The Death and Life of Superman (36 page)

“What?!” Supergirl’s eyes popped open wide. “Oh, Lex! Could he be—? I mean, is it possible that he’s alive?!” Even as she spoke, Supergirl gave the molecules of her sleeping gown a mental shove. Then, just that easily, she stood clothed in her blue and red costume.

Ordinarily her transformations delighted Luthor, but the last thing he wanted to see her wearing—considering what his security systems were telling him—was that pentagonal S-emblem.
Superman . . . alive?
Too late, he tried to repress a shudder. Fortunately, Supergirl seemed too excited to notice his discomfort. Luthor took a deep breath and made a calming gesture.

“Well, my dear, I suppose that with a man from another world anything is possible, but I frankly doubt that he’s actually alive.”
At least, I hope he isn’t.
“At the very least, though, someone is tampering with his crypt, perhaps even to the point of desecration. I hope you feel up to investigating.”

“Of course I do. Just try to stop me!” Supergirl reached for the portable transceiver headset even as Luthor started to hand it to her. “Don’t worry, Lex, I’ll search the area from top to bottom. And I’ll keep in close touch.”

“You do that, love.” Luthor forced a smile, hoping it would cover his lingering unease. “And be careful. Remember, we don’t know what’s going on down there. Let’s not give the public any reason to panic. Use the secret access we built into the tomb’s foundations.”

“Oh, you’re so smart.” Supergirl kissed Luthor twice—first, slowly on his lips, and then lightly on his nose. “Don’t you worry. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“I know you will, love. Godspeed.”

Luthor had always loved to watch Supergirl fly, taking a frankly proprietary pride in watching her soar above the city skyline. But tonight he hardly saw her leave. His attention kept being drawn back to the wandering X on the schematic projection.

“Lord, he couldn’t have cheated death. Could he?” As Luthor watched, the X began to move off the grid and fade out.

“Heat source is moving north-northeast.” The synthetic voice suddenly went up half a decible in volume. “Warning! Heat source will be out of surveillance range in five seconds . . . four . . . three . . . two . . .”

“Oh, shut up!”

The voice instantly complied.

Supergirl shot away from the lofty L-shaped tower, making a beeline for Centennial Park.

Lex seemed awfully quick to discount the possibility that Superman might be alive. I guess he doesn’t want me to get my hopes up.
She smiled at the thought.
That’s awfully sweet of him, the big silly, but he might as well try to hold back the tide! How could I not hope for the best?

Luthor’s mention of tomb desecration did bother her, though.
I can’t fault Lex for being concerned. Superman
did
have a lot enemies, and I suppose one of them might stoop to grave robbing.

Reaching the park, Supergirl flew in a slow, silent loop high over the tomb. The rain had been intermittent since dusk, and there was an unseasonable chill in the air. At this late hour, she could see only two people in the memorial plaza—a derelict who appeared to be dozing on a park bench, and a young man who had paused briefly, head bowed, by the tomb.

Supergirl knew from previous flyovers that hordes of mourners had been haunting the tomb, day and night, since the funeral. The sheer emptiness of the plaza made her realize how truly nasty the weather had become.
And it is late—dawn is still a few hours off. More people will turn out by morning. In the meantime, the lack of a crowd should make my investigation easier.
Below, the young man slowly walked away from the tomb, and the derelict slumped deeper down into his coat for warmth. Neither man, she noted, looked up.

Making a wide circuit of the grounds, Supergirl could see no signs of tampering from the outside of the tomb.
Then again, Lex’s computer system did say the disturbance was below. Time to take a look inside.

Banking sharply, Supergirl dove down toward a large subway ventilator grating set into the side of a retaining wall on the east side of the plaza. The circular grating was nearly six feet in diameter and made of heavy-gauge steel, but she slid it sideways into its mountings with a single quick yank. Slipping through the opening, she gave the grating a shove back into place. When she was several yards down the inner utility tunnel, she suddenly stopped and smacked her forehead with the heel of her palm.
Why didn’t I turn invisible before I approached the grating? I must still be a little out of it.
She shook her head ruefully.
Oh, well, as fast as I was moving, anyone watching wouldn’t have seen much more than a blur. Besides, the only one around was that old derelict. Who would believe him anyway?

Back out in the plaza, the derelict peered from under the edge of his old woolen hat, staring intently at the grating. Despite his overall seedy appearance, the man’s eyes were very clear. He reached into the folds of his shabby overcoat and pulled out a tiny cellular phone. A chorus of muted beeps sounded in his ear as he hit an autodial button. A sleepy growl answered at the other end of the line.

The “derelict” spoke softly but distinctly into the phone. “This is Rusty. Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, but I think I just saw something go into that ventilation shaft on the east retaining wall. I’m not sure what it was, but we’d better check it out.”

A loud yawn came across the line. “Whaddaya talkin’ about? Can’t ya be more specific?”

Rusty pondered the request. “Depends on what you mean by specific.” The movement at the grate had been very fast and not very distinct, but he knew that he’d seen flashes of red and blue and a sudden billowing, like that of a cape. “For all I know, it might have been a ghost!”

Supergirl flew down the slowly descending utility tunnel until she came to another recessed grate blocking a corridor that veered off sharply to the left. As she swung open the second grating, concealed lighting switched on automatically, illuminating the corridor. She proceeded on down the corridor for nearly a hundred yards to where it ended in a small chamber.

The chamber was dominated by a huge circular metal hatch that looked like nothing so much as the door to a bank vault. From the schematics that Luthor had shared with her, she knew that she was directly beneath the tomb. Behind that access hatch was the crypt into which Superman’s coffin had been lowered.

Okay, girl, this is it. So, what are you waiting for? Afraid of what you might find?

“Supergirl?” Lex suddenly broke in, the circuitry buried in the surrounding walls transmitting his encoded signal strongly and clearly into her headset. It was as if he’d come up behind her; she almost jumped. “Are you in the tomb yet?”

Not yet, lover, but I suppose that it’s now or never.
“Lex, I’m opening the hatchway, and I’m about to step inside.” Supergirl hesitated a moment. “And I know you think I’m being foolish, but I can’t help but hope he’s alive.”

“Let’s not get our hopes up too high, love.” There was a slight edge to the voice that came over the headset.

Supergirl stepped through the hatchway, light flooding in from the outer chamber. In the center of the crypt was nothing but a bare marble slab.

“Lex! Oh, my God!”

“Well, what is it? What have you found? Don’t leave me hanging, girl!”

“The crypt is empty! Even the coffin is gone! And there’s a big hole leading down a steep shaft from the wall to my left. Superman is gone!” She felt giddy at the discovery. “Did you hear me, Lex? Now do you think I’m being foolish?”

“No, dear, but I’m afraid you sound much too optimistic. Listen to me, love. If Superman
were
alive, if he’d dug his way out of there, why would he have taken the coffin with him?”

The question gave Supergirl pause.

“Okay, Lex, I admit that it doesn’t look as if he just got up and walked home, but . . . maybe he arranged this breakout beforehand. I mean, there’re probably a lot of things we don’t know about Superman.”
A lot that even I don’t know!
“Maybe he had people standing by in case he ever died, or appeared to die—a team that would take him somewhere to be revived!” Supergirl was grasping at straws, and she knew it, but she wasn’t about to give up hope yet.

Back in his offices, Luthor was gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his hands were turning white.
Damn her optimism.
He could well imagine the look on her face, that vital glow in her eyes. He loved it when she looked at him that way. But now, he knew, that look was for Superman.
Superman!
It was all he could do to choke back his rising bile.

“Lex? Did you hear me? Are you still there?”

“I’m here.” Luthor took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right, love. I myself admit that anything is possible. See where the shaft leads, but make sure you keep me posted. Over and out.” It was a rather graceless directive, he knew, but it was all he could trust himself to say.

Halfway across Metropolis, Jonathan Kent tossed and turned in an unfamiliar bed.

“Jon?” Martha switched on the light. “Are you all right?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Me neither, not well anyway. I keep seeing that statue. It was so beautiful. And so awful.” Martha plucked a tissue from the box beside her pillow. “Still, I’m glad that Lois took us to see the tomb. It was a lot bigger than it looked on TV, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, Martha. That Luthor woods colt did all right by our boy. Almost makes up for the hell his father put Clark through.” Jonathan fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand. “I wish Lois had let
us
take the couch. It was enough that she put us up in her apartment. We should’ve insisted on staying in a hotel, like Lana did. I hate to put anybody out of their bed.”

“Poor Lois. Jonathan, how in the world can we go back to Smallville in the morning? The thought of her having to face all this—”

“I know, Martha, I know. But when she looks at us, all she sees is Clark. I’m afraid we’ve done all we can for now, and it’s best we leave on schedule.”

“I suppose you’re right, Jon. Lois has tried to put on such a brave front for the world, but I’ve caught that look in her eyes . . . that horrible, haunted look.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve seen it too, especially when she’s looking at you or me and doesn’t notice that we’re looking back.” Jonathan patted his wife’s hand. “Try not to worry, Martha. It isn’t as if we’re abandoning her. Lois has a family of her own to lean on.”

“But there are things she can’t confide in them.”

“I know, and that can be awful. But we’ll keep in touch, never you fear.”

Jonathan swung his feet down to the floor. “I’ve got to get some water—maybe take an aspirin.”

“Headache, dear?”

“Sore muscles. Nothing to fret about.” He leaned across the bed and kissed Martha lovingly on the forehead. “I’ll be back. You try to get some sleep.”

As Jonathan slipped from the bedroom and padded down the hall, he thought he saw something move in the living room.
Sounds like someone else can’t sleep.

Lois stood by her apartment’s big sliding glass doors, holding her cat Elroy in her arms and staring out past the balcony into the night. Her back was to Jonathan, but he could see a partial reflection of her face in the glass. Lois’s expression wasn’t so much sad, he thought, as it was bleak. The bleakness was echoed in every line of her body.

Jonathan hung back in the hallway, wondering if he should disturb Lois. She seemed deep in thought. His own thoughts were bitter and wistful all at once.
Her and Clark’s best years were ahead of them . . . marriage, children—well, probably not children, not of their own, anyway. For all that Clark looked like an ordinary Earthman, he was anything but!
As a farmer, Jonathan had learned enough practical genetics to know that the chances of cross-fertilization between native and Kryptonian stock were virtually zero.
Still, if they’d wanted kids badly enough, they could have always adopted. That’s more or less what Martha and I did.

It suddenly hit Jonathan all over again that Clark was gone. The pain of that realization struck like a sledgehammer.
I still can’t hardly believe it. It’s all so unfair . . . so unfair to us all.
He tried to choke back a sob, only to have it escape as a sneeze.

Lois heard him and turned. “J-Jonathan? What—?”

“I’m sorry, Lois. I didn’t mean to startle you, but—” The words caught in his throat. Suddenly, all the reassurances he’d given Martha, all the platitudes about leaving on schedule, struck him as the stupidest things he’d ever said. “Lois, Martha and I are worried about leaving you.”

“You’re worried about
me
?” Lois’s eyes widened. “I’ve been worried about you two. I was just thinking how terribly hard this must be for you and Martha. I couldn’t have been much comfort to you.”

Jonathan opened his mouth to protest, but Lois continued on. “And being in Metropolis must only make it worse for you. This city is the heart of a media fire storm over Superman’s death, and you should get as far away from it as you can. It’s not likely to get better anytime soon.” She gestured to the coffee table, where she’d angrily tossed a copy of the
Metropolis Daily Star.

Jonathan glanced down at the paper and then quickly looked away, but he knew that he’d never forget the lead story. Next to a lurid photo of a blond woman who might charitably be called a floozy was the banner headline: SUPERMAN’S SECRET WIFE?

Lois slowly stroked her cat behind the ears. “Yes, it’s hard to look at, isn’t it? And that’s one of the more tasteful stories. You and Martha have to get away from this.” She looked once more at the newspaper, and her face grew drawn. “This trash makes me so ashamed to be a journalist.”

“You’re not to blame for any of this, Lois. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.”

Hard on myself, am I?
Jonathan’s assessment almost struck Lois as funny.
That’s not what my father would say. “Kids today are too soft. You’ve got to be tough!”—that was Sam Lane’s philosophy.

“Lois?”

“Sorry, Jonathan. I was just lost in thought for a moment.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “Hey, look at the time. We should both try to get some sleep while we can. Your flight leaves pretty early in the morning.”