--Earth I—Richard had wanted to stay at the hospital, but Lois had come out of Jason’s room while the nurse came in the check on him.
“Look, there’s no sense in us both being here,” she told him. “You go home, get some rest and come back in a couple hours so I can get some rest, okay?”
She must have seen the pain in his face because she stretched up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Please, Richard, go home. I promise I’ll call you if there’s any change.”
He nodded, shaky. “I’ll give you a call if I hear from Uncle Perry. Hopefully Clark’s doing better than the kids are. I mean, he’s… you know…”
“I know, Richard. I know. I think right now all we can do is pray for all three of them.”
Richard felt his heart squeeze in his chest. She sounded like she was running on the edge of exhaustion, her eyes like bruises in her pale face. He wanted to give her a hug, send her home instead, but he knew it was no longer his decision. She had made hers and he was lucky to be included in it.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he promised.
* * *
Clark looked around the room they were now in. It looked both strange and familiar at the same time. It was the living room they’d just left, except the furniture was different, the colors lighter and muted. The art on the fireplace wall was different, naturally – photographs rather than the native art Clark and Lois collected from their travels.
There were family photos on the mantle. “She didn’t tell me the name of her fiancé,” Clark told Lois nodding to one of the photos. The younger Lois was with a boy that looked very much like the New Kryptonian boy being fostered on their world. The man with them very much resembled the Richard White they knew.
“Richard,” Lois noted. “Let’s hope he’s like ours. Someone who will help.”
Clark nodded, hearing something oddly familiar outside the range of human senses. He scanned the room, then the house. Listening devices. He put a finger to his lips and Lois nodded her understanding.
He took care of the bugs within a minute.
“Do you think they have any idea?” Lois asked quietly.
Clark shrugged. “Somehow I doubt it. Question is who would want to do it?”
Wells had walked over to the French doors that looked over the back deck. “Oh my. How exciting. They have an aeroplane.”
* * *
Richard was surprised to see the lights on in the house when he pulled into the driveway. He was sure he’d shut them off when he left to go to Perry’s house. He left car and walked to the front door. He and Lois didn’t keep money in the house, but they did have computers and electronics that thieves might be interested in.
He quietly turned the key in the lock and opened the front door.
“Richard White, I presume?” a dark-haired man with brown eyes and glasses said as the door opened.
“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?” Richard found himself yelling. There was a dark-haired woman standing beside the man who spoke and behind them another man, older, wearing wire-framed glasses.
“We could say we’re waiting for you, but we’ve just arrived ourselves,” the dark-haired man said. Richard simply looked at them for a moment. The man was a little taller than Richard, athletic-looking with broad shoulders. The woman was slender, but carried herself with ease. They were both a few years older than he was and both were well dressed – the man in a dark tailored suit, white shirt with an open collar, and expensive shoes. The woman was wearing a slacks and a loose knit top.
“Actually, we’re looking for Clark Kent,” the man continued. “Please tell us you know where he is.”
“He’s at my uncle’s house,” Richard responded. “Who are you people?”
The older man spoke up. “Um, I’m Herbert George Wells and my companions here are Clark Kent and Lois Lane-Kent. We’re from an alternate time-line and we’re here to prevent a terrible catastrophe.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“He’s H. G. Wells the writer and we’re the counterparts for the Clark Kent and Lois Lane you know. Only we’re from another dimension,” the woman told him.
“We have reason to believe that there is something terrible going to happen here and we’ve come to help stop it,” the older man added earnestly.
Richard looked at him. “Aren’t you dead?”
“Sometimes,” all three of the strangers said as though sharing a sad old joke.
“Look, we really need to talk to your Clark, so we can figure out what’s wrong,” ‘Clark’ said.
“That might be a little hard,” Richard said. “He got sick, really sick after going out on a story. And then so did Jason and the baby. The two kids are in intensive care at Metropolis General and Clark is at my uncle’s.”
“Oh dear,” Wells said, looking to ‘Clark’. “It looks like you were right.”
“I’d much rather I wasn't,” ‘Clark’ said. There was a grim tone in his voice.
“Who are you people, really?” Richard asked. This is ridiculous. H.G. Wells, alternate universes. They don’t even look like Clark and Lois.
“We’ve already told you,” ‘Clark’ said. “Now, are you going to help us or not? Because if you’re not, then you’re not the man we’d hoped you were, and our job just got a whole lot harder.”
Richard took a shaky breath. “I’ll help. But there’s no way I can call you ‘Clark’ and ‘Lois’. You’re not anything like them.”
“You might be surprised,” ‘Clark’ commented. “You can call me Jerome.”
“And you can call me Joanne,” ‘Lois’ said. “That’s my middle name.” She placed a small cooler that Richard hadn’t noticed before on the coffee table. Jerome bent over her as she opened the case and pulled out a sheet of something with strange writing on it. It didn’t quite look like paper. She handed the sheet to Jerome who unfolded it and read it.
“It looks like Zara sent along some antibiotics and anti-virals this time,” Jerome told her. “The yellow is the anti-viral. This also says the antibiotic and anti-viral can be given intravenously if necessary.”
“That’s good to know,” Joanne said, picking out three vials and a small trigger-like device from the case and handing them to him. She looked back over her shoulder at Richard. “I need to get to the hospital with these. Hopefully we haven’t lost too much time.”
“I’ll get these to Clark,” Jerome told her. He looked over to Richard. “Where does your uncle live, by the way?”
“Over in Park Ridge,” Richard answered. He gave the address and Jerome nodded, heading for the French doors and the back deck. Wells started to follow him.
“And how are you planning on getting there?” Richard asked. Then it hit him.
He’s Clark Kent. “Unless you’re Superman, too.” He caught the slight widening of the eyes, the flicker of surprise that crossed Jerome’s face then was replaced by calm, detached observation.
Jerome took a step then disappeared into a blur the color of his suit which morphed into the primary colors of blue and red. The blur of movement slowed and Superman was standing in his living room. Not the Superman Richard was familiar with. This Superman was a little shorter, stockier, more like a quarterback than the swimmer his Superman resembled.
His Superman? What the hell was going on?“Let’s get everyone into your car,” Superman instructed. “I’ll fly the car to the hospital then take Mister Wells over to Mister White’s house. Hopefully, we’ll be in time.”
Numbly, Richard followed instructions and went out to his car.
* * *
Again, Lois was waiting outside Jason’s room as a doctor took more blood samples and a nurse checked the IVs and sensors. Jason’s fever wasn't coming down and they’d put him on a respirator to help him breathe.
My baby is dying.“Lois?”
She looked up to see Richard hurrying down the corridor toward her, followed by a familiar-looking woman with dark-hair.
“Lois?” Lois Lane asked in disbelief.
“I’m going by Joanne,” the alternate Lois responded. “How are the kids?”
Lois shook her head. “Their fevers won’t come down. They say the baby…” Suddenly everything came crashing down on her and Lois started to cry. The older woman pulled her into a hug.
“It’s going to be okay, I hope,” Joanne told her. “I have some drugs that might help. Can you get Jason’s doctor out here?”
Lois pulled away, wiping her eyes. She knocked on the glass partition and the doctor looked over at her. Lois beckoned for him to come out. He frowned, shed his gloves and gown, putting them in a container labeled bio-hazard, and came out into the corridor.
“Yes, Miss Lane?” the doctor asked. He gave Joanne and Richard a curious look.
“Doctor Maher, this is…”
“I’m Jason’s Aunt Joanne,” Joanne interrupted. “I’ve brought some experimental medications that might be able to knock down the infection in both Jason and the Kent baby.”
“What sort of medications?” Maher asked.
“An anti-viral, an antibiotic and a special vaccine,” Joanne replied, handing him one of the vials.
He peered at the glyphs on the side of the vial. “Where are these from?”
“The writing is Kryptonian,” Joanne told him. Lois watched his eyes widen.
“Superman?”
Joanne shrugged, not denying his speculation. “He had reason to believe someone created an organism specifically designed to attack him. Both Jason Lane and baby Kent spent time in close proximity to him within the past twelve hours, so it’s unlikely their illness is a coincidence.”
“And how is Superman?” Maher asked.
“He seemed fine at the oil refinery fire earlier,” Lois told him. “But who knows where he is now.”
“Are you sure these will work?” Maher asked. “I mean, if their experimental…”
“Doctor Maher, have you got anything that can help them?” Lois asked.
Maher chewed on his bottom lip. “Frankly, no. We haven’t even been able to identify the disease organism. We haven’t been able to culture it and the antibiotic shotgun approach doesn’t seem to touch it. But we do have rules about using untested or experimental drugs. There are protocols to follow.”
Lois’s nostrils flared in anger. “Doctor, you would let my son die because of some idiotic rules?” she hissed. “Give him the drugs. I swear we won’t come after you if it doesn’t work. I mean, what have we got to lose?”
“And the Kent baby?” Maher asked. “Who’s authorizing this treatment for her? We haven’t been able to get hold of her father.”
“I’ll authorize it,” Joanne stated. “Her father is my brother-in-law and I am authorized to act on his behalf. I can assure you he won’t object. Now please, just do it. The yellow and red can be given intravenously. The blue is intramuscular.”
Maher shook his head but reentered the ICU room where Jason Lane laid in a bed that looked far too big for his small form. Lois watched as Maher prepared the three vials for injection and then injected the first two into an IV line. The clear fluid in the line turned light orange.
* * *
Superman set Wells down in an area hidden by trees before spinning back into his white shirt and dark suit. The Craftsman style house reminded him a little of the older house his Perry White had lived in before he died. It was even in the same neighborhood. He rang the doorbell. He figured it was unlikely he was getting them out of bed and a quick check with x-ray vision confirmed that. An older man with gray eyebrows and closely cropped gray hair was coming to the door.
The door opened. The man looked exhausted as he peered at him.
“Perry White?” the alternate universe Clark asked.
“Yes… who are you?”
“I’m sorry about the time, but we’re friends of Clark Kent, and we’re here to help,” he said. “May we come in? Time is of the essence.”
Perry looked at him, then past him to Wells who was standing nervously behind him. “Is this some sort of joke?”
“Mister White, my name is Clark Jerome Kent, and this is Herbert George Wells,” ‘Jerome’ said. He watched Perry’s eyes widen in surprise. “Your Clark and I met several days ago, along with your Lois Lane. I have reason to believe something very unfortunate has happened to him. We’re here to help if we can. Now, may we come in?”
Perry backed away from the door and let them enter. Wells closed the door behind them. Perry peered at the little man curiously. “Herbert George Wells? As in the writer?”
“Oh, yes, quite,” Wells agreed cheerfully.
“And you’re Clark Jerome Kent?” Perry asked.
He nodded. “You can call me Jerome.”
He ignored the questioning look Perry was giving him as he scanned the house. No listening devices at least. He pulled out the three vials and the injector. “He’s upstairs. I’ll be right back,” Jerome told Wells as he started to head for the stairwell to give the medication to Clark of this world. He stopped when he felt Wells’s hand on his arm.
“Mister Kent, I don’t know that you’re immune to the disease,” Wells said.
“But you said it was just the kids that got sick in the unaltered time-line,” Jerome reminded him. “And I’ve been vaccinated.”
“But I don’t believe you were exposed to the disease in that time-line,” Wells told him. “I believe Missus Kent opened the case while you were still indisposed. Please allow me or Mister White to handle this.”
“What is that?” Perry asked, nodding to the vials in Jerome’s hand.
“Kryptonian medicine,” Jerome said, handing the vials to Perry. “Where we’re from, Kal-El isn’t the only survivor. But you need to hurry.” Jerome looked through the ceiling to the room above to where Clark lay. Whether he was unconscious or sleeping, he couldn’t really tell, but Clark’s heartbeat was weak and irregular. “He’s not doing well.”
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