Chapter 8
Lois stayed beside Clark, her hand still on his chest, listening to the thunder of his heartbeat. Whatever was happening—it wasn’t over.
“Clark, please,” Lois whispered, her voice trembling as she cupped his cheek. His skin was hot, flushed with something she didn’t understand. “What’s happening to you? I didn’t mean what I said this morning. I’m sorry.”
His lips parted, barely audible.
“Loisss…”
The sound was broken, but it was him. Her name, pulled from the haze.
She leaned closer, heart pounding. “I’m right here.”
Clark groaned, his muscles trembling as he tried to push himself up. The liquid beneath him rippled, reacting to his movement with a faint shimmer.
Lois tightened her grip on his arm, steadying him. “Easy,” she whispered. “You’re okay.”
His breath hitched. Jaw clenched. Then, through cracked lips: “Please… help.”
The words were raw, strained—like they cost him everything.
Lois leaned in, her voice fierce and steady. “I’ve got you.”
Clark’s hand found hers, fingers curling weakly around her wrist. Whatever the compound was doing to him, it hadn’t taken everything. Not yet.
Clark’s fingers tightened around Lois’s wrist, his voice barely more than a breath.
“Need… away from the spilled…”
Lois glanced down. The liquid beneath him was still spreading, its surface shimmering faintly, pulsing like it had a heartbeat of its own. Heat radiated from it—unnatural, wrong.
She shifted, trying to drag him clear, the handcuffs limiting her reach. “Hold on,” she whispered, bracing herself. “I’ve got you.”
Clark groaned, his body trembling as she pulled. Every inch away from the spill seemed to steady him—just slightly. Enough to keep going.
Lois braced herself and tried to drag Clark away from the spill, but he was heavy—his body sluggish, trembling with effort. He was trying to help, pushing against the floor, but whatever the compound was doing to him, recovery wasn’t coming fast enough.
“Take off the jacket,” he gasped. “Use it—wipe up the liquid.”
She hesitated, glancing at the handcuffs. They limited her reach, her movement. She couldn’t get far.
Clark’s hand fumbled toward her hip. “Your lock-picking kit,” he muttered, voice strained. “Check your pocket. Try it.”
Lois’s fingers flew to the seam of her coat, heart pounding. If she could get them free, they might have a chance.
Lois had just slipped the pick into the cuff’s keyhole when a thin ribbon of smoke curled under the door.
She froze.
It was slow at first—lazy, almost delicate—but then it thickened, darkening as it spread across the tile. Acrid. Chemical. Not fire. Something worse.
Clark stirred, eyes fluttering. “Lois…”
She tightened her grip on the pick, heart hammering. “I see it,” she whispered. “We need to move. Now.”
The cuffs clicked—once. Not open. Not yet.
Clark coughed, the sound raw and sharp. The liquid on the floor shimmered again, reacting to the smoke like it recognized it.
Lois glanced at the door. No footsteps. No voices. Just the slow, deliberate crawl of something designed to flush them out—or finish what the compound started.
Clark’s head jerked toward the door, eyes narrowing as the smoke thickened, curling low across the floor like it was hunting them.
He coughed, sharp and sudden. “That’s not right,” he rasped. “It’s reacting… to me.”
Lois tightened her grip on his arm. “We need help. Now.”
She scanned the room—the desk was only a few feet away, but with the cuffs and Clark’s weight, it might as well have been a mile.
“Can you move?” she asked, already shifting her weight to brace him.
Clark nodded once, jaw clenched. “Just… get us clear.”
Together, they dragged forward—Lois half-crawling, half-hauling, Clark pushing with what strength he had left.
They reached the desk, breath ragged, smoke curling across the floor behind them.
Clark slumped against the side, chest heaving. Lois scanned the surface—there. A beige desk phone, the kind with a coiled cord and chunky buttons, sat just out of reach.
Clark groaned and pushed himself upright, gripping the desk for leverage. “Get on,” he rasped. “Use me.”
Lois climbed onto his lap, awkward and tense, the handcuffs limiting her movement. She grabbed the receiver, pressed it to her ear, and started dialing—each button a sharp click in the silence.
The line buzzed. Then rang.
“Come on,” she muttered. “Pick up…”
Clark coughed beneath her, voice low and strained. “If this stuff spreads…”
Lois didn’t let him finish. “Then we stop it. But not if we die in here.”
The line clicked. A voice came through, faint but alive: “Security. Who is this?”
Lois leaned into the receiver, voice sharp with urgency. “Lois Lane. We’re in Coach Scott’s office—chemical spill, possible fire. We need help. Now.”
Behind her, the smoke thickened, curling higher. She and Clark both started coughing, the air turning sharp and bitter.
Jonah lay motionless on the floor, still unconscious, the edge of the spreading liquid creeping toward his hand.
Clark pulled Lois into his arms, holding her close as the smoke thickened around them. The air sizzled with chemical heat, the floor beneath them pulsing with danger.
Lois clutched the receiver, voice hoarse as she pleaded into the line. “There are three of us—Coach Scott is unconscious. Dr. Henry Chase did this. We need help. Now.”
She slammed the phone down, the plastic clattering against the desk. Clark didn’t let go.
Clark held Lois close, their arms tangled awkwardly between them, the handcuffs biting into their wrists with every shift. The smoke thickened, curling around them like a warning.
Lois gripped him tighter, tears streaking down her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she buried her face into the curve of his neck. “I should’ve listened.”
Clark didn’t answer—just tightened his hold, anchoring her against the chaos. The sizzling from the chemicals grew louder, sharper, like the room itself was beginning to unravel.
“When we get out…” Clark began, but a violent cough cut him off, racking his body.
He gritted his teeth, forcing the words through the pain. “I’ll tell you everything. I swear.”
Lois curled closer, her body pressed tight against Clark’s as she fumbled for anything, her sleeve to shield his face. The smoke was hitting him harder, each breath a struggle, his coughs deep and ragged.
She pulled the fabric over his mouth, whispering, “Breathe through this. Just hold on.”
The room crackled—sharp, unnatural. Lois turned her head toward the sound.
More smoke poured in, thicker now, and tinged with something strange. The fire wasn’t orange anymore. It flickered green, casting a sickly glow across the walls. The liquid on the floor pulsed in response, like it recognized the color.
Lois’s stomach dropped. “Clark… that fire—”
He didn’t answer. His eyes were half-lidded, skin pale, the green light reflecting off his cheekbones like a warning.
She tightened her grip on him, heart pounding. Whatever was burning, it wasn’t just chemicals.
Lois pressed the fabric tighter over Clark’s mouth, trying to shield him from the smoke that seemed to target him. His skin was clammy and his breath shallow.
“Kryptonite,” she whispered, staring at the flames. “It’s mixed with something else. That’s why it’s reacting like this.”
Clark didn’t answer. His body trembled beneath her, the cuffs biting into both their wrists as she held him close.
Lois curled tighter against him, tears streaking down her cheeks. “After this… no more secrets,” she whispered, voice cracking. “You hear me?”
Clark’s eyes fluttered open, pain etched deep in his expression. He wanted to tell her. Right then. But the words caught in his throat, buried under years of silence and fear.
He nodded instead, barely.
Lois took it as a promise.
She didn’t know what was happening to him—why the smoke was hurting him more than her, why the green fire seemed to drain him—but she knew one thing: she wasn’t letting go.
Not now. Not ever.
“Lois,” he choked out, voice shredded by the smoke. “You have to listen. I haven’t told you the truth…”
“Shhh,” she breathed, tilting her head. There—faint pounding. Someone was coming.
The pounding grew louder—closer. Lois held her breath, still curled around Clark, shielding his face as best she could.
Then the door exploded inward.
