The Death and Life of Superman (7 page)

“Mostly Paul, y’know,” he lapsed into a Liverpool accent, “though I think I read where John helped out with a lyric here or there.”

Lois tried unsuccessfully to choke back her laughter. “Clark Kent, you’re terrible!”

“I am?” He assumed a look of mock dismay. “And here I thought my accent was pretty good.”

“Oh, it’s spot-on. No, I meant your using an old Beatles song to pick up strange women in airports!”

“Correction—one particular strange woman!” He bent down, and their lips met.

“Mmm, I stand corrected. You’re a great kisser, you know that?”

“So you say. I guess I can trust your judgment.”

“You’d better!” she teased. “After all, I did say that I’d marry you.” Lois slipped her arm through his and they headed for the main terminal.

“So, how was your interview with the prime minister?”

“It went great. Honestly, Clark, she is so funny. I just wish we could print some of the stories she told me off the record.”

“Do you have any pressing need to get back to the office?”

“No, I already faxed in the interview.”

“Any baggage to claim?”

She shook her head. “Just this carry-on. Why? What do you have in mind?”

“Well, I faxed my story in earlier, too. So, I thought we could get some breakfast, and you could tell me all about your Canadian adventure.”

“You’re on, Clark! Come on, my car’s in the short-term lot.”

The glass double doors of the terminal hissed open, and they were greeted by sunny skies, a warm breeze, and the whine of jet engines. As they waited for traffic to clear the crosswalk, Lois traced the contour of Clark’s bicep with the tip of her finger.

He beamed down at her. “Remember the first time I picked you up at this airport?”

“Remember? That’s something I’ll never forget . . .”

Lois had been working full-time for the
Daily Planet
barely five years, but she’d already made quite a name for herself as an investigative reporter. The power and prestige of the
Planet
had given her work national exposure and led to her being chosen as a civilian crew member for the maiden flight of NASA’s experimental space plane, the
Constitution.

The launch went off on schedule without a hitch, and Lois had made history as the first journalist ever to file her stories from out in space. Her daily reports on the flight of the space plane saw print in newspapers throughout the world, inspiring interest in space the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the days of the first Apollo mission to the moon. As a result of all the public attention, an enormous crowd, numbering in the hundreds of thousands, had turned out to see the
Constitution
land at Metropolis International Airport.

The unusual landing site had been agreed upon thanks to a serendipitous joining of forces. NASA wanted a landing at a civilian airport to maximize publicity and display the commercial potential of its space plane project. The city’s movers and shakers had wanted a big event to cap off a series of celebrations of the 250th anniversary of the founding of Metropolis. And the presence of a
Daily Planet
reporter in the flight crew had sealed the deal.

Even with all the hassles involved in rescheduling the scores of commercial flights to provide ready clearance, everything had gone like clockwork. It looked as though the
Constitution
would complete her maiden flight in picture-perfect style.

But then suddenly, despite all precautions, a small civilian jet aircraft somehow slipped into the restricted airspace, though whether by accident or by design was never determined. The small plane slammed into the
Constitution’s
tail section, metal locking onto metal. For one surreal moment, the two ships seemed to hang motionless in the air. And then, fused together, they tumbled Earthward.

Aboard the space plane, Colonel Howard Morrow let out a string of curses as he fought for control of his ship. Two seats back, Lois wondered if she would live to file another story, and the plane went into a spin.
It’s like being inside a clothes dryer,
she thought numbly,
just cooler.

Up front, the white-haired Morrow felt his stomach clench. “This thing is going to hit just like a brick.”

But then, inexplicably, the spinning ceased.

“We’re leveling off . . . we’re slowing down!” Morrow turned to his copilot. “Callahan, did you—?”

Major Adam Callahan shook his head. “Not me, boss. We’re still dead stick and power down. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I . . . I do.” Lieutenant Anne West, the ship’s navigator, looked up from her monitor station, her eyes wide. “I’ve got it on our belly camera, but I don’t believe it for a minute.”

Lois looked at the video display. There was someone under the
Constitution.
And he looked as though he was holding the ship aloft!

“It can’t be! A flying man?!”

“Don’t argue with it!” barked Morrow. “He’s saved us! Start cranking . . . we’ve got to get the landing gear down.”

The instant they were down and had come to a halt, Lois was out of her seat and headed for the forward hatch. She knew that she’d found the kind of story that reporters dreamed of. That man was news—the story of the decade, maybe of the century—and she wasn’t about to let him get away. Scrambling from the space plane, she spotted the tall stranger as he emerged from under the fuselage.

Lois put all the authority she could muster into a shout. “Hold it right there, buster!”

It worked. The young man froze in his tracks. Lois dashed up to him, and then a strange thing happened. Their eyes met, and the brash young auburn-haired reporter found herself speechless.

Thus far in her career, Lois Lane had already interviewed three heads of state and a number of Nobel Prize winners. Moreover, she’d just returned from a three-day flight on the edge of space. She was not easily impressed. But . . . there was something about this man.

It wasn’t just that he was tall and handsome, which admittedly he was. Lois stood five foot six, and the stranger towered over her a good head taller. Six-two at the least, she thought. His eyes were a deeper blue than any she’d ever seen. And his hair was very dark, with an errant lock that boyishly curled down across his forehead, almost forming the letter S.

No, aside from his striking appearance—even aside from the astounding fact that he’d flown through the air and saved their lives—there was something very different about this man. There was nothing distinguishing about his clothing. He was dressed quite simply in slacks and a jacket. Yet he had a presence about him.

Lois opened her mouth but found that she still couldn’t speak. The stranger appeared to be similarly affected. They stood just inches apart, staring at each other for what seemed like hours.

Gradually, Lois became aware of a distant roar which grew in volume and intensity. The roar suddenly turned into voices . . . cheering, shouting, screaming voices. Across the runways streamed hundreds of people who had broken through a chain link fence and overwhelmed the security barricades. Before Lois could gather her wits, the crowd surged around her, separating her from the handsome stranger. A look of panic flashed across his face, and he leapt straight up into the air . . . and kept going.

Stunned silent by the flying man’s sudden departure, the mob fell back and began to disperse. In the confusion, Lois made her way nearly unnoticed to a pay phone and called through to the
Planet’s
city desk.

“Morrie? This is Lois.”

“Lois? What’s goin’ on? The TV just showed—”

“Don’t say another word. Just take this down.” She paused to collect herself. “The crew of the
Constitution,
NASA’s experimental space plane, was saved from certain death this afternoon by a mysterious flying . . . Superman.”

Within minutes, the story went out over the wire, and newspeople across the country seized upon the name Lois had given her rescuer. To the media, he became Superman, and neither his life nor hers would ever be the same again.

It was just three days later that Superman reappeared in the skies over Metropolis, and this time he was not trying to escape notice. Wearing the red, yellow, and blue costume that would become his trademark, he seemed to be everywhere. He was the one who swooped from the heavens to stop the purse thief, pull people from the burning building, or prevent a terrorist bombing.

And for that first week, Lois Lane found herself one step behind him. No matter how quickly she moved, Superman was always gone by the time she arrived at the scene of the crime or the rescue.

“Fine thing,” she groused. “Everyone’s using the name I gave the guy, and I can’t find out the first thing about him! I’ve chased him all over Metropolis, and all I have to show for my trouble is sore feet.”

Determined to interview Superman, Lois finally devised a phony emergency to attract his attention. Taking the precaution of stashing a scuba tank under her front seat, she actually drove her car off a city pier and into the river. As she’d hoped, Superman responded to her “danger,” fishing her and the car from the waters.

In costume, Superman cut an even more striking figure, the tight fit of the garment accentuating every ripple of muscle as he opened the car door.
Not just tall,
thought Lois,
he’s BIG.

“Are you all right, Ms. Lane?” His voice was a deep baritone.

“A . . . a bit waterlogged, but otherwise fine . . . thanks to you!”

“Don’t mention it.” His mouth widened into a smile that actors would kill for. Every tooth was perfect. “It’d probably be wise if you got into some dry clothes as soon as you could. Here, let me fly you home.”

In a matter of moments, Lois found herself whisked through the air to her midtown apartment.

“You . . . know where I live?”

“Of course, Ms. Lane. I know where everyone lives.”

Everything was happening so fast, but this time Lois kept her wits about her. She asked her rescuer to wait and rushed to make herself more presentable. As Lois threw on dry clothes, she fought back a giddiness she hadn’t felt since she was a girl.
Let’s keep this professional, Lois. That’s the story of the century sitting out there in your living room.
She started to reach for the hair dryer, then stopped and wrapped a towel around her hair.
Mustn’t keep him waiting.
Taking a deep breath, Lois returned to find her visitor scratching her young cat, Elroy, behind the ears.
He likes cats. That’s a good sign,
she thought and promptly shifted into reporter mode.

Superman was not a difficult interview, but neither was he very forthcoming. Lois was able to pin him down on the specifics of his amazing powers but not much else.

“Okay, you can obviously fly . . . you’re very strong and very fast . . . you can see through anything . . . and you can produce some kind of heat-ray zap with your eyes.”

“Yes. But as I’ve already said, Ms. Lane, I don’t think knowing all this will be of much use to you.”

“You’re too modest. You happen to be the story of the century, Mr. . . . Mr. . . . just what should we call you?”

“I think the name you gave me is quite appropriate, Ms. Lane.”

“Superman?”
So, he won’t admit to any other name?
“All right, Superman it is. Now, is there any way I can get you to call me ‘Lois’?”

“I’d be delighted . . . Lois.”

“Thank you.”
Now maybe there’s a chance I can pry more details out of you.
“Just where are you from, Superman? Are you a Metropolis native, or are you from out of town?”

“Out of town. To be honest, I don’t know exactly where I’m from originally. I guess it doesn’t really matter. Let’s just say I’m an American.”

Try as she might, Lois couldn’t get him to talk about his private life. He remained in complete control of the interview, even in bringing it to a close.

“There’s nothing more I can tell you, Lois. And as I said, what I have told you isn’t going to be of much use.” He rose to his feet. “So I’ll say good-bye for now.” He crossed the room, covering the distance to the balcony with an even, effortless stride. There, he paused for a moment and looked back, shooting her a wry grin. “Just out of curiosity, Lois . . . do you always drive around with a scuba tank under your front seat?”

“I never could keep anything a secret from you.”

“What was that, Lois?” Clark’s clear, even tenor was a marked contrast to the deeper voice he used as Superman.

“Nothing.” She unlocked the passenger door for him and walked around to the driver’s side of her car. “Just thinking out loud.”

“You think wrong, kemo sabe! In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve kept plenty of secrets. In fact, you continue to surprise me!”

“Good!” Lois tossed her carry-on bag into his lap. “You kept me in the dark about so many things for so long, it’s only fair that I occasionally return the favor.”

“Now, Lois, we’ve been over this before. I couldn’t very well tell you that I led a double life . . . not during that first little . . . discussion.”

“Interview!” Lois could feel her face growing hot. “It was an interview, not a discussion! It would have been the story of the century if it’d ever seen print!”

“Honey . . . I told you when we talked that it wouldn’t be of much use.”

“You didn’t tell me that you’d already written up the story yourself!”

“I know. Looking back, I should have said that I’d already talked to another reporter. Except I wasn’t officially a reporter at that point. That story got me my job at the
Planet
.” Clark put a hand on her shoulder. He was relieved that she didn’t pull away. “I never meant to steal your glory. Don’t be angry with me.”

“I’m not. I’m just . . . well, yes—I guess I still am.” She stopped just short of turning the key in the ignition.
No good sense in driving while I’m mad. That’s how accidents happen.
She turned in her seat to face him. “Two hours! Two hours I spent at the keyboard, whipping that story into shape. And it was good—Pulitzer material for certain!”

“I believe it. You were a better reporter than I was—!”

“And still am!”

Clark let the challenge slide. “But ask yourself this. If our positions had been reversed, what would you have done?”