There was a rush of sound, light, and feeling, each more intense than anything he’d ever experienced before. Then it was gone and he was immersed in absolute blackness. The next thing he knew, he was choking. He sucked water into his lungs and gagged for air, waking up in a rush. Somehow, he was now underwater. The cold water bit deep into him and he struggled to the surface. He gulped air and paddled about, blinking to clear his eyes.
He was in a lake, about twenty feet from the shore. He stared about, paddling in the cold water. A small bridge extended over his head; wide enough to support one lane of travel. He swam over to the shore, and pulled himself onto the bank. There he collapsed, gasping for air. He’d never felt so drained before in his life.
For a long time he lay there, half out of the water. The sun shone down on him from the clear sky overhead, warming his skin. Finally he pulled himself up to his knees and stood up, his legs quivering. “Okay,” he said quietly, “what just happened?” A very good question he realized. And here was another, where was he? He stared around slowly, staggering again. Clark knew all the back roads in Smallville by heart, and he didn’t recognize this place. It hadn’t been the road he’d just been on, that was for sure. It didn’t go over any lake, so how had he gotten here? He stared around, and realized slowly, that he didn’t recognize the lake either. Where was he?
Numbly, he turned around and made his way up the bank on his hands and knees. Reaching the top, he heaved himself up and staggered out onto the road, staring around. The countryside around him looked familiar enough to him, but he glanced back at the lake in puzzlement. A small family of geese was bobbing around in the middle of the lake, honking at him. He brushed his wet hair out of his eyes absently and then stopped as he caught sight of his hand.
Where the tendrils had grabbed onto his wrist, his skin was a deep red, almost like it had been burned. He rubbed it gingerly, and then touched the skin on his neck, wincing. Without a mirror, there was no way of telling, but he was sure it was just as red.
“What the hell happened to me?” he gasped.
Feeling weak, Clark hobbled over to the bridge and sat down on one of the beams. For a few moments, he just rested in the sun, trying to catch his breath. Everything had happened so quickly on the road, he hadn’t had time to think about what had happened. He had just been snatched up and pulled into something, he thought, rubbing his wrists again. But by what? And why?
There’d been a face there, he thought to himself. At the end, he’d almost seen something, like he’d caught of glimpse of whatever had grabbed him. But now, he couldn’t remember anything about it. He didn’t even know if it had been human or not. But there had been something strange about it, he realized slowly. Something familiar, about the voice, I heard. But what was it?
Disquieted, he swallowed and stared around again. He glanced up at the sky, noting the lack of clouds and rain. It had been storming not five minutes ago, but now- How long had it all lasted? It looked to be the early afternoon, but beyond that, he couldn’t tell anything else.
As he stared upwards, his eyes fell on something else that gave him a shock. There was a sign over the bridge, attached to one of the poles. He read it once, and then got up slowly and walked into the middle of the road, staring up at it. “Sales Bridge, Siegel Road,” he read it again. He swallowed again and read it a third time, but it was still the same. “That’s impossible,” he breathed. Siegel road ran through Smallville and up to the interstate a few miles past their farm. His father had taught him how to drive on it. He’d run down it nearly everyday to get to school and town. And in all that time, there had never been a bridge on it.
As he stared overhead, a car appeared over the horizon. Clark stood there, stunned, still looking at the sign. The driver was forced to stop the car in front of him and lean on the horn. “Get out of the road,” he yelled, leaning out the window. Jumping slightly, Clark moved to the side quickly.
“Sorry,” he called out. The man shook his head at him and started to drive off. “Um… excuse me? Is that sign right?” he asked, pointing, before he could leave.
“Of course it is,” he leaned out again. He looked to be about sixty, with a thick gray moustache. Noting Clark’s confused look, he asked, “Something wrong?”
“I think you could say that,” he muttered. The old man raised his eyebrows. He seemed to take in Clark’s still wet clothes and disheveled appearance. “I kinda fell of the bridge,” he said quickly, trying to laugh it off. “Um… you wouldn’t really know where this road goes, would you?” he asked
“You lost or something?”
“New in town,” he said quickly. “Very new.”
The old man grunted loudly and stared at him a moment longer. Then he shrugged. “Well, if you’re looking for a ride, I might be able to help you,” he offered. He gestured to the back of the truck with his head. “I’ll take you as far as my farm. It’s about a half a mile into town from there.”
“Thanks.” Wherever he was, getting into town sounded like as good a plan as any. He climbed over the dusty railing of the car and stepped into the back. Then he paused, thinking of something. He leaned over the side to talk to the old man. “’Town’ is Smallville, right? That’s where we’re going?” he demanded.
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The old man turned around in his seat to give him a brief look. “You’re not in any sort of trouble, are you boy?” he asked carefully. “I don’t care much for the corps, but I’m not gonna stick my neck out.”
Corps? I must have heard him wrong, Clark thought. “No, I’m just… a bit lost. I don’t really know where I am.” The old man searched his face and then turned back. He reached into his glove box and handed it back to Clark. It was an old road map.
“Knock yourself out,” the old man said lightly. “My name’s Earl Logan if you’re curious.”
“Clark Kent.” He picked up the map eagerly and opened it up. It was of Smallville all right, but not the Smallville he remembered. Earl started driving back down the road as Clark sat in the back of the pickup, poring over the piece of paper.
It was wrong, he thought at first. The map had to be wrong. He almost started to ask Earl whether he’d given him the right map, but he caught himself. The old man was suspicious enough about him as it was. Some of the roads and other features, he recognized, but the rest of it might have been of some different town all together. Streets were different, buildings were marked here that Clark knew had been closed down for years. There was the Ross Corn factory, and the old Ironworks. And there was Potter’s…
He traced Siegel Road’s path out for a moment and then turned around. “Are we near Potter’s field?” he called out.
“We’re driving through it,” Earl called back, not bothering to turn around. Clark looked up, his mouth open in amazement.
“It can’t be…” he breathed out. Potter’s field, at least the one he knew, was a barren stretch of soil, rendered barren by the meteor crash. It had been abandoned for as long as Clark could remember. But as he looked out over the land, all he could see was rolling fields of corn. The wind rustled through the stalks and passed by him. It wasn’t possible.
“What happened to this place?” he asked aloud. “The meteor shower was supposed to have hit this…” He was cut off as the truck stopped abruptly. Earl cut off the engine and stepped out the cab, staring up at him petulantly.
“What’s this about the meteor shower?” he grated at him.
“There was supposed to have been a big hit here,” he said, his eyes going back to the field. “This is… I mean, it’s supposed to be all barren.”
“Like hell there was. Meteor’s didn’t come close to here.” He paused and craned his neck down at Clark, eyeing him fiercely. “Say, you aren’t one of those alien freaks, are you?” Clark flinched and tore his eyes off the field. Alien freaks? How could he-
Earl spit into the dirt and gave him a hard look. “You all are always digging in my fields, looking for samples and spreading around your crazy stories. Sometimes I’m even glad we’ve got the Luthor Corps to keep you all away,” he snarled.
“But there was a strike…”
“That’s all you people ever want to talk about,” he went on, ignoring Clark. “That or aliens coming down with the blasted things. Why don’t you go bother someone else? I wasn’t even living here on Red Tuesday.”
If Clark was confused before, he was positively stunned now. It was like his ears weren’t working right. He couldn’t be hearing this, could he?
“I don’t understand,” he managed to blurt out, “what’s this about aliens?” Earl grunted and started to get back in the truck. “No please! Just tell me what you mean!” It was apparently the wrong thing to say.
“That’s it,” he remarked and turned back. “Out of the truck. I’m not taking you any further. Find your own way into town.” Clark numbly climbed out of the back, still trying to understand what was going on. First that strange lighting shower, and then all the other weirdness, and now this?
The old man climbed back into the truck and slammed the door shut. “And I don’t want to see you on my lands, you hear me? Dig anywhere else you want, but don’t go bothering me again!” He paused and then leaned over in the truck cab. “Here,” he said, removing something from the glove box. “If you’re so interested in the damn things, have one, just leave me be!” He tossed something at Clark as he drove off. Clark caught it instinctually, still staring at the receding car. Then he glanced down at and promptly dropped it and jumped back. Earl had tossed him a chunk of green stone about the size of a baseball. It was a meteor rock.
Clark stared at it like it might bite for a moment, but then he realized something. He raised the hand he’d caught it with and turned it over. There was none of the tell-tale reaction he usually experienced when he got near even a tiny meteor fragment. A rock that size should have had him on his knees in seconds, but he hardly felt a thing. Gingerly, he bent down and picked it up, still waiting for the radiation to hit him, but nothing happened.
“What the hell?” he muttered, turning it over in his hands. It looked like a chunk of the meteor, but where was the radiation? He studied it closer, wishing he had a microscope handy. Then again, he reasoned, he wouldn’t be able to tell if it was for real or not even if he had one. He’d never studied the meteor stones that closely before, preferring to stay far away from them.
While he was staring at it, he suddenly heard a high pitched scream. He cocked his ears, listening. It came again and he pinpointed it. It was a female, young, probably around his age. He shoved the stone into his jacket pocket and took off running, following the sound. It had come from the old iron works, not too far off the road. The ‘new’ ironworks, he had to remind himself as he saw it. It wasn’t the run down, husk he remembered, but a functioning building now. There was a chain link fence surrounding the property and inside Clark could see rows of cars and trucks, all of them dirty and broken down.
It must be some sort of junkyard now, he realized. Then he heard the scream again, and with it, the harsh barking of dogs. He came to a halt as he saw a girl come running through one of the aisles of junkers, clutching something to her chest. She was making for the fence, but hot on her heels were four large, angry dogs. She wasn’t going to make it, he thought, seeing how close the dogs were.
Clark ran up to the edge of the fence and vaulted himself over easily. He landed and motioned to the girl, holding his hands out. She clutched something to her chest tighter and ran faster. Her long blonde hair was whipping behind her fiercely as the dogs nipped at the ends of her leather jacket. Pouring on the speed, she managed to reach him with seconds to spare. He grabbed her and practically threw her over the fence and to safety. He saw her clear the edge and drop roughly to the grass on the other side. As Clark started to climb up after her, one of the dogs latched onto his leg tightly. Frowning, he shook him off as gently as he could and saw the dog drop off with a yelp of surprise. He climbed the rest of the way up and jumped down to the other side of the fence.
“There you go,” he said, landing easily. “Lucky I came along.” The girl groaned and picked herself off the ground, still cradling the box.
“God, thank you so much,” she said, dusting herself off. “The last thing I needed was to wind up as Alpo for those mutts.” There was something about her voice that was oddly familiar. Her jeans were torn and a bit dirty from the run, but they looked like they’d been expensive once. She was about a foot shorter than him, but her figure was definitely adult. Clark caught himself staring at her tight t-shirt and tore his eyes away.
“You should probably be a little bit more careful then,” he said as she straightened up. “I mean, that probably wasn’t the safest place to…” he stopped as he got a better look at her. She had a very pretty face, with a kind of pert, spunky look to it. She brushed out her long hair and gave him a one sided smile that he knew well. For what seemed the fifth time today, Clark was speechless.
“So what’s your name, handsome?” Chloe Sullivan asked him with a smile.