NIGHTFALL: Day 3: Two Men Missing, One Man Gone
(or, Bill and Bruce and Clark and Kal
and Diana and Chen and Barry and Hal)
The spiel on the answering machine ended with a beep, inviting a message. “It’s me. I’m
going to Kent’s. Then I’ll come home.” It was all he needed to say before hanging up.
Flicking off the lights and locking the door of his office behind him, Inspector Bill
Henderson of the Metropolis Police Department walked along the wide corridor outside
the door to the elevators at the far end. The next shift was in full swing and he nodded at
a few of the officers and detectives on duty as he passed them. They looked as bad as he
felt. For all the fear and menace it represented in space, the Nightfall asteroid scare was a
monumental mess of paperwork and unsolvable petty crimes down here on Earth. The
department was just beginning to wade through the mass of reports piling up with no end
in sight as yet, but they needed to keep busy at something. At least a little overtime each
day would clear his desk and make him feel competent to handle the nightmare. For now,
the department was trying to treat the crisis as business as usual. If discipline broke down
within the ranks who knew what would happen? As long as the authorities remained
calm, the department brass hoped to keep street unrest from breaking out. In other cities
around the world looting and rioting were already happening and it had been only a few
hours since EPRAD announced Superman’s mission to destroy the asteroid had been only
partially successful.
The whole business was making Henderson tired and edgy, because in addition to the end
of the world, he was worried and anxious about a good friend who’d come up missing
during the last few hours. He hadn’t known Clark Kent, the newest investigative reporter
from the Daily Planet, for long, but he liked the guy. They played racquetball in the
department’s gym twice a week after hours and shot hoops on the occasional weekend,
and he couldn’t help but like a guy with Kent’s strength and speed who let him win so
often.
The previous day, Kent told his writing partner, Lois Lane, and his editor, Perry White,
he was going to be on the streets to observe the reactions of the people as a massive chunk
of asteroidal debris threatened Earth with widespread destruction and death. Superman
was slated to fly into space and try to break up the asteroid and while his chances were
good, there was no guarantee he would be successful.
While Lane covered the departure of Superman, Kent went to mingle with the citizens of
Metropolis, the ones who were aware of the lack of assurance in Superman’s actions. They
took to the streets to await whatever fate was in store for them in the company of others of
similar mind. That was the last time the newsroom staff saw Kent.
Today, after a morning press conference, Superman was pronounced missing after
breaking the original Nightfall asteroid into smaller pieces, and all contact with him was
lost. EPRAD was careful to not speculate on whether he was alive or dead. In space there
remained a piece of the asteroid large enough to cause major damage if it reached Earth,
but EPRAD was certain they had a way to successfully deal with the smaller piece, and
that was their priority now.
The news was disheartening despite EPRAD’s confident belief that Superman would be in
contact with them soon.
Bill Henderson disagreed. He was fairly certain he, himself, was the only person close to
Kent in Metropolis who had figured out that he was Superman. He had to assume he was
the only one who knew that finding Kent meant finding Superman. He’d spent a restless
night when calls to Kent’s loft apartment went unanswered. He’d called the Daily Planet
first thing this morning only to be told Kent hadn’t come to work. He was a no show and
his boss and his partner were not happy. At the time neither considered him to be missing,
but merely in big trouble. He hadn’t turned in his human interest story, either, and White
was furious.
Bill mumbled a good night to the desk officer in the lobby and stepped through the front
doors into the twilight of inner city Metropolis. Overhead the sky was still blue, though
darkening, but on street level between the skyscrapers it was already dusk and the
streetlights were aglow. He walked to his car in it’s designated spot, passing a couple of
maintenance workers bringing the flags down from the poles for the night. He grunted
another good night and reached his car, getting inside and laying his head against the
headrest for a while.
Off duty. He wished.
End of civilization or not, he was still going to do his job. No one could stop him from
doing that if he was needed for something important. Finding Superman was.
His wife would expect him home before eight, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he was late.
Even before Nightfall screwed up the schedules of the city he was an on duty cop twenty
four/seven. She always knew it and she tolerated it as long as he called her and kept her
informed, and he respected her attitude enough to always do it. He was going to check out
Kent’s loft and look around until he was certain of what he had to do next. He wasn’t
going to give away Kent’s secret, but he was going to try to find him. He just needed an
idea where to start. Maybe he’d get one from the apartment.
Kent didn’t live far so the drive was short. Bill left his unmarked sedan in front of the
building on Clinton Street and went inside. This wasn’t the best neighborhood in this
section of town, but the streets were quiet. Businesses along Clinton were closed up tight
except for the bars and taverns and a convenience store here and there. A few lights and
neon signs shone brightly in the dusk. People seemed to be home inside the building.
Windows on every floor has been shining with light and, as he climbed the steps to the
top floor, Henderson heard voices and music coming from apartments on each landing.
Idly, he wondered if Kent’s alter ego had anything to do with the lack of unrest in the
neighborhood, but his thoughts were cut short as he reached the top floor and approached
the door to the loft apartment.
There was a dim light showing through the glass paneled door and the sound of slow,
careful footsteps came clearly from within, followed by a door sliding open slowly and
then closing just as carefully. What a building, he thought. Tenants have no damn privacy.
Bill pulled his gun and carefully reached out to try the knob. It turned and he silently
cussed out whoever thought it was a good idea to put a glass paneled door in a building
like this in a neighborhood like this, and then charge, no doubt, outrageous rent for the
place. Breaking in would be a piece of cake for even the most inept thief, not to mention
there was nothing to hide behind!
He held his gun low against his leg and gave the door a push. It swung open noiselessly.
He slipped inside, got as far away from all the glass as he could and tried to hide behind
the tall coat rack. The empty, tall coat rack. Soft noises, scrapes and footsteps, came from
the back of the apartment.
“Oh, what the hell,” he muttered and stepped to the center of the elevated foyer. He
reached into his pocket for his badge and flipped it open just in case. “Kent? Are you
here? It’s Bill Henderson. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
The sound of drawers opening and closing stopped for a beat and cautious footsteps come
from the kitchen. A tall figure in a long, dark coat came around a brick pillar and into the
dim light of the single ceiling fixture above the dining room table. Dark hair, shadowed
eyes, strong build...but it wasn’t Clark Kent.
He raised his gun and his badge. “Stop where you are. Inspector Henderson, MPD,” he said.
“Who are you?”
The man’s shoulders rose with a deep breath and fell. “My name is Wayne. I’m a friend of
Kent’s.”
“What are you doing searching his apartment?”
There was a silence as Wayne tipped his head to one side and looked closely at Henderson.
“I’m doing the same thing you’re doing. I’m looking for Clark. I heard he was missing and
I got here as soon as I could.”
Henderson lowered his gun but didn’t put it away. “I doubt he’s hiding anywhere in here.”
Wayne snorted. “No, but he left everything important behind in the bedroom when he left.
ID, important papers, anything he didn’t want found on him if something went wrong. I
found it all in one of his bureau drawers.”
Bill drew in a breath and holstered the gun. “If something went wrong? With what?”
Wayne shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t think we need to play games
with each other, Inspector. We don’t have time.” He shrugged off his coat and draped it
across the back of a kitchen chair. “Look, I’ve known Clark a long time. We spent almost
a year traveling through the Middle East together a few years back. He’s my friend. No, he’s
more like a brother to me. I keep telling him I’m going to adopt him as my brother. I know
about him.”
Henderson still hung back, and Wayne walked into the living room and sat down on one
end of the sofa. He leaned forward and stared at his clasped hands in front of him.
“I know Clark is Superman, Inspector, and I’m pretty sure you do, too. You wouldn’t be
here if you didn’t. You’d be looking for Superman like everyone else. He called me after he
agreed to try to destroy the asteroid. He asked me to look after his parents if he didn’t come
back. I’m hoping I won’t have to do that. Much as I like the Kents, I’m a poor substitute for
their son. They would be polite, but we would all know it.”
Giving in, Henderson walked down the steps and stopped at the bottom. “I wasn’t really
sure until today, but I’ve had my suspicions for a while. He’s not a good liar. He disappears,
Superman shows up. The big guy goes, Kent reappears.”
Wayne looked surprised. “Really? I mean, Clark was sure you’d figured it all out a long
time ago. In fact, I was going to call you. He told me to if anything went wrong.”
Bill shook his head. “I wish I could say he was right.” He looked toward the kitchen. “Does
he have anything to eat? I came here straight from the department.” He started in that
direction and heard the other man rise and follow him.
“I don’t know. I didn’t look in the kitchen. He has strange tastes, you know.”
“If he has eggs I’ll make an omelet.” He shrugged off his coat and tossed it at a chair. He
looked at Wayne and extended his hand. “Bill Henderson. I’ve known Kent since his first
week at the Planet. We play racquetball now and then. He lets me win a lot.”
“Bruce Wayne. I’m not, never been good at team sports.”
Bruce Wayne? Racquetball - a team sport? Was that a joke? Henderson thought it best to
say nothing. Billionaires. Huh!
Bill pushed the edge of the omelet back and tilted the pan to let a bit of raw egg fill the bare
spot and begin to cook. The aroma of peppers and garlic and microwaved bacon was
appetizing, if he did say so himself. He peeked into the fridge again and grabbed a small
unopened container of fried rice and was dumping it into the eggs when the sound of sirens
roared by the building and stopped not too far away. He glanced out the window over the
sink but couldn’t see anything but lighted windows in the buildings across the street.
“So much for the neighborhood being more peaceful than most,” he said.
Wayne was looking out a window near the sofa. “Looks like one of the bars on the next
block.” He looked at Henderson. “Guess we can expect more of that from now on. It’s
dawning on everyone Superman might really be gone.”
“Yeah,” Bill said and turned his attention back to the stove. “It’s been happening all over
the world, all day. People are the same, you know? No matter where they are, they’ll take
advantage of the situation.”
Bruce continued to look out the window. “I guess,” he said softly. There was something
about the comment that made him feel guilty about not being at home, but the smell of
cooking was distracting and he let it take his thoughts away from Gotham City. His friend
and the asteroid mattered more today. He turned and walked toward the kitchen, giving the
contents of the frying pan a look as he passed, and opening the cupboards to get dishes.
Man, it smelled good.
While Henderson ran some water into the sink and put plates, utensils and a pan into a
mound of soap suds, Wayne booted up Clark’s computer and began surfing for data. He
wished he was at home with his more sophisticated set-up, and he resolved to send Clark a
better system when all of this was over. Super powers or not, the man needed to update his
unit once in a while, at least stay in sync with the growth of the technology. This junk must
be a year old!
“EPRAD’s tech site is ready to begin tracking the smaller debris as it hits the atmosphere,
and LNN’s got remote units watching the skies for activity,” Bruce said. “LNN is carrying a
story of a fireball coming down yesterday in someplace called... Suicide Slum? Just after
dark. EPRAD is adjusting it’s prediction of when the rest of the debris will reach the
atmosphere. They’re still saying the bits and pieces will burn up before any of it hits the
ground.”
Henderson shut off the water and turned to look at him. “There was a mention of the fireball
at the department briefing this morning. Must be happening all over the world.”
“Actually, no,” Wayne said. “That’s the only report of anything unusual. LNN had one of
their helicopters looking around but there was no sign to show them where to look. No fire,
no smoke plume, just a general area. Haven’t they heard of infrared cameras or..? ” He let
his words trail off unfinished.
Henderson was standing beside him, looking at the computer screen, too. “What do you
suppose are the odds that the first piece of the asteroid, the only meteor, so far, to reach us
came straight to Metropolis well ahead of the predicted fifty hours leeway EPRAD
originally gave us to expect debris?” He was dialing the phone by the time he finished
speaking.
Bruce listened to Bill’s terse half of the phone conversation while he checked the updates
of LNN’s coverage of the continuing crisis.
“It’s me again. I won’t be back until after midnight. Explain when I get home.” He hung up
the phone and looked at Bruce. “The wife. Keeps her calm. She doesn’t approve of me
going twenty-four for twenty-four. When we find him, you know, we’re going to need a
reason for him to have dropped out of sight and gone silent. Like I said, the man is a lousy
liar.”
Bruce turned his head toward Henderson and looked thoughtful. “I know of something. I
was going to check it out first thing in the morning, but that was if Clark was here and not
really missing. I was going to give it to him as the lead on a story.”
“Do I need to know what it is?” Bill asked, looking down to punch in a new number on the
phone and raise it to his ear.
Bruce shook his head. “Not yet. As far as I know it isn’t illegal, just damn interesting. Even
if Clark hadn’t gone missing, I was coming to talk to him about it. I just got here sooner than
planned.”
“Give me White’s office. . .Who cares about the time? I know he’s still there! . . . Hello,
Perry. It’s Bill Henderson. Have you heard from Kent?” His usual give-nothing-away
expression turned into a frown. “No, I haven’t either. I’m at his apartment now. He’s not
here, but a friend of his from out of town is. We were just going to go out and look for
him. . . Who? . . .Chen Chow? No, can’t say I ever heard of him. . .Do you know how to
reach him?. . .If he calls back, tell him I’d like to talk to him. We can use the help out there,
the way things are going. . .You were? . . . Why? . . .Where did you find it? . . . From what
you didn’t see I’d say he was able to leave under his own power and might be resting
somewhere. . . I’ve seen him get tired after a bad fire, but, Perry, I’m more worried about
Kent at the moment. . .I just learned he might have gone after another story, different than
the piece he was planning. . . I have an idea where to start looking. . . Sure, but I think I’ll
spend some time looking for Kent. Superman can take care of himself, and besides, he’s
news and everyone has an eye out for him. The department is already on alert. . . Yeah, I’ll
keep in touch. Talk to you later, Perry.”
Bruce kept reading the computer screen. “So, where do we start looking?”
“Suicide Slum,” Henderson said. “White and one of his photographers, Olsen, went out just
after dark on a hunch the fireball that fell yesterday might have been Superman. They found
where it hit, did some digging and pulled a piece of his suit out of the rubble. The Planet is
running a story tomorrow that he made it back to Earth.”
Shaking his head, Wayne started shutting down the computer. “Strange, isn’t it? No one is
putting together that both are missing at the same time? Clark’s gotta be the greatest master
of deception there is.”
Maybe not the master, but close. “Clark ever mention anyone named Chen Chow to you?
Perry said a man by that name called him and asked about Clark. Said he was a friend who
couldn’t get hold of him.”
Bruce Wayne shook his head. “No. Chen Chow...” he repeated. “I don’t remember the
name.”
“Guess he’s looking for Kent, too.” Henderson reached for his coat and stopped when
sharp rapping sounded on the apartment door. Both men turned and looked.
The knock came again. “Kent?” a voice called through the door. “Hey, man, it’s me, Barry
Allen. I can hee-ear you!”
Henderson looked at Bruce and both silently shook their heads, neither of them recognized
the name. Bill climbed the steps to the entry and tried to see who might be outside, but the
curtains blocked his view and there was no light on in the stairwell. He opened the door and
carefully stood to one side so Wayne could see and be seen.
A man around thirty years old, light haired and average height, looked at Henderson and
widened his eyes. “Uh, I was looking for a friend of mine. Clark Kent. This is the right. . .”
“You’re in the right place. Come in. Kent isn’t here. I was looking for him myself. I’m
Inspector Henderson, MPD.”
The man shook his hand and stepped past him into the apartment. “Barry Allen,” he said
and his tone deepened in a mock seriousness, “forensics examiner, Central City PD.”
Henderson’s expression never changed and he turned and indicated Wayne, who was
coming up the steps. “This is Bruce Wayne.” He began closing the door.
“Hold it!” a woman’s voice called from the stairs. “Kent! Wait!”
Bill’s eyebrows went up and he stepped to the threshold and looked out. “Lane? What are
you--”
He stopped suddenly. It was definitely not Lois Lane coming up the stairs. And whoever
she was, she wasn’t alone.
“Ma’am. . . I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.”
The woman reached the top of the stairs and turned to look over her shoulder at who was
coming up the steps behind her. “I’m - I guess this gentleman and I are both here to see
Clark Kent.”
Bill took a deep breath and held out his hand. “Inspector Henderson, MPD. Kent isn’t here
and I don’t know where he is or when he’ll be back.”
“Diana Prince, Dr. Prince.”
The man behind her stepped forward. “I’m Hal Jordan, a friend of Kent’s. I was in town. . .
thought I’d drop by. . .” He and the woman looked at one another for a moment, their
curiosity apparent, and then away.
Henderson sighed. “Well, come on in,” he said, standing aside to let them pass. “You’d be
surprised who’s had a notion to visit Clark today.”
“Bruce!” Dr. Prince said as soon as she walked through the door. “You said you were in
Seattle when you called. How did you get here before me?” She went to the bottom of the
stairs and greeted him with a one armed hug.
Bruce Wayne gave her a rare smile. “My aircraft is that much– ” he held his left hand up,
thumb and forefinger a couple of inches apart – “faster than yours.”
The remaining introductions were done quickly and in the silence that followed, Bill
Henderson stood and looked at the four strangers who were sitting or standing in the
apartment’s small living room. They all had to know Clark Kent was Superman. Four
people from different parts of the country converging on this apartment within forty-eight
hours of Superman’s disappearance was more than coincidence. He decided Wayne’s earlier
statement was right. This wasn’t the time to play games with one another.
“I’m as curious as any man, I’d guess,” he said, “but I have the feeling there isn’t a whole
lot I should want to know about any of you. The important thing is we all might as well
admit we know that Clark is Superman and that’s why we’re here. That’s all I need to
know about any of you.”
Dr. Prince was the first to speak. “I can’t deny it. Do you have any idea what happened to
him? I work at InFIVE and even we can’t get a satisfactory answer from EPRAD about what
happened to him after communication was lost yesterday.”
“I couldn’t get anything out of them either, and I had a few strings to pull,” Hal Jordan said.
“They won’t talk about him.”
“Thanks to the Daily Planet,” Bill said, “we know something EPRAD doesn’t know. A
meteor hit the ground in a part of town called Suicide Slum last night. Planet personnel
checked it out and found proof the fireball was actually Superman returning to Earth. They
found a burned and torn piece of his suit, the S shield, in the impact crater he made, but
there was no sign of him. That tells me he walked away under his own power and
disappeared into the streets of the slum. The Planet won’t run the story until tomorrow, the
morning edition is already on the presses. Mr. Wayne and I were about to leave to look over
the crater when all of you showed up.”
Allen shook his head slowly and held up a hand, looking at Bill with disbelief. “The impact
crater he made?”
“Perry White said it was about seven feet at the deep end.”
Grimacing and looking down at the floor, Allen waved a hand. “Forget I asked. Damn!”
“Perry White is...?” Jordan asked.
“Kent’s boss. The chief editor of the Daily Planet. He was there when the fragment of the
big guy’s suit was found.” He took a few business cards from his pocket and handed them
around. “Be on the lookout for a guy named Chen Chow, another friend of Kent’s who is
concerned about him. He might be out looking for him, too. My phone numbers are on the
card. If you meet up with him, give him a card and ask him to call me.”
Bruce Wayne, leaning back against the edge of the computer desk, straightened up and
started to pace. “We need to be there, Henderson, and soon. After an impact that hard, who
knows what condition he’s in? I know he’s supposed to be invulnerable but the impact with
the asteroid seems to have propelled him back to Earth out of control. He couldn’t slow
down when he entered the atmosphere and hit the ground full on. Plus, it was dark out
there! He didn’t have sunlight to regain his energy so he probably was weakened and
maybe unconscious for--”
“Alright, Wayne! Calm down! We’re going.” Henderson turned back to the others. “He’s
right. We’re twenty-four hours behind Kent but at least we know he was able to get out of
the crater. If he had help - well, the area is full of homeless and there are missions and
flophouses in the area, and he could have made it to safety somewhere, but, I’ll tell you this:
they don’t call it Suicide Slum for nothing. I’m sure you’re all able to take care of
yourselves, but we ought to go out there in teams. ”
Barry Allen stood up. “No offense to anyone, but I can get things done a lot faster alone.
You split up in pairs and I’ll move between you. I’m. . .uh. . .good at that.” He smiled and
spread his hands. “I guarantee it, Inspector.”
Henderson looked at him for a moment and nodded. “Keep in mind we aren’t looking for
Kent or for Superman, just a man who fits. . . their description. No one else needs to know
Kent is missing, too. Use no names. When the article in the Planet comes out some people
might remember us and assume we were looking for Superman.”
He excused himself and went into the kitchen to call his wife.
An hour later, they stood over the impact crater and stared in awe at the size of the thing and
the damage done to the signs, fences and abandoned vehicles that were in the way when
Superman reached the ground. Several rusted out cars were pushed haphazardly against the
wall of an abandoned building by the mound of dirt displaced by a slight burrowing after
impact.
Henderson stood partway down the inclined path to the bottom of the hole and shone a
flashlight beam at the ground. Impact crater, White had called it, and he hadn’t been kidding.
“And he walked away,” Allen muttered to himself as he squatted at the bottom of the hole,
inside the burrow, and poked through the dirt and rubble there. No wonder the billionaire
among them took one look and volunteered to tour homeless shelters instead of stay to look
around. It made his own teeth ache to know his friend had made this mess.
Jordan was skittering down the slope behind him, passed the inspector and halted beside
Allen.
“I think Kent had--” he began.
“Superman,” Henderson cut in quietly. “Call him Superman for the time being.”
“Well, I think he had more control than Wayne assumes. I went down to the corner for a
look and from there you can see by the break in the fence and the broken rooftop signs that
he came right between all the buildings on the cross street. Maybe he couldn’t slow down,
but I think he could steer himself away from the tall buildings and aim for an unpopulated
or abandoned area. A dust plume wouldn’t be noticeable with so many trash can fires
burning all along these street corners so any residual heat source from the hit wouldn’t have
stood out to anyone, even with special cameras from the air.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Allen said and got to his feet. “There isn’t anything else here
to show he caused this.” He lowered his voice. Henderson seemed too close to Kent to
hear this. “If he came down out of control, maybe in a fetal position, his chest would be
protected, right? The heat must have burned away the rest of his costume.” He shrugged and
grinned. “Of course, in this part of town I’d guess a naked man running around wouldn’t
attract too much attention!”
Jordan gave a short laugh. “Probably not. He was found by someone. Good catch.” He
turned and started back up the slope and Allen’s footsteps followed him. He clapped
Henderson’s shoulder. “I’m betting someone found him down there and helped him. I have
no idea why he hasn’t gone home or called anyone, but that was a mighty hit he took.
Twice.” He pointed a finger to the sky and hooked his thumb toward the crater.
Wincing, Barry Allen passed them both and at the top of the hole he turned back. “I’m going
to find Wayne and Dr. Prince, see if they’re getting anywhere.” He stepped backward once
and spun around, jogging away. By the time Henderson and Jordan reached the rim of the
ramp seconds later he was out of sight.
Bill looked around. “How. . . Oh, never mind. I don’t want to know.”
Jordan chuckled. “At this point, neither do I.”
They walked back to Bill’s car. “That takes care of Superman,” he said. “We know he made
it back. From now on we look for Kent. He’s our priority, since only we and a few other
people know he’s missing, too.”
“I see what you mean,” Jordan said. “Let the world look for Superman. We need to find
Kent.” He got into the passenger seat. “What do you suggest now?”
Bill started the engine. “Wayne and Dr. Prince are visiting the missions and soup kitchens
They should get some leads on which flophouses to check. Let’s go talk to the people who
don’t trust the missions. They sleep during the day and come out at night. There are camps
around and I have sources inside.”
It was after midnight and Henderson was nearly dead on his feet when he and Hal Jordan
drove to the loft apartment on Clinton Street. “How did you find out?” Bill asked, as he
waited for a traffic light to change. “I had to figure it out for myself and it took until today
to be certain. That’s when I knew I had to do something. EPRAD and every officer on the
MPD was leaving the station houses with a BOLO on Superman, but none of them knew it
might be Kent they had to actually look for, and I’ll bet every officer on the force knows him,
too.”
Hal shook his head slowly and looked out the passenger window. “Oh, hell, I, uh. . .” he
began slowly. “There have been a few unexplained . . .incidents in Coast City in the last few
months. Things that have caught the eye of some authorities and they secretly asked
Superman to investigate them. I have a small helicopter service, flying tourists up and down
the coast on sightseeing tours, mostly, but I do other things, too. Help out the authorities
when I can. We met during his investigation. Not often I see a man flying over Coast City
who not only isn’t my paying customer but doesn’t even need a helicopter to do it. He
wasn’t dressed in the suit. He was wearing all black and checking out the latest incident. I
was, too, for other reasons.” He shrugged. “The guy is so freakin’ nice, you know?”
looked at Henderson as if for confirmation. “I told him everything I knew and we’ve been
working together ever since. I figured it out myself, too, but not after an embarrassingly long
time. I mean, he gave me Clark Kent’s cell number to call if I needed to get in touch with
him! Clark Kent wrote the AP story about the incident for the local papers.” He sighed and
slumped down in his seat, as if that said it all and it made him want to hide. “I’ll bet the
other three have a similar story. . .I hope the other three have a similar story. . . They better
have a similar story.”
Henderson half smiled. “I know someone who’s going to be royally pissed when she
learns the truth.” He pulled his car to the curb outside Kent’s building. “I hope the others
are back. I need to talk to Wayne.”
Barry Allen was sitting on the steps outside Kent’s apartment when they reached the top
floor. Did the man ever stop smiling? Bill picked the lock and they went inside. The other
two arrived a few minutes later.
“Harry from the hole?” Allen said, gleefully, looking around the kitchen table at the others.
“We’re hunting Harry the Hole!” He started singing. “Hole man, he’s a hole man...”
Dr. Prince went on after giving him an annoyed glance. He smiled, but shut up. “As I was
saying, the man who found him said Clark didn’t know his own name, so he decided to call
him Harry and took him to a shelter. From there he lost track of him. They had breakfast
and someone needed help unloading a truck. Clark and a couple of other men went to help
and no one remembers seeing him after that.”
“Some of the people we talked to do remember a man who had no memory of who he was
on the street, helping people, fixing things,” Bruce Wayne said. “One of the shelters near
the edge of the slum had a guy fitting his description helping to unload furniture. They paid
him a few dollars and he left. They think they remember him saying he was called Harry.”
Dr. Prince nodded. “Our best lead so far was one of the nuns at the Sisters of Promise who
remembered a man named Harry who brought a couple of teen-aged brothers to the mission
and talked the director into hiring them to help prepare meals for a few dollars a day. If we
go back early in the morning, we might find the brothers and talk to them - if they return to
work another day. They don’t stay at any of the shelters and the sisters think they’re
runaways hiding from the police.” She smiled. “Communication between the shelters and
the kitchens is good. It might be a tough place to live, but the people running the shelters
know what they’re doing.”
Henderson nodded and rubbed his eyes, pushing his glasses up and out of the way. “Three
months ago we had a BOLO for two brothers who ran away from foster care when the
authorities decided to split them up, giving the younger one a better chance to be adopted. I
hope it’s them. Good to know they’re still alive.” He looked at Bruce Wayne. “Look,
Wayne I’m going to head home, try to get a couple hours of sleep. Before that, though, we
all need to get on the same page about the story Kent will have been working on during this
time. I might not see any of you in the morning, but if you get a lead come to the municipal
building downtown and ask for me, or call me. My numbers are on the business cards I gave
you earlier. In case things get bad, and I can’t work on this with you, we need to be
consistent.”
Bruce sipped from his cup of coffee before speaking. “As we said before, Clark told his
boss he was going out on the streets to interview people, then he reported to EPRAD and
left on the mission to destroy the asteroid. We, Inspector Henderson and I, thought we
should have a Plan B in case we need it. With Clark missing and not communicating with
anyone, I know of something we can say he’s been working on - a bigger story than what he
told his editor he was going to write.” He took another drink. “I was already in town when I
saw EPRAD’s news conference. I’d gotten an invitation from Lex Luthor to be his guest
while waiting out the Nightfall crisis. He has invited two hundred people to visit him
tomorrow - that is, later today, to talk about survival should the smaller piece of asteroid
strike the earth. We guests are supposed to meet with him personally to get the details.”
Diana Prince had gotten to her feet and began to pace. “I have an invitation, too, but I didn’t
get that bit of information,” she said when Bruce finished. “Mr. Luthor tried to recruit me in
the past to work for him. He made some tempting offers but, each time, I was interested
in government work for the travel it promised instead of being hired to work exclusively for
one company. I turned him down but stayed on friendly terms with him and his people.” She
looked at Bruce, frowning. “The invitation has something to do with surviving the worst if
it happens? It sounded more like a get together to wait out the final moments and I
dismissed it. Do you have any idea what he means by ‘being his guest’ pertaining to
surviving the crisis?”
He shook his head. “I was going to talk to Clark about it today. Something about a select
two hundred surviving if the asteroid does hit doesn’t sound. . .right. I was going to give it
to Clark to follow up as a story.”
Barry Allen looked serious for a change. “It does sound suspicious. A fellow man of wealth,
an InFIVE scientist. He wants the two of you to survive if civilization tanks. And he wants
you to be grateful to him for saving you. Imagine, not including me as a guest. I don’t like
the guy already.” He stopped and the humor in his expression returned. “Not that all rich
people are so selfish and devious, of course. Maybe he is inviting you to a big going away
party. Sneak me in, if that’s it, okay? I’d like to meet the end guzzling pink champagne and
eating oysters, too. No fair limiting the fun to, uh, brains and big bucks.”
Only Jordan couldn’t suppress a smile.
Henderson had other ideas but he kept them to himself. Instead, he got to his feet and
picked up his coat from the back of his chair, and as he spoke he put it on and went up the
steps of the entryway. “Well, you can hash that out. If anyone asks, Kent disappeared while
looking into Mr. Wayne’s tip about a story, so he might be undercover, snooping around,
but when he didn’t check in when he said he would, Wayne got worried and called the
three of you and then me. I’m going home. Nice meeting all of you. Good night.” He
stopped on the landing and, after opening the door, looked back. “There is a decent hotel,
for this neighborhood, two blocks east and one south, if anyone is interested. Of course
Kent wouldn’t mind anyone staying here. As Jordan said earlier, Kent is a nice guy.”
As he walked to his car and unlocked the door, Bill couldn’t help thinking. Who the hell
were those four people and why did Kent trust them with his secret? Coast City, Central
City, Gotham City, and InFIVE was in Virginia -- some quiet little town in Virginia,
wasn’t it? You could hop, skip and jump from it to D.C. if you had to. . .
Wait a minute. Jordan said some strange incidents had happened in Coast City and the big
guy investigated them secretly. Weren’t there some strange rumors coming out of Gotham
recently, too? And that phantom woman the Whisper and it’s ilk were writing about in
Maryland. . .
Henderson let his shoulders slump. Damn. The wife was going to kill him. He was going
back to his office because he almost couldn’t wait to find out what strange things were
happening in Central City.
Day 4: Harry and the Hendersons
Cold tuna sandwiches for breakfast didn’t improve over time, nor did sleeping on the couch
in his office. Bill Henderson left the men’s locker room of the department’s gym feeling
little better. If it was going to happen he’d at least meet the end of the world in a clean shirt
and with the taste of toothpaste in his mouth. Back in his office he turned on his computer,
checked his phone for messages, and grabbed his coffee cup to get a refill from the
machine in the next room along the hall. He was getting a good whiff of the aroma more
than actually sipping the hot liquid as he went back into his office.
The woman standing in front of his desk swung around to face him and he knew he was in
for a long day if it was going to start like this. It wasn’t even 8 a.m. yet.
“What can I do for you, Lane?” he said without lowering the coffee cup.
Arms crossed and fingers drumming her upper arms, eyes narrowed and her mouth set, Lois
Lane watched him round his desk and sit down before she spoke. Looking down at him
that way might have intimidated most of his colleagues, but Henderson was immune. Only
the wife could put a scare into him these days.
“What can you do for me?” she repeated questioningly. “What was it now? Oh, yes! My
partner is still missing and Perry told me this morning you know something about it.” She
leaned forward just a bit, her expression still stern. “Care to tell me what that is?”
“I told White what I knew last night,” he answered, leaning back in his chair. “If he chose
not to share it with you--”
“What story is Clark working on? He loves human interest stories so whatever it is has to
have been big enough to drag him away from all the doomsday gatherings between here
and the west end.”
“No comment. His story.”
“I knew it! It’s Superman, isn’t it? He knows where Superman is!” Lois let out a breath
and tossed her hands in the air. “It figures! The only guy who can get in touch with
Superman any time of the day or night–”
“No one knows where Superman is, Lane,” Henderson said raising his voice just a little.
“It’s unfortunate, but true. The department is on the look out for him, hell, the whole
world is on the look out for him. After the Planet prints the article about finding a piece
of his suit, the whole city will be looking for him.” He did drink from the mug this time.
“If he needs to be found, we’ll do it. We have a lot of reasons to be thankful to him.”
She waved her hand impatiently. “LNN has had live units all over the slum looking for
where the meteor hit since this morning. The new edition of the Whisper hit the stands
and it’s offering a reward for anything left of the meteor. There must to be an army of
people with metal detectors all over the slum by now, trampling evidence, taking evidence.
Who knows what else and they don’t even know it wasn’t a meteor.”
Inwardly, Henderson let out a breath. Good. She wasn’t going to look for Superman. He
sipped his coffee again and almost choked. What did he just think? She wasn’t going for
the Superman angle? . . .I’ll be damned!
She was frowning at him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay, no thanks to you. Can’t you give it a rest for a minute, Lane?”
“The world is ending, Henderson, and you called Perry and told him Clark found a story
that’s more important than that!”
He sighed and pursed his lips. “He might have found a different story. For all I know he’s
in a library annex somewhere looking over old records or he is going from church to
church talking to people about Nightfall.”
“You aren’t going to tell me what he’s working on, are you, Bill? Even though I know
how he works better than anyone else and I probably have a better idea where to find him
if he is researching an important story? Clark is my partner, Henderson!”
“Then he’ll call you if he needs you, won’t he? Or he would have called one of us by now
if he did.”
“You’re not going to go out looking for him anymore?” Lois asked, the disbelief evident
in her voice.
Henderson took another sip of his coffee. “I’ll stop by his place later, maybe at lunch,
maybe after work. He’s my friend. I think he’s just working on a story, but I want to see
with my own eyes that he’s alright.”
She crossed her arms again. “You and I both know how damn polite he is and he wouldn’t
drop out of sight unless he was in trouble or investigating a story and he was
compromised.”
“Draw your own conclusions, Lane.”
She shrugged. “What about Clark’s friend? Perry said you mentioned a friend of Clark’s
being with you last night. Does– he?– think Clark is alright? Just working?”
Henderson shook his head. “He’s in town for a meeting later today. He was concerned
because he came to town early to see Clark and couldn’t find him.”
Lois made an exasperated sound and looked at the clock on the wall. “I have an
appointment of my own,” she said. “I have to go, but I’m coming back, Henderson. You
didn’t answer my question, and I want to know about the story you mentioned to Perry. If
you’re not going to look for Clark, I will, and I need an idea where to start.”
“What question?” He said evasively, but he gave in. No one could out glare that woman.
“I’ll look for him if he hasn’t been heard from by afternoon, Lois. And. . . there are other
people keeping an eye out for Clark. He has a lot of friends.”
“Yeah,” she answered and turned and walked out the door. “I’ll be back.”
He watched her walk away for a few seconds before reaching for his phone and swinging
his chair around until he faced the window in one corner of the outer wall of his office.
“Hi. It’s me. Meet me for lunch, noon at O’Reilly’s. . . Did you get my email? Read it.
Don’t skip a word. Tell me what you think at lunch. . . See you later, honey.”
Henderson hung up the phone and pushed his chair around to face his desk, and it was a
testament to his calm nature that he didn’t hit the ceiling with a shrill cry when he was
unexpectedly met with the figure of a tall young man standing in front of his desk.
Dressed in a smart business suit, hair neatly combed and wearing black horn rimmed
glasses, the man smiled and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Inspector Henderson? I am
Chen Chow. I’m a friend of Clark Kent. I have been unable to reach him. He told me if
anything were to happen to him, I should come and talk to you.”
Bill got his wits together and motioned toward a chair. “Have a seat,” he managed to say
calmly, “Why were you looking for him?”
“I know he is gone. I know he is missing.” Chen Chow sat down and leaned forward,
elbows on knees and hands clasping and unclasping nervously.
“How do you know this?”
“I’ve known him for many years. We met at a journalism seminar in Kansas City when we
were in college. He became a good friend and there’s much I know about him.”
“How. . . well do you know him?”
Chow looked at Henderson and made an upward motion with one hand.
Henderson frowned. He made the same motion back and looked questioningly at the other
man.
Chow nodded and made the gesture again. “I know,” he said. “I heard about the meteor in
the Slum. I believe it was him.”
He let out a long breath. “It was. He doesn’t know who he is, but he’s back. He has a lot of
concerned friends who have come to town to help look for him.”
Looking hopeful and relaxing all of a sudden, Chow sat up straight and rubbed his hands
against his thighs. “I’m glad to hear that. I was getting worried. I looked all night but
couldn’t catch up to him. People have seen him, but I didn’t, and time is short, so I came
here.”
“I’m glad you did. Perry White at the Planet told me you had called him and asked about
Kent. I was out last night, too, with four others, hoping to run into you.”
“I was in the warehouse strip just outside the Slum. I heard the two brothers Clark was
seen with yesterday are living in one of the abandoned warehouses near Little Roma. The
street is looking out for them.”
Henderson nodded. “I figured as much when we couldn’t find them. They’ve been on the
run for a while now.”
“I was able to check empty buildings between Eighteenth and Twenty-third streets. I must
go to work now but I will start looking again afterwards. In Chinatown, we’re trying to
carry on as usual, but it will be impossible to do so tomorrow if he–” He made the hand
gesture again. “– has not been heard from yet.”
“Yeah, I know. I hope it never comes to that. I’m glad you stopped in, Mr. Chow. Thank
you for the lead. We’ll check out the warehouse area as soon as possible.” Both men stood
and Bill went around the end of his desk to shake Chen Chow’s hand. “Thank you for all
you’ve done. Kent has some very good friends.”
Chow smiled and adjusted his glasses. “You’re welcome, Inspector. I will be at the offices
of the Chinatown Daily all day if you need to reach me. I’m the editor.”
“Good. Then you can understand the cover story we’ve come up with for Clark.” He gave
him a brief account of Bruce Wayne’s idea, and Chow’s interest was total.
“This is true? An actual meeting, invitation, whatever?”
Bill nodded. “Mr. Wayne and Dr. Prince are going together later today.”
They exchanged cards and Henderson promised, “I’ll keep in touch, and you can reach me
at either number.” He nodded as the young man left the office.
An hour later, Henderson was on his way to a jewelry store robbery uptown where the owner
had the thieves cornered inside the store. It’s the end of civilization as we know it and
someone is stealing jewels. Steal food and bottled water if you have to steal anything, you
fools.
On the way back to the municipal building, Henderson took the long way so he could stop
at Kent’s. He wondered if Wayne and Dr. Prince would be there. They were to meet with
Lex Luthor today but hadn’t said when it was scheduled to take place. He was curious to
discover what that was about. If they would tell him, of course.
The streets were still surprisingly peaceful. EPRAD was planning to launch nuclear
missiles late in the day and all comments coming from them were confident and
encouraging. Between the car radio and the scanner, he got the feeling most people in
the city were willing to listen to them and believe Superman would be available for a
return mission if the missiles failed. Henderson firmly believed Metropolis was so
accustomed to Superman saving the day, they weren’t going to doubt that he would again.
He looked at the streets around him. Business was not exactly as usual for many places but
downtown streets were not completely bare. A few stores and eateries were open and doing
business. Traffic was light. The scanner told him the roads out of town, the highways
between the city and the airports were jammed with traffic. Now and then he heard highway
patrol reports crackle through the speakers. MPD was getting the better deal, considering.
Henderson pulled up in front of Kent’s apartment building on Clinton. This was still an
unusually quiet neighborhood, except for whatever happened at the bar last evening, and
again he wondered if Kent had anything to do with it. The guy affected you for the better.
He just did. Henderson couldn’t say how or why exactly, but he knew it happened. Hell, he
was playing racquetball and basketball with a kid almost twenty years younger than he was,
and he was never a sports type of guy! But he certainly was a lot healthier these days.
There was a murmur of voices coming from inside Kent’s apartment. He knocked and
waited.
An older woman, blonde with glasses and a worried look, opened the door and looked up
at him. “Yes? Can I help you?”
“Inspector Henderson, MPD, ma’am.” He pulled out his badge and held it up.
“Come in, Inspector,” the woman said and stood aside for him to pass. “I’m Martha Kent,
Clark’s mother. I was told you might drop by. Clark isn’t here, but some of his friends are.”
Henderson shook her hand and followed her down the steps. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Kent.
You did a good job raising your boy.”
“Thank you, Inspector. I wish I knew where he was just now.”
“Did you have trouble getting here? The roads in and out of town are supposed to be a
mess.”
“They are, but we managed. After the special edition of the Daily Planet got around some
people turned around and came back. We got a ride from one of them.” She led him to the
kitchen. “My husband, Jonathan, is out seeing what kind of groceries are available. He’s
with one of the neighbors. Have a seat, help yourself to a sandwich. Try a scone. Would
you like some tea, Inspector?”
Jordan and Allen were sitting at the table with cups of tea, presumably, and a plate of
biscuit like cakes that smelled delicious, and a platter of sandwiches, half empty.
“Thank you, Mrs. Kent. I would.”
“Good morning,” Barry Allen greeted him. “What’s with the checked shirt and sixties tie?
I have to wear a light blue one with a dark blue tie when I’m in uniform.”
Henderson sat down. “They won’t let us wear plaid.” He took a scone which was still hot,
broke it in half and began to butter it. “What have you been able to do?”
“We met up and went out at dawn,” he said. “We mingled with the people at the kitchens,
but we didn’t see him or the boys Diana mentioned yesterday. We looked for the boys but
no one knows where they live. We did discover they never eat at the missions, so Diana
thinks they get money from somewhere and eat take out. They’re staying way below the
radar.”
“If Clark is still with them, he’ll be off the streets, too,” Hal Jordan added. “Oh, Diana and
Bruce went to the meeting at LexCorp Tower. We decided to come back here and wait for
them. The Kents had arrived just before we did.”
“I haven’t had a chance to do anything on the case, but I did talk to Kent’s partner, Lois
Lane, this morning. She’s starting to worry about him,” he allowed himself a small smile
“but I couldn’t tell if it was him she was worried about or the fact that he might be onto a
big story without bringing her into it.”
Martha Kent put a steaming cup of tea in front of him. “I’m sure that’s not the case,
Inspector. From what Clark has said, their partnership is evolving beyond mistrust.”
He shrugged. “Maybe, but I’ll believe it when I see it. I know Lane.”
Martha sat down near him and idly moved her cup around. “I wish I didn’t feel so helpless.
I want to be out looking for my son, but I know how useless that would be. I have no idea
where to start.”
“Well, it’s best you be here when he gets back, and he will get back,” Henderson assured
her. “I’m sure the memory problem is temporary, Mrs. Kent. Forgive me if I upset you,
but he’s taken a real battering.”
She smiled a little. “I know what you mean. I guess we had to find out his limitations
sometime.” She gave him an appraising look. “How did you find out, if you don’t mind
my asking? I’ve met Barry and Hal before, but you’re the first person in Metropolis who
has figured it out, I think. I’m not sure if there is cause for concern or not.”
“Not on my account,” he assured her. “Clark was a friend before I got suspicious, but it still
took a long time to put the pieces together. I’m trained to spot these things, to look beyond
the facade a person presents me, but it was just ordinary, little things that got through to me.
If we hadn’t become friends, I don’t think I’d have ever seen it. He’s good at separating the
two.”
“Tell me about it,” Barry said, and took another scone. “Glasses! Fooled by a pair of
glasses.”
“You were supposed to be fooled, Barry,” Martha said. “Ever heard of hiding in plain sight?
I will admit, though, I think my boy is pretty good at separating the two.” She laughed.
“The glasses, the clothes, the ties— he says he gets teased about them, but as long as people
are looking at his ties, they aren’t looking at his face, are they? Classic misdirection.”
Barry shook his head slowly and pursed his lips. “He told you about me, didn’t he?”
“You have a sense of humor, Barry. There’s no law against that — so don’t worry, I
won’t kick you under the table.” She leaned forward and reached across the table to pat
his hand as he reached for another pastry. “You’re supposed to fall for it, sweetie.”
Jordan laughed. “We did, all right.”
Barry turned only his eyes and looked at Martha. Both smiled at the other.
Henderson finished his tea, which was surprisingly good, and slowly ate the last half of his
second scone. He would have liked more tea, but he still had to meet his wife for lunch
and even with the world on the brink, he didn’t want to stuff himself and possibly die that
way. He’d seen too many corpses of people who had.
So. . . He guessed it shouldn’t surprise him that Martha Kent, and no doubt her husband,
too, knew these people and the circumstances of their friendships with Clark. He wasn’t
going to wonder about their strange lives, he was curious, but he really didn’t want to
know. After he came to terms with discovering Clark’s secret – he still hadn’t let the truth
sink in properly– maybe then he would begin to wonder, but for now, he could live with
not knowing more. Besides, he couldn’t envy the elder Kents their position. His own was
precarious enough.
“Mrs. Kent, do you have any idea what Clark might be doing? I realize his condition is new
to all of us, but as his mother, can you think of anything based on how well you know
him? He obviously doesn’t remember his connection to Superman, but his basic personality
seems to still be intact.”
Martha shrugged. “Call me Martha, please. He’s doing exactly what he’s always done
based on what Hal and Barry and the other two discovered this morning. He’s helping
people. It’s what my husband and I taught him and what he seems to believe he should be
doing naturally. I think he’s with those two boys and he’ll eventually do all he can to talk
them into getting off the streets. Even not knowing who he is, my son will not leave them
alone to try to help himself first. Appeal to the boys through the street. I’m sure you have
sources who can spread a message they’ll overhear.” She frowned in thought. “You might
want to not use a name. Some might eventually link him to being Superman.” She smiled
now. “I’m assuming that the public is paying attention at all, of course, considering what
we’re facing tomorrow.”
Henderson nodded. “Officially, we’re looking for Clark Kent who was investigating a story
and didn’t come home. Lane and Kent are becoming known for uncovering and
investigating dangerous criminal cases and they have their friends on the street, too, but so
far no one is trying to get word to us about Kent, or to Perry White at the Daily Planet. I do
have a lead we can follow up, though.” He told them about the conversation he’d had with
Chen Chow and about his belief the boys might have taken Clark into the abandoned parts
of the Little Roma warehouse strip.
“If we solve the mystery of Harry the Hole, too, all the better,” Barry said.
“I think he’ll be safe, Martha,” Hal Jordan said, giving him a look. “I wanted to wait for
Wayne and Dr. Prince, but I think I’ll go back out and look some more. I’ll talk to them
later.”
Barry nodded. “I’ll go with you.” He got up and came around the table to place a kiss on
Martha’s cheek. “Good food, Martha, as always. Didn’t even know I liked tea.” He gave
her shoulders a squeeze. “We’ll find him.”
Jordan smiled at her and nodded. “We will. Thank you for lunch, Martha.” He turned to
look at Henderson. “How do we get to this Little Roma area from here, Bill?”
O’Reilly’s restaurant was quiet, but Henderson expected it would be, and that was why he
chose to meet his wife there. It was just around the corner from the municipal building and
a favorite place for the department to frequent. Not all businesses in the area were
keeping to a full work day so the restaurant was full of department and municipal
personnel instead of the usual mix of office workers from the area.
Dressed in a light blue blazer over a white blouse and tan slacks, her brown hair pulled
back with a simple barrette, Leslie Henderson was waiting at a small table at the back
of the nonsmoking section. She was the only woman Bill Henderson noticed after walking
through the door. As usual when he was late, she’d ordered for both of them. A large
entree platter filled with fried snacks was on the table. She rose to greet him, exchanging
a kiss before sitting down again. “I got both of us the foccaccia Reuben you like so much,
this, and loaded baked potatoes. We may never have another reason as good as the end of
civilization to justify ourselves, and even if it doesn’t happen, so what?”
Henderson smiled. Ah! Lucky I resisted Mrs. Kent’s sandwiches! he thought. “You could
have skipped the snails,” he said.
“They come with the platter, Bill. If you want the fried pickles and okra, you have to get
the snails,” she answered. “The waiter said this platter has been very popular the last two
days. Everyone’s trying snails for the first time.” She unfolded her napkin and picked up a
fork. “Don’t look so scared, I’ll eat the snails. How is the search for Clark going?”
He gave her a rundown on what had transpired during the morning, speaking in a low voice.
“I think Jordan and Allen will find him. What I really want to know is what Lex Luthor is
proposing to his guests right now.”
“I’m curious about Mr. Chow,” Leslie said with a frown, also keeping her voice low. “Do
you think he’s. . . special in some way, too? The other four are unbelievable. The
implications are stunning.”
Henderson shook his head. “No, I think Chow is just what he appears to be - a regular guy
like me, a friend of Kent. He was as tired as I was this morning and probably looked as
beat as I did after being up all night. But the others. . . I’ve only got an idea of what Allen
can do. The other three aren’t letting me see anything, but I don’t think implications of
invisibility have anything to do with what Allen’s been doing in Central City. I think. . .”
He let his words trail off as if he didn’t really want to voice his idea.
“Of course not. There’s no such thing as an invisible man, Bill.”
“Yeah, well, I can think of one, but it isn’t Barry Allen. The man has speed. He moves
fast. It takes him split seconds to disappear from sight.”
Leslie smiled at him. “You can disappear from sight pretty fast when my sister drops by.”
“I’m serious, honey. That’s what I’ve seen him do. Take it or leave it.”
The waiter brought the rest of their meal. After he’d gone, Leslie Henderson gave her
husband a thoughtful look and said, quietly, “That could explain it, I guess. The phantom
woman can do it, too. Appear and disappear suddenly, I mean. The dark man seems to be
able to fly and just drops down out of the sky, and the man who comes out of the green
glow appears out of nowhere, according to the newspapers. Possibly two of the four have
speed as a power.” She shook her head and started to eat her meal. “Where are they
coming from all of a sudden?”
“Superman opened the door, I guess. He showed them you can have incredible powers
and use them productively. I think we’re in for a very interesting time, Lee,” he said,
picking up half of his sandwich.
“So do I,” she said, “considering they all have powers of some kind, but. . . apparently
none can finish the job Superman started with the asteroid.”
He gave her a half smile. “Or they don’t have the confidence yet. Super heroes in training,
you know? Or, the big guy is invulnerable, maybe his friends aren’t. Yet. I know Wayne
and Allen have varying degrees of not being able to deal with the strength of the hits he
took. Wayne couldn’t stand to look at the impact crater and it gives Allen the shivers just
to think about it. He had to leave, too, eventually. He thinks he hid his reactions to the impact
successfully, but he didn’t.”
Leslie smiled back. “Let’s find your friend, Clark, then. I want to see what this old world
is going to be like in a year, or however long it takes to get them ready, with five powerful
beings in five powerful cities.”
Henderson chewed his bite of sandwich and swallowed with a sip of coffee. “I hadn’t
thought of that. Metropolis is a leader in industry, Gotham is a leader in technology,
Central City in scientific research, Coast City in aeronautical engineering. . . What about
the woman?”
“Sweetie, the nation’s capital is smack dab in the middle of the territory she’s claiming.”
His phone rang as Henderson was walking Leslie to the train station. (“I fought to make
them put a stop at Three Elms and I’m going to support the public transit system to the
end - whenever that might be,” she’d explained.) “Inspector Henderson, MPD,” he
answered. “. . .Mr. Chow, can you speak a little louder, please? I can barely hear you. . .
He’s there with you now? Where? Tenth and Hayes, got it. . . Which restaurant? . . .The
one with neon ducks in the window? . . . Oh. . . I’ll be right there. Fifteen minutes tops.”
He closed his cell phone and looked at Leslie with a grin crossing his face. A genuine grin.
“Chen Chow found Kent in Chinatown. He took the boys he’s with to his favorite Chinese
restaurant for lunch.”
Leslie grinned back. “Where Mr. Chow just happens to go for lunch himself?”
“You got it.”
“Are they okay?”
“I guess so. Chen said Kent is starting to remember things. The boys are skittish but Harry,
as they know him, remembers Chen so they’re trusting him.”
“I’m going with you, sweetie. We don’t want them to run at the sight of you,” she said and
began to turn back towards the municipal building, but her husband’s hand on her arm
stopped her.
Henderson pointed ahead in the direction they were going. “The commissioner took my
parking space at the department while I was out this morning. That’s why I was late for
lunch. My car is a block and a half farther on. For the end of civilization as we know it,
downtown parking is still worse than hell.”
The little restaurant on Tenth Street wasn’t as quaint as the storefronts around it but even
today, the lunch crowd was large - or it appeared to be to Henderson. He followed his wife
inside and immediately saw Chen Chow at a large table at the back of the room. He
pointed and followed her through the maze of tables.
Chow and Kent both stood as Leslie Henderson approached and Bill smiled at the
questioning look on Kent’s face. He held out his hand. “Clark! Good to see you’re safe.
You have a lot of people out looking for you today,” he said. “I’m Bill Henderson. This
is my wife, Leslie. You’ve never met before.”
“I think I remember you,” Kent said slowly, as he shook his hand, then he gripped
Leslie’s hand. “I think I’ve seen your picture. . . Yeah, on his desk!” His smile was a little
surprised, but Leslie was charmed nonetheless. It was her first time meeting Clark Kent or
Superman. She smiled back and pumped his hand until Clark gently pulled away.
He was dressed oddly in a faded blue, bulky knit sweater not quite wide enough across the
shoulders, nearly white faded jeans and a black scarf around his neck. To Bill’s amusement,
he’d gotten a pair of glasses from somewhere. He noticed his wife was now looking at
Kent’s companions, the two boys, tousled but clean, huddled and slunk in their chairs and
watched closely.
Clark indicated the brothers. “This is Jack and Denny. If the asteroid doesn’t hit, they
agreed to go back to social services if they aren’t split up to be adopted separately. They
want to stay together. I’m going to make certain it happens. Chen thinks I have influence
working at the Daily Planet.” He looked thoughtful. “I remember the Daily Planet.”
Henderson looked at the boys, one scared and worried, the other sullen and ready to argue,
or run, if necessary. “Alright,” he said. “We can keep them together. First, let’s get you
home, Clark. Your parents and some friends of yours showed up as soon as they heard you
went chasing a lead on a story and disappeared.”
“Um, yeah. Chen was telling me about what happened.” He looked down at himself and
then at Chen’s neat business suit. “I must have been undercover.” It was clear he wasn’t
quite buying that story.
“We’ll talk about it later,” Bill promised. “When your memory is better.” He turned to
Chen and shook his hand. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Chow. As soon as he gets his
memory back, I’m going to compliment him on his taste in choosing good friends.”
Chen smiled and adjusted his glasses. “It’s been my honor, Inspector, and, uh. . . Some of
us chose him, too.”
Clark watched them curiously, then looked toward the table. “Come on, guys,” he said to
the boys. “We know who I am, let’s find out where I live.”
The brothers got up slowly, put on their jackets and followed, one on either side of Clark,
as if bodyguards, as Bill and Leslie led them to the door.
Henderson looked over his shoulder as he walked toward the car at the end of the block.
“Clark, do you remember anything at all about what happened to you? What you were
doing? Anything about the story?”
“No,” he replied. “All I know is what Chen told me. The man I went to investigate was
dangerous but I’ve done that kind of reporting before.” He paused. “I guess I knew what
I was doing.”
Bill nodded slowly, looking ahead. “Do you remember friends of yours named Bruce? Or
Barry? Diana? Hal?”
There was a moment’s silence. “Bruce. . . he thinks he’s my brother. I remember him. Is
he—?” He was silent for a moment again. “Hal’s a pilot, I know him. Diana. . .she can
fly, too. . .” He stopped walking, looking puzzled. “Why are you asking about them? I don’t
think I want to talk about them.”
Henderson and his wife had exchanged a quick look at the statement about Diana, neither
sure what the words meant but certain they were important, coming so off the cuff that
way. She can fly, too. As in a pilot like Hal Jordan, or like Superman? Clark had obviously
seen the exchange of glances.
“Bruce told you about the story and when he heard you were missing because of it, he
called the others and all of them came to look for you. They should be at your place with
your parents. Bruce and Diana both knew about the story and they went to see if they could
find out more about it, but I’m sure they’ll be waiting for us, too.”
“Okay. Wait– Barry’s here, too?” Clark asked. “I’ll bet he thinks it funny.”
Bill snorted. “That was the impression I got. He’s probably going to start calling you
Harry the Hole.”
Clark made a derisive sound at that. “Maybe we can talk about them later, too. I have a
feeling I shouldn’t say more.”
“No problem. I called your boss at the newspaper, Perry White, to tell him you were found,
okay but with amnesia. He was glad to hear it, shouted it out to his people while still talking
to me. I might have to sue him for hearing loss.”
“Perry’s a good man. He’s. . . a good friend, too. I should have called him about the story. I
should have known he would worry.”
Bill looked over his shoulder. “Don’t you worry about it. When you remember everything
you might remember a reason.”
Clark looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Did I have one?”
“You tell me, pal.”
Clark chuckled. “Yeah. We’ll talk about that later, too.”
“Maybe we can talk about the boys instead,” Leslie Henderson said. “I’m an attorney. If
you tell me your story, I can suggest a way to proceed.” After a moment’s silence, she heard
Clark gently prod the boys to “Go ahead. Tell her what you told me.”
The brothers had been in foster care for as long as they could remember, moving between
group homes and foster families and never staying more than three or four years in one
place. When the last family they lived with moved out of state, they were returned to state
custody and they were assigned a new caseworker. She and Jack didn’t get along and he
didn’t trust her. She seemed more interested in Denny’s future than Jack’s, so he skipped
school and went to her office one afternoon when he knew she was in a meeting and broke
into her case files. He discovered he and Denny had been abandoned in a hospital waiting
room when Denny was just a few weeks old. Their first and subsequent caseworkers
believed in keeping the boys together and tried endlessly to get them adopted together. For
one reason or another, they were never adopted. The new caseworker was of the opinion
Jack was the reason Denny had never been adopted, keeping them together had been a
mistake. Without Jack, she believed Denny would have long ago been adopted by a good
family. It was her recommendation that the boys be split up before Denny became too old
to be considered adoptable. Jack, she believed, was already past that point.
Jack stole the case files and that afternoon, as soon as Denny came back to the group home
from school, the boys took a few belongings and ran away. They’d been living in an old
warehouse for several months when they met “Harry” and he convinced them to let him
help find a good home for them.
“Tell you what,” Mrs. Henderson said when they reached the car. “After the asteroid
doesn’t fall and life goes back to normal - and I’m sure it will because I believe in
Superman because my husband does - I’m going to call your caseworker and schedule a
meeting with her and a certain member of a children’s rights group I happen to know, and
we’re going to have a long talk about your case, boys. I think your caseworker needs to be
reminded about the importance of family, especially to those who have more rights in this
state than they might know, and she didn’t tell you, to keep their family together.” She
smiled and opened the back door, motioning for the boys to get in. “Don’t worry about
payment. In honor of Superman saving us, I’ll do it pro bono.”
She was pleased that Clark, who didn’t know she was expressing faith in him, was impressed
enough to take her arm and help her into the back seat with the boys and to close the door
for her.
Bill’s raised eyebrow in the rearview mirror said it all for her. She smiled all the way
across downtown Metropolis to Kent’s apartment. Imagine ! After all these years!
Day 5: Epilogue - Pro Bono, Super Style
Twenty-five minutes.
Bill Henderson stood near the coffee machine in the seventh floor break room and sipped
at his cup of strong coffee. All three TV monitors in the room were showing the
breakdown of law and order around the world: looting, fires, and battles between civilians
and armed, uniformed police officers and military troops. Here and there were peaceful
gatherings, in city parks, town squares, churches or city streets, but the violence got the
heavy coverage. He shook his head and took another cookie from the box beside the
coffee maker. Somewhere a bakery staff showed up for work this morning and began
baking their regular products and someone from the department brought in several boxes
of cookies, doughnuts and sugared fruit tarts.
Twenty-three minutes.
Taking a couple of doughnuts, he walked back to his office, leaving the other detectives
and higher ranking officers to watch the endless coverage of the worst of humanity. Here
in Metropolis, the commissioner had sent down word that every available car and every
available officer from lieutenant on down was to be on the streets, driving the streets and
imploring any groups of people they found to remain peaceful, to avoid the horrifying
breakdowns happening in other cities, in other countries. This was Superman’s town.
Henderson’s own unmarked car had been reassigned for the day and was out there,
somewhere, keeping the peace.
Twenty-one minutes.
He sat in his chair behind his desk and angled it so the pictures of Leslie and their two girls
were in the center of his field of vision. He wanted to call her, them, the girls were staying
home today, but he couldn’t tie up the lines. They’d talked about it, all four of them, and
agreed Bill should come to work, and they would stay inside and wait to hear from him.
Whichever way fate dealt the cards, they would stay at home and wait for him to call. He
looked at their faces one by one, a feeling of coldness growing deep inside his gut. Despite
his belief in Clark Kent, in Superman, he was missing his three girls.
Nineteen minutes.
His phone rang and his head jerked around toward it. Swallowing a quick swig of cooling
coffee, he sat up straight and reached for the receiver, getting ready to use his most official
tone of voice.
He cleared his throat. “Inspector Henderson. How can I help you?”
“Hello, Inspector. It’s Martha Kent. He’s on his way. He thought it might take four or five
minutes to get there.”
The End
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