Clark grabbed hold of the hulking vehicle. He gritted his teeth as he strained to guide it away from the field of men and over a small hill some fifty yards away. The blades whirred loudly above him, fighting him for leverage. One of the men in black fatigues hung out the window. He fired shots directly into Clark’s face, but now that all Clark’s strength had returned, he instinctually dodged each bullet, contorting his body in unimaginable ways. He released his grip on the skids, repositioning himself farther back, making it impossible for the gunfire to reach him.
The shots ricocheted off the skids, spraying in all directions.
Bryan soon gave up trying to wrest away control of the chopper. Clark was too strong. Too determined. When they were only twenty or so feet above land, Clark heaved the vessel toward an empty pasture. He and the helicopter crashed to the earth at the exact same moment, Clark tumbling across the field before finally coming to rest face-first in a patch of dirt.
He leapt to his feet and bounded over to the smoking helicopter and tore off the door, flinging it aside.
First, he zeroed in on the guard with the rifle, yanking the weapon from the man’s hands and bending the barrel into a U. He tossed aside the weapon, ripped a seat belt out of the floor, and quickly tied the two guards together at the wrists, back-to-back.
Bryan sat there, stunned. But Clark could tell by the look on his face that Bryan didn’t recognize him, so he turned his attention to Dr. Wesley first. The man was holding several vials of the green compound that had made Clark so sick. One slipped out of the man’s hands and fell to the ground. Luckily, it didn’t break. Dr. Wesley didn’t recognize him, of course, but Clark wasn’t taking any chances this time. He pulled in a massive breath and exhaled a blast of frost that froze both the vials and Dr. Wesley’s hands solid.
The man shouted in pain, cradling his body around his frozen hands.
Corey made a move for one of the rifles on a rack against the rear wall, but Clark quickly grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him back into his seat. He then tore another seat from its foundation and bent it around both Corey’s torso and the first seat, pinning his arms and trapping him there.
“Lemme go, you freak!” Corey struggled desperately to free himself, but his efforts were futile.
Bryan was out of the chopper now, racing toward the crest of the hill. Clark sprinted after him, slamming into his back and taking him to the ground about twenty yards from the chopper. He sprang to his feet and stood over Bryan, who looked up at Clark with a mix of fear and astonishment.
“Bryan!” Clark barked. “Tell me you weren’t in on this the whole time! Tell me you didn’t help Wesco separate innocent people from their families.”
Bryan climbed to his feet and stumbled backward a few steps before falling. “How do you…? Is that…? Clark?” Bryan scrambled to his feet again and slowly backed up. “You can…fly?”
Clark cursed himself for having given away his identity. He peered back at Corey and Dr. Wesley, making sure he hadn’t revealed himself to the others, too. They were just out of earshot. Clark moved toward Bryan, feeling a deep sense of betrayal. He was still trying to process what he’d seen down on the field. And how it related to what he’d seen the night before. The chains. The propaganda video. The IVs.
“Clark…you really shouldn’t be here. Trust me.” Bryan’s face was stuck in a kind of pained expression.
“How could you be working with your brother and Dr. Wesco?” Clark demanded. “You’re not like them.”
Corey began shouting a string of obscenities at Clark as he thrashed against the seat bent around his body. He managed to tip himself over and roll out of the helicopter, but all he succeeded in doing was falling to the ground with a loud thump. Now he lay on his side, face pinned against the dirt as he spewed dusty insults at Clark.
Dr. Wesley was fifteen feet away from him, his entire body still folded around his frozen hands, eyes wide with shock and pain.
Bryan was sucking in deep breaths as he stared at Clark. “My dad said he needed me,” he said with mock conviction. “He finally believes in me, Clark. He placed me in a position of power.”
“Your dad?” Clark was furiously trying to put all the pieces together in his head. How could Bryan be working for his dad and flying out to the Jones farm with Corey and Dr. Wesco?
Unless…
Lana had said Wesco needed a cosigner to purchase the farm.
And Clark recalled Montgomery’s strange reaction when he’d asked about Project Dawn. Suddenly it all made sense….
Those men out on the field in formation.
The green substance.
The propaganda film.
This was Project Dawn.
Bryan stood there, staring back at Clark, his face frozen in terror.
“What are you telling that freak?” Corey shouted from near the helicopter. “Bryan, you’d better shut up! I’m warning you!”
The Mankins Corporation had been behind this thing all along.
Bryan pointed toward the other side of the hill. “Potential clients from around the world are over there right now, Clark. They’re waiting for our demonstration.”
“Demonstration of what?” Clark shouted. “You’re having them fight each other? After pumping them full of that green steroid?”
“Keep your mouth shut!” Corey yelled to his brother.
“What happened, Bryan?” Clark could see the vulnerability in his friend’s glassy eyes. Bryan was clearly teetering. Clark had to tread lightly. “You said you wanted to be your own person.”
“My dad…” Bryan glanced over at Corey and Dr. Wesley. “He told me we’ve created a tool for peace. He said this can…help end all wars.”
Clark narrowed his eyes and began moving toward his friend. “Those men didn’t volunteer for any of this. Whatever they’re doing down there, Bryan, I’m going to stop it.”
Shifty-eyed, Bryan started moving toward Corey and Dr. Wesley. “No, Clark. It’s too late.” From his back pocket, he pulled out a syringe. Then he sprinted over to Dr. Wesley, scooping up the vial that had tumbled to the ground. Kneeling, Bryan filled the syringe with the bright green substance and injected it with a practiced ease.
Clark was stunned by Bryan’s speed.
Bryan’s face contorted wildly. He chucked aside the empty vial, his muscles already beginning to twitch, and moved away from the chopper.
“Kill that thing!” Corey shouted at his brother.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Clark asked his friend. He could already feel his own body beginning to weaken. He didn’t understand how or why this new substance had such a dramatic effect on him, but he felt it all the way in the marrow of his bones.
Thankfully, it wasn’t quite as debilitating this time, because the substance hadn’t spilled out in the open. He was able to resume moving forward.
Bryan’s eyes were now inflamed. He looked like he wanted to tear out of his own skin. He gritted his teeth, let out a low, guttural growl, and charged.
Clark managed to sidestep him, but Bryan spun around more quickly than Clark had expected, and he delivered a wild right hook that slammed into Clark’s ear with the force of a sledgehammer. Clark stumbled back, grabbing the side of his face. Being this close to Bryan, who had the green liquid coursing through his veins, weakened Clark even more.
But there was no alternative.
He had to fight his way through it.
Clark could see in Bryan’s eyes that he was losing himself. The drug made him physically stronger, but it also changed his psychology somehow.
“I won’t let you harm even one more innocent person,” Clark said, moving toward Bryan again, this time with more determination.
Bryan turned to Clark, let out a savage yell, and attacked.
He led with another wild right haymaker that tagge
d Clark near his left temple, putting him on his back. Clark blinked hard as he saw Bryan standing over him. He was stunned by his friend’s raw power. In a manner of weeks, Bryan had become a legitimate physical threat. When the men behind Bootleggers had struck Clark, their fists had broken against his skull as if he were a brick wall.
This was different.
This was going to be a real fight.
Clark leapt to his feet and stared at Bryan, who was crouching and leering with angry red eyes. Bryan charged again. They exchanged a series of frenzied, powerful blows to the body and face, then wrestled each other to the ground. Bryan ripped at Clark’s hair and gnashed his teeth at Clark’s ear.
“Kill him!” Corey shouted.
Clark elbowed Bryan in the gut before pulling back and head-butting him in the face.
Bryan scrambled backward, wiping a hand down his face. Chest heaving, he looked at the gobs of blood in his palm.
Clark thought this might stop him, but Bryan only grinned through bloody teeth and charged again.
This time Clark landed two quick body shots, then lunged at Bryan like a linebacker, taking him down hard. They grappled on the grass for several frantic seconds, until Clark slowly gained leverage and unleashed a flurry of body blows that left Bryan howling and begging Clark to stop.
When Clark finally backed off, gasping for breath, Bryan was curled up in the fetal position, whimpering.
Clark cursed himself and shouted, “I don’t want to hurt you!” He crouched there in the grass, slowly getting back his full strength now that there was a gap between him and Bryan. His lungs opened up, and he was able to breathe again. “We have to fix this thing. Before anything else happens.”
Bryan sat up, knocking himself in the side of the head with the heel of his hand, like he was trying to expel something from his brain. After a long pause, he wiped a hand down his face, smearing blood everywhere. “Those fighters will take you out in seconds. There are two dozen of them, and they’re just as strong as you.”
“I don’t care how strong they are,” Clark said.
Bryan leaned over and vomited. He retched and retched and then wiped his bloody face on his shirt. When he looked up at Clark, tears were welling in his bloodshot eyes. “My dad needed me,” he pleaded. “He said I was the only one he could trust.”
“He manipulated you,” Clark said. “Just like he manipulated the rest of Smallville.” Clark approached Bryan, putting his hand on his friend’s trembling shoulder. It made him feel instantly weaker, but he didn’t care. “Imagine all of this from above. Which side do you think is right? Which side do you want to be on? You can help me fix this.”
Bryan looked up at Clark. “Why do you even care?” He slunk away from Clark and scrambled to his feet, motioning toward Clark’s suit. “If the people in this town knew what you really are, they’d lock you away in a cage. They’d run experiments on you for the rest of your life.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Clark said.
“You’ll never be one of them.”
“You’re probably right,” Clark said. He recalled the signs the protesters had carried. “But…Smallville’s my home, too.”
Bryan shook his head, looking mentally broken. Torn between two drastically different ways of seeing the world: his dad’s power-hungry, Machiavellian approach, and the one closer to Bryan’s own nature.
“Remember that first time we ate at All-American together?” Clark asked, sensing it was time to stop talking and start acting. “When you said you wanted to make your own path? Find your own success?”
Bryan tilted his head, wary, but listening.
Clark knew that this time he couldn’t be the hero. Not with the green substance flowing in the veins of every man down on the field. But maybe Bryan could.
“This is your chance,” Clark told him. “You could go talk to your dad. Stall the demonstration until the police get here.”
Bryan wheezed. “He’d never listen to me.” He coughed up blood and spit, staring at the ground for a few long seconds. Then he glanced over at his brother and Dr. Wesley before turning back to Clark. “Wesley developed a substance that reverses the effect of the Project Dawn compound. They prepared it for today in case anything went wrong. But it’s in Structure A, which is heavily guarded.”
Clark looked toward the field. “How would the fighters have to take it?” he asked. “From a syringe?”
Bryan shook his head. “It can be inhaled. They made the antidote even stronger than the compound itself. For safety reasons.”
Clark considered this. He turned to study the helicopter. “Where’s Structure A?” he asked, turning back to Bryan.
“It’s the smaller of the two buildings down…” Bryan’s eyes widened when he realized why Clark was asking. “You’d never make it out alive. Even if you did, there’s no way you could actually get it to each of those men before they killed you.”
“Not alone, I can’t,” Clark said. “If I’m going to pull this off, Bryan, I’ll need your piloting skills.”
“Those fighters will be on you the second you walk down the hill. My dad would probably welcome the chance to show off how much control he has over his army.”
“There’s no choice—”
“I’ll go,” Bryan interrupted.
Confused, Clark looked at his injured friend. “You said your dad would never listen to you.”
But Bryan didn’t seem to hear Clark. He was looking toward the crest of the hill now. “The fighters will assume I’m still on their side.”
Clark studied Bryan and could tell the substance still had a hold on him. “Are you on their side?” he asked.
Now it was Bryan who was studying Clark.
There was a long silence between them, and finally Bryan lowered his eyes. “I think I’ve always been searching for his approval. Secretly. And this time…I thought I actually had it.” Bryan stood up. “I’ll go.”
Clark wasn’t sure if he could trust Bryan. But at this point he didn’t really have a choice.
He moved toward his friend, but Bryan waved him back.
Bryan began to say something else to Clark, but then he closed his mouth and started toward the edge of the hill instead.
After Bryan disappeared from view, Clark walked over to the helicopter, where Corey was still pinned to the ground, cursing him. “My father’s going to destroy you, freak!” Clark ignored him and climbed on top of the helicopter, making sure the blades were in working order. He checked the windshield and the cockpit, too, then climbed back down and went to where Dr. Wesley sat on the ground, rubbing his hands against his legs, trying to thaw them out.
“You’re going to spend the rest of your life behind bars,” Clark told the man.
Dr. Wesley looked up at him, emotionless. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Montgomery and I are going to change the world.”
Clark was desperately trying to keep his rage in check. “Those are actual human beings down there. They’re not pawns for your experiments.”
“Sentimentality is a weakness,” the man said in an even voice. “The leaders of great empires don’t waste their time worrying about perception. They do what is necessary to win. To increase their power. The highest bidder down there will be able to turn his immigrants, his refugees and homeless and indigent populations, into a powerful army that will heed every command. Their physical abilities will be a dozen times greater than that of a normal soldier. And they will fight to the death.”
Clark started to respond, but Dr. Wesley immediately cut him off. “I already know your counter. ‘But it’s wrong. It’s immoral.’ Well, what do you think we’ve been doing since the founding of this nation? Answer me that. Remember, it’s the winner who gets to frame history.”
Clark stood there, fuming.
“Try to see it rationally,” Dr. Wesl
ey went on. “These men…they’ve come here to make a better life, right? Well, we’re giving them purpose. Meaning.”
Clark realized he didn’t need to put his thoughts into words.
He went over and helped the man to his feet. And the second Wesley opened his mouth to say something else, Clark cracked him right in the jaw.
The man crumpled to the ground and went quiet.
Clark then turned to Corey, who’d been watching the whole exchange.
But he was quiet now, too. So Clark left him alone and went to the other side of the chopper to sit by himself and wait.
When Bryan had been gone for nearly ten minutes, Clark started to get nervous. He wondered if his friend had betrayed him after all.
A few minutes later he heard the sound of synchronized footsteps over the hill. The troops were on the move.
Clark rushed over to the crest and watched dozens of soldiers moving in his direction. They were dressed entirely in brown, machine guns by their sides. They all stared straight ahead as they marched in perfect unison.
He froze.
How was he supposed to fight people he couldn’t bear to harm?
Clark crouched, locating Structure A.
It was positioned directly between him and the troops, but there was no sign of Bryan anywhere. His stomach sank. He really had been betrayed.
Instead of waiting there like a sitting duck, Clark decided to plunge right into the fray and try to retrieve the antidote himself. Maybe it was a suicide mission, but he had to do something. He had to act.
He took a deep breath, then sprinted down the hill several yards before taking flight. As he soared into the air, he heard Montgomery shout orders through a megaphone, and he watched the first row of soldiers raise their guns at him and begin firing. To his horror, Clark realized that one of them was Cruz. He was as tall as the soldiers around him, but far scrawnier, his uniform draping off his skinny frame. Clark’s whole body went numb as he watched Cruz discharge his weapon without remorse.
Heartbroken, Clark retreated higher into the sky to rethink his strategy.
And from this new perspective, he realized something.
Superman Page 23
