Smallville

Then

The old Ford pick-up swerved along the small, two-lane road. There was a bright flash and a sound like an explosion. Jonathan Kent steered into the skid, applying the brakes when necessary and the car eventually came to a stop after spinning around almost a full ninety degrees.

“Martha?” he asked, looking at his passenger.

Her eyes were closed, her head resting against the window of the passenger door. For a moment, Jonathan’s heart stopped. But then she stirred and moaned, slowly opening her eyes.

“What happened?”

Jonathan allowed himself a chance to breathe. “Dunno. There was a bright light and then a bang.”

Martha leaned back into the seat and rubbed her head where she struck the window. She looked out and gasped. “Oh my god!”

Without wasting another word, she opened the door and ran out of the car. Jonathan tried to call for her to stop but she didn’t. He muttered a curse under his breath and climbed out of the truck himself. When he saw what she did, his eyes went wide in shock.

A path had been cut through the cornfield. And where it ended was in a smoking crater, the very same crater that Martha ran towards. Jonathan chased her and by the time he reached her side, they both stood at the center of the crater, staring inside at the strange object in the center.

“Jonathan…” she said, looking up at him. “What is it?”

Jonathan took off his black-rimmed glasses and wiped them on his flannel shirt. When he placed them back on his face, he was surprised that he still saw the same object. It was a metal cylinder of some kind, about the size of a couch.

Curiosity got the better of him and he climbed down into the hole, moving closer to it.

“What are you doing?” asked Martha.

“Have to see what it is,” he said, moving closer. On the nose, there was something on it. A symbol engraved into the metal. A pentagram surrounding what looked like a stylized S. Jonathan felt himself drawn to it and he reached a hand out, placing it on the symbol.

As soon as his flesh touched the metal, he instantly pulled it away and let out an exclamation of pain. He shook his hand and looked at Martha.

“It’s hot.”

A hiss came next. Martha gasped and Jonathan nearly jumped back. A section of the cylinder rose up, revealing its interior. Martha now climbed into the hole, curiosity now taking hold of her as well. Together, they peered inside and saw the last thing they expected to see.

Lying in the center of the craft, draped with care in red, blue, and yellow blankets, was a baby with a slight tuft of black hair on his head and the brightest blue eyes they’d ever seen.

They heard something else. Together, the farmer and his wife looked up to the skies. And they saw the night air lit up by meteors streaking through their tiny town.

SMALLVILLE

Part I

By Dino Pollard

Now

Clark Kent stepped off the bus at the Smallville station, a duffle bag slug over his shoulder. He adjusted his glasses as he moved among the crowd, walking through them and the station until he reached the exit. Outside, he saw an SUV and a young woman leaning against it, with long, red hair. As soon as she saw him, she ran from the car and threw her arms around his neck before pressing her lips against his.

Clark returned both the embrace and the kiss, then held her tightly for a few moments. When they finally released, they still kept their hands on each other.

“Welcome back to Smallville, Clark Kent.”

He smiled at her. “It’s good to be home, Lana Lang.”

Then

Jonathan opened the door to his house and as soon as he was inside, he slammed it shut. The sound startled Martha, who looked up from the couch.

“Where is he?”

“Jonathan…” Martha closed the newspaper she’d been reading and stood, walking up to her husband. “Be reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” Jonathan saw the newspaper in her hand and took it from her. “You call this reasonable?”

He held it out so she could read the headline: GUARDIAN ANGEL? Jonathan crumpled the paper and used it to gesture to the door. “That was the third person who told me their kid told them Clark pulled that bus out of the river.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses.

Martha sighed. She placed her hands on her husband’s shoulders and rubbed them, trying to calm him down. “It’s not his fault. You know Clark is…different.”

Jonathan closed his eyes and exhaled. “Just tell me. Where is he?”

“Where do you think?”

He nodded and kissed his wife on the forehead. Without another word, he walked through the house and out the backdoor. He crossed the distance from the house to the barn and opened the door.

Long ago, he’d build a small staircase for Clark and now he climbed it to the second floor. He heard a bark as he approached and a white dog ran up to him. Jonathan knelt down and rubbed the dog’s neck, then shooed him off.

“Go on, Krypto. I’m sure Ma’s got some snacks for you.”

The dog barked again and then ran down the stairs. Jonathan watched him go and couldn’t help the smirk on his face.

“Krypto. Still have no idea why you chose that name.”

“Dunno. Just felt…right.”

Jonathan turned around and walked to the small area he’d built for Clark long ago. The Fortress of Solitude he’d jokingly called it. There was a TV and a bookcase as well as a couch. And his thirteen-year-old son sat on that couch, flipping through a comic book.

“What’re you reading?” asked Jonathan.

Clark held up the comic so his father could see the cover and the logo emblazoned over the top third of it: ACTION COMICS. He tossed the comic aside and stared down at the floor.

“You’re mad at me,” the boy said.

Jonathan sighed. “No, I’m not mad. It’s just…we’ve talked about this, Clark.”

“I know, but…” Clark paused for a moment. Then he looked at his father with his bright blue eyes. Eyes that held a mixture of confusion and fear. “They were in trouble, Dad. Pete and…and Lana… What was I supposed to do? Just let them die?”

Jonathan took a deep breath and then slowly released it. He sat down on the couch beside his son and wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders.

“Of course not. Only a fool would say that. But…it’s complicated, son.”

“What am I?”

“That’s a silly question,” said Jonathan with a slight chuckle. “You’re my son. Our son.”

“Then how come I’m stronger than you?”

Jonathan hesitated for a moment. Clark had known for at least two years now that he was adopted. But he’d never heard the story of how he became a Kent. And though Jonathan hoped he could put off this conversation for a few more years, he knew that now was the time.

“Come with me.”

Jonathan stood and held out his hand. Clark took it somewhat reluctantly and the two descended the steps. Once they reached the ground level, Jonathan brushed aside the hay he’d laid to cover up a portion of it. Beneath it were a pair of cellar doors. He pulled them open, revealing a ladder leading down into the darkness of the cellar. Jonathan took a flashlight from a nearby workbench and climbed down into the hole, gesturing for Clark to follow.

The boy did and then Jonathan shined the light over the object they’d found him in. Clark slowly approached it, staring at it in silence. He placed his hands on the surface and kept them there for a few moments. Then suddenly he pulled them away.

“What is this?” he asked.

“This is where we found you,” said Jonathan. “In the middle of a field, the night of the meteor shower. We found you in this.”

“So…what does it mean?”

“I dunno. It was the early eighties. Tension was pretty high between America and Russia. So we think maybe it was some kind of Soviet experiment. Maybe they were trying to send you into space and you came down here in Smallville.”

Clark furrowed his brow as his hands examined the craft. He came to the pentagram on the nose and stared intently at it. “What’s this?”

“I’ve spent a lot of time trying to research that symbol. Haven’t been able to come up with anything. If it means something, I don’t know what it is. Maybe it is—was—the symbol of some top secret Soviet operation. Or maybe even the US government.”

“So…you don’t know where I’m from?” asked Clark.

“We didn’t want to know,” said Jonathan. “You’ve got to understand something, son. Your mom and me, we wanted kids so badly. It was devastating to us when we were told we couldn’t conceive. And then here you came, like a gift from heaven. And like my daddy always said, never look a gift horse in the mouth. We lived our life by that creed. We didn’t care where you were from, all we cared about was that you found us.”

“But…” Clark paused, his hand lingering on the pentagram as he looked at Jonathan. “What am I?”

Jonathan smirked. “You’re our son. You’re a Kent.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were scared, Clark. Scared someone might come some day to take you away. That’s why we tried to hide how amazed we were at the things you can do. We wanted you to think that you were the same as everyone else. That’s why it’s so important that no one knows about your—your powers.”

“So what?” asked Clark, pulling his hand away from the ship. “Am I supposed to just hide? To let people die when I can help them?”

“Listen, son. I’m not the brightest bulb in the box,” said Jonathan. “I barely finished high school. So I don’t have all the answers. But if there’s one thing I believe, it’s that all of this isn’t an accident. You coming here, us finding you, the things you can do…that can’t be coincidence.”

He sighed. Forget the birds and the bees, this was the pinnacle of difficult conversations.

“What I’m saying is that I believe you’re here for a reason. What that reason is, that’s up to you to decide. You have to choose what kind of man you’re going to be.”

Clark studied his father’s face, looked at the craft, and then looked back at his father. “And if I decide that I’m not the kind of man who can let people die when I can stop it?”

Jonathan stepped closer and pulled his son into an embrace. “Then that makes you the kind of man I’d be proud to call my son.”

Clark waited a moment before returning the hug. “So I’m not in trouble then?”

Jonathan chuckled and pulled away. “No, you’re not in trouble. But you have to be careful. If this is what you want to do, then your mom and me, we’ll absolutely support you. You just can’t be seen.”

Now

“Well, well, look who it is.”

Clark and Lana turned around at the sound of the familiar voice. A man approached them, wearing a military dress uniform. He had short brown hair and a smug grin on his face.

“Clark Kent and Lana Lang,” he said as he approached them.

He raised his arm and Clark’s first instinct was to flinch, something that made the man’s smirk grow even wider. But he held out his hand instead. Clark studied it for a moment before accepting the handshake.

“Kenny Braverman,” said Clark. “Long time. Wasn’t sure you’d come back for this.”

“And miss the Smallville High reunion?” asked Kenny. “Not even the Middle East could keep me away.”

He released Clark’s hand and turned to Lana, holding his arms out and approaching her. Lana hesitated for a moment but hugged him.

“You look just as good as ever,” he said.

“Thanks,” said Lana, trying to hide the contempt in her voice. She quickly pulled away from the hug and Clark breathed a sigh of relief. “You look good.”

“I always do.” He studied Clark for a few moments. “So what have you been doing since you left, Kent?”

“I work in Metropolis,” said Clark, somewhat meekly, adjusting his glasses.

“He’s a reporter for the Daily Planet,” said Lana with pride.

“That so?” asked Kenny. “Well, it’s not defending our country, but I guess even geeks gotta pay the rent somehow.”

“Right,” said Clark.

“It was good seeing you, Kenny. But we have to get going,” said Lana. “Clark’s probably tired from the trip.”

“Right, right. Sure thing.” Kenny picked up his bag and walked off into the distance. Clark couldn’t take his eyes off the man as he departed and Lana put a calming hand on his chest.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh, memories of the past flashing across his mind.

Then

Sixteen-year-old Clark hit the ground hard. And he tasted blood in his mouth. How could this be happening? He couldn’t be harmed. Or at least that’s what he thought.

“Get up, Kent.”

Clark groaned as he turned around, pulling himself up with some struggle. He looked into the face of his tormentor clad in a red and yellow letterman jacket with an S patch over the left breast.

“I warned you,” said Kenny, his hands balled into fists and the rest of his followers on the football team standing behind him. The boy grabbed Clark by the collar of his flannel shirt, pulling him close. “Didn’t I tell you to stay away from my girl?”

“Stop it!”

Kenny released his grip on Clark’s shirt. Lana pushed herself between them, first checking to see that Clark was okay. She examined the cut on his lip, then turned to the football player, her face twisted in anger.

“What’s your problem, Kenny?” she asked.

“Stay outta this, Lana. Kid needs to learn his place.”

Lana shook her head. “Don’t you have to get to practice or something?”

Kenny hesitated for a moment but then turned his back on the couple. “Whatever. I’ve got better things to do than waste time with this freak.”

The football players departed and Lana turned to Clark. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, turning away from her, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. “Your boyfriend’s a jerk.”

Lana sighed. “I’ll talk to him. He’s not such a bad guy.”

They both heard the sound of a horn honking. Clark looked up to see his father’s pick-up pulling to the front of the school. “That’s my dad, I gotta go.”

He picked up his backpack and ran for the car, climbing into the passenger seat. As soon as Jonathan saw his face, the farmer was shocked.

“What happened?” he asked, taking Clark’s chin in his hand and staring at the cut.

“Kenny,” muttered Clark, pulling his face away. “How’s this possible, Dad?”

Jonathan sighed. “I-I’m not sure. In all the years, you never even had skinned knees.”

Clark stared out the passenger window. Lana still stood out in front of the school, looking back at him. Finally, she turned away.

“You wanna offer her a ride?” asked Jonathan.

“No. Let’s just…go home,” said Clark.

Now

Lana shifted the car into park. She looked at her boyfriend. “Do you want me to come with?”

“No, it’s okay.” Clark opened his door and climbed out of the car. He walked across the grassy field until he reached his destination. He looked down at the headstone with the name JONATHAN KENT inscribed into the surface.

“Hi, Dad,” he said, kneeling down in front of it and touching the surface. “Good to see you again.”

Then

Clark entered the house, undoing his tie. Martha walked in behind him, wearing a black dress, and closed the door. She held her head and walked slowly into the foyer before looking up at her son.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I could make you something.”

“Mom…” Clark looked up at her, his eyes glassy. “I couldn’t save him.”

Martha wrapped her hands around her son. “Oh, Clark. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

Clark returned her hug. “It’s just…all these powers. All these things I can do. And I couldn’t save my own father.”

She released him and placed her hands on his cheeks. “That’s not how it works. Your father died of a heart attack. I know it hurts, but you can’t save everyone, Clark. Some things are too big, even for you. You’re not God.”

Clark gave a solemn nod and pulled away to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“Now, go on upstairs and change out of that suit,” she said. “I’ll get started on dinner.”

“Mom, wait.” Clark pulled her to him again and hugged her tightly.

Held in her son’s embrace, Martha began sobbing, burying her face in his chest. “Oh, Clark…I just can’t believe he’s really gone!”

“I know, I know.” Clark held her, trying to hold back his own tears.

Now 

Kenny sat on the bed in his old room, flipping through the Smallville High yearbook. He lingered on the senior photograph of Lana, his fingers running over the glossy paper.

The door opened and a voice snickered. “Lookit you. All dolled up in your pretty new uniform.”

Kenny looked up at his father. The man was dissheveled and sipped from a bottle of Budweiser. Kenny set the open yearbook on the bed.

“Starting early today, I see.”

“It’s my house. I’ll drink whenever the hell I feel like it,” said his father. He looked down at the open yearbook and saw the photo of Lana and this made him chuckle. “Still carrying a torch for that little bitch, huh? When are you gonna move on, boy?”

“Shut up.”

“And here I thought the military would make a man outta you. But you’re still a pansy.”

Kenny stood from the bed and lunged at his father, grabbing him by the collar of his t-shirt. “I said shut up!”

His father narrowed his eyes. “You’ve never been nothing but a disappointment. It shoulda been you who died that night. Not her!”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Kenny pushed his father back and then swung his fist. The blow was strong enough to knock the old man to the ground, the beer spilling out over the hardwood floor.

“You little shit!” he hissed, grabbing the bottle as he stood. He brought it crashing down on his son’s head, but Kenny seemed to show no reaction to it. Braverman stepped back in surprise, especially when Kenny looked at him, his eyes now glowing green.

“You know that meteor shower the night I was born?” asked Kenny, brushing the bits of broken glass from his body. “The radiation from it that made me sick as a kid? Well, in the military, they figured out it did something to me. Made me special.”

“You’re a freak!”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Kenny grabbed his father by the throat and with one hand, effortlessly hefted him off the ground. “And now, I’m done with you, old man. Done with all your abuse. Because now, I can hit back. And a lot harder than you ever could.”

Kenny twisted his hand and breathed in relief when he heard the snap of his father’s neck. He dropped the body to the ground and returned to the bed, picking up the yearbook. His eyes lingered on another picture, with the name CLARK KENT written underneath.

“Now, I have the power to take back everything that was stolen from me.”

To be continued