The Death and Life of Superman (45 page)

Marty shuddered. “Feels like the air around us is carrying a charge. I don’t like this, Steve. We’d better get inside.”

As the two men turned to reenter the research station, Marty looked back over his shoulder at the aerial display. “Hey, could all this be a side effect of that growing hole in the ozone layer?”

“Possibly.” Steve stopped to knock the compacted snow from the soles of his boots. “More charged particles might be streaming in. I don’t know, though . . . that lightning storm looks to be centered just beyond the Ellsworth Mountains. A lot of weird electromagnetic phenomena have been reported in that area recently.” He stared up into the skies. “Something like this makes you realize how much there is that we still don’t know.”

The storm
was
centered beyond the Ellsworth Mountains, but the real nucleus of activity lay buried hundreds of feet below the surface in the Kryptonian Fortress. There, wasplike robots, identical to those of Krypton’s ancient past, flitted around a spherical containment field as energies rippled within. One robot paused to receive data from another. “Has the intelligence been completely isolated?”

“Negative. The Master’s essence dispersed following the dysfunction of the corporeal body.” The answering robot completed a complex mathematical calculation and continued. “Retrieval has been limited to 98.073 percent. Despite the loss, there is a 79.237 percent chance for reconstruction. We will continue the process.”

Superman tore through the demon wraiths,
mowing them down just like they were weeds,
thought Jonathan. Two robotic shapes swooped down on the Man of Steel, taking on wraithlike qualities as they approached. “You must not resist death’s grip,” squawked one. “There can be no turning back!”

Superman reached up, catching one robotic wraith in each hand, and smashed them together. Their remains melted away to smoke, and Superman leapt to Jonathan’s side in a single bound. “Pa! Are you all right?!”

“Never better, son. Or at least, I will be once we hightail it out of here.” Jonathan grabbed Superman by the arm and turned to run, but his son had set his feet. It was like trying to drag a mountain. “Clark,
now
what’s got into you?!”

“Pa, I can’t go back. You were right about these phony Kryptonians—I won’t follow them anymore—but I can’t go back to Earth either. I’ve been gone too long.”

“Horseapples! I didn’t come all this way to hear you talk like that! You’re a Kryptonian, the last of your kind. Son, you can’t walk through death’s doorway willingly.”

“It was hardly ‘willingly,’ Pa.” Superman started to shake his head. Then he abruptly wrapped his arm around his father and leapt into the air.

Jonathan coughed and caught his breath. “Th-that’s more like it, son.”

“I’m just taking you away from this, Pa. That’s all.”

“Like hell, ‘that’s all’! Clark, listen to me. For the first years of your life, you thought you were a human being—stronger than most, but human. You grew up on our farm and you saw things get born, and you watched them live, and you saw them die. You grew up thinking that someday you would die, too . . . but maybe it doesn’t have to be that way at all. Don’t you understand, son? For once I’m begging you not to think like an Earthling!”

A dark tunnel opened up in the misty skies in front of them. Behind them once more was the dazzling light. Superman hovered before the tunnel but began drifting back toward the light.

“Pa, this is as far as I can take you. I’m telling you, I’ve been away too long already. Pa, you yourself said it . . . I
am
the last Kryptonian. Billions of my people have died. Why would I be the sole exception?”

“There are no exceptions.” The voice came from everywhere and nowhere; it was very deep and very cold. A tall figure dressed in black stepped out of the light. His resemblance to Superman was unmistakable.

“Jor-El!” Superman looked stunned, and Jonathan himself felt badly shaken.

Jor-El inclined his head. “It is good that you recognize me, Kal-El.” He turned sternly to the Earthman. “My son must come with me, Jonathan Kent. You must cease your interference.”

“Like hell I will! Maybe Clark will die someday, but it doesn’t have to be now!”

“I regret that it does. I correctly predicted the destruction of Krypton, and I am correct in this matter as well.” Jor-El extended a hand toward Superman. “Come. You know that I have always looked after you. You survived our homeworld’s destruction only because I sent your birthing matrix to the Earth.”

“Looked after him, my eye!” Jonathan stormed up to Jor-El. “Yeah, you sent him to Earth, where he might have died for all you knew! You blindly hoped that someone would find your son and bring him up—and, by God, someone did. My wife and I raised your boy, and we love him like he was our own. And dammit, I am
not
going back without him!”

Jor-El actually took a step back. His face didn’t ripple, as had the false cleric’s, but he did look uncertain.

Jonathan whirled around. “You see, son? He
isn’t
sure! Now let’s get going.”

“I still don’t know, Pa.”

Jonathan grabbed Superman by the wrist and stared squarely down the dark tunnel. “Have a little faith in your old man, son. What have you got to lose? Let’s just do it!”

“Martha?” A woman peered in from the doorway.

“Lois! Oh, Lois—” Martha leapt to her feet and hugged the younger woman to her. “You didn’t have to come all this way!”

“Shhh! It’s okay. I wanted to be here. I don’t know how much good I can do, but I’ll do everything I can.” Lois looked up, tears in her eyes. “Hello, Lana.”

“Lois. You made good time.”

“The advantages of being an army brat! I called in an old favor and caught a ride on a transport flight. How’s Jonathan doing?”

Before either woman could answer, the heart monitor beside Jonathan’s bed began beeping louder. Martha stifled a scream, and Lana lunged for a call button, but Dr. Lanning and a staff cardiologist were already charging into the room.

“Is . . . is it bad, Gene?”

“No, Martha.” Lanning slipped his stethoscope across his patient’s chest. “I think it’s good; very good, in fact. Jon’s heart is beating good and strong . . . blood pressure’s back to normal . . . and his breathing—”

Jonathan suddenly coughed and reached up, pulling out his endotracheal tube before the startled doctors could stop him. He blinked and drew in a long, deep, satisfied breath. “Made it!”

He looked up to see his wife staring down at him, her mouth open wide. “Martha! Martha, honey, we’re back.”

“Oh, yes!” Martha gently framed his face between her hands. She could hardly see him through her tears. “Yes, thank God, you’re back!”

“Not just me, Martha.” A tear trickled down Jonathan’s cheek. “I found our boy. Clark’s come back, too. He’s come back . . .”

“Jonathan, you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Course I do, honey.” Jonathan smiled up at Martha and squeezed her hand, startling her with the strength of his grip. A movement caught his eye, and he looked past her at the two young women standing near the foot of his bed.

“Lana? And is that Lois? Hey, don’t cry now. Don’t you worry . . . everything’s going to be all right. You’ll see.” He gave a huge yawn. “I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now, I’m all in.”

Within minutes, Jonathan was sound asleep, his vital signs rock steady.

Martha, Lana, and Lois quietly slipped from the room and gathered with Dr. Lanning and the cardiologist for coffee at the nurses’ station. The cardiologist stirred creamer into her cup and shook her head with amazement. “You know, I started out as an EMT. I’ve seen a lot of cardiac cases over the years, but I’ve never seen a recovery as abrupt and as strong as your husband’s, Mrs. Kent.”

“Do you really think he’ll be all right?” Martha nervously tore at a packet of sweetener.

“Don’t you worry now, Martha.” Lanning patted her hand reassuringly. “We’ll have him back on his feet in no time.”

“Doctor . . . what Jonathan said after he woke up—” Lois played absentmindedly with her engagement ring. “About Clark? Was that delirium?”

The cardiologist looked at her colleague. “Your call, Gene. You know the man better than I do.”

“He didn’t seem delirious, Ms. Lane.” Lanning took a long swallow and looked back toward the room. “My guess is that he was recalling some manner of mild hallucination he’d had while his heart had stopped.”

“I see.” Lois turned away and stared off out the west window at the bright, full moon.
An hallucination . . . just an old man’s dream. I wish it
were
true, but I saw Clark’s body in the tomb myself. He won’t be coming back.
Her tears again began to flow. Martha and Lana were tearing up, too, and she knew with certain sorrow that they were thinking the same thing.
None of us will ever see Clark again.

SECTION THREE
REIGN OF THE
SUPERMEN

19

In a cold, sterile
chamber in the Fortress of Solitude, far beneath the ice of Antarctica, an eerie standing energy wave began to form. The roiling, seething forces trapped within the spherical containment field seemed to coalesce. Over a series of hours, the energy compacted further, outlining a vaguely manlike shape curled up as if in a fetal position. Slowly, this Energy Man unfolded, emerging in a crackling discharge through the containment field.

Several small Kryptonian robots that had been adjusting and maintaining the field wheeled about to observe the emergent Energy Man.

“Where am I? I remember a battle . . .” The Energy Man looked about, confused. “I know this place. This is my Fortress—but how did I get here?”

The robots clustered together, going on-line in silent communication.

“He lives! Our programming has been successful!”

“Interesting. The energy form’s vibrations are producing sounds.”

“He is still disoriented. He attempts to vocalize in English. We must respond in kind.”

One of the robots broke off from the cluster and approached the Energy Man. “Do not fear. You are safe here.”

“What is going on?” The Energy Man reached out to the robot, but his faintly glowing “hand” passed through the metal form, causing a disruptive energy discharge at the point of entry. Sparking and sputtering, the robot darted away, swaying drunkenly.

The Energy Man inspected his hand. “I—I’m immaterial. What has happened to me?”

A second robot approached, keeping a cautious distance. “You were rendered discorporate, Master. We had created a mobile field effect to collect and contain your essence.”

“Discorporate? Then all that’s left of me is a disembodied intelligence?” The concept seemed too much for the Energy Man to bear. He’d begun to curl back up into a ball when he noticed a huge bank of video screens in the chamber beyond.
The monitors! The Professor—Hamilton?—had adjusted them to receive and record satellite transmissions.
A hope grew within his mind.
Perhaps it can show me something that will help me remember.

The Energy Man half-walked, half-floated toward the monitor bank and reached for the control panel. Sparks flew as his hand passed through the panel.
This will never do.
“Robot, activate the monitor bank. Program it to display any and all recent news dealing with Superman.”

The robot rushed to comply, and the screens flashed with a rapid montage of scenes—from grainy telephoto shots of the Doomsday monster battling Superman through the city of Metropolis to sharp close-ups of mourners lining the route of the long funeral procession. Accompanying the images was a chorus of voices.

“. . . Justice League was ruthlessly attacked by a creature that is being called Doomsday . . .”

“Following a cross-country chase, Superman has faced off against Doomsday in the very heart of Metropolis . . .”

“Superman has reportedly been seriously injured . . .”

“. . . declared dead at approximately 6:23
P.M.
eastern time.”

“. . . the solemn drumbeat as the world’s great heroes march along in tribute, following their gallant leader one last time.”

“The world will long remember this great man, who sacrificed his own life to end the threat of Doomsday . . . God bless him.”