The Carnival Part 8
Poster by Dolly
The Carnival Chapters 25 - 27
URL: http://the-satyr-icon.livejournal.com/20146.html#cutid1
The Carnival ~ Chapter Twenty-Five
The Five Senses
The human body has receptors for the five senses, the sense of sight, sound, smell, touch and taste. Clark Kent's body was no different, despite having an alien physiology. For Clark, every sense was heightened beyond Earthly conventions, amplified far beyond mortal men:
The Sense of Sight
The darkness of the sky lightened for Clark Kent, his eyes soaked up the reflective light and spread it out, and he processed all the obstacles before him, and his reaction time was even faster than the speed he traveled, making it easy for him to dodge barriers. With his superhuman speed, Clark zig-zagged between the trees, cutting left, zipping right, tree-trunks a blur. He saw things on the sides of the trees when he sped by them, some large pieces that he recognized that were snippets of Chloe's outfit she wore that evening. It was the pieces, minute to the human eye, embedded under the crags of bark, that made him run faster: pieces of Chloe's skin. He could see droplets of the blood that leaked from the tissues, smeared on the trunks and branches. He couldn't see Chloe for the trees, so he used his special power: the forest became a myriad of outlined-shapes, the x-ray vision creating a clearer canvas, eyes surveying everything, everywhere, for Chloe Sullivan, the girl he liked, the girl he adored, the girl that he loved; his first love.
Clark could see anything. But he just wanted to see Chloe.
The Sense of Sound
As he ran, Clark listened. He listened for the voice, the one voice other than his parents, other than even his best friend Pete, that he listened to; the voice of Chloe Sullivan. She did more than just offer platitudes and advice to Clark like his parents and Pete. No. Chloe Sullivan, more often not, simply told him how things were, constantly reminding him that there was a bigger world, a meaner world, out there other than what was in the city limits of Smallville. She was Big City to his Small Ville, the Snark to his Ah Shucks. She was information, he was a blank slate. She talked, he listened. But there was silence from her now; a rarity. He silently begged for a scream, or a whisper, or something that he could hone in on. He listened. And heard her heartbeat: steady, constant, like her voice, a beacon.
His own heartbeat fell into time with her's, again.
The Sense of Smell
Sometimes, Clark wondered if sniffing Chloe was considered a sin. She's stand close (or sometimes she was across the classroom, or walking up the pathway to his barn, or...anywhere, really) and he'd sniff the air that radiated from her; her scent beyond that of usual descriptions or adjectives. To Clark, she smelled super. Like if she were around, Clark's nostrils flared and he breathed in, but this time he just breathed in the chilly night air. Cold environments always invigorated Clark, like the first rays of the morning sun. He could bury himself in the snow or sink to the bottom of Shuster Lake and the cold seemingly recharged him. But the Sun was starting to have that effect lately, too. He would stand in front of his bedroom window and soak in the Sun's rays, basking in them, absorbing that wondrous feeling. But tonight, the chilly night air that penetrated his olfactory system contained something than Chloe's signature scent. He smelled the unmistakable scent of Beppo The Missing Link. Clark remembered how the animal hugged Chloe, how the animal looked at her: like a predator to a prey...
The Sense of Touch
It was the first day of 8th grade when they met at school and Clark told Chloe about how he lived on a farm. An urban girl from Metropolis, farms were unknown to her so she invited herself over to his home and he gave her a tour, describing the many chores he had to do to help his parents keep the farm running. They walked into the barn and Chloe said his skin was smooth and soft, "like a baby's" and how she giggled when he blushed.
Then she kissed him.
Solid steel. It was the closest comparison to Clark's body. It was, so far, impenetrable. He'd never suffered a bruise, a gash, or even a gouge. Nothing. He could withstand pretty much any impact. But Chloe's kiss melted him. He'd never been touched like that. He wanted to feel like that again, and again, and again.
He stopped when he saw the radio antenna, saw the huge spotlights lit bright, shining up to the heavens. He could see a lone figure, bobbing and swaying, hanging on the spire atop the tower. Beppo. And worse, the monkey glowed green; a sure sign to Clark that the monkey was affected by the meteors. Then he saw a figure laying on the platform. Chloe. Was she tired? passed out? waiting? He stepped onto the clearing, ready to race up the tower and save Chloe from Beppo.
The Sense of Taste
Clark Kent was susceptible to two things.
One was Chloe Sullivan; she had him wrapped around her lil' finger. It was a fact. Not that she abused that knowledge. Much. He fought her effect on him, wanting to be friends. But her smarts, smile, her charm, her looks, and her irrepressible snark won him over. She made him weak at the knees. And he liked it.
Halfway to the tower, Clark starting feeling sick, weak, and not so super. His powers and abilities wavered and faltered. His sprint slowed, his vision quivered, the sound of Chloe's heartbeat softened and disappeared. The sweet scent of Chloe's skin was overwhelmed by Beppo's stench of monkey, madness, and murder. Clark's reactions were slower; he saw a gopher hole but he tripped, his boot caught in the entryway. He crashed and winced at the pain from the impact. He rose slowly and knew what was wrong....by the horrible taste in his mouth. It meant one thing....
Meteors struck Lowell County eleven years prior; chunks of a planet. Chunks of, unbeknown to Clark, what was left of his homeworld. Scattered hither and yon, over hill and dale, all over Smallville, were meteor fragments ranging from tiny shards to huge lumps. The field that the radio tower was built on had actually been cleared by the meteors by setting all the trees aflame. Deep underground was the first meteorite to hit, burrowed deep, dormant.
The other thing that Clark Kent was susceptible to was the meteorites.
He felt ill, and broke into a sweat; the only time he ever perspired was when he was around meteorites. He knew he needed to be at full strength; the eerie glow he saw from Beppo earlier could only be caused by one thing: meteorites. He had to deal with the monkey while in a weakened state.
For the first time, Clark tasted fear.
While Clark was seemingly powered down, 275 above him on the tower, Beppo shrieked with anger, madness, and raw energy when he saw The Tall One run into the clearing. The monster climbed up and down the antenna spire, swinging from one crossbar to another, hyper and waving to The Tall One to join him atop the tower. Then Beppo saw his nemesis fall. Now, the monster saw, was the time to strike...
On his elbows and knees, Clark looked up and focused on Beppo's silhouette in the moonlight bouncing around. The teen felt weaker, but he didn't throw up; he just felt sluggish. Clark knew he couldn't fail; for if he failed, Chloe would be lost. His parents and his friends, that is what Clark truly possessed, and Chloe was his friend...his girlfriend. I can't lose her, he thought, I just can't....
With amazing speed, the monster jumped through the air, landed on the platform, tumbled in a practiced roll and tore off a guardrail. He saw the jagged pointed edge and lunged, throwing the safety bar like a javelin, throwing it at Clark. This wasn't a chess move, a sliding of a pawn into a square, a test of defense. No, this was the kill-shot. The rail cut straight through the night sky, the aim true, its target: Clark's cranium.
Under normal circumstances, Clark would have gathered the information (Beppo threw something at me!), processed it (it's traveling really fast!) and acted (I have to catch it and toss it aside) but his reaction time was slower, thanks to the chunk of a meteor buried deep in the ground. But it wasn't normal circumstances: by the time Clark realized the rail was zooming at him, he barely had time to roll away. He gasped, watching the makeshift javelin penetrate and sink half its eight foot length into the ground. The precious seconds it took Clark to rise to his feet, another rail planted into the ground. Chloe's would-be hero was glad that the monkey's aim was just a hair off. His mind flashed: Beppo was the killer, having killed 3 teens already, and that made the monkey more dangerous than the bug boy, or the ice boy or the fiery tempered football coach. Not even Tina Greer, the girl that became Lana's clone, was this berserk. They weren't as strong or as fast. None were as homicidal as Beppo. None had Chloe in such danger before. With a grunt of resolve, Clark scrambled to his boots and ran to the tower, ran to stop the killer, ran to get Chloe.
Unhampered by any weaknesses, Beppo tore off all the guardrails on the platform and chucked every one at the Clark's scampering form. With each miss, the monster's throws grew more erratic, and his emotions more angry. The crazy monkey jumped, limbs akimbo, off the platform and downward, and he caught one of the support beams with his huge paw. He swung around the beam and looked down. He yipped in amazement; he saw Clark climbing up the tower, just like he had, incredibly fast, traveling up the angled girders. 'Was he special?' the monkey thought. 'Was The Tall One like me? Maybe that is why The Blonde is with him, not me...' And that thought alone, of The Blonde wanting The Tall One as her mate and not him, made the monstrous monkey to tug on one of the painted-white girders, shaking and rattling the antenna tower's structure, until he tore the girder off. He waited, beam in hand, on paw holding on, with his long toes providing extra balance.
Clark climbed up the side, handhold after handhold, actually sweating, actually calculating how much strength he lost...was it 25%? More? Then he heard metal cracking apart and the girder he held seemed to loosen in its mountings. Clark looked up just in time to see Beppo shriek and smash the steel beam into the side of his skull.
The monster nodded gleefully and watched The Tall One's neck snap to the side, ear touch the shoulder, and his hands let go of the girder. Beppo whooped as enthusiastically as he had when he defeated The Tall One at chess when he saw the teen's body falling, tumbling, spiraling down to the ground. Beppo looked at the end of the beam; the steel was warped to fit along The Tall One's head. It was satisfying to him. He dropped the beam and scurried up the tower after he heard the loud crunch of The Tall One's impact. That sound was also satisfying. Climbing over the side, the monster saw Chloe, splayed out, passed out, and suddenly seeing The Tall One fall and hearing him hit the ground was not as satisfying as what he had in mind for The Blonde.
Somehow, Clark kept conscious after the steel beam slammed around his head. And it was thinking of Chloe that pulled him out of the dizzy darkness his mind:
Chloe once told Clark a story about her guardian angel while they waited for her father to pick her up after Clark again saved her life. She sat close to him on the steps in front of the high school, shivering being in the pool, swimming for her life, getting away from Sean Kelvin, who was trying to absorb the heat from the girl's body. She took a sip of coffee that the police officer had got her after she and Clark made their official statements. The officer had joked that the teens were getting well acquainted with the procedure.
"When I was widdle, I didn't like being left alone," Chloe said with a bit of a chatter of her teeth.
"Really? That doesn't sound like you at all," Clark joshed, and she scrunched her nose at him.
"I am trying to be serious, smartie," She said and waited until he gave her his rapt attention. "ANYWAYS, I woke up from a nap and pulled myself out of the crib."
"Crib? How old were you?" Clark asked and grabbed her boot; it was frozen in the pool. He massaged the ankle through the boot's leather. "This foot always seems to take the brunt of all your foot related predicaments."
"Yeah, that foot gets all the trouble," Chloe whispered; even through the leather, his touch was gentle and felt reallllllly good. "And I was 2 and a half years old," she said, getting back to her tale, her voice more controlled. Clark smiled and she continued on. "I was wailing for Mom or Daddy to get me, and by the time Daddy got to my room, I flipped head-first over railing."
"No way," Clark gasped. He looked at her face for any scars, but her skin was flawless.
"Way," Chloe smiled, skin blushed; saying 'no way' was her thing and she liked that Clark picked it up and how he just looked at her. "Daddy didn't get to me. Instead, he said before I caved my head on the floor, I somehow just stopped falling and just landed on the floor like I was being set on it."
"Wow," Clark said quietly, with a shake of his head.
"Guardian Angel at work," Chloe nodded. "Wasn't until we moved to Smallville, I needed him again. Since then, Daddy says I have been working my guardian angel and you overtime."
They were both laughing when Gabe drove up and took them home. Chloe didn't tell Clark that her dad thought that the boy she had a crush on was her other guardian angel. Or that she agreed.
Clark wasn't laughing now. He plummeted, he wished he had a guardian angel to catch him, her guardian angel, something, anything to protect him from the impact, something to take the the agony he felt in his head. He fought closing his eyes, afraid he might never open them again, and watched the monkey get smaller and the top of the tower rapidly pulled away. All the teen could do was wait, wait for the impact to occur. He twisted himself while he dropped, and saw the hard rocky ground.
He slammed into the ground; his chest, face, hips, knees, and feet slammed into the unforgiving terrain. The crash sent a seismic wave through the strata of the hill and sent one of utter pain through Clark. He screamed and his lungs seized, his breath lost, the thoughts of Chloe lost, his own idea that he really couldn't be hurt lost in the reverberation of the impact. Anyone else would have shattered, but he squirmed in the indentation that his body made in the turf. Darkness swirled in the around the edges of his pupils, ready to cover his world in darkness.
Then he remembered: the unique understanding of who he was, what he could do, what he needed to do:
Save Chloe Sullivan.
Clark knew in order to do that, he had stay awake.
He wheezed until he got his breath back, and Clark cried out in anguish. He touched his face, where his girlfriend had caressed just an hour ago, and his stomach went queasy at the sight of his blood. He had never seen his own blood; nothing had ever cut him before. He cradled his head, the pain unbearable. Getting hit by Lex's Porsche was nothing compared to what the teen suffered.
Then he remembered: the unique understanding of who he was, what he could do, what he needed to do:
Save Chloe Sullivan.
Clark knew in order to do that, he had to get up, had to stand. He had to make a stand.
Bloody and beat down, Clark stood up, stood tall, and looked up at the tower, looked to where the monster was, to where his girlfriend was, and decided that he was going to bring her to safety. Or die trying. Because, that's what Chloe would do for him: die trying whatever he needed her to do for him. He shrugged off his jacket, once shiny and new, now the denim sleeves ripped on the rocks, and wiped his blood on his shirt. He was going to run and climb as fast and hard as he could, and save her. He took off, wincing in pain with each blindingly fast step.
Beppo's gaze first landed on Chloe's leather boot, scuffed and now speckled with her blood. Then it traveled up her leg, her calf and thigh. Both of which should have been a creamy smooth peachy color even in the moonlight, but now were black from fresh wounds that had continued to bleed after the monster wiped them clean. He stepped closer, looked at how the shirt and tank underneath it was torn at the neckline, the scoop created by Lana scalloped more so, revealing more bloodied skin. Despite the cuts on her face, the monster thought her face was beautiful. Chloe was beautiful enough for Beppo to kill for, and she was the reward for him doing so. The monster lost himself, nodding and grinning, his gaze going under the frayed hem of Chloe's mini-skirt.
Chloe's guardian angel kept Beppo's attention on the unconscious girl in front of him, instead of other things.
Like her other guardian angel behind him.
Clark, now on the platform, saw Beppo step closer to Chloe. Clark's teeth clenched, his jaw muscles tighten. He was mad and, this time, ready to fight the monster.
Sometimes Guardian Angels do more than defend. Sometimes they go into battle.
The Carnival ~ Chapter Twenty-Six
"YOU ANIMAL!" Clark yelled, and with that war cry, The Battle for Chloe Sullivan started again. Before Beppo could move, the livid teen grabbed the monster by the scruff of the neck and threw the monster's body up against the antenna spire. Anyone tuned to KROK heard the singer Dido's airy hit, "Thankyou" playing.
"It's Not So Bad, It's Not So Bad...I Want To Thank You ...For Giving Me The...Best Day Of My Life...Oh, oh, Just To Be With You ...Is Having the Best Day Of my..."
SSSSSSHHHHHHHKKKK
The blow shook the all of the electronics, satellite dishes, and the entire spire's structure wobbled ominously. Listeners wondered why Dido's pop hit disappeared; KROK's radio station reception for Lowell County went dead.
Beppo growled off the pain of the impact and bolted off the spire. The monster let loose a primal scream when his paws clawed into Clark's face. The teen's scream this time was less bravado and more full of fright and he stumbled back, slapping at the paws. Clark closed his eyes, not wanting them ripped out, and the monster kept clawing at him. Clark caught his balance inches from the edge of the platform. He winced when the beast's fingernails raked his skin, shredding the cheeks. But the young man punched Beppo hard in the ribs, both fists pummeling the monster's sides. His balled up fists flashed and Beppo felt his ribcage start to compress with each blow after blow after blow; Clark landed at least 40 in the time a human could land 5 punches. The monster wailed, and was forced to retreat, jumping away from Clark.
The hurting teen realized he never been a fight before; sure, he had intimidated people and anytime he did 'fight', it was a punch and a throw and the whole mess was over. Pete was the one that was the scrapper, and had actually fought for Clark, when the Clark turned the other cheek. Now, with his cheeks that dripped blood, Clark knew he was in the biggest fight of his life, and it was all for Chloe.
Wiping away the blood, Clark saw the glowing green eyes of Beppo between the metal crossbeams. The monster stood on the other side of the spire. As long as the monster was conscious, Clark knew that the beast was a threat still to Chloe. The teen went after him, following the monster around the platform. He tried to be careful since the metal flooring wasn't very wide or stable with the missing girder. The platform shook with each of Clark's boot-stomps: with Chloe so close to the edge herself, he didn't want her somehow falling off.
Beppo, on the other hand, wanted The Tall One dead by any means necessary. He back flipped, his controlled momentum taking him over the side. He caught onto the steel framework and, with a furious hoot, tore off another girder. The platform teetered; Chloe's prone body was close to the center and in no way close to rolling off the edge...yet.
Clark lurched forward and watched Beppo catapult over him, the beam in his paw. Even before the monstrous monkey landed on the platform, Beppo swung the thick beam like the bat that The Nice But Now Dead One gave him when they played Wiffle Ball. The girder seemed as light as the yellow plastic bat and it struck Clark's raised forearm; the teen tried to protect himself. But the blow and the meteorite's still lingering effects caused Clark to careen over the side.
"NO!" Clark yelled. This time he had enough recognizance to reach out and grab a girder while he fell. He squeezed so hard that the metal squished between his fingers.
Beppo smiled a toothy grin. He raised the beam over his head and brought it down, the metal edges whistling in the air, down fast, down onto Clark's fingers.
"OH MY GOD!" Clark screamed. He thought that the blow to the head and falling 260 feet or so was agonizing. But no. Beppo slamming the girder on his knuckles, slamming and tearing what he thought was unbreakable skin, slamming down and creating unbelievable anguish. "ARRRRRGH!!!"
The beam slammed down yet again, the edge this time on Clark's pinkie finger and the teen yanked away his hand. All the teen could do was dangle along the edge, his hand throbbing. Beppo looked down and Clark looked up. With a sneer, the monster took one more swing.
Clark watched the beam come down again, like a guillotine's blade. He concentrated and fiery spurts shot from his eyes. He groaned, his head pounded, the strain to activate his heat-vision nearly wiped him out. Grunting, he kept popping off spurts; not a single long blast, but seven short staccato shots.
Beppo screeched when the spurts splattered on its paws, burning the fingers, wrist and forearm. He simply dropped the beam while his flesh burned; the smell of singed monkey hair filled the air. The monster was wounded, and he hopped back, clutching his paw.
Despite the pain, Clark climbed back up, one bloody hand-hold at a time and when he reached the top, he eye-jaculated his heat vision blasts at Beppo. Now the murderous monkey was on the defense, jumping around crazily, dodging the shots, hopping and twirling and evading the fiery bolts.
So wrapped up in their Battle, the combatants didn't realize two things: the missed bolts were hitting various points on the platform, spire and support beams, melting the steel and Beppo's frantic hopping was weakening the structure even further.
Neither of them heard the various stress-points breaking...
Beppo looked down while he hopped away from Clark's eye-jaculations. He saw that his paw was a mass of burning monkey musculature. The fact that fire that shot from The Tall One's eyes was amazing to the monster and he knew that he had to kill the boy quick, kill him somehow.
Evading the fire-blasts, Beppo worked his way higher on the wobbling antenna spire. He stopped moving and became a stationary target. Clark focused on him. When he saw The Tall One's eyes glow red, ready to pop off another spurt of liquid fire, the monster leaped high into the starry sky, twirled over The Tall One, and dropped onto a very shocked Clark Kent. Still affected by the meteorite deep below the antenna tower, still weakened by the girder blows to his hands and head and the 260 foot fall, the young man stumbled under the momentum of the monkey's downward motion and Clark fell to his knees.
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON GOW AHHHHHHHHHH!"
Farmers in the surrounding areas had to run to their pens, stalls and stables to calm their livestock after the animals heard Beppo's bloodcurdling cry when the monster raked his fingernails over Clark's face, reaching and hooking into its target: The Tall One's mouth. Clark's eyes went wide with terror when he felt Beppo's feet digging into his shoulder-blades, felt the toes curl over his collarbones, felt the beast's ten fingers, the crispy burnt fingers in particular, in his mouth tightening against his soft inner cheeks, and finally the horror he felt was real when the monster snapped The Tall One's head back. Beppo twisted and yanked, falling back onto his haunches, desperately trying to rip off the top of The Tall One's skull.
The pain in his neck increasing, the brachial nerves that governed his arm's motor functions burning, Clark still managed to crawl on the buckling platform with Beppo on his back. Each movement of setting his palm down, setting his knee down and moving forward was sheer agony. One yank and twist made Clark drop to his chest. The monkey enjoyed torturing Clark, enjoyed tormenting him now by slamming The Tall One's chin into the platform, cutting him. The flooring was rattling with the blows, the chin creating dents in it, and fallen warrior's blood spurted from the cuts.
Clark's world was slowly fraying at the edges; slowly the color was seeping into just blackness, all he heard was the monster's happy yips and yaps. Each eyeball rolled in its' socket, the pupils going in different directions. Ready to give in, give in to the pain, to the monster, Clark closed his eyes.
Then he heard the familiar tha-thump of Chloe's heartbeat. Then he heard her soft breathing. The soft scent of her skin, tinged with the copper of her blood was breathed in by the teen. He opened his eyes and his pupils, once dilated and vision blurry focused in on the one constant thing in his life: Chloe Sullivan. If he didn't do anything the monster would touch her...touch her there.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Clark's yell startled Beppo; the monster thought The Tall One was all but dead. But that wasn't the case. Clark eye-jaculated the flooring, melting the platform. Clark wasn't affected much by the burning flooring; he didn't care: he just needed to live, needed to get the monster away from the girl that he loved. The softened slag gave away and both Clark and Beppo fell through the hole.
Suddenly falling down the center of the tower with the glops of metal, Clark instinctively reached out. His hand slapped on several girders until he clasped one. His body swung and he slammed into the beams. He winced and just when he thought he was safe, he didn't feel the monster's fingers in his mouth or his weight on his back.
Beppo jumped free of The Tall One and they fell. He swung on the bars and beams watching the Tall One clang against the structure. The monster felt it was time to escape, escape with his prize. Easily, Beppo traveled up the tower and hopped onto the shaky platform. He walked toward The Blonde.
Clark scaled the crossbeams fast, scanning for the monkey, waiting for another attack. Then he heard the paws of the beast slap onto the platform. The teen looked up and concentrated: his x-ray vision wasn't crystal clear, but he did manage to make out the beast's form moving in Chloe's direction. With a deep breath of chilly air, Clark hustled up the tower, determined to stop the beast, determined to never let that monkey touch Chloe again.
"CHLOE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
A powerful emotion possessed Clark that was stronger that the effect of the meteor. The weakness in his body dissipated. The sensation that ran through his whole being was Love, his love for Chloe and the love she had for him. Clark gritted his teeth, flexed his knees, and launched himself upwards, his body temporarily breaking the law of gravity. It was like he was flying, almost flying, possibly flying, unbelievably flying the 40 feet from where he dangled up to the platform, and he didn't even care about his fear of flying or heights. What drove him was his fear of losing Chloe. He grabbed the melted, softened edges of the gaping hole and propelled through and, some how, he knew to angle his body, to change his leap's momentum, and he soared toward The Beast. Fists in front of him, boots behind, Clark was a projectile, a missile shooting straight at the monster. But as fast as he soared, he still wouldn't get to Beppo in time.
The Beast - Beppo - reached for his unrequited love The Blonde - Chloe Sullivan - ready to escape from the Tall One. "Escape somewhere. Anywhere. Gotham, Coast City," The Monster thought. That's where he would take his prize.
Clark Knew how to save Chloe. Knew how to arrive in time. Knew how to protect her.
Again.
The Monster's arm stretched.
Clark's eyes glowed red.
The beast's paw moved closer, inches from Chloe's skin.
Clark aimed and shot a wad of liquid fire.
Beppo turned and saw the Tall One zooming at him.
Then the monster saw the wavy trails of the blast.
Just when the blast hit the paw.
But the blast didn't burn the hand like before. No. The intensity of the blast was amazing; it was based on Clark's unfiltered desire to keep the murderous monkey away from Chloe, to keep the monkey's paw from touching her again.
Beppo screamed as the blast incinerated his hand off.
The monkey's eyes went wide. He looked where his hand was, looked at the cauterized nub just below where his wrist was, looked where the surrounding flesh was now a blackened scarred mass. The fresh air he breathed in was fouled by the stench of burned hair, charred bone, and sizzling fat, and he looked at the wind take the ashes of his left paw, and scatter them over the hillside.
The monster looked at The Tall One, again.
Clark's fists were a second from the chimp's chest.
Beppo opened his mouth to scream.
A second later, both fists, powered by fear, hope, anger, and love collided with the monkey's chest.
The scream never started.
Beppo staggered and clutched his chest; it was shattered from the impact, the breastplate crumpling under the force of the double punch. The ribcage caved in, sending jagged shards and craggy splinters into Beppo's vital organs. The monkey's heart, all 4 chambers, were penetrated by thousands of pieces of bone, his lungs popping by the pieces that pierced the greenish main component of his respiratory system.
Clark looked at Beppo. The monkey looked back at the teen quizzically: his last few breaths that came from Beppo were bubbly, frothy on his lips, blood mixing with the exhales. Inhaling was no longer a viable, automatic option. He dropped to his knees.
The chimpanzee, now just simply a chimpanzee named Beppo said what he been trying to say perfectly, correctly for the last several days, the word that meant so much to him. The word he said with his last breath:
"CHLOE."
The chimpanzee reached with his only paw to touch Chloe.
But he didn't. He couldn't. Everything in the monkey's body suddenly stopped working: He seized up, mid-reach, mid-exhale, mid-blink, mid-heartbeat.
The monkey fell over side of the platform, and Clark rushed over and watched the chimpanzee, Beppo so-called the Missing Link, hitting girders on way down. He winced when he saw the chimp's body fall, splattering on the ground.
Clark turned away.
He looked at Chloe. And smiled. She was safe. Again.
But Clark hadn't completely saved Chloe.
Then the tower shook precariously, and all the girders roared, breaking, snapping in half. Clark saw the platform she was passed out on buckle, rivets breaking, the section separating from the tower and falling away.
The sound of the metal breaking was awful to Clark. But worse to him was that several more sections dropped away, and he didn't want a similar fate to occur to Chloe. In one seamless motion, he jumped onto the platform that Chloe was laid out on, scooped her up into his arms, and without hesitation, he used his super speed to run down the beams of the antenna tower. Clark again felt confident in himself, in his powers, and his abilities and he thought it was because he now had Chloe in his protective embrace. He ran without missing a step, each boot planting firmly on the vertical support girders and he finally stopped over the slight rise of the hill.
Clark heard a deep creaking sound coming from KROK's antenna tower, the monument to Smallville's spirit after the meteor shower, the battleground for two combatants brought together by the same catastrophe. The tower was built to withstand forces of nature, but NOT the superhuman variety. With so many support beams damaged or broken or used as a weapon during the fight, the top part of the tower finally collapsed. The heroic teen shielded his girlfriend's body from the dirt and rocks that would have pelted her when the massive tower collapsed in on itself.
Chloe first noticed the scent of fresh dirt when she awakened. Her eyes still closed, she sniffed, searching and finding what she wanted, the scent of Clark's cologne. She opened her eyes and saw her loved one's face, smudged with dirt, and blood. She didn't have a nightmare; no, everything that happened was real. Beppo kidnapped her and hurt her; the pains in her head, arms and legs started to pulsate again. She rubbed her eyes and focused on Clark's face again. The full moon was a bright glowing light behind his head; it looked like a halo. A halo like her guardian angel had, she imagined. He smiled at Chloe while he cradled her. She tried to smile back, but instead, Chloe cried, in pain from the injuries, and in relief to be in Clark's arms. She wrapped her good arm around Clark and hugged him, her tears soaking his shirt. Clark delicately held her back.
"Clark, hold me," Chloe sobbed, "I'll take your hands on me over that monkey's anytime." She pressed into her guardian angel's body, and he held her tighter. She closed her eyes happy that she was safe now. She let him rock her gently, rub her back, hold her until she stopped crying.
"Are you ok?" Clark asked, looking down at her.
"That's always the first question you ask after you save my butt," Chloe snarked, looking up at him. "Speaking of which, thanks to Beppo's fashion sense, it's sorta showing."
"I'm not looking," Clark said. She smiled at her gentleman hero, and she shifted and tugged down her mini-skirt as best as she could; he now was looking at the trails of lights in the distance; one was police lights swirling.
"Oh my god," She gasped, looking at where the tower had been, looking at the twisted metal. She looked back at her boyfriend. "What the HECK happened?"
"Umm," Clark said; that's what he always answered after she asked that question.
Chloe socked his chest softly; she knew he was evading her question. Why, she didn't know. But she knew one day she'd find out. His grip loosened and she worried that if she pried at his secretive nature, asked more questions, he'd let her go.
"I yelled your name....and you found me," she said, setting aside her reporter's nature, for now. "Just like you said."
"I'll always find you," Clark said easily, and Chloe didn't doubt that. She snugged into him more.
"I hate Beppo," She whispered and shivered.
"He's dead" Clark whispered back. She slowly nodded.
"How did you stop him?" Her voice was tiny.
"Adrenaline, I guess...nothing was going to stop me from getting you back," Clark said simply and Chloe hugged tighter.
"Kent charm...Kent heroics...All that just for me?" She smiled.
"Didn't I did promise to protect you forever?" Clark asked his girlfriend.
She nodded slowly and her smile grew larger when he leaned in.
"I'm a mess," She whispered. "I'm all bloody and dirty and ..."
"You're beautiful," He whispered.
"Oh," She breathlessly said. Her lips made a perfect circle, and Clark leaned in closer, wanting to touch that perfection with his lips.
The Carnival ~ Chapter Twenty-Seven
Clark Kent gently pulled Chloe Sullivan closer to him, careful, mindful of her various injuries, on her arm and legs. She winced when she wrapped her arms around him, and he did the same to her, and they looked at each other. They couldn't help but feel each other's skin; their clothes were tatters for the most part. Her fingers slipping between the slices on his shirt, feeling his skin, his hands slipping into the rips of her shirt, making her shiver while he caressed. She sighed when he gave her a grin; she loved his dimples. Clark dipped his head and Chloe tilted her head; her little hand traveled to his face, and she laid her palm on his cheek.
There was a time when Chloe couldn't wait for the moment, the moment when Clark kissed her. She thought of how she wanted to be kissed, like on the bus, on the ride to school that morning, with everyone watching. Or last weekend at the Talon theater, watching 'Breakfast at Tiffany's'. Or right after she kissed him in the barn. Oh how she wished he kissed back, not afraid. Or that he ask her back to the barn, not to do stupid homework, but to kiss.
Chloe also used to wonder if Clark ever was going to kiss her. She knew that, for some odd reason, he had a crush on Lana Lang; pretty much every boy in 8th grade had one on her. Chloe suffered through all of 8th grade being his friend, his girl-dash-friend, platonic on his end, completely in love on her's. It didn't help that he saved her life on a regular schedule. Worse, they hung out together more often. Not dating, they said to friends, and when she'd say that, her heart broke just a bit.
But right now, Chloe Sullivan savored the moment.
Then she started thinking about the moment.
"Oh my god...I know I'm all icky looking... My Clark's gotta be hugging a scab... I'm like a human scrape... He's all dirty... He looks hot dirty... My hair's gotta be screwed up... My clothes are all ripped... I hope I'm not showing off the goods...or maybe its not enough? what would Lana say?...His clothes are ripped up too...That's hot... He's always hot... Blood's everywhere...eww...That's bad... Lips still glossy, though... My breath...oh my god, I hope its not all nasty," She rambled on quickly, panicky. "OH MY GOD...I BETTER NOT STINK LIKE THAT MONKEY!... "
"You're beautiful," Clark whispered, breaking her out of her ritualistic nervous talking.
"I was saying the thinking stuff, huh?" Chloe whispered. Clark nodded. "Must be the concussion talking," she smiled. "I'm not stinky?"
"You don't...stink," He said. He could smell through the soap, the perfume, and the stench of the monkey the sweet scent of her skin.
"You're not stinky either," She lied, too, with a smile.
"I want to do this," Clark said, inching closer.
"Me too," Chloe answered, all breathy.
"I should have kissed you last year," Clark admitted, lips oh so close.
"Kiss me now," Chloe demanded sweetly.
Clark always took Chloe's advice...
Clark leaned in and brushed his nose along Chloe's, and felt her soft breath on his lips.
Then He kissed her.
Their lips connected, lightly at first. Tentatively. Then Clark pressed in, boldly, opening his mouth and sucking on Chloe's bottom lip. She mewed into his mouth, pressing into his body, holding him tight.
Clark suckled on her lip, tasting the melon gloss on her, wondering why he never called her back to the barn after they kissed, why he wasted so much time not kissing her.
They shifted, lips, arms, bodies moving, still kissing, and Chloe now was sucking on his lip. She gripped his t-shirt and ripped it more, moaning with each breath.
Clark lifted her easily onto his thighs, cradling her while he knelt. She sat, wiggling, leaning over, her arms wrapping around his neck. Clark surprised her by sliding his hand over her hip and around into her back pocket. She smiled in the kiss.
Kissing, both teens felt a blissful sensation, beyond the simple 'we're kissing'. Something more powerful, something innate was emitting from them. They began to glow; not a ugly green glow, nor an aggressive red glow. Chloe and Clark had a white glow around them and their bodies, minds, and souls were awash in a peaceful tranquility.
In that glow, Chloe's injuries began to heal. The worst cuts closed and the skin began to patch together. No scabs, just light pink marks.
In the same glow, Clark started to float. He held Chloe, locked in the kiss while their bodies hovered inches from the ground. Then Clark silently slowly spiraled up away from the dirt, higher and higher.
Neither teen noticed what was taking place; they were kissing, putting a year's worth of yearning, lost time and wishes into that kiss, one long tender moment of love that they harbored, finally expressed.
The Kiss. The Connection. Chloe and Clark.
In a pasture, deep under ground, an octagonal disc glows and shakes, loosening the dirt, waking the sleeping cows above it. Somewhere in a cave, engraved in the stone is an octagonal groove, and it too glows. In the Kent storm cellar, the ship that brought Clark to Earth hums to life. All activating, all augmenting Clark extra-terrestrial powers, all they need is a terrestrial source. Clark keeps kissing Chloe. She is the source.
she is benediction
she is addicted to thee
she is the root connection
she is connecting with he
here I go and I don't know why
I fell so ceaselessly
could it be he's taking over me...
I'm dancing barefoot
heading for a spin
some strange music draws me in
makes me come on like some heroin/e
she is sublimation
she is the essence of thee
she is concentrating on
he, who is chosen by she
here I go and I don't know why
I spin so ceaselessly,
could it be he's taking over me...
[chorus]
she is re-creation
she, intoxicated by thee
she has the slow sensation that
he is levitating with she ...
here I go and I don't know why,
I spin so ceaselessly,
'til I lose my sense of gravity...
[chorus]
(oh god I fell for you ...)
the plot of our life sweats in the dark like a face
the mystery of childbirth, of childhood itself
grave visitations
what is it that calls to us?
why must we pray screaming?
why must not death be redefined?
we shut our eyes we stretch out our arms
and whirl on a pane of glass
an afixiation a fix on anything the line of life the limb of a tree
the hands of he and the promise that s/he is blessed among women.
(oh god I fell for you ...)
Dancing Barefoot
By Patti Smith
Part Nine
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