The Death and Life of Superman (71 page)

“Hey, all in a day’s work, y’know? Let’s make a deal, though . . . if you don’t call me ‘son,’ I won’t call you ‘pops’!”

Superman threw back his head and laughed heartily for the first time in a long while. “You have a deal. But what should I call you? I hear that your business manager is trying to tie up the rights to ‘Superman.’ ”

“You heard about that, huh?” The boy blushed and looked sheepish. “Well, that was before you turned up. If there’s anyone around here who’s Superman, it’s you! I guess you can call me Superboy for now. But when I turn eighteen, watch out!”

They were all laughing when the sound of a distant construction whistle reached Superman’s ears. He reflexively glanced across the river toward Metropolis’s central borough. Buildings were shorter at that end of the city, and he had a clear line of sight to a demolition project getting under way at a site not far from Hob’s Bay. Superman gazed intently into the site for an instant, and his jaw dropped.

“Superman?” Supergirl immediately noticed the change in his expression. “Is something wrong?”

“Not yet, if I hurry.”

“Need any help?”

“Thanks, but I can—” He stopped and lowered his voice. “No, maybe there is something else you can help me with.”

Moments later, demolition workers at the Hob’s Bay site were surprised to see Superman drop down out of the sky. “Hey, Superman, you come to give us a hand?”

“In a way. I want you to shut down your equipment.”

The foreman scratched his head. “Okay . . . but why?”

“We can’t undermine this site any more than necessary.” He stared down hard through the rubble. “There was a civil defense shelter in the basement of the building that collapsed here and, by God, it did its job!” A siren sounded in the distance, growing louder. “Good, the ambulance is on its way.”

“Ambulance? What for?”

“You’ll see.” Working quickly but carefully, Superman lifted aside tons of debris in seconds. By the time the ambulance arrived, he’d located a reinforced steel beam and bent it back, opening a new access to the buried shelter.

“Don’t be afraid, now. Everything’s all right.” He slowly lowered himself into the opening, his voice echoing back behind him. “I’m Superman. You’re both going to be just fine.”

The next moment, the workers let out a cheer as Superman flew up out of the shelter with two young children—a girl and a boy—tucked into his arms. They were both about five years old and looked as though they could be fraternal twins. They were frightened and dirty, but they were alive!

Superman handed the little girl to a woman paramedic, but the boy clung stubbornly to his arm.

“I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to do it!” Tears came to the boy’s dirty cheeks.

“Didn’t mean to do what?”

“Play down in that old building. Mommy said not to go down in there . . . and we didn’t mean to . . . but my ball rolled down the stairs, and we went to get it. And then we heard sirens and everything started to shake. And then . . . and then we couldn’t get out!”

“Shhh. It’s all right.” Superman hugged the boy tightly. “Nothing will happen to you now. I want you to be good and go with the paramedics. They’ll take good care of you, and I promise to come visit, okay?”

The boy considered that. “ ’Kay.”

“Thanks, Superman.” One of the paramedics shook his hand. “It’s a good thing you found those kids when you did. They must’ve been in there since Doomsday brought the building down. They’d just about used up the canned food and water in that shelter.”

“I know.”

Suddenly there was a whoop of delight, and a huge bear of a man came running full tilt at Superman. “My fav’rit! Yer back! It’s really you!” Bibbo joyously threw his arms around his hero. The old roughneck was laughing and crying and couldn’t stop doing either.

A young pup ran around and around the two men, barking its head off. The little dog had a surprisingly deep bark for its size; in fact, its bark sounded uncannily like Bibbo’s laughter.

Bibbo was beside himself, practically enraptured. “I just asked God ta take care a’ ya! I never dreamed he’d send ya back!”

“Take it easy, Bibbo.” Superman clapped him on the back. “You don’t want to hyperventilate.”

The pup stopped running and started jumping up into the air, again and again, until he was clearing four feet. Bibbo snagged him in midair and held him out to the Man of Steel.

“Sooperman, I want ya to meet my new dog, Krypto! Say hullo to the man, Krypto.”

Krypto yipped enthusiastically.

“Krypto, eh?” Superman gravely shook the little dog’s paw. “Well, I’m very pleased to meet you, Krypto. You’re a fine-looking dog.”

Bibbo just beamed; as far as he was concerned, at that moment all was right with the world.

“Well, I hate to run, Bibbo, but I want to get down to City Hall.” Superman clapped the tavern owner on the back. “I need to secure a list of all the area’s civil defense shelters. Who knows who else might still be alive out there!” Waving his good-byes, Superman shot into the air and was gone. On the ground behind him, both man and dog seemed to cheer.

Hours later, Superman tore into another buried shelter. In contrast to the previous rescue, this one was well attended by the media. As the television cameras went live, Superman lifted aside one last huge chunk of fallen masonry and helped Clark Kent out into the light of day.

Kent was a mess. He hadn’t been able to shave in weeks, and his shaggy, unkempt hair hung low over his collar. He held a hand up over his face, blinking back tears as his eyes adjusted to the light. “Bright out here . . . a lot brighter than I’ve been used to.”

“Clark!” Lois broke past the police lines and ran to Kent’s arms. “Clark, you’re alive!”

“Lois!” Kent kissed her on the cheek and held her tight. “Lord, it’s so good to see you again. It was dreaming of this moment that kept me going.”

“Me, too, lover. Me, too.” She cradled his face in her hands.

Kent turned to the caped man and shook his hand. “Superman, we owe you so much.”

Lois’s eyes were moist with tears as she reached over and gave Superman a one-armed hug. “Yes, without you I’d have lost Clark forever. It’s so good to have both of you back. Thanks.”

“My pleasure, Ms. Lane.”

“Hey, Clark . . . Lois!” Camera in hand, Jimmy Olsen called out to his friends. “Hold it right there! You, too, Superman—say ‘Cheese’!”

And as the three friends joined arms, Jimmy clicked off what was destined to be another award-winning picture.

Paramedics on the scene gave Clark a quick once-over and urged him to get a more thorough exam at Metropolis General. As he and Lois stepped into a waiting ambulance, the media quickly clustered around Superman.

“Superman, over here!”

“What’s your reaction to accusations that your death was faked?”

“Is it true that you can’t die?”

“How
did
you manage to survive?”

“What can you tell us about Doomsday?”

“Is the young Superman really your clone?”

Superman held up his hand for silence. “Ladies . . . gentlemen . . . please! I know you’re all curious about how I was able to come back. So am I. I’m still looking for some of the answers myself. And until I find them, it would be irresponsible to make any sweeping statements.” He saw the ambulance pull away and smiled. “But I’ll tell you this much. I’m certain that Clark Kent will have an easier time adjusting to his new life than I will.”

With that, Superman shot up and away from the gathered reporters and soared off over Metropolis.

He hadn’t flown more than ten blocks before he heard his name called. Superman swung about to find a LexCorp helicopter hailing him; none other than Lex Luthor II himself was leaning out of the copter’s open hatch, bullhorn in hand.

Superman flew in close and hovered alongside the craft. “Yes, Luthor? Is there something I can do for you?”

“You can tell me what you’ve done with my Supergirl!” Luthor was so red in the face one could hardly tell where his skin ended and his beard began. “Since she went walkabout with you people to the West Coast, I’ve hardly seen hide nor hair of her. Oh, she’s called and left messages, but I haven’t been able to connect with her at all. Where is she?”

“Well, Lex, she
has
been busy. We all have.” Superman strove to keep a polite tone, but Luthor’s attitude was getting under his skin. “I can’t tell you any more than that. I’m hardly Supergirl’s keeper . . . and neither are you!”

Superman shot away from the helicopter, leaving Luthor to mutter into his beard.

Several hours later, Clark and Lois returned to her apartment. Clark gave Lois a cheerful grin. “Well, I didn’t think that went too badly, do you?”

Lois leaned back against a wall and gave in to an uncontrollable fit of giggling. “I don’t know how you were able to answer all of that doctor’s questions with such a straight face.”

Clark grabbed his lapels and launched into an impersonation of the emergency room physician. “ ‘Well, Mr. Kent, you’re in remarkable shape for someone who’s been locked underground for a month. In fact, you’re in much better shape than most of the executives I see in our Wellness Program. We can’t keep you here against your will!’ ” Clark let out a hoot. “I’ll say they couldn’t!”

There was a rush of air from the balcony, and Superman was suddenly standing next to Clark and Lois. “I take it that everything went well?”

“Exceedingly well!” Lois fell into Superman’s arms. “The doctors bought the whole story.”

Superman gave her a big kiss. “Hey, all it takes is careful planning and a good actor. Right, ‘Clark’?”

“Right.” “Clark” suddenly hunched over and appeared to shrink in on himself. The air around him shimmered as his waist drew in, his hips rounded out, his shoulders narrowed, and his hair lengthened and faded. Even his clothing underwent a strange transformation, flowing off his legs and assuming bright red and blue hues. Within a minute, “Clark Kent” was gone and Supergirl stood in his place.

“Oh, dear.” Lois’s eyes were open wide. “I never stopped to think . . . was it painful?”

“Well, it’s not something I’d want to do every day. But for one of my favorite couples, I was glad to oblige.” The young shape-shifter flipped her long blond hair back over her shoulder. “Clark, you are amazing. I understand why you’d want a private life, and of course you were Clark Kent long before you ever put on a cape, but maintaining two identities—! I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep it a secret for as long as you have.”

Superman just smiled. “It isn’t easy.”

“Well, I just hope that you two will be as happy together as Lex and I are.”

“Lex . . . yes, well . . .” Superman’s smile did a fast fade.
How do I handle this without sounding like a meddling older brother?
“I, uh, ran into Lex earlier today, and he wasn’t too happy then. From the way he talked, he didn’t sound as if he’d ever be happy unless—well, unless he knew where you were at all times.”

“Oh—that.” Supergirl tipped her head to one side and worried with the hem of her cape. “Lex does have his possessive side, and I’m not too thrilled about it. But we’ll work it out somehow. I mean, that’s all part of being a couple, right? You have good times and bad. I guess we still have a lot to learn about each other.”

“Uh-huh.” Superman nodded.

“Well, I really should be going. Lex and I
do
need to talk.” Supergirl gave Lois a quick hug and Superman a peck on the cheek. “You both take care. Give Martha and Jonathan my best, and tell them that I intend to keep my promise to come visit them soon.”

“We’ll do that.” Superman planted a return kiss on her forehead. “You take care, too.”

Supergirl faded from sight. A window opened, seemingly of its own accord. “May we all live happily ever after.” Her voice rang out from midair, and then the window slid shut.

Superman shook his head. “I just hope there’s nothing to Luthor that she’ll have to learn about the hard way.”

“Me, too.” Lois leaned her head against his shoulder. “But she’s a big girl. We can’t live her life for her. All we can do is be there for her if and when she needs us. Like she was there for us.” She ran a finger along his bicep. “So, how did
your
checkup go? Learn anything?”

“Did I!” Superman chuckled. “Professor Hamilton was able to fill in a lot of the gaps . . .”

Emil Hamilton had looked profoundly ill at ease when the caped man entered the lab. “Superman, I don’t know how you can bear to look at me. I did everything wrong after you died. Everything! And then I decided that that crazy Cyborg was you! How can you ever forgive me? How can you even stand the
sight
of me?”

“Take it easy, Professor. What do you mean, you did everything wrong?”

“What do I mean? Oh, wait till you see! Let me show you.” Emil began calling up data on his computer screen. “Ever since I heard of your revival, I’ve been trying to figure out just how you survived.”

“That’s why I came here, Professor. A lot of it is still a mystery to me.”

“Well, I think I may have found the answer in my studies of your energy absorption rates.” Accessing the data seemed to soothe Hamilton’s agitation. He removed his glasses and tapped them thoughtfully against his chin. “Have you ever heard of the mammalian dive reflex? It’s an oxygen-conserving response to submersion in cold water, most common in seals and other diving mammals. It’s much less common in humans, of course, but it’s believed to be a factor—over and above the effects of hypothermia itself, you understand—in the survival of some near-drowning victims. The victim’s system goes into a near-total shutdown resembling death—but it need not be permanent if the victim is rescued and warmed soon enough. For a young, vital person, ‘soon enough’ can be after thirty to forty minutes of submersion!”

Superman nodded. “Yes, I’ve observed the phenomenon firsthand. I once pulled what I thought was a drowning victim out of an icy river, but she was revived, and she made a full recovery. As I recall, the paramedic’s words were: ‘They’re not dead until they’re
warm
and dead!’ ”

“Exactly!” Emil waved his glasses like a baton. “And who’s more vital than Superman? The trauma of your injuries sent you into the equivalent of a deathlike state. Now, the efforts of the Guardian and the paramedics, though not exactly what you needed, did at least help maintain your body’s viability. What you really needed was a slow, steady feed of solar energy—the equivalent of rewarming a near-drowning victim. I believe that would have eventually brought you back.” Hamilton plopped his glasses back on his nose. “But like an idiot, I let them
bury
you!”