The Death and Life of Superman (23 page)

With a bellow of unholy glee, Doomsday waded into Superman, reopening the Man of Steel’s wound with one swipe of his huge fist.

“Closer! Move in closer!”

“Look, Ms. Grant, are you sure you want to—?”

“I said closer! This is going out live.”

The pilot crossed himself—something he hadn’t done with this much feeling since the third grade—and slowly eased the helicopter in closer. He’d flown in nearly a half-dozen brushfire wars over the past quarter century, but he’d never seen anything like this. Skyscrapers had been ripped down by the monster below them. And the tide of battle looked to be going against Superman. From the WGBS copter, the scene was going out live via satellite to a worldwide audience. And around the globe, a common thought came to billions of people:
If Superman can’t stop that monster . . . perhaps this is
our
Doomsday!

Supergirl crawled painfully down a deserted side street until she reached the corner of a building. Her fingers oozed as she gripped the rough brick and pulled herself up until, finally, she had regained her footing. There, she paused and listened, long and hard. The noise of the battle reverberated through the canyons of the city. One didn’t need superhearing to know where it was coming from. Steadying herself with one hand, Supergirl began to hobble in that direction.

Teeth gritted against the pain, Superman came in close, ducking and weaving to avoid Doomsday’s greater reach as he fired punch after punch at the creature’s midsection. It was one of the few large areas on the beast’s body not protected by a bony exoskeleton. Was it his imagination, Superman wondered, or was his assault starting to have an effect on the big monster?

With a roar of rage, Doomsday grabbed the winded Superman and threw him to the street, shattering the pavement. As the Man of Steel struggled to slay conscious, the creature lifted him high overhead and chucked him into the side of the hovering
Daily Planet
helicopter.

Lois screamed as the copter pitched to one side, slamming the pilot hard against the windscreen. The screen spiderwebbed wildly from the impact, and the pilot sagged back in his seat, unconscious.

The WGBS pilot choked as he saw the
Planet
copter drop. “It’s getting nasty here, Ms. Grant! That could’ve been us. We better back off!”

“No way!” Cat grabbed the pilot hard by his collar. “We are not going to miss the story of the century!”

Lois felt her heart pounding as they fell.
Omigod, this is it!

But four stories above the ground, they abruptly lurched to a stop.

“Superman!” Jimmy excitedly gave a tug on the side door. It fell away. Wrapping a safety strap around one wrist, he leaned out onto the landing skid and looked down. From his precarious vantage, he could see a tattered crimson cape whipping up against the fuselage. Despite his injuries, Superman had managed to get under the falling helicopter and was lowering it to the street. Jimmy surveyed the scene through his lens-finder. “Man, I don’t believe this! These are the greatest pictures I’ve ever gotten—and the most awful.”

Once the copter touched down, Lois and Jimmy eased Joe Jacobi from his seat and gently laid him on the ground. Reflexively, Superman removed the pilot’s glasses and quickly scanned through the layers of his skin and skull.

“It’s a minor concussion. He’ll survive . . . assuming that any of us do.”

“Superman, are you all right?” Lois wanted to take him in her arms but was all too aware of Jimmy’s proximity.

Superman brushed aside her concern. “I’d like to get you two as far from danger as possible, but I just don’t have time! No telling how many lives Doomsday could take while I’m gone.”

No more than half a block away, Doomsday was lifting a bus, preparing to throw it at the Special Crimes Unit, which was now bombarding him with explosive shell fire from an armored assault wagon.

Jimmy’s shutter clicked. “He’s shrugging it off like it was nothing! He’s unstoppable!”

Superman rose from where he’d been tending to the unconscious pilot. Lois took his arm and felt his blood on her fingers. “Maybe you should fall back and get help.”

Superman shook his head. “Too late for that, Lois. The Justice League has already fallen. There are too many innocent lives in jeopardy. It’s all up to me.”

Jimmy was already cautiously moving away from them to get a closer shot of Doomsday. As the photographer turned away from them, Lois looked into her lover’s eyes and her voice dropped to the merest whisper. “Clark—!”

“Shhh!” He took her in his arms and silenced her with a kiss.

Superman looked at her longingly. In that moment, he wanted to pick her up and fly away to the ends of the Earth. But he knew he couldn’t. “Just remember, Lois . . . no matter what happens . . . I will always love you.” And then he leapt into the sky, a tattered piece of his sleeve coming loose in her hand.

As he sped by, Jimmy caught a fleeting look at the rage on his friend’s face. “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the big guy so fired up.”

So hard and fast did Superman collide with Doomsday that the momentum carried them both through the deserted lobby of an office high rise and onto the street beyond.

“Can you believe that?” Overhead, the WGBS pilot spun his copter around to follow the action. “If this keeps up, we won’t have a city left!”

“Just stay close and try to hold us steady,” Cat ordered. “The whole country will want to see Superman kick that creep’s backside!” Then the breath caught in her throat as she suddenly recognized the avenue below. “Oh, my God, look where they’ve landed!”

There, in front of the
Daily Planet
Building, Doomsday seized Superman and drove him headfirst into the pavement. The tattered remnant of his cape came loose and tumbled away on a gust of wind.

“NO!” Lois ran forward.

“Stay back, Ms. Lane!”

“Superman is in trouble, Jimmy! We have to help him!”

Doomsday was momentarily confused. Who were these yammering little people? No matter. He would just kill them. A low, satisfied growl built deep within his chest.

“Uh, I don’t think we’re going to get a chance to help. Grizzly is coming this way!”

“Run, Jimmy! I’ll try to distract him—!”

Painfully, Superman clawed his way up from the beneath the street, only to see Doomsday menacing Lois and Jimmy. In that instant, the Man of Steel felt no pain, no weariness. The fog in Superman’s brain was burnt away by a rage rivaling that of Doomsday himself, and he dove at the monster.

Energy poured from Superman’s eyes in a torrent, as if he’d thrown the throttle of his heat vision wide open. Lois flinched as though she’d suddenly found herself standing next to a blast furnace. The monster reeled before the sheer rush of heat. His hide began to sear and blister. Bellowing in pain, Doomsday lashed out and kneed Superman in the chin. Superman stumbled, and the monster pressed on, delivering a slashing left that laid open Superman’s cheek. The Man of Steel could feel the blood flowing again, but even more he felt the energy surging through him. If he had held back earlier that day, he now reached down into reserves of power that he’d never tapped before.

Superman grabbed hold of Doomsday’s fists, forcing him back. He lashed out hard with the heel of his boot, catching the bone spur of Doomsday’s left knee and snapping it off. The monster bellowed louder, staggering back, but Superman did not let up. He pressed on, using blows he’d never before dared use on any living being. Doomsday returned the attack, but the power of his blows seemed to be waning.

He’s weakening. He’s finally weakening!

Both warriors were swaying on their feet. Doomsday’s eyes appeared dull, cloudy. Superman’s face was so swollen that his eyes were barely visible, but they were clear. The throttle, the tap to his deepest energy reserves, was still wide open, and the power was building within him, demanding to be let out. He knew that once he released that power he would be spent . . . that it would all be gone in a flash. But he knew he could do it—he knew he could take the monster down. He had to—for Lois, for his parents, for the world. Everything depended on him.
This is it, Doomsday. We check out together!

Heart pounding, Superman threw himself at the monster one last time. The echoes of their blows were heard as far as fifty miles away. Windows shattered, and observers on the scene were shaken to the very bone. Then, before the unblinking gaze of the television cameras, both fighters collapsed. Superman toppled over onto his back, his chest heaving. Doomsday fell facefirst to the pavement and did not move again.

Lois and Jimmy were the first to reach Superman’s side. Jimmy numbly clicked off pictures, unable to believe what he had just witnessed. Lois tenderly reached out to cradle her lover in her arms.

Superman’s face was so bruised and swollen that he could barely see. It was a struggle for him to speak. “Doomsday . . . is he . . . is he . . . ?”

Lois held him to her. “Down. You stopped him. You saved us all!”

Superman nodded. Then his head fell back against Lois’s shoulder, and he slid limply to the pavement. Lois saw all their hopes and dreams slide with him. She began to weep uncontrollably. For a moment the whole world seemed still, save for the sound of her crying.

“He’s . . . dead.” Cat Grant looked down in shock, the microphone falling slack in her hand.

“He can’t be.” Her cameraman gripped his Minicam all the tighter. “I mean . . . he’s Superman.”

“I don’t know . . .” The pilot shook his head. “Every man has his limits.”

Cat bit her lip. The pain seemed to galvanize her. She reached down and pulled the plug on her mike. “Cut the feed.”

“What—?”

“You heard me, cut it! Tell the network there’s a technical difficulty. We’ll keep taping the video, but there’s no need to stay live with this—not until we know what’s really going on.” She turned to the pilot. “Set us down—but not too close.”

As if in slow motion, people began to gather around Superman. Police of the Special Crimes Unit began to fan out, securing the immediate area. From uptown came the roar of a powerful turbine engine, and the Guardian came riding in, a heavily cloaked figure seated behind him on the motorcycle. They both hopped from the bike and strode quickly to where Lois knelt over the fallen hero.

“Damn. We can’t be too late!” The Guardian’s curse hissed out under his breath. He looked at his companion.
Dub?

The disguised Dubbilex slowly shook his head. “I’ve been scanning Superman’s mind and there’s nothing there . . . no brain-wave activity . . . nothing.”

“No—aw, no!” Dan Turpin came running up alongside the Guardian, Maggie Sawyer close on his heels.

“He’s alive, Turpin,” said Sawyer. “He’s got to be.” But her voice sounded neither convinced nor convincing.

“Why are you all just standing around?!” Lois rose to her feet, gripping the tattered remnant of Superman’s cape. “We’ve got to do something! We can’t just give up—we owe him more than that!”

“Of course we’re not giving up!” The Guardian knelt down by Superman. “Captain Sawyer, call the paramedics in here!” He carefully tilted Superman’s head back and checked to make certain that the airway was clear. Then, pinching the nose shut, the Guardian took a deep breath and, placing his mouth over Superman’s, began to breathe for his friend. It was not easy going.
His lungs must be like steel tanks . . . all the wind I’ve got barely gets a rise out of his chest.

In between breaths, the Guardian searched in vain for a pulse. “Turpin! Come here—quick!”

The big, beefy police inspector was at his side in a flash. “What do you need? I’ll do anything!”

The Guardian came up for another breath. “Do you know CPR?”

“Yeah, but I’m a little rusty. Sixty compressions a minute, right?”

“More like eighty to a hundred. Let’s do it!”

Turpin laid his big hands on Superman’s sternum and pushed down hard with all the force his two hundred pounds could muster, again and again and again. And all the while the Guardian continued with the breath of life.

Just a few feet away, SCU police gathered around Doomsday’s body. The creature lay sprawled, motionless, across the shattered pavement.

“Oh, man!” One of the cops looked up and down the length of the monstrous gray body. “If Superman’s really dead, we’d better pray to God that he put this Doomsday thing down for keeps. Doesn’t look like it’s breathing—but maybe it didn’t need to.”

“Stand back!” another cried out. “I—I thought I saw it move!”

“No.” Dubbilex stepped closer. “It was only the broken pavement settling beneath him.”

“I’m telling you, it moved!”

“Put a lid on it, Champley.” Maggie stepped between her officer and the cloaked man. “We don’t need any more excitement here.”

“Captain Sawyer, please order your unit to back away from the creature. I believe I can determine whether there is any further reason for concern.”

Sawyer looked at the cloaked figure skeptically. “Uh-huh. And just who are you supposed to be?”

“You may call me Dubbilex.”

Sawyer blinked and took a step back. The answer she’d received was decidedly not vocal.

“I believe you once had occasion to visit the Cadmus Project? I am of that facility. You could call me the resident telepath.”
Then, aloud, “Guardian can vouch for me, if you have any further questions?”

“N-no. Go ahead . . . check things out.”

Dubbilex knelt over Doomsday’s body and reached one hand out to touch the upper cranium. The color of the monster’s rough hide, he noted, was disturbingly similar to that of his own skin. Several minutes passed.

“Well?” Sawyer was becoming impatient. She began to regret her decision to stop smoking.

Dubbilex did not need any powers of the mind to sense her anxiety. He decided against any further nonaudible communication and chose his words carefully. “Before . . . this creature was filled with rage . . . anger. Now . . . there is nothing.”

“Good.” The captain turned to one of her officers. “Russell, throw something over that monster and get it out of my sight.”

“Any response?”

The Guardian looked up to see a team of paramedics setting up around him. “He’s still not breathing on his own. Beyond that it’s hard to tell.”