The Death and Life of Superman (14 page)

Superman frowned. He hated taking such a high public profile. He knew that his activities made news—much of Clark Kent’s career as a journalist had been built on reporting Superman’s exploits. But ordinarily he avoided personal publicity in his costumed identity. That first awful experience after the rescue of the space plane had driven home to him the importance of maintaining his privacy. It was simply a matter of self-preservation to keep the Man of Steel a figure of mystery rather than of celebrity. It kept people from suspecting that Superman might live among them under another identity.

It’s worked pretty well,
he thought, as he landed on the school grounds.
Of course, it helps that I try to keep Clark Kent’s and Superman’s personal associations as separate as possible.
His relationship with Lois had been the one weak spot in his armor. She had come close to seeing through his deception, but his parents had helped conspire to make her doubt her own judgment. When Clark had finally told Lois of his double life after they were engaged, she was initially taken aback. But she couldn’t truly admit to being surprised.
That problem’s over now. She’s already become my partner in life.

Striding into the school’s main building, Superman tried to ignore the sudden silence that his presence inspired. He could not help but be aware, though, of the turning heads and the nervous whispers. Inwardly, he was embarrassed by the attention. He’d long since learned to deal with the fame Clark had garnered as a journalist and author, but that kind of fame was nothing compared to what he engendered as Superman.
Like living in the proverbial goldfish bowl. If I couldn’t keep my lives separate, I’d go crazy. How on Earth do rock stars cope?

“Superman! This is a great honor!” The officious little man who approached him, hand outstretched, had a girth that suggested too many years spent behind a desk. “I’m Morton Wolf, principal of Roosevelt High. We’re so happy to have you here.”

Superman shook the offered hand, wishing that Wolf wouldn’t stare at him so intently. “Happy . . . to be here, Mr. Wolf,” he lied. The principal nodded, paying no notice to the caped man’s hesitation.
Bet he’d have noticed it in one of his students,
thought Superman. He hated deceiving the man, but it was a small deception, and he knew how hurt Wolf would be if he told him how he really felt.

“Superman, over here!”

He turned, glad for the interruption, and suddenly found himself being led away by a young woman wearing jeans that were one size too tight and a cowl-necked sweater three sizes too big.

“Hi, Ann McNally. I’m Cat’s producer. She’s been wearing a groove in the floor, afraid you wouldn’t make it. I told her not to worry, but that’s Cat for you. Auditorium’s back this way. It’s really just a glorified gymnasium, but there’s a stage with a proscenium at one end. We’re set up around here. When we start the show, Cat will introduce you and start the interview. Sometime after the second commercial break, we’ll start taking questions from kids in the audience.”

Superman nodded, wondering how she managed to get through all that in one breath.

“Cat! He’s here!” The volume of Ann’s voice suddenly increased by a factor of five, drawing the attention of a statuesque blonde who nervously paced back and forth in the wings of the stage area.

Catherine Jane Grant looked up, turning in midstride, the anxiety melting away from her face. “Superman, darling, so good to see you again! It was so good of you to finally consent to an interview.”

“Well, I’ve never appeared on a talk show before, Ms. Grant. I hope I don’t wind up boring your audience.”

“You? Boring?! Never! Why, the network is already talking about rerunning the show next week in prime time!”

“ ’Scuse me, Cat,” Ann interrupted, “but the kids are filing in and we really need to start the warm-up!”

“Be right there!” Cat fixed the Man of Steel with her most dazzling smile. “We’ll be starting shortly. If there’s anything you need, Ann will see to it.” In a swirl of fabric, she was gone through the curtain.

With his X-ray vision, Superman watched Cat work the crowd.
She’s very good at this, very smooth. And much brighter than anyone gives her credit for.

Cat Grant had first made her mark in the newspaper trade as a West Coast gossip columnist. She’d gained fame through a series of in-depth interviews with leading Hollywood celebrities, sometimes becoming romantically linked with several of her more famous male subjects. Eventually, Cat moved to Metropolis, writing features and columns for the
Daily Planet
in the same breezy style that had made her the talk of Los Angeles. Her fame and reputation had led to additional work for Galaxy Communications, first as cohost of WGBS’s
Hollywood Tonight
and finally to her own talk show.

Superman looked out at all the eager young faces on the students fidgeting in their seats. They looked like a bright bunch. He was struck by the memory of the one interesting assembly he’d attended in high school, when astronaut Pete Conrad had visited Smallville. Clark and his friends had been so excited to meet and hear a man who had actually walked on the moon. It had made him want to go into space himself . . . and eventually he had.

Superman smiled. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Still, he never would have agreed to such an interview, in any forum, if il hadn’t been for the Justice League.

No, not the League . . . not directly. I doubt that I’d be doing this if not for Guy Gardner.
The former Green Lantern saw himself as leader of the group and carried a chip on his shoulder a mile wide. There had been unpleasant confrontations between the two of them, some of them in public. There were already dozens of rumors flying about the League—rumors that the UN was thinking of canceling their charter, even that the federal government was considering putting restrictions on the exercise of superpowers. Things were getting out of hand, and Superman couldn’t let that continue. The Justice League was just too important to the world. Cat’s show was an opportunity for him to reassure the public on that count.
I just hope that I’ve seen the last of the trouble with Gardner. I don’t have time to go on TV every week.

On U.S. Highway 30 just outside of Bucyrus, Ohio, a LexOil tanker truck lay twisted and burning around a late-model Subaru. The drivers of the two vehicles were pinned within the wreckage. Both had mercifully lost consciousness.

They could not see the two glowing figures who dropped through the curtain of fire. Nor did they hear the wrench of metal as the wreckage was ripped open by powerful gauntleted hands.

In an instant, the Lady Maxima had lifted the unconscious trucker from the cab of the tanker. “Quickly, Booster! These men require immediate medical attention.”

Booster Gold nodded, carefully cradling the other driver as he extended the electromagnetic force field of his battle suit to cover them. “Let’s get out of this inferno!”

As they rushed the injured men to safety, Ice thrust out her arms and through force of will began to draw heat from the surrounding air. The air appeared to thicken as moisture began condensing. Then, as if by magic, a wall of ice formed around the perimeter of the fire, momentarily halting its spread.

Guy Gardner circled overhead, using the energies of his ring to form a lid over the blaze. “Yeah, I’ll have this little campfire snuffed out faster than you can say weenie roast.”

Less than fifty feet away, the Blue Beetle’s bug-ship hovered silently over a highway patrol car. A state trooper mopped his brow uneasily as Bloodwynd and Fire administered first aid to the rescued men.

“We appreciate the help, Justice Leaguers. I guess that Ohio is a little out of your normal jurisdiction.”

“Not at all, Officer.” The Beetle’s manner was uncommonly serious. It was no time to be flippant. “We go where we’re needed.”

“We surely needed you today. Whatever it is that’s responsible for this . . .” The trooper stopped, gesturing toward the smoldering wreckage, and swallowed hard. “Well, it’s more than we’re used to handling.”

Fire looked up from her work. “These men both have concussions and some minor fractures, but I think they’ll be all right. Maxima and Booster got to them just in time.”

The trooper nodded. “Best news I’ve had all morning. Dispatch says the ambulances should be here within another couple minutes.”

A dark, caped figure arose from Fire’s side. “We must find the beast.”

“I agree, Bloodwynd.” Blue Beetle waved to get Gardner’s attention. “Everybody back into the Bug and we’ll be on our way.”

In seconds, the strange ship was circling the area. “Keep your eyes on the ground, people. The sooner we spot our monster, the better.” The Beetle glanced from his craft’s infrared scanners to the countryside below. “Uh-oh. Looks like we’ve found our man’s trail of crumbs.”

A freshly hewn path cut through a wooded area to the east. Trees were splintered and in some cases completely uprooted.

Booster let out a long, low whistle. “Looks like a tornado came through here.”

Beetle turned in his seat. “Bloodwynd, Maxima . . . you two have all those psychic powers. Any chance you can scan ahead and tap into this thing’s mind?”

Bloodwynd shrugged. “I will try. But it will be difficult.”

“Speak for yourself.” Maxima settled back into her seat and began to concentrate.

Ice looked out of the ship, staring down at the path of destruction. “This is terrible. Such pointless, needless devastation.”

Gardner drummed his fingers impatiently. “Let’s just find the sucker, okay?”

For several long minutes, the ship was silent. Then Maxima stiffened and let out a cry. “I’ve found the Creature. He is east of here, perhaps no more than fifty miles. Yes, his presence is very strong . . . He . . .” She shook her head and her eyes narrowed. “He is hate . . . death and bloodlust personified. Nothing more.”

Gardner laughed, and his ring glowed all the more brightly. “Sounds like my kinda guy.” He leaned over and patted Ice’s hand. “Don’t worry, doll. We’ll kick his butt!”

Ice shuddered involuntarily.
Guy, I don’t care what you say, I still wish that Superman was here.

In the Roosevelt High auditorium, a floor manager held up a hand, fingers wide as he ticked off the seconds to the end of the first commercial break. Four, three, two, one. The tally light atop camera one burned red.

“Welcome back!” Cat smiled. “We’re coming to you live from Roosevelt High with an incredible show.” She paused for effect. “He is perhaps the most celebrated man of our time! He’s been called the Man of Tomorrow, the Last Son of Krypton, and the Man of Steel! But he’s most appropriately known as—Superman!”

The auditorium erupted into thunderous applause—and not a few cheers—as Superman stepped through the curtain. Waving in acknowledgment, he strode across the tiny stage, taking Cat’s hand. As they waited for the response to die down, Superman felt relieved that she was willing to accept a handshake rather than an air kiss.
People always look so damned foolish when they do that.
The applause showed no sign of ending, and he finally held out his hands, gesturing for calm.

Following his example. Cat added her own admonition. “Please! This is only a ninety-minute show! If we don’t get to the interview soon, Principal Wolf will make us all stay after school!” The gag got the cheap laugh she was looking for from her audience, and they at last settled down.

“I can’t thank you enough for joining us here, Superman.” Cat fine-tuned her smile. “Interviews with you are a true rarity! You so seldom speak for the public record.”

“I seldom have the time, Ms. Grant.”

“Yes, well, let’s cross our fingers and hope that any natural disasters hold off for the next hour and a half.”

“That would be fine by me. I could use the rest.”

“All right then . . . Superman, like others of your colleagues—Booster Gold, the Elongated Man, Wonder Woman—you’ve led a fairly public life, but we still know so very little about you! As leader of the Justice League—”

“Pardon me for interrupting, Ms. Grant, but I have to correct you on that point. It’s unfair to the other members to paint me as the leader of the League. Every member has a say on issues . . . and a vote as well.”

“Surely, though, you have a greater influence than some, Superman. Longtime observers suggest you’ve provided a quality of strength and focus that the League has been lacking for some time.”

“I don’t know who these ‘observers’ are, or how qualified they are to speak. But I’ve found the members of the Justice League to be a talented, dedicated group of individuals. They have a long, proud history, and I’m honored to be in their ranks.”

“Superman, I’m sure no one disputes the long-standing reputation of the Justice League. But aside from yourself, this new League is relatively inexperienced.”

“So were the original members, when the League was first founded.”

“That may well be. But the original members seemed on the whole more . . . oh . . . even-tempered? Certainly, if they had any disagreements, they kept them private. That clearly isn’t the case with the new League. As the whole country must know by now, you and Guy Gardner exchanged blows just a few weeks ago! What about that?”

Superman shook his head.
I knew she’d get to that sooner or later.

“Reports of that incident were greatly exaggerated, Ms. Grant. In point of fact, I never struck Mr. Gardner.”

“But he did hit you?”

“I allowed him to, yes. There had been an unfortunate misunderstanding involving the alarm system at the Justice League Compound in New York. Some members believed they were under attack, and Guy was caught up in the middle. He lost his temper . . . and I let him take it out on me.” It was the truth, as far as it went.

“He must have quite a temper. It still doesn’t sound as though he gets along with anybody.”

“I can’t say. I don’t know the man that well. We’re obviously not the closest of friends. But we’re both professionals. When the chips are down, we work together and get the job done.” He stole a glance at his image in the monitor and felt relieved. His nose hadn’t grown at all.
Lord, but I’ll be glad when this is over.