Table of Contents
From Part 2:Lois was
dying.
Dying. And this time there was nothing -
nothing - he could do about it. Oh, there’d been close shaves by the dozen in the months he’d known her. In all of those cases he’d had seconds to react, but he’d got there in time. Seconds to be aware that her life was in danger - but then he’d rescued her and all had been well. This was different. She was facing a threat completely unlike any he’d dispatched for her, and he had no idea whether, this time, he could snatch her from the jaws of death.
For all of his powers, all of the abilities he’d been gifted with, he was helpless in the face of this threat. And it was obvious just by looking at her that he was helpless to prevent her ignoring the doctor’s advice.
“That’s a chance I’ll just have to take. If I stay, then I might as well just give up now,” Lois spat bitterly. “I’m leaving here so I can save my own life!”
“But these symptoms I’ve mentioned are important,” Dr Sutton said, emphasising his words. “They’re a sign that the drug is doing what it was designed to do. And some of them are more dangerous - for example, you could stop breathing. If that happens, then it won’t be a question of waiting for the time to be up.”
*********
Now read on...By the time she slid into the back of the taxi, Lois was shaking. She was grateful when, after a glance at her, Clark gave the driver her address. He didn’t look at her but, after a few moments, reached across and took her hand in his.
“We’ll find the antidote, Lois,” he murmured. “You know we will.”
Did she?
In the hospital, especially in front of that over-pessimistic Dr Sutton, it had been easy to be assertive. To insist that she wasn’t going to give in to whatever poison she had inside her. That she had every intention of living out the rest of her life to its fullest.
Now, though, reality was biting, and it hurt.
She’d been murdered. The only difference was that she was still walking around. A living corpse.
There probably weren’t many corpses who got the chance to investigate their own murders, all the same. If nothing else,
that was high on the agenda for today.
Who could it have been? Everything about that morning was fuzzy. The man’s voice wasn’t clear in her mind at all. She
thought it was a man, but even that could be wrong. Had he been tall? Short? Stocky? Thin? Young? Old?
All she could remember was a Daffy Duck-like voice and a threat.
...you’re going to die...And the warning - or was it a promise?
... you’ve got only twenty-four hours to live...“Twenty-four hours,” she echoed. Her throat closed up and her stomach roiled.
Clark’s fingers tightened around hers. “Don’t, Lois.”
“Less,” she added. The doctor had made all the scenarios painfully clear. “If we don’t find the antidote soon enough, the poison will be irreversible before my time’s up, Clark!”
“Lois.” He was trying to be calming, but she heard the panic in his own voice. “Lois, I
won’t let that happen. I swear it!”
“How are you going to stop it, Clark?” Her voice was growing wilder. She heard it and wanted to calm herself, but felt overpowered by looming dread.
“
We, Lois.
We’re going to stop it. You and me together.”
How?She wanted to ask him again, but she was fighting a losing battle with control.
Mere hours to find the antidote. Or the exact composition of the poison so that an antidote could be created. If not, she died. If they found the antidote, but not soon enough, she could be permanently paralysed. Or blind. Or deaf. Or a vegetable.
Dying would be preferable.
Dying.
She didn’t want to die. Not now. Not yet. She had so much that she wanted to achieve! So many things she’d never experienced.
Kerths to win. Pulitzers. World-shattering events to see, to analyse, to write about. Places she wanted to visit - Paris, Tahiti, the Alps, the Great Barrier Reef.
Things she wanted to do - go deep-sea diving, learn how to parachute, get better at skiing, fly across the Grand Canyon, drive through Death Valley, see Old Faithful erupt, sip retsina in a real Greek taverna. Kiss a lover in a tropical twilight.
A lover. A man who would love her and cherish her and want to be with her. A man she could marry and live the rest of her life with. Someone to belong to.
That was never going to happen. Not now.
A sob escaped her.
And then gentle, strong arms enfolded her, tugged her back against a solid wall of muscle and bone and cradled her. She turned her head, buried her face against Clark’s shoulder and clung to him. To the tiny, faint shred of hope that, together, the two of them might yet manage to find a solution.
That maybe, just maybe, this might not be the last day of her life.
*********
Clark gazed at the woman huddled in his arms, his heart aching for her. Lois never cried. She hardly ever revealed anything even close to fear - in fact, few people who knew her would know that she ever felt it.
He knew different.
Twice before today, he’d seen her scared. Afraid for her life. In fact, that seemed to be the only time she did show terror. And it was ironic, given the risks she took with her life practically every working day. On his first outing as Superman, he’d found her holding a ticking bomb. In his first week in the role, he’d saved her life at least three times.
The difference was, probably, that most of the time her adrenalin level was running too high for her even to be aware of the risk. It was different at a time like this, when the threat was hanging over her like a ticking bomb. Like the time they’d been chained together in the EPRAD warehouse by Antoinette Baines, actually. That time, she’d been so scared that she’d actually confided in him about stuff he’d realised very quickly that she never talked about.
Then there’d been the time she’d witnessed a murder and the killer was after her. She’d arrived on his doorstep, out of the blue, visibly upset. He’d known the effort it cost her to ask for his protection, especially after she’d denied time and again that she needed it. Even after he’d already saved her life three times. She’d been on the verge of tears then too.
His heart felt as if it was being ripped in two. It was torture, seeing Lois in such pain and knowing that he couldn’t take it away for her.
He was Superman, and he was helpless.
Not completely. He refused to think that way. There were still things they could do. Still ways his powers could be useful. Speed-reading, for one. Plus searching her apartment for clues the police might not find. And super-speed - sorting through documents, getting around, bringing people and things to places they might need to be.
And anyway, he had other useful skills. Invaluable skills. He was an investigative reporter. A darned good one, too. Together, he and Lois were pretty damn brilliant. Just a couple of days ago, they’d heard that they’d been nominated in the Meriwether Awards for Journalistic Excellence. If anyone could figure out who was behind this, Lane and Kent could. And, after all, they had an added incentive. Catch the guy who’d done this to Lois, and they’d get the antidote too - or at least find out what was in the hypodermic.
Yeah. Lane and Kent would solve this. That was what they were good at.
She stirred and pulled away from him. He released her and watched as she stared through the cab windows. It was rush-hour in Metropolis and they’d only covered a couple of miles since leaving the hospital. Her impatience was almost tangible.
“What is
taking so long?” She glared at the driver, who continued to stare straight ahead.
Clark touched her arm gently. “Rush-hour, Lois. He’ll get us there as soon as he can.”
It wasn’t surprising that she was frustrated. He was, too. Maybe he should have just flown them back.
To distract her, he said, “You know, maybe you should call your parents, Lois.”
Her head whipped around. “I said no, Clark!”
He grimaced. “I know, but... well, don’t you think it’d be kinder at least to let them know what’s going on? I mean, just in case we don’t manage - ” He hesitated, not wanting to spell out the fact that they could fail. That she could die. “If they only find out at the last minute...”
She paled again, then looked away. “Giving up already, Clark? If you’re not willing to help me out on this, just say so. I can do it on my own.”
“Forget that!” He caught her hand again, holding it firmly. “Lois, you don’t need me to tell you that I’d do
anything to fix this. You have my undivided attention for as long as it takes.” Not even Superman would take him away from her today. It didn’t matter what the problem was; others would just have to handle it without his help.
She sighed, and her hand relaxed in his after a moment. “You’re right. They do need to know. But... I’m not ready to cope with them yet. You’ve met my father. I’ve told you about my mother. She’s... high-maintenance, Clark. I just
can’t cope with her right now!”
So that was where Lois got it from. He almost smiled at the thought. But he also understood what she was really telling him. Telling her parents was an admission that she could very well die, and she wasn’t yet ready to accept that.
“Okay.” He squeezed her hand lightly. But had she thought...? “Your dad’s a doctor, though...”
“Sports medicine.” Her reply was brief, almost detached. “Mostly orthopaedics. He hasn’t done any neurology in years. And I don’t think he knows anything about poisons - the only drugs he’s interested in are steroids, performance-enhancers and other illegal substances.” At his surprised look, she added, “Checking for them. Not prescribing them!”
Despite the situation, he couldn’t stifle a laugh. The sudden humour seemed to lighten the mood for both of them.
Familiar scenery caught his attention then. They’d just turned into Carter Avenue. “We’re here.”
“At last!”
He began to fumble in his pocket for his wallet, then stopped. Of course. He’d grabbed whatever was close to hand - jeans and a T-shirt - and flown to the rescue within a second or two of her phone call. His wallet, together with keys, Press ID and the other paraphernalia he usually carried with him, were still on his dresser. There was probably about five bucks in loose change in his pocket. Nowhere enough for the cab fare.
He could ask the driver to wait while they went upstairs. Lois would have cash in her purse. No. Better not to bother her with something this trivial.
As she climbed out of the cab, he said to the driver, “Charge this to the Daily Planet account, please. Tell them it’s Clark Kent, and Perry White authorised it.” The Planet had an account with Metro Cabs; he’d sort it out with Perry later.
The driver was frowning. Clark dug out the mixture of coins and crumpled bills from his pocket and handed it over. The tip seemed to convince him. “Okay. Kent, you said?”
“Yeah.” He’d found a small piece of cardboard in his pocket too. His luck was in - it was one of his Planet business cards. “Here. Clark Kent. City desk. Any trouble, you can call me.”
The driver took it, barely glancing at it before stashing it in his cup-holder, and Clark hurried to exit the cab and join Lois.
*********
The police were still in her apartment. God. All she wanted was to take a shower and get dressed and get on with saving her life.
Though, of course, if they weren’t there she wouldn’t have been able to get into her own apartment. She had no keys with her, after all. And, seeing as Clark hadn’t even had the sense to take some clothes for her, there was no chance that he’d have thought to grab her keys.
Though that wasn’t fair. He had come when she’d called him, after all. She’d woken him up - he had to have been tired and not thinking straight. Plus he’d stayed all those hours at the hospital waiting for her.
“Ms Lane?” A uniformed officer had noticed her arrival.
“Yes.” She stepped inside and glanced around the apartment. Everything looked exactly as normal. If it weren’t for the grey smears of fingerprint powder on doors and surfaces, she could have once again wondered if she hadn’t imagined everything.
And then she saw the shattered window, and the shards of glass on the floor.
“Yes.” The officer obviously saw her looking. “We’re pretty sure that’s where your intruder got in. And the good news is that we got a few high-quality prints from the frame. If he’s got a record, we’ll find him.”
“Ah...” From behind her, Clark was making awkward noises. “Actually, that’s how I came in. I broke the window. So if you found prints there, they’re probably mine.”
The officer looked him up and down. “And you are...?”
“Clark Kent. I called the police. You must have arrived after we left in the ambulance.”
“And you broke the window because...?”
“Because, when Ms Lane called me and I rushed over here, I couldn’t get an answer at the door. So I climbed up the fire-escape and smashed the window.”
The cop sighed. Turning, he said to his partner, “Forget those prints. They’re not our man.” Then, returning to Lois, he added, “When you have a chance to look around, let us know if there’s anything missing. What doctor treated you at the hospital? We’ll need a copy of his report.”
Lois nodded. “Dr Sutton. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”
But the cop was already moving away, heading into her bedroom with his partner. Lois gritted her teeth. Didn’t they know she needed to get dressed? That she had things to do?
Clark brushed past her suddenly, his jaw taut. Then, before she could protest, she heard his voice, cold and angry. “Just where do you guys get off? You think that because she doesn’t
look hurt that he didn’t do anything to her? Don’t they teach you anything about jumping to conclusions at the police academy?”
What had he heard them saying? She’d heard nothing. Clearly, they’d been discussing her. Lois shook her head; it wasn’t the first time Clark had heard something from a long way away. He obviously had darned good hearing.
It was sweet of him to come to her defence like that. And so typically Clark. What would she have done without him today? Probably decked that patronising doctor and then collapsed in floods of tears. He’d helped to keep her sane - at least, so far.
Now, if he’d only get those
morons out of her apartment!
A moment later, the two cops walked past her, on their way to the door. “We’re finished for now, Ms Lane,” the one she hadn’t seen yet said. “Someone from the precinct will be in touch with you later to get a statement from you.”
Okay. So the police were taking this with the seriousness it deserved, were they? Lois rolled her eyes. She wasn’t planning to rely on the Keystone Cops anyway. And she’d already told the police who’d turned up at the ER what had happened. Always assuming that cops actually talked to each other...
A hand lightly pressed against her upper back. Clark. “Go on,” he said, his tone gentle. “Take a shower. Get dressed. I’ll make some calls.”
Startled that she’d actually needed the reminder that they had things to do, Lois glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Almost eight o’clock.
Time was ticking away. Already nearly five hours had passed. Time she couldn’t afford to waste.
Phone calls. Yes. She nodded. And realised that it didn’t even cross her mind to ask Clark who he was calling, or give him instructions. She could trust him to do exactly what needed to be done.
Despite what she’d said to him earlier, she had no idea how she would get through the rest of today without Clark. And, if she could have a choice of anyone to have in her corner in this situation, she couldn’t think of anyone she’d prefer.
*********
Perry was already in his office, of course. He answered the phone on the second ring, sounding distracted. “White.”
“It’s Kent here, Chief. Lois was attacked last night in her apartment...”
When he’d managed to interrupt the editor’s flow of outraged concern, Clark filled him in on the details, then added, “We need your help, Chief.”
“Anything. Just name it and consider it done.”
“Okay. We need a list of any and all threats against Lois since she started at the paper. If someone could prioritise them - seriousness of the threat, why whoever it is has reason to hate her, whether they’re in prison or on the street - that’d be even better.”
“I’ll get Jimmy onto that right away. And I can pull some researchers off other projects to help him. Next?”
“Ask anyone who has any contacts on the street to get in touch with them. Pull in whatever favours they can. Find out if anyone’s heard anything. Anyone boasting about getting rid of a reporter. Or a mysterious drug or poison. Anything even vaguely relevant.”
“Done. Anything else?”
“Not right now. We’ll be heading into the Planet soon - Lois will probably have some ideas too.”
Correction - Lois would
definitely have ideas of her own. Once she pulled herself together, as she would, she’d be a human dynamo.
Explaining that he had more calls to make, Clark ended the conversation, then dialled another number from memory.
“Henderson.”
“It’s Clark Kent of the Planet, Inspector. I don’t know if you heard that Lois had an intruder in her apartment last night?”
“No.” He could tell that he had the inspector’s full attention. “The rapist? What happened? Is she okay?” Then, before Clark could answer, he continued dryly, “Perhaps I should ask if the perp is okay.”
“It wasn’t the rapist.” As succinctly as he could, Clark explained.
“And this is credible?”
“Yes. The doctor in the ER confirmed that she’d been injected with something, and they were already noticing some effect on her.”
A low whistle. “God. Twenty-four hours, you said?”
“Give or take. And less than that before there’s permanent damage.”
There was a pause. Then, businesslike as ever, the inspector said, “What do you need?”
“There were a couple of cops here when we got back. To be honest, Inspector... I don’t think they’re going to do much. They didn’t even ask Lois what had actually happened. They took the name of the ER doctor, but I don’t think following it up was a priority.” Clark’s jaw tightened. What he’d overheard the cops discussing in Lois’s bedroom had made him furious. Glory hounds, looking for a good lead on the rapist, and losing interest in the break-in at Lois’s place once they decided this wasn’t it.
“Who were they?”
He’d memorised their names. “Halloran and Menendez.”
A brief pause. “Beat cops. Not even on the vice squad. Someone breaks into a woman’s apartment at night and
that’s what Dispatch sends?” There was a sound something like a snort. “Okay, Clark, from what you say I think this counts as attempted homicide. I can pull strings and get assigned the case. Tell Lois I’ll be giving her a call at the Planet a little later. She’d better be ready to let me have access to all her current and recent case-notes. Plus I want everything you’ve got on all threats made against her.”
“Lois isn’t going to like that.” Clark felt he had to point that out.
“Depends if she likes being dead more.” He heard the sound of a pen scratching paper. “Now. Who did she see at the ER?”
“Dr Sutton,” Clark said. “He’ll be able to confirm what I’ve told you. And she was interviewed by some cops there too, she said.”
“Right. I’ll get someone over there to interview him. And I’ll find out who she talked to. I’ll get a forensic team over to Lois’s apartment as soon as possible, too.
Try to make sure she doesn’t touch anything, okay?”
“Well...” Too late for that. She was already using the shower. No - his ears heard movement - she was in the bedroom. “She had to shower and dress.”
“Well, tell her to touch as little as possible.” The tone was resigned; Clark could visualise the inspector rolling his eyes.
That was something else he should have thought of. He could have examined the apartment while he was waiting for the ambulance. If there were any clues beyond the obvious signs of disturbance - clues which could help the police identify the jerk who’d done this to Lois - he might have found them. And then the cops could already be working on finding the guy.
Seeing Lois lying motionless on the floor seemed to have snuffed every ounce of sense out of him. He really hadn’t handled this very well so far. Definitely time to do better - a
lot better.
Henderson was speaking again. “One more thing. What’s the chances of an antidote being found to this?”
A lead weight was settling on his stomach again. “As of when we left the hospital, not good. Dr Sutton said her best chance was finding the guy who did it and getting the substance, whatever it is, from him.”
He thought he heard a muffled curse at the other end of the line. But then Henderson’s voice came again, as deadpan as ever. “Okay. Well, you better tell Lois she needs to co-operate with us, then.”
He nodded. Of course, Henderson couldn’t see that. “I’ll do that.”
“Later, then.” There was a click, and the call was disconnected.
Almost automatically, Clark glanced at his watch. 8.20. Already five hours had gone by. Just nineteen until her twenty-four hours ran out. And, realistically, only fifteen or so before any damage was irreversible.
It wasn’t enough. And yet, for Lois’s sake, it had to be.
**********
...tbc
