Superman

by Matt De La Peña

  Leonard nodded, removing his backpack and unzipping the front pocket. “Unfortunately, something came up, and Lex is unable to make it. But he sent me to give you this.” He held out a thumb drive.

  Clark took it.

  “It’s the footage you guys need for the hack,” Leonard said.

  Clark looked up at the guy as he was putting his backpack on again. “And how are you connected to Lex?”

  “I work for LutherCorp.”

  Clark and Lana and Gloria all looked at one another.

  “Anyway,” Leonard said, backing up toward the glass door, “I was told to deliver that. Good luck with everything.” And then he turned and left.

  After sitting there stunned for several seconds, Clark shook his head. “I knew Lex wasn’t in it for the same reasons we are, but…can you believe he didn’t even show up?” Clark softened when he looked at Gloria. “Everything go okay on your call?”

  She shook her head. “It’s like you said earlier. We have to get this right.”

  They all nodded, and then Lana said what was on everyone’s mind. “I wish we could speed up time. Those men shouldn’t have to spend another second chained up like that.”

  * * *

  —

  By eleven the public square outside the new Mankins headquarters was packed. It was easily the largest crowd Clark had ever seen in Smallville. People were sitting in lawn chairs all over the closed-off street, heaping plates of food in their laps. Dozens of food trucks were parked outside the library, and long lines snaked from each window. The beer tents were already overflowing. Giggling kids chased after one another in the grassy area in front of the library steps. Or they waited in line for the ball pit or the bounce house. Smoke from industrial-sized barbecues curled into the sky as crowds of people waited for food-service workers to dish up pulled pork and brisket and baked beans and coleslaw.

  The two large video screens were mounted well above the stage, one on either side of the podium. They were blank, since the speeches had yet to start, but Clark hoped they’d soon be filled with Corey’s face as Lana interviewed him live. And then the footage they’d recorded on the Jones farm.

  Clark kept glancing down at Gloria, who was sitting at the tech table to the right of the stage. He knew how devastated she was about Cruz. And it had to be hard on her to be sitting down by the stage when so many people from her community were protesting up the hill, in front of city hall. He glanced up there now, watched men, women, and children march in a large circle, shouting about equal rights and brandishing signs in both Spanish and English. When the protests had begun a few weeks earlier, it was only Latinos marching. Now it was everyone. Blacks, whites, Latinos, Asians. Anyone who wanted to fight for equality.

  Clark texted Gloria and Lana to make sure everything was progressing. Lana responded right away, saying she was on her way to meet with Corey. Gloria replied a minute later—she had already gained access to the feed. And no one seemed to question her claim that she was an intern working for the city. Just say the word, and I’ll make the switch.

  Clark paced back and forth. He kept glancing at the officers stationed beside him, hoping they’d take immediate action after the footage aired. Hoping they’d rush out to the Jones farm, sirens blaring, to return the innocent men to their families and friends.

  A wave of nerves hit Clark twenty minutes later, when he saw a man climb up onstage and approach the microphone. The huge video screens behind him flickered to life and displayed the man’s face. The plan was for Gloria to stick with the regularly scheduled programming until she got a signal from Clark. And Clark wouldn’t signal Gloria until he got the signal from Lana.

  He checked his phone again.

  Nothing.

  Where was Lana?

  The man in the blue suit onstage welcomed everyone. Then he began listing all the special programs Mankins Corporation was initiating. The company was sponsoring youth sports leagues and tutoring centers and a brand-new children’s wing at the Smallville Medical Facility. “And this is just the beginning,” he bellowed into the microphone. “I’m proud to announce here today that Mankins founder and president Montgomery Wallace Mankins has just made a three-million-dollar commitment to Smallville schools. Three million, folks.”

  The crowd erupted in applause.

  Clark imagined that if he weren’t so stressed, he might be cheering, too. He thought of Bryan again. Clark hadn’t seen him anywhere at the celebration yet, and he still hadn’t texted Clark back.

  “Yes. Yes. That’s right.” The man paused, smiling. “And Mr. Mankins will be here later today, just before the fireworks. Don’t miss his speech about his desire for our small town to be a leader in education. He’s vowed to help our community hire the best teachers. Build the best facilities. Provide the widest range of extracurricular activities. Our schools will be among the greatest not only in Kansas but in the entire nation.”

  More wild applause.

  Clark looked around at all the people cheering. He checked his phone, but there was still nothing from Lana, though he did have a text from Gloria now: Everything okay?

  Clark started to text her back, then decided to call instead. “I still haven’t heard from Lana,” he said when Gloria picked up.

  “Could something have happened to her?”

  Clark scanned the square, thinking about Corey’s reluctance to do the interview. “You know what—I’m gonna see if I can find her. Call you back in a minute.”

  He left his spot next to the police officers and began fighting his way through the crowd, toward the courthouse. He’d made it only a few yards, though, when he heard someone calling his name. He stopped near a food truck serving pizza slices. Paul, Tommy, and Kyle were waving at him from the line.

  “Hey,” Clark said, peeking at his phone again.

  “Wanna go play home run derby?” Kyle said. “We need a fourth.”

  Tommy held up a bat with the Mankins Corporation logo branded on the side. “Me and Paul won these already, but Kyle still needs to win one.”

  “I wish I could,” Clark said, distracted, “but I’m sort of busy. Anyway, good to see you guys.”

  “Hold up,” Tommy said. “Where you rushing off to?”

  “I’m looking for Lana.”

  “We just saw her,” Paul said. “Over by the courthouse building. She was with three chumps. One of them was that rich dude from the party.”

  She had met up with Corey.

  So why hadn’t she texted, like she was supposed to?

  “Speaking of the party,” Paul said, “I just wanted to say, Clark…I was pretty tanked that night, and you stepped up—”

  Paul was interrupted by the sounds of shouting in front of city hall.

  Clark spun around, spotting two college-aged protesters who had broken away from the others and were pushing through the crowd, toward the speaker. They hopped the rope near the back of the crowd gathered in front of the stage and held up signs that read VOTE NO ON ISSUE 3! SMALLVILLE IS OUR HOME, TOO!

  Mankins security corralled them just before they could reach the stairs to the stage, and a minor scuffle ensued. A buzz spread through the crowd as the police officers Clark had been standing beside earlier loped over to help subdue the college students.

  “I had a feeling shit was gonna get out of hand,” Kyle said. “You got the protesters up here and the celebration down there. We all know that’s not a good mix.”

  Seconds later the officers were leading the students away.

  “You look stressed, Clark,” Tommy said. “Want us to help you find Lana?”

  Clark studied the crowd again. Kyle was right—this wasn’t going to end well. And it was going to mess up his plan.

  “Clark?” Tommy said again.

  “I’m sure I’ll find her. Good running into you guys.” They all bumped fis
ts and said their goodbyes.

  Clark maneuvered through the crowd again, moving toward the courthouse, until he heard feedback coming from the stage mic. He stopped to see what was happening.

  The Mankins representative straightened his tie and stepped to the microphone to resume his speech. “We’re okay, folks! Someone, bring those two some food! Seriously! We love everyone who’s come out to celebrate with us today….”

  As the man went on, Clark pulled out his phone and tried reaching Lana yet again. This time his call went straight to her voice mail.

  He could feel it in his gut: something was seriously wrong.

  Clark put away his phone and hurried through the crowd. He cut across the wide lawn in front of city hall and the courthouse, which were separated by a narrow alley. City hall was loud and crowded with marching protesters. And police. The courthouse looked relatively quiet. There were several families on the lawn outside, but the building seemed empty.

  Clark entered through the open front door and went from room to room, looking for Lana and Corey, but he found no one. A security guard approached him. “May I help you, young man?”

  “I’m looking for a girl named Lana. She was coming here to interview Corey Mankins.”

  “An interview?” The guard shook her head. “I wasn’t told anything about any interviews. You must be mistaken.”

  “Corey Mankins set it up. Montgomery’s son.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “There’s nothing on the books. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Clark was stunned. Had Corey lied to Lana? And if he’d lied to her about the interview location…Fear rose in Clark’s throat as he turned to leave the small courthouse. On his way out, he peeked into all five rooms. None were occupied. No sign of Lana anywhere.

  Outside the courthouse, he stood watching the crowd and thought, If Lana isn’t here, then where can she be?

  He peered across the square, toward the stage area, trying to figure out what to do next. He scanned the entire area, then checked his phone again.

  Nothing.

  As Clark was putting away his phone, though, he spotted a small black duffel bag lying on top of an industrial trash bin. His entire body went cold.

  Clark hurried over and unzipped the bag. Sure enough, the digital camera and the tripod were inside. Lana had been here—and someone had trashed her equipment. His heart pounded within his chest. He turned away from the bag and looked toward the alley. About halfway along the passageway, on the city hall side, a small staircase led down into the bowels of the building. He made a beeline for it and saw a door held open by a wooden block.

  Had someone taken Lana in there?

  Clark bounded down the stairs, quietly pulled open the door, and entered a long, dark corridor. He passed a large boiler room, then several empty concrete rooms. He heard the faint sound of water dripping and light footfalls in the distance. But no voices.

  A few seconds later, a door creaked on its hinges in the distance. Clark moved at super-speed through the dark hall, catching the door just before it clicked closed. He held it there for several seconds, until the sound of the footsteps ahead of him had faded. Then he went through the doorway and down a short hall, where he encountered a closed red door. This was the end of the line. There were no other doors or hallways.

  Clark hesitated. If he barged in and Lana got hurt, he’d never forgive himself.

  But if he didn’t barge in and Lana got hurt, it’d be just as bad.

  He slid a hand under his shirt to feel the slick blue material beneath. For whatever reason, it gave him strength. And confidence.

  He had to go in and save Lana.

  But he also had to be smart about it.

  Clark turned to the solid concrete wall beside the door. He focused all his energy on his eyes until his vision pierced through and he could see inside. Two male figures were hovering over an object strapped to some pipework near the floor. They were moving nervously, with a kind of frenetic energy.

  The object they were tinkering with beeped.

  Clark’s heart sped up as he considered what the sound might mean.

  It beeped again.

  He strained to get a better look. Three long metal cylinders were strapped together with a small electrical device and a digital clock affixed to the front.

  A bomb!

  Clark’s mind went white with panic. His X-ray vision began cutting in and out, but he was able to determine two final details. Flashing red numbers were steadily ticking down.

  9:39

  9:38

  9:37

  And a small figure was tied to the pipework with a thick chain.

  Lana!

  She’d be the first to die.

  Clark charged forward, blasting the red door so forcefully that it split into two twisted shards of metal as it exploded away from its hinges.

  The men spun around in a panic.

  One of them was Corey Mankins, whose face twisted in shock.

  The other was a big, muscular man with a shaved head. He was dressed in black military fatigues.

  Corey quickly regained his composure. He pulled a gun from his waistband and pointed it at the back of Lana’s head. “Stay where you are,” he demanded, “or your little girlfriend’s a goner.”

  Lana was slumped forward, the chain tying her to the bomb the only thing keeping her upright. Blood trickled onto the floor from a bad gash near the top of her forehead.

  Corey had hit her.

  He’d actually hit her.

  Clark saw red. He wanted to kill Corey. Wanted to bash his face in and rip his limbs off his body. Clark took a steadying breath, noticing Lana’s interview pad on the floor beside her. No, Lana wouldn’t want him to destroy Corey. She’d want him to get the truth.

  “What are you doing?” Clark demanded. “There are hundreds of people out there. Little kids!” Clark motioned toward the device strapped to Lana. “And you wanna set off a bomb?”

  Corey shoved the barrel of the gun against Lana’s head. “I told you not to move!”

  “Okay, okay.” Clark held up his hands. “But I don’t think you want to shoot that thing in this small space. Not with an explosive nearby.”

  The man in fatigues lunged toward Clark, pinning his arms behind his back and looking to Corey. “What do you want to do with him?”

  “Might as well tie me to the bomb, too, right?” Clark said.

  Corey looked down at Lana, then back at Clark. “There would be a bit of symmetry to that.” He nodded to the guy in fatigues while turning his weapon toward Clark.

  But Clark had no intention of resisting.

  8:58

  8:57

  8:56

  “Here’s what I don’t understand, though,” Clark said, looking at Corey. “Why sabotage your dad’s grand opening like this? Are you trying to undermine him? Put Wesco on top?”

  Corey grinned and placed a hand on Clark’s shoulder. “We’re not pointlessly harming anyone. There’s something much, much larger at stake.”

  Clark shrugged Corey’s hand away. “And how’s that?”

  “Sir, we need to go now,” the man in fatigues said, motioning toward the ticking bomb.

  Corey nodded before turning back to Clark. “You know, I actually sort of admire you, farm boy. Always trying to do the right thing. But you’re missing the bigger picture.”

  “There’s no bigger picture than the hundreds of innocent people out there.”

  “Wake up, Clark. Your beloved Smallville has never been anything more than a diversion to us.” He patted Clark on the head, and then he and the man in fatigues moved quickly toward the exit. Corey paused on his way out to study the mangled door.

  He looked back at Clark once more, with less certainty this time.

&nbs
p; An electric current shot through Clark’s body.

  He’d restrained himself long enough.

  He gritted his teeth and tore through the chains wrapped around his torso. Then he snapped the cuffs off his wrists and flung them against the wall.

  Corey was so caught off guard that he didn’t even have time to raise his weapon.

  Clark lunged forward and punched the gun out of Corey’s hand, then pivoted, disarming the second man with a quick swipe to the hand and wrist. He heard the crunch of bone as the gun went flying. Clark spun and slammed an open palm into Corey’s chest, sending him flying backward into the cement wall, where he slumped to the ground in a motionless heap.

  The man in fatigues cradled his fractured hand to his chest and spoke swiftly into his radio, calling for backup.

  Clark glanced at the big gash on Lana’s forehead before advancing on the man in fatigues. The guy had blood on the cuff of his shirt—maybe he was the one who’d hurt Lana. Clark wanted to obliterate the man. And it would be so easy. But if he acted on this impulse…he’d be no better than they were.

  The man dropped his radio and swung wildly, just grazing the left side of Clark’s face, but Clark felt more at home in a fight now. He read the man’s eyes, knowing exactly what he’d do before he did it. It was in the way he leaned. Clark waited for the guy to throw a second punch, which he ducked easily. Then, using the man’s momentum, Clark shoved him headfirst into a series of metal pipes running from floor to ceiling. The man’s head clanged against two pipes before he dropped to the ground, unconscious.

  Clark spun back toward the bomb and Lana.

  7:33

  7:32

  7:31

  He had to get her out of here. Now. She wouldn’t be safe alone with Corey and the man in fatigues. And he knew reinforcements were already on their way.

  But could he really save Lana and have enough time to save the town, too?

  He’d have to move fast.

  Clark pulled Lana out of the chains and tore off her handcuffs. He slung her over his shoulder and hurried out the door and into the hall. When he rounded the first corner, though, he heard the sound of boots rapidly coming down the corridor. In his direction. Maybe four or five people, by the sound of it.