Well here it is, finally. The first new segment.
Again thanks to Laswa, my very special BR and to all who are hanging in there with this story.
From Part 6
JB/Richard: I’m Jonathan Brewster.
Elaine/Lois: [Drawing back almost with fright.] Oh--you’re Jonathan!
Although no suggestions of movement were given to Jonathan Brewster’s character at this point, Richard walked slowly toward Lois and stroked the side of her face with the back of his hand and then with an evil tone to his voice, read his line.
JB/Richard: I see you’ve heard of me.
Now for Part 7
Roswell, New Mexico
Thursday,
April 1, 1948
9:20 p.m. MST
Lou Ann Baker AKA, Libby Barton screamed. The pain was excruciating, and it appeared that no one in the operating room was attentive to her needs at all. The labor-room nurse, Rebecca Schuler, looked over at Dr. Thorpe and frowned. She looked back at the young woman lying on the table, and her heart went out to her. She was so pale and scared, and she had no one to support her--no husband pacing outside, no parents clustering near the phone waiting to hear, no one. The nurse took her hand to try to comfort her. “Take a deep breath and blow it out in small pants,” the nurse told Libby.
“What are you doing?” the doctor spat out.
“It’s a method I read about that they are trying in Great Britain. Dr. Grantly Dick-Read says...”
“Don’t you tell me about delivering a child, especially a bastard!” Dr. Thorpe commanded.
The nurse bit her lower lip to keep from saying something. She knew that Dr. Thorpe had a history of punishing young women who....
“It’s a breech birth,” he bellowed suddenly. “Let’s put her under.”
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Glouchester, Virginia
Thursday,
April 1, 1948
11:20 p.m. EST
Second Lieutenant Jason Trask, soon to be Jason Trask Senior, paced up and down the corridor of Walter Reed Hospital. He looked at his watch. He had been there for over three hours and he was getting incredibly impatient. He had much more important things to do. The officer looked up to see Captain Stone pushing open the double doors of the maternity section of the hospital. “You have a baby boy,” the doctor informed him.
Jason Trask Senior nodded and turned to leave.
“Don’t you want to know about your wife?” the doctor asked.
“Yeah, sure,” Lieutenant Trask said off handedly.
“Well, your wife is doing just fine. You can go in to see her,” Dr. Stone suggested to the back of the retreating officer.
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Roswell, New Mexico
Friday,
April 2, 1948
7:15 a.m. CST
“Lou Ann,” the nurse whispered, gently trying to awaken the sleeping patient.
Libby Barton opened her eyes to see Rebecca Schuler hovering over her. “Where...where is my ba...?” the woman known as Lou Ann Baker said.
Dr. Thorpe will be here soon,” the nurse interrupted her question, just as the doctor entered the ward and walked over to Libby’s bed.
“*Miss* Baker,” the doctor emphasized, accusatorily. “Your son died in childbirth, which is probably a blessing in disguise,” he finished. “We will be discharging you this afternoon, as we need the bed for more deserving patients,” he lashed out, turning on his heels and retreating quickly out of the ward.
Libby looked up at the nurse and began to cry. “I...I was r..ra...,” she tried to explain as her crying intensified.
Rebecca took her hand. “It’s all right, dear,” she said. The veteran nurse looked over her shoulder toward where the doctor had withdrawn and then sat down next to Libby. “They just don’t understand.”
Dr. Thorpe let the maternity ward doors swing behind him, as he strolled determinedly into the hallway and turned right at the end of the corridor. He opened the door to his office and sat down behind his desk to look at the well-to-do couple inhabiting the chairs in front of him. “Your son is waiting for you in the nursery,” he informed them. “He’s a very healthy baby and meets each and every one of your criteria; so, if I can just have my check?”
The man took out a folded slip of paper from his inside jacket pocket and slid it pointedly across the desk to Dr. Thorpe. “As agreed upon,” the new father informed him.
Dr. Thorpe unfolded the piece of paper and smiled. “Exactly!” he exclaimed as he rose and extended his hand.
The couple stood up and coldly shook the doctor’s hand in turn.
“Have you decided upon a name?” Dr. Thorpe asked them.
“Yes,” the woman said, matter-of-factly. “Alexander.”
“That’s a fine name,” the doctor said as he escorted the two toward the nursery.
The three stopped in front of the glass partition and looked at the array of bassinets. Dr. Thorpe went into the nursery and removing a tag from a bassinet in the second row, he whispered to a nurse who walked over to a desk at the far end of the nursery.
The nurse scratched out the name Baker, boy; and, carefully and precisely, printed the child’s new name. She walked back to the where the child was sleeping and slipped the corrected tag into its holder.
The new parents looked at each other and then unemotionally, turned and looked at their new son.
The tag read: Luthor, Alexander.
“Lex,” Max Luthor told his wife forcefully. “It will be Lex Luthor.”
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Smallville, Kansas
Sunday,
January 16, 1994
4:10 p.m. CST
“That’s wonderful,” Martha told them after the first reading. “But, Richard, before you sit down, I want you to read something else. I know that you’re only interested in the villain, and you really read him beautifully; but I want to hear the range of your voice quality. So, Lois, please stay up here and would you please read Elaine Harper again. And, uh....Richard,” Martha continued, looking toward Clark. “I want to hear you read for Mortimer Brewster this time.”
Lois looked over at Clark and turned back to Martha. Lois knew this day had to come. The last two plays they had been in together, she and Clark were cast as lovers. Martha couldn’t keep doing it. She had to give others a chance or else people would think that the shows were pre-cast, that is, etched in stone before someone new could try out. It was really important that Martha do this, as Mortimer Brewster was the play’s lead and one of the potential candidates for that part was her son. Pre-casting could prove a death knell to community theatres--auditions had to be totally open.
Martha glanced again at Clark. She knew what she was doing. She had absolutely no intentions of casting anyone other than Lois and Clark in the roles of Elaine and Mortimer, especially since Richard had indicated no interest in the role of the hero; but she had to let all those in the room know that she gave others the chance--that she could be persuaded to see things differently, especially if the actors gave her an interpretation of the characters that changed her mind. But deep in her heart, she knew no one could play Mortimer as well as Clark. Richard had shown some incredible acting talent, but he preferred the villain and since she desperately needed a strong actor in that role as well, she had no problem acquiescing to his preference.
She would later ask Dan to read for Mortimer, but give him a scene without Elaine. Dan and Lois had a little bit of a history and she didn’t want that to erupt on her--but Richard was someone new--no chance there.
“Let me set the scene.” Martha Kent said to the actors standing in front of her. “Mortimer is a theatre critic and Elaine is the daughter of a minister--very different from each other--very much in love. This scene is toward the beginning of the play. It’s as close to a marriage proposal as Mortimer can get. He is flippant, creative, and articulate. Elaine is not as naïve as he thinks, and she will get what she wants. Okay, we’re on page seventeen.”
Mortimer/Richard: For a minister’s daughter you know a lot about life. Where’d you learn it?
Elaine/Lois: [Casually.] In the choir loft.
Mortimer/Richard: I’ll explain that to you sometime, darling--the close connection between eroticism and religion.
Elaine/Lois: Religion never gets as high as the choir loft. Which reminds me, I’d better tell Father to please not wait up for me tonight.
Mortimer/Richard: I’ve never been able to rationalize it.
Elaine/Lois: What?
Mortimer/Richard: My falling in love with a Minister’s daughter.
Elaine/Lois: Falling in love? You’re not stooping to the articulate, are you?
Mortimer/Richard: The only way I can regain my self respect is to keep you away from your father and in Metropolis.
Elaine/Lois [Taking a few steps toward him.] Did you say keep?
Mortimer/Richard: No, no. I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re holding out for the legalities.
Elaine/Lois: [Crossing to him.] I can afford to be a good girl for quite a few years yet.
Lois realized that the next part of the scene called for the two of them to get quite close. She glanced over Richard’s shoulder toward where Clark was sitting. It was obvious that Clark was a little uncomfortable with her doing this.
Mortimer/Richard: [Takes Elaine/Lois in his arms.] And I can’t wait that long. Where could we be married in a hurry--say tonight?
Clark watched the two of them. He knew he shouldn’t be jealous, but he was. This was just an audition, and they were only acting. But there was something in Richard’s body language that irritated Clark. He looked beyond them to his mother. She really wasn’t considering this possibility, was she? She wouldn’t cast Lois opposite this new guy. She couldn’t!
Martha caught Clark’s glare. She should stop the scene now. It had served its purpose.
But Richard was really getting into the scene. He thought back to that night in September when Lois had come to his apartment to persuade him to change an educational policy. Richard, that is, Lex had tried to kiss her then but she had fought him off. Now he had a chance to correct that. He pulled Lois into his arms and kissed her.
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Barb Friskin was working at her Smallville High School office. Yes it was Sunday, and yes she should be down the corridor at the auditorium auditioning for a role; but her mind was not on that. She really wasn’t in the mood to get involved in another play, but she had promised Martha; and Martha was a hard person to disappoint. But she just had so much to do and so much to think about.
Since Lex Luthor’s death, her nephew Jaxon had been avoiding her. He had immersed himself into the Luthor mystique and had been thoroughly seduced by its power and prestige. All Barb Friskin’s attempts to save him from the quagmire of the Luthor empire had been to no avail.
The counselor picked up a file and reread sections of the previously recorded material. She jotted down a few ideas to incorporate in the ongoing record. She reached for her tape recorder and then looked up at the clock and groaned. The auditions would be over soon, but Barb had a little time yet and this work had to get done. Well, she would just take a few minutes more to finish dictating her notes. She pushed the record button and....
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“Clark,” his mother told him. “I’d like you to try the same scene.”
“No, I can’t, Mom. I just heard...uh...I mean I remembered something and I’ll try to get back as quickly as I can,” he informed everyone as he hurriedly took off out the door.
Only Clark’s parents and Lois knew what was taking Clark out of the audition. The others sitting in the circle of chairs were puzzled at his reaction. Had he been that upset over Richard kissing Lois. Richard smiled. Being involved with this group was going to enable him to get some retribution.
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Once into the empty hallway, Clark spun into Superman and burst into Barb Friskin’s locked door to find Barb Friskin dead, the smoking gun still in her own hand.
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Smallville, Kansas
Sunday,
October 30, 1938
7:29 p.m. CST
The elder members of the Barton family, who were gathered around the radio listening to what only a few people in the country realized was just the Mercury Theatre’s rendition of “War of the Worlds”, were no strangers to alien happenings. They had grown up with the bizarre, with the unusual, and with the ghoulish. On that eventful October 30th in 1938, they were being taken in, as were so many other listeners, with the idea that the newscast was real and that the end of life as they had known it was upon them.
The Bartons were ready to accept the macabre occurrence depicted on the radio as authentic, because they had been taught all their lives that nothing is impossible. Laslo Barton, their father, had believed he could extend life and perhaps even resurrect those who have gone to their graves. He had failed to save his wife as she lay dying; and as a result, he became maniacally obsessed with his experiments after her death. His only other obsession was his youngest daughter, Lenore who each and every day became more and more like her mother.
In order to keep Lenore in frilly dresses and add to her collection of dolls, Laslo needed money. The money would provide for Lenore the way he wanted to and would keep him in materials to continue the experiments that would someday net a return for those who were supplying his funding--those interested investors.
The town had believed the rumors of Laslo discovering Coca-Cola, and he had kept that gossip alive. Because, if they knew--really knew from where his many came and for what purpose his money would be ultimately used--tar and feathers or torches and pitchforks would be the most benign of punishments. Up in the Maple Street attic, with a young Lloyd by his side, Laslo Barton conducted odd experiments on animals, corpses and even a lonely boarder or two, most of whom were now buried in their cellar. Linus always had his shovel at the ready and enjoyed the game of digging and filling up holes.
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Smallville, Kansas
Wednesday,
May 18, 1966
10:40 p.m. CDT
Major Jason Trask Sr. ordered the men to commence filling up the hole. He walked back to the truck parked in the field and ran his hand over the craft they had uncovered and carefully prepared for transport. Another young soldier was on the truck completing a tag. Corporal Jason Trask Jr. looked up at his father, grinned and then wrote: “Smallville, Kansas 1966 -- Bureau 39.”
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Smallville, Kansas
Sunday,
October 30, 1938
7:31 p.m. CST
Outside the house on Maple Street, the wind continued to whip around; and, again, an unusual noise whistled through the attic. Leticia glanced up at the ceiling and back at her brothers and sister. She noticed that Lavinia had her arm around Libby who was frightened. This time a scratching noise came from above. Leticia left the anxious group clustered around the radio awaiting news on the Martians, and started for the stairs but was distracted back to the living room when a hissing sound followed by a humming sound, increasing in intensity, emanated from the radio.
##### PHILLIPS: A humped shape is rising out of the pit. I can make out a small beam of light against a mirror. What's that? There's a jet of flame springing from the mirror, and it leaps right at the advancing men. It strikes them head on! Good Lord, they're turning into flame!
Then there were screams and unearthly shrieks.
PHILLIPS: Now the whole field's caught fire.
A sound of an explosion was heard next.
PHILLIPS: The woods . . . the barns . . . the gas tanks of automobiles . . . it's spreading everywhere. It's coming this way. About twenty yards to my right . . .
There was a crash of the microphone...then dead silence. #####
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The skies above Los Angeles
Sunday,
January 16, 1994
11:40 p.m. PST
Vivian Cox once more leaned back into her seat as the plane settled into its path toward the Mid West. The conference had been a success and she was eager to report to her husband and the Smallville Council.
The flight attendant was making her way along the aisle checking on drink orders, The man in front of her had adjusted his seat causing Vivian to realign her position somewhat. The woman next to her had thankfully gone taciturn after the obligatory introductions, the discussion of her children, jobs, where the two women had come from and where they were going.
Vivian looked out the window. The lights below from the broad expanse of the city of Los Angeles appeared to go on forever. She sighed as she thought about her past life in the bustle of Metropolis and how she had been able to so easily settle down to be totally ensconced as the wife of a small-town mayor.
The flight attendant wandered down the aisle with earphones to listen to the in flight movie or to music. Vivian paid the $5.00 and plugged the ear-phones into the radio station outlet.
##### ....and in scientific news: Gamma-Ray flashes in earth’s atmosphere have been observed by the Compton Gamma Ray Observatory (GRO), according to Neil Gehrels of NASA Goddard, who spoke at the AAS meeting. The GRO looks for gammas from across the sky out to the furthest corners of the universe; scientists had not expected to see them at our home planet, Gehrels said. He suggested that the flashes might be occurring over intense storms and may result from upward-going lightning. #####
A lightning flash lit up the sky. The jagged fingers spread out and illuminated the heavens above the Pacific Ocean as the jet climbed to achieve altitude and then banked slowly to turn and head east. Another flash appeared outside the window as Vivian Cox reached for her purse. Perhaps she should use this time to....A huge explosion ripped through the body of the plane and then dead silence.
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Smallville, Kansas
Sunday,
October 30, 1938
7:32 p.m. CST
Libby Barton inched closer to her Aunt Lavinia, while Aunt Leticia made her way up the stairs to the attic.
##### ANNOUNCER: Ladies and gentlemen, due to circumstances beyond our control, we are unable to continue the broadcast from Grover’s Mill. Evidently there's some difficulty with our field transmission. However, we will return to that point at the earliest opportunity. In the meantime, we have a late bulletin from Los Angeles, California. Professor Indellkoffer, speaking at a dinner of the California Astronomical Society, expressed the opinion that the explosions on Mars are undoubtedly nothing more than severe volcanic disturbances on the surface of the planet.
ANNOUNCER TWO: Ladies and gentlemen, I have just been handed a message that came in from Grover’s Mill by telephone. Just a moment. At least forty people, including six state troopers lie dead in a field east of the village of Grover’s Mill, their bodies burned and distorted beyond all possible recognition. The next voice you hear will be that of Brigadier General Montgomery Smith, commander of the state militia at Trenton, New Jersey. #####
Fifteen minutes later, Libby Barton, aged twelve, looked at the bodies strewn around the kitchen floor. Jinx mewed and rubbed against her legs as Libby starred at the gun in her hand.
The door to the living room burst open and Sheriff Jerome Kent and two deputies entered the Barton house. The Sheriff walked over to where Libby was standing and carefully took the gun from her hand. He knelt down beside her and looked into her eyes. He saw her dazed look and picking her up gently, carried her over to the couch and laid her down. He then went over to the phone.
“Theresa,” he said to the woman that answered. “Let me speak to Joe.”
Joe Clark, attorney at law took the receiver his wife handed him.
“Hey Jerry!” Joe said. “What’s up?”
“Get over to the Barton house as soon as you can. Little Libby Barton’s going to need a damn good attorney.”
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Smallville, Kansas
Monday,
January 24, 1994
1:15 p.m. CST
The attractive female attorney sat opposite a distinguished looking man wearing an impeccably tailored suit, as they finished their coffee. She waved off the waitress when offered the desert menu, but allowed the young woman dressed all in pink to refill her coffee cup. She waited until the waitress had left them alone to address the man regarding her.
“You have beaten around the bush for the last forty minutes, Mr. St. John,” Mayson Drake-Luthor told him. “What is it that you want of me?”
“I don’t want you to do anything for me,” Nigel told her. “I have some pertinent information for you.”
“What information?” she asked him taking another sip of her coffee.
“They’ve begun to die.”
“Who?” Mayson asked him.
“Bill Saxon, Antoinette Baines, Deborah Joy LeVine, Barb Friskin, Vivian Cox.”
Mayson looked at Nigel. “And...”
“*He’s* doing it. He’s seeking revenge. He’s *alive*!”
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Smallville, Kansas
Friday,
January 28, 1994
3:35 p.m. CST
Martha Kent walked toward the window of the Cabbages and Kings Bookstore to post the cast list. She had waited over a week, until after the funerals of Vivian Cox and Barb Friskin, allowing the town to achieve some sense of normality. It seemed almost trivial to continue with the play, but the group had decided that even with the rash of deaths in Smallville, life had to continue.
Martha had considered changing the play, as a comedy about death appeared somewhat sacrilegious in a way, yet nothing else had come to mind. The potential cast members had seemed eager to participate; and, since there was another five weeks until the play was going up on the boards, there would be some distance.
Keith and Cindy were waiting around for the cast list to be posted. Martha smiled at them, as she taped the announcement to the window and walked back to the counter.
“Okay, okay,” Cindy said. “Who got what?”
“I’ll bet Mr. Kent is Mortimer,” Keith told her as he began to read.
“You don’t think Mr. Scardino will get it?” Cindy asked him.
“Are you kidding?” Keith turned and shot back at her, and then noticed her saucy grin. “Oh! Right!”
“Of course, Mr. Kent should get Mortimer,” Cindy retorted. “He’s always the perfect hero. I mean he’s super in those roles.”
“It’s posted alphabetically,” Keith went on, ignoring her. “Let’s see....”
“Libby Barton is Aunt Martha, Donald Botts is Teddy, Beatrice Drake is Aunt Abby and I got Officer Cohen.”
“Who’s he?” Cindy asked.
“Just one of the cops,” Keith told her. “I knew I could only get a small part for this show, but Mrs. Kent is promising to pick a play where I would have a chance at a meaty role, before I leave in September.”
“Go on,” Cindy urged. “Who else got what?”
“Wayne Irig got Dr. Einstein. Mr. Kent got Mortimer.”
“Surprise!!!!!”
“Don’t be facetious,” Keith said. “We both know he’s the best.”
“Well, I did think that Mr. Thurston was kinda handsome. Did he get what he wanted?”
“Hold on,” Keith told her. “I’m getting there. Mr. Kent’s Dad is Mr. Gibbs. That’s another really small role so he could work on the set.”
“Right,” Cindy said. “This set with all the doors, stairs up and down and the window seat, is going to take a lot of work. Go on, keep reading.”
“Miss Lane got Elaine Harper.”
“Well, that was a no brainer.” Cindy shot back. “Well pretty soon, I’ll be old enough to play those parts.”
“And you’ll be great,” Keith said to her, smiling.
Cindy smiled back. “Okay, finish up!”
“It looks like Mrs. Kent did some arm twisting because Reverend Mock is going to play Reverend Harper.”
“Does Tom’s Dad know how to act?” Cindy asked.
“Preachers are always acting,” Keith said. “At least if their sermons are any good.
Mr. Olsen is Officer O’Hara, which is the cop with the biggest part. Mr. Scardino is Officer Brophy. And yes, Mr. Thurston got....” Keith started, but stopped when he saw Richard Thurston arrive.
Lex Luthor, alias Richard Thurston stopped outside the bookstore and read the list.
“Interesting, he told the two young people,” and turned to walk away.”
“Are you pleased, Mr. Thurston?” Cindy asked.
The man knew he had to play a part, not the part on the posted list, but the part of a man who cared. He turned back and smiled at both of them. “Yes,” I’m thrilled,” he said. “I think it’s really going to be fun.”
Lex turned again and crossed the street. It was just as he predicted. Last week, after he had left auditions, gone back to his new apartment, lit a cigar, opened a bottle of vintage wine, and leaned back in a comfortable chair; he had attempted to put himself into the bourgeois mind of a middle-aged, small-town, pedestrian woman and cast the show in his mind. It had been too easy to look at life through her eyes and he quickly dismissed the exercise, as it offered Lex no challenge at all.
Lois and Clark would be the two lovers and he would be the murderer. This will be a passing amusement, a dalliance that will provide him with the opportunity and means to achieve his end. He smiled again as he continued down the street to the Luthor building, the Machiavellian reference still playing on his mind.
Acting the part of Jonathan Brewster wouldn’t be taxing on his genus. Acting the part of Richard Thurston would take a little more effort, as he had to indulge in sophomoric hyperbole whenever he was around these rustics.
The character of Jonathan Brewster is supposed to have killed twelve people. Lex ironically ticked off the twelve names on his own list. Two months ago twelve people had wanted him dead and now he was seeking revenge. Well, five down. Five insignificant lives extinguished--insignificant nothings, who had sought to hurt or destroy him. They were dead and he was alive!
tbc
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