He was gone.

Clark had left her.

Lois turned and ran to the house. Through the kitchen. Up the stairs. Into the bedroom.

The bedroom they had shared.

She collapsed on the bed, clinging to the baby blanket.

And the avalanche of tears came again.


Part 20

Evan and Martha reached the gate where Eric had said he would meet them.

Getting through the various security stations of the Air Force Base had been straightforward, and Evan couldn't help but feel grudging respect for Eric Menzies. He had serious contacts.

Martha was looking around in awe, and Evan realised how surreal this would feel to her. She must have thought of the government and its agents as a ruthless enemy who had devastated her life and her family without justification. Now, those same agents were using government resources to return her home.

Evan saw Eric coming towards them, his stride long and purposeful. After briefly shaking Evan's hand, Eric turned his attention to Martha. "Mrs Kent," he said. "I'm Eric Menzies. I am very pleased to meet you."

"Mr Menzies," she said. "Thank you for arranging my transport home."

"Have you had a chance to ask questions?" Eric asked.

"Some," Martha said. "But we decided there would be plenty of time during the flight."

"The aircraft has a meeting room," Menzies said. "It's soundproof. You can talk freely in there. There will be a steward on the flight. Should you need anything, you can ask him, but he has been instructed to leave you alone unless you approach him."

"Thank you," Martha said.

Eric took a large envelope from his attaché case and offered it to Martha. "This is for Clark," he said.

She took it. "Thank you."

"Were you able to contact Ms Lane?" Eric asked as he turned to Evan.

"No," he replied. "She isn't answering either of her cell phones or the home phone."

"I'll keep calling her," Eric said. "Don't worry - I'm sure I'll be able to contact her before you arrive."

A man in a smart military uniform approached them. "Two passengers?" he said.

Eric shook Evan's hand again. "Look after her," he muttered.

"My name is Anthony," the uniformed man said. "I will be your steward on the flight. Come this way, please."

They followed him aboard the small aircraft. Inside, Martha gasped, and Evan had to strangle his automatic reaction to do likewise. They had entered a spacious area that looked more like a plush living room than the cabin of an aircraft. The floor was covered in beige-coloured carpet, and the room boasted a large sofa, four leather armchairs, and a large television.

"We are due to leave in ten minutes," Anthony said. "You must be seated with your seatbelts fastened during the takeoff. Once the seatbelt light has been turned off, you are free to move around the cabin." He opened the door to reveal a long table and two rows of swivel chairs upholstered in creamy suede. "This is the meeting room. The refrigerator and cupboards have been stocked for your convenience. Please help yourself, or if you would prefer my assistance, press the buzzer."

"Thank you," Evan said.

"Should there be anything you require to make your flight more comfortable, please don't hesitate to ask." He showed them the location of the life jackets and briefly outlined the procedure should they encounter unexpected problems en route. As he stowed Martha's solitary suitcase and calico bag in the locker, Evan and Martha sat in adjacent seats and fastened their seatbelts.

After Anthony had left, Martha looked at Evan and chuckled. "When you said a private flight, I didn't realise you meant this sort of opulence," she said.

"Neither did I," Evan admitted.

"You haven't flown like this before?"

"No. Whenever I've flown as part of my job, I've been just another passenger on a commercial flight." Evan noticed that her knuckles had paled as she gripped the arms of her seat. "Have you flown before?" he asked. "Are you nervous?"

"I've flown before," Martha said. "But not like this. I'm nervous - but not about the flight."

"About seeing your son again?"

"Yes."

"He is an extraordinary man - and I don't just mean his physical prowess. You should be very proud of him."

"I am," she said. "I have always been very proud of him."

A few minutes later, they began to taxi along the runway, and soon after that, they were in the air and flying west.

The seatbelt light flicked off, and Evan straightened in his seat.

"Let's go where we can talk freely," Martha said.

Evan stood and offered his hand to help her from her seat. She accepted his gesture with a quiet smile. They closed the door to the meeting room and sat at the table.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Evan asked. "Or something to eat?"

"No, thank you," she said. "I am too excited to be able to eat."

"You've been very patient."

"I've had seven years to learn patience." Her words carried no self-pity. "Are you concerned that no one has been able to contact Lois?"

"There's probably no cause for concern," Evan said, hoping that would prove to be the case. "They've probably gone away somewhere to talk."

"A mother suddenly alive - a mother who has been missing since being taken from her home because her son is different. That's going to be hard for both of them." She eyed Evan hopefully. "But you said they have a great relationship."

"They do."

"So perhaps they've found the ideal way to reconnect."

Evan cleared his throat, hoping it would somehow cover his discomfiture at her implication. He snatched at a steadying breath. "You must have questions," he said. "I have the clearance to be completely candid."

"Thank you," she said. "But perhaps Clark's amnesia is the perfect opportunity for everyone to move forward."

Evan felt his heart thump inside his chest. Should he tell her? About his part in this awful situation?

"Perhaps if I tell you what I know, you will then be able to suggest how best I can help my son and his wife," Martha said.

"OK," Evan agreed, trying not to sound too relieved.

"Do you know about the capture?" she asked. "Do you know about the day when a man called Trask and a man called Moyne came to our home and took us away?"

Trask had boasted about the triumphant culmination of his brilliant plan. "Yeah," Evan said.

"They had the green rock," she said impassively. "They asked to talk to Clark. He walked in and immediately collapsed. My son, my strong indestructible son, was suddenly weak and suffering terrible pain. Trask hauled him away, and there was nothing I could do to help him. I didn't see my son again - not until I saw his photograph in the paper three days ago."

There was no triumph or brilliance in the account when it was told by the distraught mother. Evan swallowed, uncomfortably conscious that he hadn't been this close to tears since he had opened the divorce papers from Shanti's lawyers. "I'm so very sorry," he said. "I -" His voice broke, and he turned his head away.

Her hand touched his arm. "It's OK," she said. "I've had seven years to come to terms with what happened that day."

"Sorry," he said. "Please go on."

Her smile felt as if she - the woman who had lost everything - was comforting him. "We waited with Moyne for about half an hour. He was euphoric - as if he'd been drinking too much, although I couldn't smell alcohol on him. He said we should feel grateful that people smarter than dumb farmers had been able to perceive the danger posed by the alien."

"Trask had been tracking the supposedly dangerous alien for years," Evan said.

"They found the spaceship," Martha said blankly. "We tried to hide it in a large bush near where we found Clark, but it was blue and not easy to camouflage. It was surprisingly heavy. We decided it was better to risk someone finding it than to attempt to hide it on our property - which would lead directly to Clark. Years later, when Clark had become so very strong, he and Jonathan went back. The bush had grown over it, and they decided to leave it rather than risk someone noticing the damage to the bush." She looked at Evan with eyes full of regret. "That was a mistake."

"You couldn't have known that someone like Trask would find the spaceship."

"We knew that if people knew about Clark, some would be suspicious of him. Others would fear him and want him exiled from our world."

"Trask wanted all of that," Evan said. "But he doesn't represent everyone."

"No," she said, looking around as if she were still coming to terms with the manner of her return home.

"What happened then?"

"Moyne outlined what they had in store for Clark - how they would test him and force him to reveal all he knew about the coming army of aliens. Moyne said that Trask had ordered our capture, believing we were needed as incentive for Clark to 'cooperate'. Moyne was sure that Trask was making a strategic mistake in not killing us because Clark, being an alien animal, wouldn't care in the least about our safety."

"Trask and Moyne are both dead now," Evan said.

"I had wondered if that were the case," Martha said. "I couldn't imagine Clark being allowed to go free if either of them were still alive."

"Moyne was ... Moyne was sick," Evan said. "And Trask was delusional."

"Yes," Martha said matter-of-factly. "Moyne took pleasure in hurting people." She stared at her interwoven fingers for a long silent moment. When she looked up, there was dread in her eyes. "Did Moyne go with Clark? Or did his part finish with the capture?"

Evan felt as if he were holding a dagger against her heart and knew that his answer was going to be like plunging it into her. "He went with Clark."

She flinched as if he'd struck her, and tears welled in her eyes. "T...tell me again," she said. "Tell me how happy Clark is now."

"He's free," Evan said. "He's in love. He has Lois's unwavering support. He has people who are committed to protecting his secret and wanting to do everything possible to make up for the mistakes of the past."

Her smile came falteringly. "I ... I have to hold onto that," she said. "My boy is alive and happy and free. That is more than I had hoped for."

"What happened to you and Jonathan?"

After a few breaths, Martha continued her story. "Moyne received a message via his radio, and he forced us out of the house. We went quietly, scared of what they would do to Clark if we resisted. A van had arrived - one of those with no windows in the back section. We couldn't see either Trask or Clark. Moyne put us in the back and shut the door."

"You must have been petrified," Evan said. "And very uncomfortable."

"We were," she admitted. "But at least we had each other. Poor Clark was by himself."

"Where did they take you?"

"We drove for what seemed like days," she said. "Whenever we stopped, the driver would allow us to use the restrooms one at a time. He told us that if either of us tried to escape, he would drive away with the other, and he wouldn't be opening the door again until we reached our destination. We decided it was better to stay together.

"Finally, we stopped, the driver opened the back of the van, and we shuffled out. It was dark, and the eerie silence was broken only by the breeze in the trees. There were no streetlights, just a solitary dim light coming from the nearby building. A man came out - he told us later that his name was Jeff. He took us inside and padlocked the door to the outside world."

"Where were you?"

"Jeff told us that the place was a facility for people who 'knew too much'. He said that some people were there for their own safety and others were there because the information they had posed a threat to public safety."

"It sounds like the sort of place you'd expect to find in a country under a despotic government," Evan said. "Not the United States of America."

"You weren't aware of the existence of these sorts of places?"

"No."

"Maybe all governments have secrets," Martha said. "It was clear that Jeff didn't know why we had been sent there. He was a good man - not given to cruelty or misuse of his authority, although he was weary of life and weary of his job. He told us that his only goal was to ensure that the place ran smoothly, and he warned us he was willing to do whatever it took to achieve that."

That sounded ominous to Evan, but Martha's expression hadn't darkened.

"He told us that our names were now Robert and Jane Johnson and we were never to mention what we knew to the other residents. If we did, we would be putting them at risk and reducing their chance of being released."

"So it was a prison?"

"In the sense that no one was allowed to leave, yes, it was a prison."

"But you hadn't been tried, you hadn't been found guilty, you hadn't done anything wrong," Evan said hotly.

"But we knew they had taken Clark," Martha said. "Moyne had told us that Trask was backed by the United States government. We were simple farmers - not people with great knowledge or unlimited financial resources or influential friends. We believed that any attempt to escape could have only made things worse for Clark."

"It must have been soul-destroying," Evan said. "Feeling so helpless. Knowing so little."

Martha nodded slowly as if flicking through the pages of her memory. "But we also knew that Clark would be worrying about us. Other than the lack of freedom, it wasn't too bad. We were safe, we were together. They gave us food and clothes. The other residents - there were about ten of us - occasionally got a little stir-crazy, but we had a very small room of our own where we could go if we wanted to be alone."

"So no one ... hurt you?"

"No," she said.

"Did you have any access to the outside world?"

"We had a television, but it could only be used for playing videos. There was a library with tapes and books. We received a newspaper about once a week, but the first few pages were always missing and occasionally the other pages had articles that had been cut out."

Evan's mind was torn between outrage that such an institution existed in his country and relief that Martha and her husband hadn't been subjected to the sort of treatment Clark had endured.

"It was easier for me than Jonathan," Martha said. "After we'd been there for a while, Jeff allowed me to go into the kitchen and help with the meal preparation. He brought me some paints and a couple of canvasses. But Jonathan ..." She sighed. "Jonathan had spent his entire life outside. I talked to Jeff about the possibility of establishing a vegetable garden to supply the kitchen, and he agreed to consider the idea in the spring. But Jonathan passed away before then."

Evan said nothing, but he couldn't dismiss the terrible realisation that his actions linked him to Jonathan's death. Martha Kent had lost so much. "Did you hate the injustice that had been done to you?" he said.

"Yes," Martha said. "To us and to Clark. But there was nothing to be gained from dwelling on that."

"Not knowing what had happened to him must have been agonising."

"Yes," she agreed. "But there was a cleaner - a large cheery man called Jock. He came twice a week. One night, we found an envelope under my pillow."

"He'd come that day?"

"Yes. Although there was nothing to indicate that it was him who had left the envelope."

"What was inside it?"

"A note from someone who had contact with Clark."

"Who?"

"His name was Philip Barron."

"Philip?" Evan gasped.

"Do you know him?"

"I knew Phil Deller," Evan said. "He had contact with Clark."

"It could have been him," Martha said. "It would have been risky to use his real name."

*Deller*? Deller had corresponded with Clark's parents?

"He's dead, too, isn't he?" Martha asked quietly.

"Yes, he is," Evan said, seeing again the images of the torn and beaten body.

"Because of what he did for us?"

"I ..." Evan hesitated, remembering the argument he had witnessed between Moyne and Deller just a few days before the latter's death. "That is possible, yes."

"You didn't know Philip had contacted us?"

"No," Evan said. "What did he say?"

"His notes were always cryptic and read a little like a child's fairy tale - good against evil. He said things like evil appearing to be strong, but he was sure that by the end of the story, good would prevail."

"You figured he was talking about Clark?"

"We weren't sure at first. There was the chance that one of the other residents had written the note - perhaps out of despair."

"What did you do?"

"Jonathan and I discussed the note from every possible angle and decided that it could mean Trask still had Clark as a prisoner, but that Philip Barron, either by himself or with a group, was working to help him escape."

"Did you attempt to reply?"

"Yes. We composed a reply in the same vein, mentioning that the good might find encouragement from knowing that others were safe. I copied the return address - it was a post office box in Metropolis - and put our note in a sealed envelope under my pillow the next morning Jock was due to come. When we went to bed, it was gone."

That must be the handwriting sample Menzies had mentioned. Was he aware of what Deller had done?

"Do you know if Philip was ever able to tell Clark about his contact with us?" Martha asked.

"No, I don't. Neither Lois nor Clark ever mentioned it."

"Do you think it's likely? I know Clark would have been so worried about us."

"As far as I know, Clark was never told anything about what had happened to you," Evan said, wishing there was a way to lessen the anguish of this news.

"Poor Clark," Martha said. "None of this was his fault, but I know he would have tortured himself with guilt."

Evan was transported back ... back to the time when he believed that the alien was a vindictive murderer without conscience or the capacity for any emotion other than the thirst for blood. "Was there only one note?"

"No. There were five in all - the first in March 1988 and the last in October of that year. From the notes, we surmised that Clark was still alive despite his situation being grim, but that Philip was hopeful of things changing for the better. However, the final letter seemed more desperate in tone - as if he feared that, despite everything, the evil side was going to prevail."

"And it did," Evan said glumly. "Phil Deller was murdered in November 1988."

Martha's eyes filled with tears. "Who murdered him? Moyne or Trask?"

"Moyne."

"Because he was trying to help us," she said sadly. "He didn't realise Moyne's propensity for evil."

None of them had realised, Evan thought. Although it should have been obvious. If he'd taken some notice of his environment instead of fudging on his job and assuming nothing more was required of him than to ensure the prisoner didn't escape ...

"What happened to Moyne after the murder?" Martha asked. "Was he charged?"

"No."

"Then how do you know he did it?"

Evan stalled, hesitant to open the door to the world that had been Clark's life for seven years.

"Tell me," Martha prompted softly.

"He blamed Clark."

"Oh, no," Martha said, her eyes awash with tears. "Poor Clark."

"And we believed him," Evan said, feeling the acrid bile rise into his mouth. "We believed him."

"Clark was someone different," Martha said. "Sometimes it's easy to believe the worst when someone is different."

"That is true," Evan said. "But it is no excuse."

"How did you find out that Moyne was the murderer?"

"Lois challenged me about what I believed. Too late, I realised that much of what I'd been told was the product of a sick mind. When I got to know Clark a little, I knew he could never kill anyone."

"Does Clark know that he is no longer believed to be a murderer?"

"He did before the amnesia. My guess is that he doesn't remember the murders now."

"Murders?"

Evan nodded slowly, remembering Bortolotto, the quiet man who had been so clearly unsuited to the world of intrigue and death. "Two men. Deller was the first. I don't suppose you got other letters? From another man?"

"No."

Their conversation stalled, leaving Evan to mull over the earliest days of the alien operation. He had deliberately avoided Deller. Things with Shanti had begun to deteriorate, and he'd had no patience with Deller's abrasive disposition.

If he'd taken the time to notice his colleague ...

What had Deller been planning?

How had Moyne discovered what he was doing?

Or had it been Trask who had discovered that Deller was an unacceptable risk and ordered Moyne to silence him permanently?

"A few months later, Jonathan died," Martha said. "He started getting chest pains in the afternoon. The ambulance came and took us to a hospital, but it was too late. He died that night."

"I'm so sorry," Evan said, because there was nothing else to say. Words weren't going to change anything. "Losing your husband must have made everything so much more traumatic."

"It did," she said. "I had to leave the hospital soon after Jonathan had died. Jeff said that his body would be buried in an unmarked grave, but there couldn't be a funeral. We had a small memorial service for him."

"What happened then?" Evan asked gently, unable to fathom how her story thus far could lead to the gates of the EPRAD base.

"The next few months are a blur," Martha said. "I felt so alone. I was desperately hoping for another note from Philip, but nothing ever came. Not knowing what was happening with Clark and deeply missing Jonathan and sensing that whatever Philip had been planning had been stopped ... I think that was about the time I gave up."

"That is understandable," Evan said.

"One day, Jeff called me into his office. He told me that the government had ordered the closure of the facility. Perhaps there had been a leak about its existence. Jeff said that sometimes in a move, paperwork got lost. I was in too much of a daze to understand what he meant. Finally, he had to spell it out for me. He said that he'd noticed how thin and lifeless I'd become, and he believed that if I didn't get out, I would follow Jonathan to the grave before the year ended."

"What did he have in mind?"

"He said that there was a community close by - a community of good, simple-living people. A community that could use my skills in cooking. A community that wouldn't ask too many questions."

"You went there?" Evan asked, as the path forward became clearer in his mind.

Martha nodded. "I had lost Jonathan. I had lost my hope that I would ever see Clark again. I feared what would happen if anyone else tried to contact me as Philip had done. I accepted that I had to make the best of a new season in my life. So, that bleak afternoon, I went with Jock. I don't know how Jeff managed the details, but I think that, officially, Jane Johnson died in late 1989."

"So you began a new life? As Esther Wallace?"

"Yes. A very simple life that revolved around family and the land. I cooked, I did laundry, I helped with the harvest - there was always more to be done than we had hours in the day. There was little time to think about things that had gone. In time, I found a degree of contentment. Oh, I still grieved for Jonathan and worried about Clark, but I knew that both of them would want me to make the best of what I had."

"And then you saw the photograph in the paper?"

"Yes. There were no televisions or newspapers in the community. Sometimes, two of us would go to the nearest town to sell our excess produce and buy things like shoes or fabric for making clothes. I didn't go. I guess I didn't really want to be reminded that there was a world out there that could be cruel and spiteful and judgemental. But three days ago, Sadie was sick, so I said I would go with Maud. I saw the photograph and knew immediately. That was Clark. That was him. I knew it without even reading the story about what he had done. And I knew that if I could just let him know that I was alive, he would find me."

"The line about buttermilk? That was the hint, wasn't it?"

"Yes," she said. "Jonathan always said to take buttermilk for what ails you."

"How did you think Clark would find you?"

"I intended to read the newspapers every day, hoping he would agree to a public appearance. I knew from the story that he was 'Superman' so it was important that 'Clark' be kept a secret. I thought that if I could see him, even in a crowd of people, he would know I was there. With all of his abilities, I was sure he would be able to find me."

"Instead you found me," Evan said softly.

"Why did you invite me to your home?" Martha asked. "Were you suspicious about me?"

"No. Not until this morning."

"Do you usually invite strangers into your home?" she demanded with a smile.

"No," he said, smiling, too.

"Then why?"

Evan wasn't really sure. "Maybe ... maybe it's because I have realised that I made some terrible mistakes. Maybe I wanted to be a kinder, more accepting person."

"I think you're very kind."

"Martha, there are things I should tell you. Bad things. Things that I am so deeply ashamed of."

"You were with Clark?"

"Yes. And I -"

"And you believed what they said about him? About how he was evil and wanted to conquer the world?"

"I believed he was a threat, but -"

"Let's leave it there," Martha said. "If Clark feels a need to tell me the details, I will listen. But I think it is better for everyone if those years are put away and we all look to the future."

"I don't think you realise how bad -"

"I don't want to realise how bad it was," she said. "In just a few hours, I will see my son. I had lost all hope that I would ever see him again. The season of pain is over. It's time to move on."

"I hope you can move on," Evan said. "But I find it hard to forget."

"Your wife hurt you, didn't she?"

His defences shot up. "What makes you say that?"

"You have two girls - neither of whom look like you, although there are similarities between them. I figure they have the same mother. But there are no photos of her around the house, so I assume she didn't die."

"She left me," Evan admitted. "But that's not what hurts the most. She also left the girls. Abi was two days old."

"Aww, Evan," she said.

"And for that, I cannot forgive her."

"Look ahead," Martha said. "Don't let her spoil what you have with your daughters. They love you. You're a wonderful father to them. Don't let your bitterness damage that."

"I'm not their father."

"And I'm not Clark's mother," Martha said. "But do you think that makes a scrap of difference to how much I love him?"

Evan smiled, knowing he had been outmanoeuvred. "What did you do with the green rock?"

"Took it to the bathroom and flushed it."

"I would have destroyed it," Evan said. "I would never have allowed it to be near Clark."

"I know." She squeezed his hand and looked around the room. "Do you think this flying mansion has the means to make a cup of tea?"

"It must have," Evan replied as he stood. "Let's investigate."