It was a series of texts from Lana:
Here. Next to Lex’s car. Where are you?
Everything okay????
TALK TO ME, CLARK!
Clark looked at Lex. “Lana’s parked by your car. Can you go over there and come back to get us?”
“Yeah, wait here.”
“And, Lex, tell Lana to cover her license plate somehow,” Clark added. “I’m sure there are cameras everywhere. They’ll know who we are, but I don’t want them finding out about her.”
“I got it,” Lex said, and he hurried off to retrieve his car.
“Of course this would happen,” Bryan said, pointing at his right foot, covered only by a white ankle sock now.
“It’s not your fault,” Clark said, trying to console his friend. “I’m the one who wanted to come here.”
Bryan shook his head. “No, I don’t want to do that anymore.” He looked right at Clark, glassy-eyed.
“Do what?”
“Pretend.”
“Bryan, it’s okay, though,” Clark said. “We got out. We’re good.” Clark looked up the fire escape. No one coming. He scanned the street. All clear.
Bryan gazed at the night sky. “You know why I like flying, Clark?”
“Why?” Clark asked, surprised by the non sequitur.
“The world actually makes sense at ten thousand feet.”
Clark glanced at the sky, trying to think of something supportive to say.
“When you’re flying,” Bryan went on, “you look down at your city or your town, and you see how small everything looks. And you realize maybe your problems are small, too. And all the important people, like my dad—they’re small, too, you know? And it sort of puts everything into perspective.” Bryan looked at Clark with a pained smile. “Because the world is a really, really big place. And it existed for billions of years before we came along. And it may exist a billion more after we’re gone. And up there…you get that.”
Clark nodded as he listened, but the truth was, he found Bryan’s words a little unsettling.
“The problem is,” Bryan added, “a plane can only hold so much fuel. Eventually you have to land.”
Just then Clark heard the familiar sound of Lana’s car coming down the road. “See?” Clark said.
Bryan didn’t say anything.
Lana’s front license plate was covered with a sweatshirt. She pulled right up to them and reached across the car to throw open the passenger-side door, shouting, “Get in!”
Clark helped Bryan into the back seat, then jumped into the front. “Where’s Lex?”
Lana shrugged. “He made me promise we’d keep him in the loop from now on. Then he peeled out.” Lana pulled away from the weed-covered sidewalk a little less dramatically. Glancing back at Bryan, she added, “I think I’m your ride home now.”
Bryan nodded, staring out the window.
Clark looked back as they continued down the street. No one was following them. “We’re not going to the police this time,” he said to Lana.
“Nope. No police.” She glanced at Clark as she drove. “You guys okay?”
He nodded. “I think so.” He motioned toward Bryan in the back, but Lana didn’t notice.
“Good,” she said. “Now tell me what happened in there. I’m assuming we’ve zeroed in on our guy. But I want to know everything.”
Bryan wasn’t at school the next day. And when Clark texted him during his lunch period, to check in, Bryan’s side of the conversation was clipped and dismissive. So after school Clark set off toward the downtown Body Reserve gym, where he knew Bryan had been working out.
“Thought I might find you here,” Clark said as he walked into the mostly empty gym. His friend was stacking forty-five-pound plates onto the ends of a barbell, and it looked like he had a black eye. “Whoa, what happened to you?”
Bryan brushed the question aside. “It’s nothing.”
Now that Clark was closer, he saw how nasty the bruising was around Bryan’s half-closed left eye. “What are you talking about, Bryan? Who did that to you?”
Bryan paused to look at Clark. “It’s no big deal. I fell when me and Corey were wrestling around. What are you doing here, anyway?”
Clark watched Bryan lie on the bench and line his hands up on the bar. In addition to the black eye, he had a brace on his ankle. As Bryan did his set, Clark thought back to his cryptic comments right before Lana had picked them up outside the Wesco research lab. He’d sensed it at the time, that something had broken inside his friend’s psyche, but seeing Bryan now…It was even worse than he’d thought.
Complicating things even more, Bryan was tossing around a tremendous amount of weight like it was nothing. He had only been on his workout kick for a short time. How was this possible?
“Listen,” Clark said, after Bryan had set the bar back on the rack, “maybe you don’t want to talk about your eye right now, but we have to talk about what happened at the lab. This is important for all of Smallville.”
Bryan sat up and stared at the plaque-covered wall in front of him. “Going out there was a mistake,” he said, wiping his brow with his gym towel. He sighed. “Listen, I don’t mean to sound rude, but…I’m kind of busy. Can we do this another time?”
“I’m worried about you,” Clark said. “You weren’t at school. And you’ve barely answered my texts. And now I see your eye…” Clark trailed off, trying to figure out the best way to reach his friend. He didn’t want to push Bryan so far that he closed himself off completely. But at the same time, Clark wasn’t going to just turn around and leave.
Bryan stood up and motioned for Clark to take his spot at the bench. “If you’re gonna be here, you might as well work in.”
Clark saw his chance. “Sure, I’ll lift with you.” He walked closer to the bench, stretching out his arms. He didn’t need to stretch, of course, but he’d seen so many others do it inside weight rooms, he assumed it made him appear more normal.
“Want me to take some of this weight off?” Bryan asked.
Clark shook his head. “Let me give it a try.”
After Bryan stepped away, Clark lay down on the bench. He pushed the bar off the rack and began a slow, laborious-looking set. Ever since freshman football, he’d felt silly inside a gym. Truth was, Bryan could put a half dozen more plates on either side and Clark still wouldn’t break a sweat. Which turned his whole gym experience into nothing more than a performance. He strained whenever it seemed like an appropriate time to strain. He let out little grunts whenever it was an appropriate time to grunt. When he was done with his ten reps, he reracked the bar and sat up.
“Ten,” Bryan said. “Not bad.”
Clark stood up, stretching some more. “I guess I sort of remember how to do this.”
As they each hefted a third forty-five-pound plate onto either end of the bar, Bryan cleared his throat. “I know that what happened last night sucked. But it’s all under control, okay? We’re not going to let some small-time company like Wesco take any of our market share. You’ll see.”
“We?” Clark said, moving out of Bryan’s way. “When did that happen?”
Bryan sat down and lined up his hands. “You know what I mean.”
Clark wished Lana were here, too. She’d know what to make of this sudden shift in Bryan’s demeanor. But she was spending the afternoon on the south side of Smallville, trying to get a better sense of how big the upcoming protest might be and how the organizers planned to publicize the fact that people had gone missing from their community.
Bryan hoisted the bar off the rack and did a quick set of ten, then reracked the bar and sat up. “Anyway, things are getting a little better at home,” he said. “I feel like my dad’s treating me different now.”
“Really? How?”
Bryan shrugged. “He said we’re at an i
mportant crossroads as a company. And he needs me.”
“He ‘needs’ you,” Clark repeated. “And what does that mean?”
Bryan only gave a shrug, though, and started in on his next set.
Over the next fifteen minutes or so, they continued adding weight to the bar, and Bryan met every challenge. Clark was genuinely impressed. But there was something gnawing at him about this display of strength. Something that didn’t add up.
When Bryan put a fifth plate on, Clark knew he had to fight his competitive instincts and bow out gracefully. “That’s it for me, man. I’ve hit my limit.”
“Yeah?” Bryan asked.
“Yeah, you got me.” Clark moved into a spotting position. He looked at all the weight on the bar, thinking there was no way Bryan would be able to lift it. Clark would have to be ready to help.
Bryan lay on the bench, stretched his pectoral muscles, and took a series of yoga-style breaths while working out the position of his hands. He then let out a deep growl as he hoisted the bowing bar and slowly brought it down to his chest. Both arms trembled as he inched the tremendous weight back up, iron plates rattling, his face pinched in concentration. When he got the bar to its high point, he locked his elbows and guided it back onto the rack, where it clattered into place.
A few serious-looking weight lifters who had stopped to watch nodded their approval. One guy hooted. A proud-looking Bryan saluted them as he sat up, sucking air. He turned to Clark. “New personal high.”
“Impressive.” Clark gave Bryan a minute to towel off before addressing the elephant in the room. “But you and I both know people don’t improve that quickly on their own.” He left off there, without saying the word steroids, hoping Bryan would address it himself. But he didn’t. He just walked over to the drinking fountain and took a long sip.
“Bryan?” Clark tried again.
This time Bryan turned to look at Clark. “I don’t want to play it safe anymore. That’s gotten me nowhere.” He paused for a few seconds, shaking his head. “Do you want to know why I finished the year at Smallville High?”
“Yeah,” Clark answered. “Of course.”
“It’s not because I got kicked out, like everyone here seems to think. It’s because a few close friends at my boarding school started gambling in the city. Like, a lot. At these super-shady places. I went with them a few times. I’ve always been good with numbers, and it was no different when I sat down at the poker table. Soon as I learned the rules, I started making money. And it freaked me out. Not because I was scared of getting in trouble. I was scared by how much I liked beating people. I couldn’t stop, so I transferred here. Because it was safe.”
Clark nodded along as he listened. He understood what Bryan was saying, but his mind went somewhere else. Hearing the guy be honest like this, and vulnerable, gave Clark the feeling he was actually seeing the real Bryan for the first time. “Thanks for telling me that.”
Bryan scoffed. “I didn’t tell you so you’d thank me. My point is, I’ve decided to try and be someone with more of a backbone. No matter the consequences.” He paused for an uncomfortably long time, like he was still trying to process all this himself. “Maybe it’s better to have a short, brave life than a long, gutless one.”
“But, Bryan—”
“Anyway, I should probably do legs now,” Bryan said, cutting Clark off. “And I usually do this part alone. So…”
“Okay,” Clark said, backing up. “We can catch up later, I guess. Text me?”
Bryan nodded.
“Cool.” Clark turned to leave, but he didn’t go all the way out the door. He sort of loitered near the locker room, watching Bryan. The guy squatted two sets of heavy weight, despite the bad ankle, then went over to his duffel bag in the corner of the weight room. He looked around, making sure no one was watching, and then took out a small green kit. He pulled a light green liquid into a syringe, tapped the needle, and then yanked down one side of his sweatpants and discreetly stuck himself in the right butt cheek. The sight made Clark feel physically sick.
Bryan tossed the syringe into the trash and went back to the squat bar, where he attacked the next set with an astonishing level of intensity. Not even the football players Clark knew went that hard.
Stinging with disappointment, he watched Bryan for a few more seconds. Then Clark turned and left the gym. He knew Bryan wasn’t open to talking yet, and he needed to figure out a way to help his friend.
It was time to answer some questions about himself, too.
After all the chores were finished for the night, Clark wandered into the small living room, where his parents were reading. Clark picked up the comics section and sat on the couch. But he didn’t read. He watched his folks instead. From his earliest memory, he’d always felt close to them. But he’d also sensed that there was some kind of family secret being kept from him. It was the way they’d sometimes look at each other when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. Or after he’d demonstrated one of his powers for the first time.
Tonight was the night, he told himself. No turning back this time.
“Dad?”
Jonathan looked up from his paper. “Yes, son?”
Clark pulled off his glasses and looked at his mom, then at his dad again. “Honestly…what am I?” As soon as the words left his mouth, butterflies ravaged his insides.
Jonathan took a deep breath and looked across the table at Clark’s mom.
She studied Clark, then gave Jonathan a firm nod.
Jonathan turned back to Clark and met his stare. “From the very beginning, we’ve always known this day was coming.” He looked down at the table for several seconds, shaking his head. “But now that it’s here…”
Clark’s heart began pounding inside his chest.
His dad stood up. “Martha?”
She shook her head. “You go on. I want to talk to him after.”
After what? Clark thought, slipping his glasses back on.
Jonathan motioned for Clark to follow him.
Out of habit, Clark scooped up his backpack on the way outside and put it on.
“It happened seventeen years ago,” his dad said, leading Clark toward the old barn.
“What did?” Clark asked.
Jonathan pulled a set of keys out of his pocket as he walked. “Well, that’s when we…” He turned to Clark. “It’s when we found you.”
“When you found me?” Clark didn’t understand. Did he even want to?
Jonathan stopped at the barn and sifted through his keys. When he located the right one, he forced it into a new lock and turned. The old wooden doors groaned loudly as he pulled them open.
The barn was as dark and musty as it had been the night Clark snuck in here alone. The ground was still littered with dusty old tractor parts. Ancient tires. Tools that Clark had accidentally snapped in half in his youth. Cobwebs draped from every corner, and this time Clark heard the faint sound of flapping wings up near the ceiling.
They moved toward the back corner. Jonathan began dismantling the much smaller pile of rubble that now covered the object. He tossed a couple of tires out of the way, then strained to lift a large chunk of rusted sheet metal and leaned it against the wall.
Clark took off his backpack and anxiously stepped forward to help.
After several minutes of working in the dim light, they found themselves staring at a tarp lying across a large oblong object. It was a little smaller than an SUV, and Clark could now see that there was a metallic point poking out of one end of the tarp.
A wave of nerves hit him hard as his dad grabbed the edge of the tarp and slowly pulled it off the object. Dust billowed across the old barn, and for a few seconds, Clark could hardly see a thing. When his eyes adjusted, though, his mouth fell open.
What he saw seemed impossible.
“Seventeen years, four m
onths, and eleven days ago.” His dad put a hand on Clark’s shoulder, then removed it. “That’s when you arrived in this.”
Clark’s heart dropped, and he had to sit down.
It was a spaceship.
Nearly fifteen feet long and shaped like a teardrop. A geometric hexagon made up the larger end. It came to a sharp point at the other end. A spherical metallic bubble bulged up from the middle. The whole thing sat on low tripod legs. It was almost six feet high at the thickest portion.
Clark rubbed his hands down his face, trying to comprehend what he was seeing.
Why would he have been inside a spaceship?
Who had put him there?
There were so many questions flooding his brain that he could hardly think straight.
His dad let out a long sigh and went on. “It all started when we saw a streak of light in the night sky. At first we didn’t think much of it. Just another meteor. You’ve seen many of them yourself over the years.”
It was true. Working outside at night, Clark had seen a lot of strange things. Lights that danced in random patterns. Meteors. Satellites. Unexplainable shapes on the horizon. But what could any of those things have to do with him?
“Then it grew larger,” Jonathan said. “And brighter. And it was heading directly toward the field just south of the house. I’ll never forget the sound of the impact that night. The way it lit up the sky.”
“The crater outside,” Clark said, making the connection. He knew that part of the farm like the back of his hand. It had always been his safe space. But now…
“We headed over right away,” his dad continued. “Based on the size of the explosion, I figured there’d be a huge boulder in the crater. That happens around these parts sometimes. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to find…this.”
Clark’s dad reached down and hit a switch on the spaceship. Then he cranked open the top half of the metal bubble in the center.
Clark leaned over to peer inside, feeling a strange combination of fear and fascination. There was a soft pad covered in blue-and-red blankets. Despite having sat in a dusty barn for nearly two decades, the blankets were still bright and clean, the colors as vibrant as if the material had been dyed yesterday. A strange-looking control panel ran all along the rim of the opened cockpit.
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