Previous Chapter: Chapter 5A short one, but powerful.
Chapter 6
Two days. He’d somehow lasted two whole days after getting back from St. Lucia without having to ignore a call for help. But then it came. A siren. Actually, a lot of them. Along with ambulances, firetrucks, and—he tilted his head in concentration—the bomb squad. His jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes as an exasperated sigh escaped his lips.
“Kent, are we boring you or something?” Perry White’s southern drawl came from the front of the conference room, a hush falling over the group of reporters.
Lois’s hand gently tightened on Clark’s knee under the table, and before he could respond, she spoke up for him.
“Sorry, Chief, I think Clark just remembered he was supposed to meet with a source this morning. Right, Clark? For that one story that you’re working on, the, uh—”
“Um, yeah, that’s right, that one story,” he lied, nodding. He pushed his chair back and stood quickly, briefly placing his hand on Lois’s shoulder to thank her. “Sorry, Chief, I’ll be back as soon as I can, sir.”
Perry rolled his eyes at both of them and turned back to the rest of the group of reporters. “So, while Kent is off chasing his source, Wilkins, can you give me an update on where you’re at with the Mayor’s re-election campaign?”
Clark frowned as he hurried out of the conference room and toward the stairwell. Spinning into the suit as he flew up the stairs, he refocused his hearing on the sirens. They’d started to converge only a few miles from the Planet, at Metropolis Union Station. He emerged out into the bright morning sunlight on the rooftop of the Daily Planet building and stopped in his tracks. Voices from over police radios and communications flooded his ears.
“Two suspects . . .”
“. . . a large amount of explosives . . .”
“. . . fifty-six hostages . . .”
“. . . the bomb will be detonated unless their demands are met . . .”This was exactly the type of situation he knew he needed to avoid; these types of criminals seemed to always have a stash of kryptonite ready to pull out if he showed up. Many of them had even started wearing bracelets containing chunks of the green rock.
He launched himself up into the sky and toward the train station. Staying a safe distance up in the air, he peered down through the layers of concrete and steel making up the building. The hostages were huddled against a wall—they were all ages and from all walks of life. One young woman clutched a screaming baby, not more than three months old; tears streamed down the mother’s face as she tried to comfort the child. Another man helped an elderly woman to stay on her feet as the suspects yelled profanities at them and waved guns in their faces.
Near the center of the room, Clark saw two boxes. The first contained a sophisticated and powerful explosive device, and the second, not even encased in lead, indeed contained a small chunk of the sickly green glowing rock. Clark suddenly felt ill. There was absolutely nothing he could do to help. He couldn’t risk getting within a hundred feet of the train station.
With great effort, he tore his eyes away from the scene below him and sped back to the roof of the Planet. Not bothering to spin out of the suit, he collapsed against the wall near the door to the stairwell and buried his head in his knees. Then he sat there, torturing himself with guilt as he used his superhearing to listen to the commotion inside the station. He tugged the cape up around himself as one gunshot went off inside the station, then another. Screams of hostages ripped into his head, followed by an abrupt, dreadful silence.
The infant had stopped crying.
No . . . no . . .He frantically looked up and zoomed in his vision toward the train station. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he saw all the hostages, unhurt, and two bullet holes in the wall about five feet above their heads. He shivered as he closed his eyes and rested his head on his knees again.
Hours passed. The police negotiators worked diligently, but the suspects wouldn’t budge on their demands for huge sums of money and safe passage out of the country. He watched and listened as SWAT teams and the bomb squad worked their way through back tunnels of the train station, surrounding the building, and he held his breath as he overheard their plan to overtake the suspects and rescue the hostages.
He flinched every time he heard someone mutter, “Where is Superman when you need him?”
And he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Lois’s heart racing down in the midst of the gaggle of reporters waiting a safe distance away from the station. Even from this far away, he could almost feel her confusion and concern. She was looking for him, but he wouldn’t be there . . . unless
she got into danger. He couldn’t ignore that, regardless of the consequences for himself.
Tears stung his eyes again, and he pulled his cape tighter around himself.
More time passed. More attempts at negotiation. More yelling and threats from the suspects. More gunshots into the walls. And more confusion and uncertainty from Lois.
Finally, the police decided their hero was not going to show, and they slowly, almost painfully slowly, made their move. SWAT teams and the bomb squad simultaneously infiltrated the train station from all sides. The gunshots and screams were deafening, and Clark covered his ears instinctively as the sounds became overwhelming. Among all the chaos, he felt rather than heard two heartbeats stop. He looked up sharply toward the train station and again focused his vision. Both suspects lay unmoving on the ground—one of the men held the detonator to the bomb in his now limp hand, and the other was splayed face-first in a pool of blood.
A mixture of disgust and relief overcame him, and he launched himself into the sky with no general destination in mind.
TOCCommentsNext Chapter: Chapter 7
