Superman

by Matt De La Peña

  Then he heard the click of ammo being loaded.

  Four more men in black fatigues suddenly appeared, blocking Clark’s path. One of them was carrying a handgun. But it was the fifth man, dressed in an oversized blue suit and wearing glasses, who caught Clark’s attention.

  Dr. Wesley.

  But why would he be anywhere near the bomb if he’d planned this whole thing?

  Clark gently sat Lana down, preparing himself for another fight. But this was the one he’d been waiting for. Here was the man ultimately responsible for the disappearing workers. For Gloria’s terror. For the blood dripping from Lana’s forehead.

  “You stole people from their families,” Clark snarled. “That was a mistake.”

  Dr. Wesley shook his head in disgust. “You stupid, stupid people. Meteorites land in several of your backyards, made up of the most valuable substance this world has ever known, and what do you do? Nothing.”

  The men behind Dr. Wesley began to spread out around Clark. The one with the gun aimed it at his left temple.

  “You sent your men to my farm,” Clark growled.

  “Waste of time,” Dr. Wesley scoffed. “However, many of the other craters we’ve mined have produced a precious radioactive ore that seemed useless at first—but after years of experimentation, I’ve found that it works as the perfect binding agent to better activate the other elements of my Project Dawn compound.” Grinning, he held up a small vial of liquid. It was a brighter green than the substance Clark had seen in the lab. Or in the syringe Bryan had injected. “The formula I hold in my hand will change the face of mankind.” Looking around, he said, “Now, where’s Corey? He said he had a loose end to tie up, but we need to get out of here. Now.”

  It was the grin that made Clark snap. He lunged and shoved Dr. Wesley against the wall. The man’s head cracked against the concrete, and he dropped the vial to the ground, where it shattered, the bright green liquid pooling around his shoes.

  Clark was suddenly overcome by an intense wave of nausea.

  He went to his knees, struggling to breathe.

  The guards were moving toward Clark, and he was utterly helpless. He could feel his strength draining from his body. There was only one thing that could be causing him to feel so sick.

  The mysterious green substance.

  Dr. Wesley righted himself, rubbing the back of his head. “Luckily, there is more where that came from. But what’s fascinating is your reaction to the increase in binding agent. Why is that?”

  Clark couldn’t stand as the dark shapes moved toward him. One man kicked him onto his stomach. Another brandished his gun at Clark.

  Dr. Wesley pushed the barrel down with his hand, saying, “Don’t be stupid. They’ve just armed a bomb down here.”

  The man put away his gun and kicked Clark instead.

  And then came a barrage of kicks and punches from the others.

  Clark felt each blow on his back, his neck, his shoulders and legs. The shocking pain seared through his entire body, and he let out a bloodcurdling scream. He felt like he was going to die.

  By the time the beating had let up, Clark lay facedown against the cold concrete floor, hands over the back of his head. He was able to work up enough strength to turn slightly, and he saw two blurry figures approaching Lana.

  “Don’t touch her!” he managed to shout, but they paid him no mind.

  Clark had never felt so weak or defenseless as he watched Dr. Wesley turn to the soldiers and say, “Finish him quickly.” The doctor didn’t spare him another look as he hurried toward the exit.

  With a sinking feeling, Clark watched two of the men carry Lana back down the hallway, toward the room with the bomb. The pair who remained began to beat him with renewed energy. Blow after blow rained down on his skull as he curled into a protective ball. He took fists and boots to his ribs, his back, the side of his face.

  They were going to kill him.

  The punishment was relentless, and soon his mind slipped to another place. He saw the people of Smallville out in the streets, eating and drinking and laughing, oblivious to the bomb beneath their feet. One that was steadily ticking down. He saw Gloria’s warm smile as he led her toward the frozen pond. His parents walking across the farm, holding hands.

  And now an impossible memory…

  His biological mother holding him in a black rocking chair. Their bodies swaying back and forth, back and forth. Tears streaming down her face. Falling onto his tiny cheeks as she bends down to kiss him over and over. And now his father lifting him out of his mother’s arms, carrying Clark toward the open spaceship, strapping him into the blanketed seat.

  Both of his parents’ faces etched with the pain of letting him go.

  They sacrificed everything so you could live.

  I understand that now.

  So how can you let it end here? Like this?

  I can’t. I won’t.

  Just as Clark was steeling himself for one last battle, three new figures crashed into view. They attacked Clark’s assailants with bats as his mental haze finally began to dissipate.

  Clark summoned enough strength to turn over, then to sit up.

  It was Tommy Jones.

  And Paul Molina.

  And Kyle Turner.

  They’d followed him into the basement.

  Paul had one of the men in black fatigues in a headlock, and he was shouting, “Don’t you ever touch him again! Understand me?” He slammed the man’s head against the wall.

  Clark rose to his feet.

  The farther he got from the green substance, the better he felt.

  Paul took the second man to the ground, delivering two speedy rights to the side of his head. Clark met Paul’s eyes, and Paul gave a subtle nod before shifting his focus back to the fight.

  Clark was still weak and vulnerable, but he had to go after Lana. He moved swiftly past his former teammates, who appeared to have the upper hand.

  When he caught up to the guards, they dropped Lana and turned to face Clark. They circled each other for a few seconds, Clark trying to size up his slowly returning strength. He crouched slightly, the way he once had on the football field, then exploded toward the center of the first man, slamming his shoulder into the guy’s sternum. For the first time in his life, Clark felt the impact of his blow. The force of the collision reverberated all the way into his spine and knocked the wind out of him.

  But it was the man in black fatigues who got the worst of it. He crumpled to the ground, holding his chest and fighting to catch his breath. The other man abandoned Lana and sprinted past Clark, toward the exit.

  Tommy was there now, rushing past Clark. He was about to go after the guard on the ground before seeing how much the man was already suffering. Tommy backed off and turned to Clark. Paul was there now, too. And Kyle.

  Clark hurried to Lana and crouched over her.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Paul shouted. “She okay?”

  Clark held Lana’s face in his hands. “I don’t know.”

  Tommy was beside him, holding two fingers against the inside of Lana’s wrist. “Her pulse is strong,” he said.

  Clark stood with Lana draped in his arms. His best friend in the world. All his strength was back now, and he wanted to stay with her, protect her. But he needed to handle the bomb before it was too late. “Take her to get help!” he shouted at his teammates. “And tell the police to go to your farm, Tommy!”

  “My farm?”

  “Trust me!”

  His former teammates all nodded.

  They were looking to him for direction again, like freshman year.

  “Who are these guys?” Tommy asked.

  Clark shook his head. “Just take care of Lana. And hurry. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Tommy and Kyle dropped their bats, took Lana fro
m Clark, and moved quickly toward the exit.

  But Paul just stood there. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No,” Clark shouted, anxious about how quickly time was slipping away. “Your job is to convince the cops to go to Tommy’s farm. There’s something dangerous going on there. Please go!”

  They shared a brief look, and then Paul nodded and took off after Tommy and Kyle.

  Clark rushed back into the room with the bomb.

  His breath caught when he saw the clock.

  1:01

  1:00

  0:59

  He looked frantically around the room. Corey and the other man were gone. All that mattered was the bomb anyway.

  Clark knelt in front of the device. He had no idea how to defuse it. Melting a bomb with heat vision seemed like a bad idea. So did freezing it with his breath.

  00:48

  00:47

  00:46

  There was no solution. And no one to turn to.

  All the physical strength in the world made little difference in this moment. He ripped the bomb away from the pipe and held it in his bare hands, the numbers steadily ticking down in front of him.

  00:42

  00:41

  Clark carried the bomb out of the room.

  He raced through the halls, looking for a safe place to let it detonate. He ran so fast that his collared shirt ripped, exposing a large swatch of his blue-and-red suit.

  There was no safe room to detonate a bomb. When it went off, it would blow up the entire square. And everyone in it.

  He burst out of the building and paused to scan his surroundings.

  The crowd had only grown in size. Everyone was milling about and enjoying the celebration, completely unaware of the bomb ticking down.

  00:31

  00:30

  Clark looked around wildly. There were wide-open farm pastures outside town. He could throw it in that direction. But what if a farmer was working in the barnyard? Or what if there were day laborers in the fields? He couldn’t risk harming innocent people.

  00:27

  Panic rose in Clark’s throat.

  He peered up at the sky. Scattered clouds framing a sea of blue.

  The yellow sun glowing in the distance.

  00:23

  00:22

  He’d tried once before and crashed through the roof of a building. It was impossible. Beyond him.

  Clark glanced down at himself. The blue of his suit. The S emblazoned onto his heaving chest.

  There was no other option.

  He tucked the bomb under his arm like a football. Then he raced toward the square. When he’d gotten up enough speed, he took a leap of faith, extending one fist in front of him and rising up into the air, slowly at first, his cape flapping wildly behind him, his heart in his throat.

  Clark clutched the bomb to his body as he ascended. Higher and higher. Keeping his weight back this time. His ears popping. Heart pounding. All these years he’d dreamed of flight. And here he was, soaring like a bird.

  Because he had to.

  Because there was no other choice.

  00:11

  00:10

  Below he saw hundreds of people in the town square. Several looked up. Some pointed. Unaware that their lives were in his hands. But wasn’t his own life in his hands as well? Because all he had thought through was getting the bomb away from the masses. Saving his community.

  But now it would go off in mere seconds.

  And he would go off with it.

  00:04

  00:03

  Yet a strange feeling of calm had come over him. There were no more expectations or desires or confusion. He was doing what was right. Because he was no longer lost. He had been found. This was his true self.

  He was free.

  00:01

  And he was flying.

  The blast echoed through all of Smallville.

  It shook the ground below with the force of an earthquake. The brand-new Mankins facility trembled, and the large windows at the front entrance of the library shattered. People flung themselves onto the ground and covered their heads as the strange object flying overhead suddenly flashed brighter than the sun.

  The boom that followed seconds later pressed stomachs to the earth and rattled teeth. The crowd peered up at a massive bloom of fire. They watched it roll across the blue sky, sending waves of intense heat in every direction.

  Martha fell to her knees, shrieking.

  Jonathan held her tight as they both scanned the horizon for any sign of what they had known was their son.

  Others began to speculate about what they were seeing….

  Had a plane just exploded in midair?

  A man in a strange blue-and-red suit came tumbling out of the fireball in the sky. He spun aimlessly, cape fluttering in the wind. The crowd gasped as he fell. After several horrifying seconds, he crash-landed on a grassy field just beyond the library.

  The crowd held its collective breath and moved as one toward the field. But there was no way a human could have survived such a fall.

  Many looked away.

  Parents held back their children.

  When the dust finally cleared, the figure in the blue suit and red cape rose up out of the crater and staggered several paces before collapsing to his knees. He stared at the stunned crowd, his face hidden behind layers of scorched black soot.

  Seemingly unsure of what to say or do.

  Or even who he was.

  Jonathan and Martha ran to the edge of the circle of onlookers that had formed around the field. Martha sagged in relief and held out her hand, stopping only when Jonathan squeezed her shoulder.

  A helicopter buzzed just overhead. Few in the crowd even noticed it.

  But the man in the red-and-blue suit did.

  He followed the chopper’s arcing flight with his gaze until it passed over the square. Then he took off running at a tremendous speed and leapt back into the sky, eliciting a chorus of gasps from the small crowd.

  He thrust a fist out in front of him and flew after the forward-leaning chopper.

  Kyle, Tommy, and Paul, just arriving at the scene, craned their necks and watched his impossible flight in awe.

  Clark knew exactly where the helicopter was headed.

  He was thinking bigger than Smallville now. If the bomb had only been a diversion, it meant that Corey and Dr. Wesley wanted the entire community—most importantly, the police and rescue crews—to be focused on the downtown. This would free up the pair to do something on a grand scale back at the Jones farm. Clark still didn’t know what they were up to, but if they were willing to blow up a mass of innocent people, it had to be something truly horrific.

  As he ripped through the air toward the farm, keeping his distance from the chopper, he couldn’t get the exploding bomb out of his mind. His whole body still trembled from the massive blast. His head rang like a bell.

  He couldn’t remember being on fire or falling out of the sky. But what mattered was that he was still alive. And when he’d stepped out of the crater and found everyone in his Smallville community staring at him in silent amazement, he understood himself on a deeper level. These special powers he possessed—they weren’t for his own amusement or vanity. They were for the service of others. Even people who might shun him if they knew what he actually was.

  He recalled the quote his father had once told him: “To whom much is given, of him will much be required.”

  But he’d also realized something else. His regular clothes had completely burned up in the sky, and his glasses had fallen off, leaving him dressed only in the indestructible suit his mom had made. Yet nobody had recognized him. It was as if all they could see was the S symbol, keeping his secret secure.

  As Clark drew closer to the hel
icopter, he craned to see who was inside. Other than the pilot sitting up front, there were two men in black fatigues in back. Next to them, he now saw, were Corey and Dr. Wesley. When they spotted him, they moved closer to the window and stared in shock, mouths agape. Not because they recognized him as Clark. No, they were merely stunned to see someone flying alongside their helicopter, aiming to take them down.

  Dr. Wesley summoned one of the guards, who opened the hatch in the side door and began firing with an assault rifle. Most of the bullets missed wildly, but a few pinged off Clark’s shoulders and back, each leaving a brief, deep burning sensation. But Clark wasn’t as worried about that now. He knew if he avoided the mysterious green substance that Dr. Wesley had been carrying, nothing would slow him down.

  Then something else grabbed his attention.

  Below he saw people in some kind of organized formation in the clearing with the strange white markings. Men with weapons stood on each spray-painted line. They all had shaved heads and wore matching brown uniforms as they marched in straight lines, like they were doing some kind of military training exercise. Several men in business suits watched from the sidelines.

  Clark thought of the man in brown who’d attacked his teammates with a knife, and he thought of the guards who’d chased him and Bryan and Lex through the lab—the men who weren’t “fully trained yet.” Wesco was attempting to turn the men Clark had seen shackled to their chairs into some kind of enslaved army.

  But why?

  Who were they going to fight?

  Clark put his head down and flew faster. When he drew near the descending helicopter, he finally saw who the pilot was.

  Bryan.

  His heart dropped.

  Had Bryan been a part of the Wesco team from the beginning? Had their entire friendship been a con?

  Clark zipped underneath the helicopter’s broad belly and grabbed on to the landing skids. He remembered the last time he’d been in such a position, that day on his farm when he’d been trying to save Bryan and Corey and Dr. Wesley.

  Now he was trying to save all of Smallville.