Lois standing in a defensive position next to the door and back to where Dr. Carlin sat bleeding on the floor, next to the broken lamp. She had a new cut on her arm that hadn’t been there a moment before, which gave her the appearance of a fragile, innocent woman.
“I attacked her?” stammered Dr. Carlin in disbelief, wiping the blood near her mouth, with the back of her hand. “We came in here and she hit me out of the blue, claiming I was trying to kill her.”
“She attacked me! I was defending myself,” Lois explained.
“Lois Lane is a paranoid schizophrenic and needs to be taken to the Luthor House for the Mentally Unstable,” Dr. Carlin announced. “ – where she won’t be able to hurt anyone else and she will get the best care possible.”
“No!” Lois screamed, turning to Perry and pointing at Arianna Carlin. “I’m not crazy.
She attacked me. She’s Lex Luthor’s ex-wife!”
Her boss looked at the doctor, who shrugged and told him, “She’s hearing voices, she thinks I’m trying to kill her, and she thinks that Lex is still alive and out to get her.”
“I don’t think that Lex is still alive. I know he’s dead. If anyone here is delusional, lady, it’s you,” Lois retorted, before a sense of dread tickled down her spine.
Lois, Lex! Lex is the dead man who isn’t really dead.Perry placed a gentle hand on her arm as Lois’ mind started to swirl with this new possibility. “Lois, honey, you told me this morning that Lex didn’t die during the terrorist hostage thing last year and that he bought the Daily Planet.”
“You imagined that Daily Planet had been bombed and that my dead cousin Jimmy had been hurt,” Jimmy reminded her.
“Maybe a few days of rest and relaxation is just what you need, darlin’,” Perry continued.
“I’m not crazy!” Lois yelled, having difficulty concentrating on what was happening in the room and this new complication in her head. ~How can Lex be alive, Clark? He was dead before the terrorists left the building.~
Perry held up his hands. “I’m not saying that you are, honey. I’m just saying you need a few days of rest. I’ll get you out of there as soon as I can,” he said.
“Out of where?” Lois demanded as two security guards, who had been pushing their way through the crowd of reporters outside the conference room, grabbed her arms. “I’m not crazy!”
“Honey, you attacked Arianna for no reason.”
“In
self-defense! I’d rather go to jail than to a padded cell, Perry. You know that,” Lois said, trying to pull free from the security guards.
“Take her to my office until the orderlies from the Luthor House arrive,” instructed Dr. Carlin, climbing to her feet and approaching Lois’ boss. “I’m so sorry, Perry. It’s all my fault. I should’ve insisted on seeing her before now. I just hope it’s not too late.” She lowered her voice. “Don’t worry, we’ll put her on suicide watch.”
The security guards pulled Lois through the crowd of her colleagues as she continued to profess her innocence, “I’m not insane. You’ve got to believe me! I’m not crazy.”
Wally shook his head, walking away. “That’s what they all say.”
***
Part 23Perry sat at his desk, staring at the mini cassette tape. He spun it around in his hand, tapping it against the desk every few spins or so. It had been two days since Lois had attacked Dr. Arianna Carlin in the conference room and had been whisked off to the Luthor House for the Mentally Unstable.
He had forgotten about the cassette that first day; filling out paperwork and issuing statements to the MPD for the arrest of his best reporter had kept his mind off of the thing. Perry had only remembered it when he was cleaning up before heading home that night and had heard it fall to the floor. He hadn’t listened to the cassette until the next morning because he had wanted to have a clear head to hear it. Since then, he had listened to it twice more, especially since Arianna had called asking for the tape specifically. Apparently, Lois had told Arianna about it, put it in her pants pocket, and then it had disappeared when they had her in custody. Perry told the psychiatrist he hadn’t seen it.
He spun the cassette around in his fingers again. Still, he wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Perry didn’t want Lois to be crazy. Her story had been so off-the-wall that Perry couldn’t believe it was true, but the more he listened to that tape and heard her talking about Clark and Lex, sounding more like the full-of-life woman she had been over a year ago when those memories were supposed to have taken place, the more he had wanted it to be true.
Lex Luthor, Perry scoffed. The man had been an idiot, and he had fooled the world into thinking he was some genius, humanitarian, philanthropist businessman, but when push had come to shove, and they had been locked in the conference room by terrorists, Lex’s true colors had come shining through. Lex Luthor had been scared, terrified, and about as smart as molasses on a turnip truck. The man had panicked and almost gotten Perry shot with his rash fake heart attack plan.
Then the billionaire wanted to negotiate with the terrorists. Perry rolled his eyes. Negotiating with terrorists was like trying to negotiate with a three-year-old. It might have sounded good on paper, but you were going to lose every time, because they never played by the rules. Any intelligent businessman should have known that. Finally, as soon as Lois had convinced the terrorists to allow her use the restroom, Luthor had bolted for the exit and had gotten himself shot. Imbecile! Perry had let Lois think Luthor had been going for help, but he knew the truth. The man was just trying to save his own skin.
Nothing like a little stressful event to test the mettle of a person, and Luthor had failed like an Elvis movie without singing or a pretty girl. Perry had never told anyone about his findings because the man had died, and it felt like kicking a dead dog. Yet when, a few months ago, Lois had decided to investigate the man behind the curtain, the editor admitted to doing a little happy dance in his office. Not only for Lois’ sake, because the woman deserved to know the truth about Bimbo the Billionaire, but for the world’s sake. If anyone could find out the truth about Lex Luthor, it was Lois Lane.
Sadly for her sanity, Lois had found out more than just the bare truth. Lex Luthor had been a horrible, horrible man, bad to women, small children, the good name of science, and even the environment. The worst of it was how he had used women, used Lois. This had been a case of ignorance being bliss, and investigating Luthor had been like opening Pandora’s box.
The editor wanted to believe so much that Star had been responsible for his reporter’s lack of sanity, brainwashed via hypnotism or some other such crap, but Star hadn’t sounded like she was taking advantage of Lois on that tape. He had heard Lois specifically ask Star to unlock those memories. It had been Lois’ choice, Lois’ memories. It also would explain why Lois had been acting so strangely that day in the office, what with all that new information from her other life suddenly rushing into her brain. If this Clark fellow did have some other-worldly connection with Lois, it would explain why she had unexpectedly decided to take a better look behind Luthor’s curtain when she had always taken the billionaire at his word before.
Unfortunately, if her story was true, it meant that Perry had a fully sane reporter, whom he loved like a daughter, who was going through something scary and terrifying, who had come to him for advice and assistance, and whom he had thrown to the wolves.
He needed facts.
There was a soft knock on his door. Perry glanced up, and then waved Olsen inside.
“Here are those photo sheets you asked for,” Jimmy said almost shyly, holding out the sheets.
Perry didn’t know if the kid was being quiet because he felt partially to blame for what happened to Lois, or because his boss had been a bear the last three days. The Chief sighed, taking the papers. If he had to guess, it was the latter, as he himself was feeling the former.
“Jimmy, any luck getting hold of Lois’ family?” the editor asked, already knowing the answer.
The young photographer’s naturally sunny disposition darkened as his shoulders fell. “There really isn’t anyone left to contact, Chief. Dr. Lane went MIA after that cyborg boxing scandal a few years back. Then her sister, Lucy ran off with that jewelry store robber, Johnny C-something last year, and since Lois hasn’t mentioned her since, I’m guessing she’s still on the lam. When her mom started drinking again after that, complaining about Dr. Lane’s abandonment and blaming Lois for Lucy’s bad life choices, Lois washed her hands of the woman. I tried finding Mrs. Lane, but she’s no longer at her last known address. Lois’ uncle Mike was killed in the explosion at his restaurant last year. I was able to find a name of the cousin, Cindy, but apparently she’s off on her honeymoon and won’t be back for a week or two.”
Perry nodded. He had feared as much. He, Jimmy, and the Planet were the closest thing to family Lois had, and they had thrown her under the bus when she needed them the most. No wonder she wanted to believe in this Clark fellow so much. Frankly, after what he had heard on the tape, he had wanted to believe in him, too.
‘Cause the real one is… is… Clark!’ Lois had said on the tape, regarding Superman.
No wonder the woman had told Jimmy she felt insane. If Perry had been hearing Clark’s voice for months, believed he was a real ghost, and suddenly found out the man was also a super strong, flying, vigilante in tights, he might feel like he had just fallen down a well too. Lois had told Perry that only Clark could contact Superman. Well, if Clark had been Superman, it made sense that if he had died as a baby that Superman would never appear. It would also explain why someone from the future would want to go into the past and kill Clark. He admired his reporter for trying to keep Kent’s secret to the end, not that the revelation would have helped her sanity plea any.
Perry rubbed his brow. He couldn’t believe that he was starting to think that Lois’ wild story was true. If he had had this problem with any other reporter, he wouldn’t be second guessing himself or his original findings, but… dammit, this was Lois Lane. Bizarre things happened to Lois all the time. Why not this?
“Chief?” Jimmy inquired softly.
“What, son?” Perry said, raising his eyes. He had forgotten that the kid was still in his office.
“You said something about going to see Lois yesterday? How is she doing?”
It hadn’t been pretty. “She was out of it. They had her pumped full of sedatives, because she bit an orderly in an attempt to escape.” Perry shook his head. “She was just sitting there in the common area, rocking back and forth, staring at a wall.”
Jimmy’s gaze fell to the floor. “Oh.”
Perry had sat down next to Lois and called her name four times before she even turned to look at him, but she never saw him, her eyes never focused on him. It was as if she was looking straight through him, as if she didn’t know who he was. Both of her wrists were bandaged like she had tried to harm herself. It was his fault. He had done this to her.
‘A dead man’s ex-wife wants to kill me, only she ends up killing someone who looks like me instead,’ was the last thing Lois had told him, a prediction from the psychic. Instead of listening to her – a woman whose off-the-wall hunches had been true more times than not – he had returned her to Arianna, despite Lois’ claims that the woman was the one who wanted to kill her.
His brow furrowed.
A woman who looked like her? “Jimmy!” Perry hollered.
“Yeah, Chief?” Jimmy asked with a jolt.
“What are you working on?”
“Paulson and I are relooking into the murder of Dr. Heller, that plastic surgeon found in the dumpster last year,” Jimmy replied. “Apparently a bum has come forward. He saw two people carrying the body, a pretty brunette woman and someone named ‘Harry’. Detective Ryder has him working with an artist, but his memory is sketchy.”
Perry brushed that story aside. “Did you ever get that information that Lois asked you for the other day?”
The young man gulped. “What information was that, Chief?” Jimmy asked.
“About Arianna Carlin’s ex-husband,” Perry reminded him.
“Oh, I thought since Lois…”
“You thought wrong. Lois has been sitting in that hell-hole for almost three days now. After everything that woman has done for us, don’t you want to make sure we didn’t make a mistake? Find him by the end of the day! Capiche?” Perry barked, and Jimmy literally jumped. “This evening I’m paying a thousand smackers for bad seats at some charity symphony opening night to-do with Alice, and I want some good news before I leave.”
“Yes, sir!” Jimmy yelped as he disappeared out the door.
***
“And what sort of activities do you have for your guests?” a petite man with the spectacles asked the woman giving him a tour. “My sister is very creative and loves to do art.”
“We have a supervised activities room,” the tour guide told the man, indicating a room that they passed with checkers and bingo. “But by far the most popular room for our guests is the art studio called the Day Room.” She led him to a large room with a skylight. It was a bright room, warm and inviting, except for the fishbowl feeling it gave off with the floor to ceiling thick glass panel wall in it that separated half the room from the other. “Our guests are allowed, supervised of course, to draw, paint, work with clay, or do beadwork. We have found that it greatly helps with their therapy to have their mind free this way.”
Herb looked around the room, itching to take another glance at the folded newspaper in his hand. “May I look around?” he asked hopefully, unconsciously wiping his mustache.
The woman beamed at him. “Feel free. We only ask that you stay in this room. The room on the other side is for some of our more restricted guests.” Her two-way radio buzzed and a slight expression of irritation crossed the woman’s face as she reached down for the offending object. “Excuse me.” The woman stepped away from him and hissed into the radio, “What is it? I’m on a tour!”
Wells ignored his tour guide, because he wasn’t really interested in the facilities, his perfectly sane sister having long since died. He was about to glance down at his newspaper, when an older man, with his forehead reaching deep into what was left of his graying hair, approached him. The man wore a pale yellow cardigan with a shirt and a tie and appeared to work there. Herb wondered if he was one of the supervisors to which his tour guide had referred.
“Are you interested in joining us here?” the man asked Herb. “The food is superb and the service top notch.”
“That’s good to hear. My sister is very particular,” Herb said nervously, stepping away from the man and inching toward the glass walls. He glanced around at the other occupants of the room, but none were the woman for whom he sought.
“And what is your sister like, if I may ask?” the man said, following.
“Very polite. Quiet. She thinks she’s Mary Todd Lincoln,” Herb lied, his eyes gazing over the occupants in the other room on the other side of the glass wall, searching. He hated this aspect of this particular assignment, but if he were to be completely honest with these people, he would become a card-carrying resident here and he wanted to avoid that scenario at all costs. While he knew himself to be who he was, a time-traveling author from the past who had been living in the future, they most certainly would not believe him, just as they hadn’t believed Lois. He was familiar with such places back home in England, but this one had outdone itself with its modern conveniences and its impression of freedom.
“I once knew such a woman over at Happy Hollow Rest Home, WandaMae Waldecker. You wouldn’t be her baby brother William that she was always talking about, perchance?” the man asked Herb. Then his voice became melancholy. “Oh, no. That’s right, he died, committed suicide. That’s why she was forced to leave.”
Herb swallowed. He had forgotten that WandaMae Waldecker was alive and well in this era, and not just a footnote in the history. “Sorry, my sister’s name is Mary,” he explained, moving further away from the man and closer to the glass walls.
His eyes finally spotted the woman for whom he was searching. She was sitting alone at a table with papers and crayons on it. It was not all surprising to find her in the restricted area, but he was disappointed that he would not to get a chance to speak with her and hear her story.
The man in the cardigan followed Herb’s gaze and sighed. “She’s beautiful, is she not?”
“Yes,” Herb agreed softly; although, to be true she didn’t fit that description at the moment. Her hair hung limply around her drawn face, and she was dressed in a hospital nightgown. “Do you know anything about her?”
“She moved in there just this week. Alas, rumor has it that she’s fiancée to someone powerful,” the man informed him.
“Is that so?” Herb answered with some surprise. From his earlier explorations, he had not been able to find any record of Clark Kent or Superman. Perhaps he had been mistaken.
The man sighed, and then explained, “Sadly, he died, so she’s in mourning.”
“Ah…” Herb said noncommittally. He hadn’t been mistaken. Having watched Lois since they had first spotted her, he noticed she had yet to move. He had never seen a woman with more vibrancy and energy, and to see her so… He shook his head. No wonder he hadn’t recognized her at first. With no expression at all on her face, she sat at the table and stared at the floor, so strongly it was as if she could see through it. Had she given up? She seemed so resigned to this fate. The papers in front of her on the table for which to use for drawing were still blank. “Does she ever do anything else?”
“She’s been sedated,” the man whispered. “She bit an orderly and is being punished. That’s why she’s over in the bad room.”
Herb looked at the man with dismay. “Bit an orderly?”
“She claims that she’s sane, and was just trying to escape. No one escapes from the bad room,” the man explained.
“Oh?” Herb murmured, quelling the desire to glance down at the headline on tomorrow’s front page of the Daily Planet.
“I don’t know why anyone would want to escape,” the man went on. “The therapists are friendly, the sheets soft, and the food quite delicious, but then again, I don’t live on the evil side.”
“Evil side?”
The man wiped the word out of the conversation. “There are rumors that once you go over to the bad side, you never make it back here.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially, “Perhaps I need to go over there and break her out, rescue her… Well, of course, not me myself. I know I may look like just a humble, ordinary guy,” he said with a shrug. “But under the mild-mannered costume beats the heart of a hero.”
“Really?” Herb asked with some interest.
“I’ll tell you, but it must be our little secret. Shhhh,” the man said, placing a finger to his lips and looking around. Then he leaned over and whispered to Herb, “I’m Batman.”
“Oh?” replied Herb, trying not to smile at the preposterous idea that this man, who was currently battling him for shortest man in the room, could ever possibly be the Caped Crusader. “I thought he lived in Gotham City?” he couldn’t resist.
The man placed his finger to his lips. “I’m undercover.” The man shot out his hand. “And you are?”
“H.G. Wells,” Herb said without thinking as he shook the man’s hand. Then he quickly blanched, glancing around. “Not
the H.G. Wells though.”
“Of course not,” said ‘Batman’ with a wink. “None of us really are who we say we are. It’s important to keep up the secret identity.”
“Right so. Right so,” agreed Herb with one last glance at Lois and nodded. Yes, he would do it. He had never considered himself any kind of knight in shining armor, but since meeting Lois and Clark, he had made it his mission that the Utopian society that would be created due to their influence never be destroyed; especially since it was his fault that Tempus had been let loose in time to wreak such havoc. He seemed to spend most of his time lately cleaning up that man’s messes. “Thank you,” he said to the man and turned back to the exit where he was joined by the tour guide.
“So, what do think of our facilities?” the woman inquired, full of faux-pleasantry of a saleswoman.
“I think this will do nicely, very nicely indeed. There are just a few more things I need to check out before making my final decision,” said Herb as they passed through the door.
The woman glanced over her shoulder, her brow furrowing, as she set a hand on Wells’ back and nudged him out of the room more quickly. She picked up her two-way radio and murmured, “Contact Dr. Carlin. A patient requires her attention in the Day Room.”
Herb turned back to see to what she was referring, but the door had already closed, blocking his view. He sighed, continuing down the hall. Yes, if they returned to the beginning, perhaps Clark could get his happily-ever-after after all.
***
Perry went down in the elevator accompanied by Jimmy. Damn this monkey suit. If Alice didn’t like him in it so much, Perry would never put the horrid thing on, especially to go to stupid charity symphony event that he would more likely sleep through, but he loved his wife, and he was on very thin ice as it was. “What do you have for me, Olsen?”
“If Dr. Carlin was married, it wasn’t registered here in Metropolis, the state of New Troy, or in America for that matter,” Jimmy said, following him out into the Daily Planet lobby. “I’ll check in her native England for any records in a couple hours when their offices open. With Lois’ wild claim that Lex Luthor was Dr. Carlin’s ex-husband, I also checked for any marriage records under his name. The same: zippo. I did find an old wedding announcement in the Daily Planet archives which mentions that he got married on a cruise ship about ten years ago, before he was anybody, but it didn’t mention the wife by name. I found the ship’s captain; he’s in a retirement home here in Metropolis. I’ll talk to him in the morning before I come in.”
“Let me know as soon as you find anything,” Perry replied, tugging on the neck of his suit as they stepped out into the cool evening air. “Where in the hell is she?” He looked up and down the street for his wife’s taxi.
“I thought you hated the symphony, Chief,” said Jimmy.
“But I love my wife…” Perry started in on his tirade before a Metro cab, with Alice inside, pulled up in front of them. He lowered his voice, “Son, when you get married, this will all make perfect sense.” He waved at Alice through the taxi window. Oh, great shades of Elvis! She had cut off all her hair and dyed what was left of it red. Now, he was going to have to lie to his wife and tell her how much he loved it. “Hi, dumplin’. New hairdo?”
“Hello, Mrs. White,” called Jimmy from behind him. “Chief, I’m going to stay until we roll. I want to log that call to London anyway.”
“Okay, Olsen. Thank you,” Perry told him with a quick wave to his junior reporter’s departing backside. He turned and gave a great big smile to Alice as he got into the cab. “Wow, dumplin’, that sure is red.”
As soon as he shut the cab’s door, the back doors locked and the compartment started filling with a smoky gas.
“What the…?” gasped Alice.
“Judas priest! What in Sam Hill’s going on here?!” Perry hollered as he tried to open his door and couldn’t. “Alice?!” His wife coughed next to him. He turned back towards the Daily Planet and screamed, “Jimmy!” but the kid was no longer there. The taxi pulled away as he continued to yell for help to no avail.
***
“
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Kent:
I apologize for having to write this letter, but as I expressed myself so poorly during my visit to Smallville last month, I really don’t have much other recourse. I know what I have to say may sound implausible or even insane, but as the circumstances surrounding how you found Clark fit that realm as well, it’s safe to assume that you are open minded.”
Martha paced back and forth across her kitchen, the letter from Lois that they had found the night before last, once more in her hands. The pages must have fallen from the fax machine and blown under the desk again. She really hated that one flaw from their new fangled fax machine. She’d get on Jonathan once more about fixing the tray.
“
Clark was not supposed to die by Rocky Cove Creek that day, but a man named Tempus from the future decided that his troubles were your son, Clark’s, fault, therefore, he traveled back in time to kill him. You see, when Clark grew up, he developed abilities that only a person with his background could have: incredible strength, self-propelled flight, heat-vision, cooling breath, among other traits. Clark had decided that, since he had been given these powers, he needed to use them for the good of mankind.
So, shortly after I met him, he convinced you – Martha – to create for him a disguise so that he could help people fight against oppression, danger, and crime. He became a beacon for Truth and Justice, not just in the U.S.A. but around in the world. He was known as Superman. The suit you designed for him was a bright blue skintight Spandex suit with red shorts, yellow belt, red cape, and red calf boots. On his chest he wore his family’s red and yellow emblem…”
At this point Lois had drawn a diagram of Superman’s ‘S’ crest.
“
… which you had found on his baby blanket.”
Martha traced her thumb over the drawing once more.
“Honey, please, let it go. She’s just trying to get a story out of us,” Jonathan said, rolling his chair from the living room into the kitchen. “Expose us to the world.”
“How? Jonathan, how does she know about the symbol that was on his blanket?” she sputtered, holding out the letter to him. He shook his head, refusing to take it, and she clutched it to her chest.
“Maybe she talked to one of those government men. You know, the ones that stopped by a few days after we found him, asking about a downed Russian satellite,” Jonathan hypothesized.
“And how would they know, Jonathan? You burned the ship and hauled it to the dump, didn’t you?” she reminded him.
He shook his head. “I know we agreed that was the best, in case whatever killed that boy might be spread around here. But it wouldn’t burn, so I buried it out in the woods, just past where we found him in Shuster’s field, near Rocky Cove creek.”
Martha eyes clouded over. “You never told me that.”
“I didn’t want to worry you,” he said softly, taking her hand.
“You shouldn’t keep secrets from me, Jonathan Kent.”
He smiled. “That was the only one.”
Martha raised a brow. ‘We’ll just see about that’ she thought, before returning to the topic of the letter. “So what, Jonathan? She got a tip from one of those men and tracked us down, stayed in our house, helped us with our chores, all the while claiming to be looking, not for a baby, but a grown man, tall with dark hair and glasses, who had told her he was Clark Kent of Smallville, Kansas. Do you think she created such an elaborate hoax to get us to confess we found a dead baby in a spaceship thirty years ago?” Martha demanded.
“Possibly. We don’t know, Martha. I don’t think we should take that chance.”
“We buried the blanket with him, Jonathan. How would she know the symbol had been on the blanket?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe those men…” Jonathan stopped speaking as he blanched. “Oh, Martha, no!”
She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him reassuringly. “No, he’s still there. I checked, yesterday morning, I dug…” She squeezed her eyes shut, a tear dripping down her cheek. “He’s fine.”
“Now, who’s keeping secrets?” he challenged lightly. “Lois works for the Daily Planet. That letter was sent with a Daily Planet coversheet.”
“Exactly! The Daily Planet, not some grocery store tabloid, a respectable newspaper, Jonathan. She says here…” Martha flipped through the pages until she found the paragraph again. “‘The Clark Kent who I know and love is a respected journalist and my partner, here at the Daily Planet.’”
“Why would any son of ours become a journalist? In Metropolis, of all places?” Jonathan retorted. “Wouldn’t you think that being from another planet, he would want to be as far away from the media as possible?”
“Or he would want to be right there in the thick of it, where he would be able to stop any rumors about himself?” Martha debated. “And why not Metropolis? If he wanted to help people as this Superman fellow, he’d want to live someplace with a large population where crime was rampant. What better place than Metropolis?”
Jonathan grinned. “Gotham?”
“Gotham City already has a hero.” She gave him her patented ‘I told you so’ look with pressed lips. “Just because he was raised by Kansas farmers, doesn’t mean he’d have grown up to be one.”
“Martha…”
“And what about this…” Martha started reading from the letter again. “… and that was how I ended up at your kitchen table that day. Perhaps you remember me. The man accompanying me, whom you were so worried about due to his pallor, was your son Clark, already sickened by the Kryptonite. Tall, dark, and handsome with glasses, just like I told you.” Martha dropped her hand with the letter down to her side. “Jonathan, I remember that couple, don’t you? It
was her, Jonathan.” Her lower lip began to quiver as her eyes misted over. “And that nice, young man was supposed to be our son.”
Jonathan took her hand in his, closed his eyes, and nodded. “I remember,” he said, his voice rough. “I didn’t like that he kissed your cheek.”
Martha raised her other hand to her cheek. Yes, her son had kissed her cheek, all those years ago. “Oh, Jonathan, if there is some way we can help her, so that she can save our boy…”
Her husband tugged on her hand with his until she was sitting on his lap, where he could wrap his arms around her. “I would give anything to have such a boy, such a man for your son, Martha.”
“Me, too, Jonathan,” Martha murmured against his neck.
For a few minutes they sat there, imagining the possibilities, the life they could have had if Clark had been alive when they had found him.
Jonathan moved his wife back so he could look her in the eye. “Martha, do you think that green rock that Wayne gave us, you know the big pretty green one he found under that big oak tree that went down in the storm several years ago, is the same green meteorite that Lois mentions in the letter?” His voice caught in his throat. “That Kryptonite rock that she said killed Clark?”
Martha nodded. “It is. Remember, while she was here, we noticed it glowed.” She took a deep breath and pressed on. “I went down to Rocky Cove this morning…” She pressed her lips together and swallowed. “It took some searching after all these years, but I found some of those smaller pieces, just like she mentioned throwing away from the baby in her letter.”
He set her to her feet and turned his chair towards their room. “Let’s get it out of the house, Martha. I thought it was pretty when Wayne gave it to us, but now…” he said with a shiver. “I don’t want that poison in my house any longer.”
“I’ll try Lois again,” Martha said, heading for the kitchen phone.
Jonathan stopped and looked over his shoulder at his wife. “Again?”
“I called her at home twice yesterday, but I only got her machine,” Martha explained.
“And you say I’ve been keeping secrets?” Jonathan teased, continuing to roll towards their bedroom. “Maybe you should try her at the office this time. Her letter said it was urgent.”
“That’s why I had tried her at her home,” Martha said, looking at the number on the fax coversheet and starting to dial. “I only hope we hadn’t found the letter too late. She sounded so worried about losing her job over this, and that darn letter sat under our desk for two days before we noticed it.”
***
Jimmy stepped off the elevator and into the newsroom, still shaking rain from his leather jacket. “Man, it’s raining cats and dogs out there,” he mumbled and ran a hand through his wet locks.
“Olsen! There you are,” Eduardo said, stepping out of Perry’s office. “Where have you been?”
The junior reporter’s brow furrowed. “Running up a lead for the Chief. I told him I’d be late.”
“You’ve heard from Perry?” Eduardo asked anxiously.
“He’s still not in?” Jimmy responded, jogging to Perry’s office to take a look, but no Mr. White. “Have you tried him at home? It’s not like him to be this late.”
“Of course, I’ve tried him at home,” Eduardo snapped. “Neither he nor Mrs. White answered. Did he say anything to you about being late?”
“No, last time I talked to him, he and Alice were heading to that charity symphony thing last night,” Jimmy said, reviewing his last conversation with his boss in his head again. “It’s not like the Chief’s wife not to be home. Perry says that Alice likes to sleep late the morning after they go to these black tie affairs.”
Wally walked by making kissing noises. “How’s the Chief’s butt tasting there, Olsen?”
“Grow up, Wally. Just because I’ve taken the time to listen and get to know the boss, doesn’t make me a brown-noser,” Jimmy retorted with annoyance.
“Yeah, well after Lane’s butt, I guess White’s is like dessert,” Wally shot back.
Jimmy stepped up to Wally’s over six foot frame, bumping his chest against the more senior reporter. “Just because you were too much of a chicken…”
“Guys!” Eduardo interrupted, pushing them apart. “This isn’t helping.”
Jimmy sent a nasty grimace in Wally’s direction, before turning back to Eduardo. “Has anyone checked with the Luthor Foundation for the Arts to see if the Whites made it the Metropolis Symphony last night?”
“No, I’ve got some people checking with hospitals at the moment. So far, we’re assuming he got involved in one of those fender-benders around town from the rain.” Eduardo checked his watch. “Look, I’m supposed to meeting someone at the Metropolis Meteorological Association about this freak storm. LNN is predicting massive floods. With Lane at the looney bin, I’m next in line for holding down the fort.”
“Lois isn’t crazy!” Jimmy snarled. It was one thing for him to say it; it was quite another if anyone else did.
Eduardo’s hands shot up. “Sorry!” Then a look of curiosity crossed his face. “What’s this lead you were following up for the Chief?”
“Luthor! Lois was right. He and Dr. Carlin were married at sea about ten years ago,” the younger reporter announced, pulling out the wedding photograph the retired captain of the cruise ship had given him.
“Get out of town!” gasped Wally, staring over Olsen’s shoulder at the photo. “Lane was right?! Again! Man, how does that woman do that?”
“A hell of a lot of hard work, Wally, you should try it sometime,” retorted Jimmy with an elbow jab back into Wally’s gut. “And maybe, while you’re at it, cut down on the deep fried lunches.”
“Guys!” Eduardo hollered again. “Stop it! Wally, go to City Hall see what the Emergency Plan is for storm.”
Wally nodded and ran from their make-shift group.
“Damn! I’ve got to take this meeting,” Eduardo said, pulling on his jacket. He looked to Jimmy with a pleading expression. “Hold down the fort ‘til I get back?”
“Got it!” Jimmy nodded as his gut twisted.
It was just like the last time the Chief disappeared, only this time there was no Lois to hunt their boss down and bring him back safe. What were they going to do? If the Chief still hadn’t checked in by the time Eduardo returned, Jimmy would have to break Lois out of the Luthor House for the Mentally Unstable himself. Delusional or not, they needed her.
Jimmy shrugged out of his leather jacket and hung it up on the coat rack next to Lois’ desk. Her phone rang and he picked it up, leaning against her desk, “Daily Planet. James Olsen, speaking.”
There was a pause on the phone before a woman’s voice said, “Hello, Mr. Olsen. I’m looking for Lois Lane.”
“I’m sorry, she’s out of the office. Is there something I can help you with?” he asked. Joe handed him a fax for Perry.
“I don’t think so. When do you expect her back? I can call back then,” the woman replied.
“Who knows? Our reporters are in and out of the office all day, depending on their news stories, meetings with sources, and press conferences,” Jimmy explained, waving Paulson over. He covered up the receiver and handed the fax to the reporter. “Press conference at Metropolis Transportation Agency, something to do with flooding of the subway lines.”
“Got it!” Paulson responded, taking the fax.
“Can I take a message?” Jimmy said to the woman on the phone.
“When she faxed me the other day, she said that it was urgent that I contact her. Are you sure there isn’t another way to get a hold of her? Cell phone?” the woman persisted.
A chill danced down Jimmy’s spine. “Who is this?”
“Martha Kent,” she replied. He heard her take a deep breath and exhale. “Clark’s mother.”
“Holy crap!” he exclaimed and then quickly apologized, “Excuse me. Are you saying that Clark Kent is real?” He shook his head. “Of course that’s what you’re saying. You’re a godsend. Lois told me to expect your call. I just never thought… never mind what I thought. I’m sorry, it’s been a crazy day. My boss has disappeared, Metropolis is having the storm of the century that appeared out of nowhere, and with Lois at the Luthor House for the Mentally Unstable… Sorry,” Jimmy said, catching himself in Lois-like ramble.
“Lois is in a psychiatric hospital?” Mrs. Kent asked weakly.
“Yes, but this is terrific news, Mrs. Kent. We’ll be able to get Lois out there, now.” Jimmy fist pumped in the air. “Okay, I will just need some kind of written statement from you, I guess… Damn! Excuse me, I don’t know what has happened to my manners today, Mrs. Kent. I apologize. I wish Perry were here, he’d know what to do next.”
Joe walked up to Jimmy. His pallor was like lukewarm oatmeal. He looked so pale and clammy, the photographer was worried he might be coming down with something. “Jimmy.”
“Not now, Joe,” Jimmy said to the man. “Okay, Mrs. Kent. Let me get your phone…”
“Yes, now, Jimmy,” Joe said as his voice cracked.
Jimmy took another look at the man and noticed never-before-seen tears in the man’s eyes. “Is this about White?” he asked, holding his hand out for the fax, but there wasn’t one. “Hold on, Mrs. Kent.”
Joe shook his head. “Lois.” Then he turned and looked over his shoulder to Inspector Henderson.
The young reporter set the phone on his shoulder and turned to the policeman. “Inspector? Lois isn’t in. I was sure that you heard that…”
“Is Mr. White in, Olsen?” Henderson interrupted. His face looked as ashen as Joe’s.
“No, he’s missing. I’m in charge until Eduardo Friaz returns from the Metropolis Meteorological Association. What’s this about?” Jimmy asked.
Inspector Henderson swallowed and bit his bottom lip as if holding something back. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Lois Lane was killed this morning while trying to escape from the Luthor House for the Mentally Unstable. She had made it onto the fire escape, but in the rain slipped on the wet steps, falling to her death.”
“No!” Jimmy sobbed. His knees buckled and he fell into Lois’ chair. He turned his eyes back to the policeman’s. “Are you sure?”
Henderson nodded. “There’s a security photo of her climbing out onto the fire escape. It’s her.”
“My God. Lois!” Jimmy groaned, then he seemed to remember the phone on his shoulder. Swallowing, he brought the phone back to his face. “Mrs. Kent…”
He heard a sniffle and then the click of her phone being hung up.
***End of Part 23*** Part 24 Comments
