Subject: Chapter 28
Short summary: On the run, Clark tries to get by in New York City...
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Chapter 28
It was very late as Clark walked down streets deep in one of the poorest areas of New York City. The January night was unusually cold so he had pulled the collar of his jacket up around his face. Not that the sub-zero cold bothered him at all but it was a good excuse to keep the lower part of his face covered. It was just an extra added bonus that he had an excuse to also wear a hat and gloves. He didn't know for sure if they'd ever taken his fingerprints while he was at the lab, they hadn't taken prints while he was awake anyway, but he didn't want to chance leaving fingerprints anywhere just in case.
He stayed mostly in the dark alleys, avoiding the more brightly lit streets as much as possible. Clark would run into some people looking for trouble from time to time. However, his sheer size and grim look discouraged people doing anything more than merely sizing him up. Invariably, they would quickly decide that it was in their best interest to look elsewhere for an easier target.
However, it was hard to totally avoid walking the more brightly lit streets and the security cameras that covered them. So he had learned where the cameras were along the various routes to the diner. And he took several different routes, trying to avoid becoming a creature of habit.
Whenever he approached a camera that had an angle on the sidewalk, either in an ATM machine or a store or even a residence, he would tilt his head down so his long dark curls could further obscure his face. He didn't know who could access the video shot by those cameras, but he didn't want to take the chance that the government might go to the trouble of searching untold hours of footage for his face.
After he'd escaped the trailing helicopters that day months ago, he'd stayed in cheap motels and hotels and talked to no one. However, he had purchased a disposable cell phone and called his parents frequently... It was important to Clark to talk to them as often as he could, especially since it was clear he may not ever be able to go home again.
Not that he hadn't desperately wanted to. Clark had broached the subject of visiting with his parents, but his dad had told him to not risk it. He had told Clark that a week or so after Clark had escaped someone had bought the property next door, Lana's old house. Although Lana's Aunt Nell hadn't ever done any farming there, aside from some horses she'd only kept for pleasure riding, it was an excellent piece of land. Any farmer could have made good use of the acreage. So it was notable on such a good piece of land that no farming was being done and no animals occupied the barn. The land was being totally neglected and soon became clogged with weeds.
Jonathan had become suspicious of the new owners and decided to use Clark's telescope to get a closer look. Not normally a busybody, the very idea of using it to "spy" on his neighbors made him uncomfortable, but he felt it was necessary to protect his family.
The telescope, as Clark knew so well, had a perfect view of Lana's old house and the barn that sat near it. His father had wanted to see for himself what his new neighbors were up to. Jonathan wasn't surprised to see that the barn's stalls that had once stabled horses now housed electronic equipment instead.
Their ploy seemed obvious. They weren't planning on taking the Kents away, instead they left them alone in hopes that it would give Clark a false sense of security and lure him back home. Actually it wasn't a bad strategy, since the urge to go back to his family was getting harder and harder for Clark to resist each passing day. However, he knew he had to be strong so, as difficult as it was, he didn't go home. He was afraid they'd never give up and he could never go back.
Sometimes when he called, Clark would watch his parents with his telescopic vision while hanging in the air a couple of hundred miles away. Seeing his parents while talking to them on the phone was nearly as good as being in the same room with them, but he desperately missed them. He didn't take his isolation well, necessary as it might be to protect both him and them. In some ways it was worse than being locked up against his will.
Losing his freedom for so long had a much more profound affect on Clark than he had anticipated. At first he thought the pervasive fear he had felt when he had escaped was because of the dangers of recapture he'd faced. If that had been the case, as his life on the lam stretched on the fear should have waned. It didn't. The fear was ever present and at times it was as strong as ever.
When Clark considered the reasons for that, he realized that the fear he felt was from being in the open. He often felt exposed and vulnerable, no matter where he was. The fear was far worse when he was in extremely open or crowded areas that were hard to scan completely with his x-ray vision. It was more than just fearing that angry men might find and capture him, part of him was mourning the loss of the controlled environment he had been in.
As much as he hated his time in the lab, it had conditioned him to live inside a highly regimented routine. Living outside in the barely controlled anarchy of an everyday existence and making important decisions of where to go and how to live, was much more difficult than he had imagined it would be. Clark had become institutionalized and had lost the ability to easily deal with the disorder that was everywhere when you lived free. He was trying to get used to it again, but it was hard to shake the fear of the unknown.
His fear of the unpredictable combined with the fear that he might be captured again and made his life agony. He was desperately homesick and wanted nothing more than to go home and hug his mother. Despite the dangers, and the men who waited for him at Lana's old house, he was tempted to go home anyway just so he could hug her again.
In talking to his dad about Lana's old house, he asked about her. Clark worried about her and wanted to know if she was okay, but other than vague reassurances from his parents that she was okay they wouldn't tell him much about her. They had seen Lana since she'd helped him escape, so he was glad she'd gotten away, but they didn't tell Clark anything more than that. It made Clark suspicious that there was something more going on with Lana that his parents didn't want to tell him for some reason.
For the past few weeks, he'd been working at a diner about twenty blocks from the rundown hotel where he was staying. It had started to bother him that he was too quickly spending the money his parents had given him. Although his father said that they would send him more if he should need it, he didn't want to take the risk that the wire transfer would be traced. He had to get a job to help defray the expenses of his life on the lam.
Clark had to be careful, however. He actually had managed to find a job that paid cash, no questions asked. That meant that there wasn't any paperwork that might be used to trace him. It was for a diner washing dishes and bussing tables. Mack, the owner of the diner, told Clark that he did that because it saved him time and money to pay his workers under the table. Mack sidestepping the system, for whatever reason, worked out for Clark.
It didn't pay well, but liked the job anyway. It was an overnight job at a place open twenty-four hours. It was close enough to the hotel that he could walk, avoiding using his powers, and the hours allowed him to avoid being on the streets during the much more crowded daylight hours. The pay, as little as it was, meant he didn't need to use much of the cash his parents had given him.
Even though he'd given Mack an alias, 'Jerome Clark', he knew working was a huge risk. It meant showing up at the same place the same time daily, but he had learned to be frugal from his parents. He hated spending the money they'd sent him, even though he had been thrifty as possible. Clark also liked being around people, even if he didn't say much of anything to anyone. He had been so lonely before he started working, so it was more than just the money.
As he approached the diner, he paused and hung back in the shadows in an alley down the street. Clark x-rayed the entire block, looking for the telltale opaque blue of lead. There wasn't a good reason for someone to have lead on them besides hiding kryptonite from Clark, so he looked all the time. He couldn't take the chance someone had figured out where he was, nor trust that someone looking for him wouldn't come upon him by accident.... It paid to be cautious. The only problem in the neighborhood was that some buildings still had lead paint on their walls. It bothered him that he couldn't search those buildings, one was only a few doors down from the diner, but there was nothing he could do about that.
He didn't spot any lead aside from the buildings with the old paint. He crossed the street, easily dodging the few cars that moved along this time of night. Before he opened the door to the restaurant, Clark briefly took a moment to do a more close-up x-ray scan of the diner and its sparse late night clientele. All clear, Clark allowed himself a sigh of relief, but he kept his head down so his face wouldn't show in the diner's sole security camera, which he knew had a wide angle view of the cash register and front door.
Clark liked New York and the people there. He thought they were nice, despite appearances to contrary, but it had taken him awhile to figure that out. He had, like most people, assumed that the directness of New Yorkers meant they were all misanthropic grumps. He eventually came to understand that what most people took as rudeness was just an inherent intolerance of bull shit. New Yorkers said what they felt, shrugging off common pretenses to be polite.
It was simple: if they didn't like you, they let you know. On the flip side, if they liked you they let you know that too, although it might them awhile to warm up to you. The façades that most people in the rest of America put up so that they would fit in socially was refreshingly absent from most New Yorkers. A world where most people were that brutally honest was highly welcome.
Clark was as happy there as he thought he could be, under the circumstances.
He nodded his head in greeting to the night waitress/cashier, Brenda. She was brash and had a three pack a day habit, but Clark liked her a lot. He allowed himself a hint of a smile in her direction before he ducked into the back, finally free of electronic surveillance. He relaxed a bit as he pulled off his gloves and took off his jacket. He stuffed the gloves and hat into a pocket of his jacket and hung it up in the tiny, cluttered break room.
Down to just a baggy t-shirt, his worn work boots and jeans, Clark grabbed an apron from the pile of clean ones and tied it around his waist. He stepped into the kitchen, nodding a greeting to the night-shift cook, Stan. He was an older man who had recently acquired an iPod, and he always had one ear bud stuck into his ear. Clark smiled at him as he turned back to the burner and tapped his foot to the music Clark could hear even without using his powers. Clark pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and got to work at the tiny dishwasher stuck in the corner.
He had a lot of work to do since dishes had really piled up from the evening rush after the day dishwasher had left... When things were this busy at the beginning of the shift, Clark sometimes was tempted to put in a bit of speed to get the pile out of the way, but he never did. He'd been very careful since he'd escaped to not use his powers unless it was really necessary.
That was harder to do than he had expected. His hearing always seemed to pick up cries for help almost any time of day. It was the biggest drawback about living in a big city like New York. Clark couldn't ignore them since helping others was the right thing to do. He hoped he'd been careful, using speed or heat vision whenever he could to help him be as stealthy as possible.
Unfortunately, the area of town he was living in was prone to violent crimes so surreptitiously helping victims was hard to do at times, but using speed and stealing a mugger's gun without being seen or setting a rapist's shoes on fire from blocks away gave him a very satisfying feeling. He felt really good when he helped others, even anonymously, despite the risk to exposing his location to the men that were still looking for him. He just couldn't ignore a plea for help... He had to risk discovery if he had to in order to save a life.
He set a rack for glasses onto the stainless steel table that was part of the washer. He filled it with the dirty glasses and slid the rack into the washer and closed the door. He pressed the button to start the cycle, picked up another rack and started to fill that with more glasses.
It wasn't particularly hard work but it was monotonous. There seemed to be a never ending stream of dishes and glasses to clean, but Clark enjoyed the work despite that. He liked keeping busy. The alternative was to sit alone in his room, brooding and slowly going insane.
He played it safe and used his x-ray vision to search any new customers for the tell tale opaque blue of lead. He never found anyone with any on them, but he never forgot to search when he heard someone else come in the restaurant. He had to be careful.
------
Another day of work went well, except when Stan needed his help getting something from the walk in freezer. Clark hated the small, closed in space. He didn't want Stan to know how much he hated it, however. He tried to not call any extra attention to himself and severe claustrophobia like he had, thanks to his time at the lab, wasn't normal so he hid it as best he could.
He swallowed hard and blocked the door open with a five gallon bucket of coleslaw. The lock on the door to the walk-in freezer was broken and didn't work from the inside, so Clark was always careful to block the door open. It was the only way he would go in... He didn't want to risk getting locked in. He shuddered at the very thought...
Stan didn't hear Clark drop the container of frozen hamburger patties on the counter behind him because his music was so loud. Clark smirked. Mack was indulgent with Stan always having one ear bud in. He did his job quickly and was a good cook, yet was willing to work under the table.
Clark sighed as he pulled the bucket away from the door of the freezer and let the door close. He was glad the patties had been close to the front.
He took off his apron and scanned the customers once last time before he left. There was no lead on any customers and Mack gave him the cash he'd earned for the day. Clark tucked it into the front pocket of his jeans before stepping to the window to look outside, facing away from the only camera in the place. He used buttoning up his coat and pulling on his gloves and hat to cover the fact that he was really searching the street outside. He scanned for the blue of lead but the only lead he spotted was the lead he expected.
He stepped out into the pre-dawn street, where almost no one was moving, and started to walk home...
Clark called the place he stayed 'home' but it wasn't. The hotel where he stayed was dirty and run down, but it was cheap and no one really looked at him there. He felt invisible there, which was just fine with him.
Hungry, Clark went into the convenience store around the corner from the hotel. He wanted to grab some milk and a package of pop tarts before he got home. A strange man who browsed the newspaper rack, suspiciously well dressed for this neighborhood, took a long look at Clark as he waited for the clerk to ring up his order. Clark was a bit worried and scanned the man, but no solid blue met his eye. He paid for his purchase and left quickly. Using his x-ray vision to peer inside the store, Clark looked behind him a time or two to make sure that strange man wasn't following him, but he remained at the newspaper rack for quite some time.
He got to the hotel and walked quickly up the stairs to his room. The hallway on his floor smelled vaguely like sex, the cheap hotel was a favorite place for hookers, and Clark hurried as fast as he thought a human might to his room.
He quickly entered and, using his x-ray vision, looked back at the convenience store. The man who had been there was now gone. He searched the area and found the man across the street looking at Clark's hotel. He was talking on his cell phone and seemed to be looking straight at Clark. It spooked him badly, even though there was no way that the man could see him through the brick and plaster between them.
Clark listened... "...I'll be back in touch." The man flipped the phone closed and turned and walked away.
Dammit. Clark thought.. He hadn't heard who the man was talking to. He sat down glumly on his bed.
Clark shook his head. Maybe it was nothing... Maybe he was seeing dangers where there were none. The guy could just be creepy without having an agenda. Maybe living a life on the run was making him paranoid...
He sighed and tore open the wrapper of his pop-tarts. He bit into the dry pastry, loving the sweet and spicy brown sugar cinnamon filling, and figured that he would just avoid that particular store from now on. He decided he would have to try and walk different routes to work.
As he slowly ate the pop-tart, Clark methodically traced new routes to work as far as he could with his x-ray vision. Other ways of going took him through more run-down areas and those buildings had more lead paint. So, it was harder to trace the routes from a distance. He simply would have to be more careful as he walked along the new routes and be on the look-out for security cameras he couldn't see from here.
As he tried to map out the new routes to work, he tried hard to convince himself that the new routes were necessary, even if they took him miles out of his way. He was just being careful.
After all, just because he was paranoid it didn't mean that people weren't after him.
-----
The next day, Clark called his parents from over the Missouri-Kansas border. There was a big snowstorm and the roads were almost empty and the air was clear of air traffic thanks to Denver International and most of Kansas's airports all being closed.
He felt very safe. He wasn't cold at all as he hung in the double digit sub-zero air inside a huge bank of snow clouds that were, combined with the strong winds, causing blizzard conditions far below him. He could see his parents each talking on the couch on separate extensions. The fireplace had a brightly crackling fire, but the chill must have reached the living room despite that because Clark's mom had one of her quilts covering her lap.
His father spoke quietly. "Son, we've been so worried about you... You should call more often. Are you okay? Do you need any money?"
"No, dad... I'll be fine."
"We thought for sure you would have used up all the money by now, how are you surviving?"
Clark didn't want to lie, but he knew they'd be unhappy with his answer.... He replied quietly. "Well, I'm working..."
His mother was incredulous, her eyes big as she looked in shock at her husband. "You're working? Why on earth would you take the risk?"
"I was spending the money too fast, mom..."
His dad's voice sounded grim. "That's not a good idea, son. It'll be easier to find you, the paperwork alone..."
"No, Dad. I found a job that pays cash so there's no paperwork... I'm happier working anyway, dad, if I can't be home." His voice dropped to a desperate whisper. "I'd go crazy otherwise. I need to be around people, Dad... Being alone was so hard..."
He looked at his parents as they exchanged worried glances. His dad was about to say something, but his mom held up her hand indicating she wanted to handle this.
"Clark, it's incredibly dangerous that you're working, especially now. You should call more often if you're lonely and we'll figure out some way of sending you more money so you can get it safely..."
"Mom, don't worry about me... I'll be okay."
"You shouldn't be surprised that we're worried about you, Clark. You're our only child who's already been through so much..." She cleared her throat and unfolded the paper that lay on the coffee table. "You read the paper lately?"
"The paper? No, mom... I haven't really had the time..."
"I think you should look at the paper today, there's an ad that might make you rethink working..."
"Why? What ad?"
"It's been in every issue of both the Smallville Ledger and the Daily Planet the past two weeks. I checked when I first saw it a couple of days ago. I went and checked other papers at the library and it's also been in every major newspaper in the country, Clark..."
"Why are you worried about an ad? I don't understand..."
"Well, I got it right here..."
Clark focused, the paper wasn't where he could read it.... "Could you turn the page, Mom?"
"Turn the page? You can see the paper I'm holding? How close are you?"
"Not close, Mom... I'm about several hundred miles away..." His parents exchanged shocked expressions.
"Several hundred miles? I had no idea you could see that far, Clark..."
"Yeah... I think my vison's gotten stronger, Mom, but you need to turn the paper a little to your... uh... left and hold it up..."
She held it up and turned the page around. She pointed to the ad she had been talking about. It was in the personal ads.
As he read the ad, his chest got tight and he felt like he couldn't breathe...
HUGE CASH REWARDS!!! Thousands for information!
Seen someone do something that shouldn't be possible?
Help us identify persons with Super-Human abilities!
Major Genetic Research Project needs your help NOW!
Call *866-444-SUPER* and Get CASH TODAY!
His mother's voice was rough with emotion. "Clark. That can only be you they're looking for... They must be getting desperate... You have to quit that job, it's too dangerous. We'll figure out how to help you..."
Clark didn't know what to say. His mouth was dry and he felt nauseous. Clark had been lulled somewhat into a false sense of security. It'd been months since he had escaped and aside from the occasional strange look from a stranger, which could be chalked up to the other person just being creepy, he hadn't seen any sign of his location having been discovered. The surveillance from Lana's old house aside, he hadn't suspected any real dangers, even as paranoid as he'd become.
Watching his parents' house is one thing, them actually giving people money to rat him out was something else. That plan, unlike their laying in wait for him, would probably work.
Clark wasn't as naïve as he used to be. He knew if you give some people enough money, they'd do almost anything. He'd seen that fact in action back at the lab...
He knew that the plan would work, and maybe it already had. He had used his abilities carefully, he had thought, but what if he had slipped? What if someone had seen?
Clark shook his head, dismissing the idea. No. He'd been very careful. He was sure no one had seen... He'd just have to make sure to be extra careful now...
"Clark, you should stop using your abilities now unless it's absolutely necessary. You can't risk anyone seeing you use your powers."
He grimaced, "Mom, I can't stop using my abilities. It's not like a switch I can turn off. Besides if someone is in trouble, I've got to help them. I can't turn away from someone who needs help. You know I can't..."
The phone started beeping. Clark looked and the display told him that the amount of time left on the phone was about to expire... It was prompting to either buy a new phone or purchase more time.
"Mom, Dad... I've got to go, but I promise I'll phone more often and I'll be as careful as I can about using my powers."
His mom was holding back tears, not wanting to upset Clark but he could see her struggle to sound calm. "Clark, we miss you so much... You have to stay safe. Please call as often as you can so we don't worry...."
The beeping picked up in volume and in tempo... the phone was insistent that Clark buy more time now.
He was sorry he didn't think to buy another phone before calling his parents. Clark's voice was rough with emotion as the storm worsened around him. "I will, Mom. Don't worry about me. I love you."
His dad's eyes brimmed with unshed tears, "We love you, sss..." Then Clark's phone turned off, now that it was out of talk time.
He closed the phone and crushed it into powder in his fist. As he dropped down lower into the furious storm, he opened his hand to let the dust disperse into the winds that buffeted him. Angry that the men who chased him seemingly wouldn't ever give up, Clark watched his parents hug each other as his mother was reduced to tears. She sobbed and clung desperately to her husband as Clark watched, sad that he was unable to offer more comfort than he already had.
Tears of anger and frustration welled up in his eyes as he tore off into the darkening sky. He was going to be late for work if he didn't hurry...
The sonic boom trailed behind him and rocked houses below him all the way from Central Kansas to when he slowed down over North Jersey...
Continued here....
See all chapters here...
Chapter 28
It was very late as Clark walked down streets deep in one of the poorest areas of New York City. The January night was unusually cold so he had pulled the collar of his jacket up around his face. Not that the sub-zero cold bothered him at all but it was a good excuse to keep the lower part of his face covered. It was just an extra added bonus that he had an excuse to also wear a hat and gloves. He didn't know for sure if they'd ever taken his fingerprints while he was at the lab, they hadn't taken prints while he was awake anyway, but he didn't want to chance leaving fingerprints anywhere just in case.
He stayed mostly in the dark alleys, avoiding the more brightly lit streets as much as possible. Clark would run into some people looking for trouble from time to time. However, his sheer size and grim look discouraged people doing anything more than merely sizing him up. Invariably, they would quickly decide that it was in their best interest to look elsewhere for an easier target.
However, it was hard to totally avoid walking the more brightly lit streets and the security cameras that covered them. So he had learned where the cameras were along the various routes to the diner. And he took several different routes, trying to avoid becoming a creature of habit.
Whenever he approached a camera that had an angle on the sidewalk, either in an ATM machine or a store or even a residence, he would tilt his head down so his long dark curls could further obscure his face. He didn't know who could access the video shot by those cameras, but he didn't want to take the chance that the government might go to the trouble of searching untold hours of footage for his face.
After he'd escaped the trailing helicopters that day months ago, he'd stayed in cheap motels and hotels and talked to no one. However, he had purchased a disposable cell phone and called his parents frequently... It was important to Clark to talk to them as often as he could, especially since it was clear he may not ever be able to go home again.
Not that he hadn't desperately wanted to. Clark had broached the subject of visiting with his parents, but his dad had told him to not risk it. He had told Clark that a week or so after Clark had escaped someone had bought the property next door, Lana's old house. Although Lana's Aunt Nell hadn't ever done any farming there, aside from some horses she'd only kept for pleasure riding, it was an excellent piece of land. Any farmer could have made good use of the acreage. So it was notable on such a good piece of land that no farming was being done and no animals occupied the barn. The land was being totally neglected and soon became clogged with weeds.
Jonathan had become suspicious of the new owners and decided to use Clark's telescope to get a closer look. Not normally a busybody, the very idea of using it to "spy" on his neighbors made him uncomfortable, but he felt it was necessary to protect his family.
The telescope, as Clark knew so well, had a perfect view of Lana's old house and the barn that sat near it. His father had wanted to see for himself what his new neighbors were up to. Jonathan wasn't surprised to see that the barn's stalls that had once stabled horses now housed electronic equipment instead.
Their ploy seemed obvious. They weren't planning on taking the Kents away, instead they left them alone in hopes that it would give Clark a false sense of security and lure him back home. Actually it wasn't a bad strategy, since the urge to go back to his family was getting harder and harder for Clark to resist each passing day. However, he knew he had to be strong so, as difficult as it was, he didn't go home. He was afraid they'd never give up and he could never go back.
Sometimes when he called, Clark would watch his parents with his telescopic vision while hanging in the air a couple of hundred miles away. Seeing his parents while talking to them on the phone was nearly as good as being in the same room with them, but he desperately missed them. He didn't take his isolation well, necessary as it might be to protect both him and them. In some ways it was worse than being locked up against his will.
Losing his freedom for so long had a much more profound affect on Clark than he had anticipated. At first he thought the pervasive fear he had felt when he had escaped was because of the dangers of recapture he'd faced. If that had been the case, as his life on the lam stretched on the fear should have waned. It didn't. The fear was ever present and at times it was as strong as ever.
When Clark considered the reasons for that, he realized that the fear he felt was from being in the open. He often felt exposed and vulnerable, no matter where he was. The fear was far worse when he was in extremely open or crowded areas that were hard to scan completely with his x-ray vision. It was more than just fearing that angry men might find and capture him, part of him was mourning the loss of the controlled environment he had been in.
As much as he hated his time in the lab, it had conditioned him to live inside a highly regimented routine. Living outside in the barely controlled anarchy of an everyday existence and making important decisions of where to go and how to live, was much more difficult than he had imagined it would be. Clark had become institutionalized and had lost the ability to easily deal with the disorder that was everywhere when you lived free. He was trying to get used to it again, but it was hard to shake the fear of the unknown.
His fear of the unpredictable combined with the fear that he might be captured again and made his life agony. He was desperately homesick and wanted nothing more than to go home and hug his mother. Despite the dangers, and the men who waited for him at Lana's old house, he was tempted to go home anyway just so he could hug her again.
In talking to his dad about Lana's old house, he asked about her. Clark worried about her and wanted to know if she was okay, but other than vague reassurances from his parents that she was okay they wouldn't tell him much about her. They had seen Lana since she'd helped him escape, so he was glad she'd gotten away, but they didn't tell Clark anything more than that. It made Clark suspicious that there was something more going on with Lana that his parents didn't want to tell him for some reason.
For the past few weeks, he'd been working at a diner about twenty blocks from the rundown hotel where he was staying. It had started to bother him that he was too quickly spending the money his parents had given him. Although his father said that they would send him more if he should need it, he didn't want to take the risk that the wire transfer would be traced. He had to get a job to help defray the expenses of his life on the lam.
Clark had to be careful, however. He actually had managed to find a job that paid cash, no questions asked. That meant that there wasn't any paperwork that might be used to trace him. It was for a diner washing dishes and bussing tables. Mack, the owner of the diner, told Clark that he did that because it saved him time and money to pay his workers under the table. Mack sidestepping the system, for whatever reason, worked out for Clark.
It didn't pay well, but liked the job anyway. It was an overnight job at a place open twenty-four hours. It was close enough to the hotel that he could walk, avoiding using his powers, and the hours allowed him to avoid being on the streets during the much more crowded daylight hours. The pay, as little as it was, meant he didn't need to use much of the cash his parents had given him.
Even though he'd given Mack an alias, 'Jerome Clark', he knew working was a huge risk. It meant showing up at the same place the same time daily, but he had learned to be frugal from his parents. He hated spending the money they'd sent him, even though he had been thrifty as possible. Clark also liked being around people, even if he didn't say much of anything to anyone. He had been so lonely before he started working, so it was more than just the money.
As he approached the diner, he paused and hung back in the shadows in an alley down the street. Clark x-rayed the entire block, looking for the telltale opaque blue of lead. There wasn't a good reason for someone to have lead on them besides hiding kryptonite from Clark, so he looked all the time. He couldn't take the chance someone had figured out where he was, nor trust that someone looking for him wouldn't come upon him by accident.... It paid to be cautious. The only problem in the neighborhood was that some buildings still had lead paint on their walls. It bothered him that he couldn't search those buildings, one was only a few doors down from the diner, but there was nothing he could do about that.
He didn't spot any lead aside from the buildings with the old paint. He crossed the street, easily dodging the few cars that moved along this time of night. Before he opened the door to the restaurant, Clark briefly took a moment to do a more close-up x-ray scan of the diner and its sparse late night clientele. All clear, Clark allowed himself a sigh of relief, but he kept his head down so his face wouldn't show in the diner's sole security camera, which he knew had a wide angle view of the cash register and front door.
Clark liked New York and the people there. He thought they were nice, despite appearances to contrary, but it had taken him awhile to figure that out. He had, like most people, assumed that the directness of New Yorkers meant they were all misanthropic grumps. He eventually came to understand that what most people took as rudeness was just an inherent intolerance of bull shit. New Yorkers said what they felt, shrugging off common pretenses to be polite.
It was simple: if they didn't like you, they let you know. On the flip side, if they liked you they let you know that too, although it might them awhile to warm up to you. The façades that most people in the rest of America put up so that they would fit in socially was refreshingly absent from most New Yorkers. A world where most people were that brutally honest was highly welcome.
Clark was as happy there as he thought he could be, under the circumstances.
He nodded his head in greeting to the night waitress/cashier, Brenda. She was brash and had a three pack a day habit, but Clark liked her a lot. He allowed himself a hint of a smile in her direction before he ducked into the back, finally free of electronic surveillance. He relaxed a bit as he pulled off his gloves and took off his jacket. He stuffed the gloves and hat into a pocket of his jacket and hung it up in the tiny, cluttered break room.
Down to just a baggy t-shirt, his worn work boots and jeans, Clark grabbed an apron from the pile of clean ones and tied it around his waist. He stepped into the kitchen, nodding a greeting to the night-shift cook, Stan. He was an older man who had recently acquired an iPod, and he always had one ear bud stuck into his ear. Clark smiled at him as he turned back to the burner and tapped his foot to the music Clark could hear even without using his powers. Clark pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and got to work at the tiny dishwasher stuck in the corner.
He had a lot of work to do since dishes had really piled up from the evening rush after the day dishwasher had left... When things were this busy at the beginning of the shift, Clark sometimes was tempted to put in a bit of speed to get the pile out of the way, but he never did. He'd been very careful since he'd escaped to not use his powers unless it was really necessary.
That was harder to do than he had expected. His hearing always seemed to pick up cries for help almost any time of day. It was the biggest drawback about living in a big city like New York. Clark couldn't ignore them since helping others was the right thing to do. He hoped he'd been careful, using speed or heat vision whenever he could to help him be as stealthy as possible.
Unfortunately, the area of town he was living in was prone to violent crimes so surreptitiously helping victims was hard to do at times, but using speed and stealing a mugger's gun without being seen or setting a rapist's shoes on fire from blocks away gave him a very satisfying feeling. He felt really good when he helped others, even anonymously, despite the risk to exposing his location to the men that were still looking for him. He just couldn't ignore a plea for help... He had to risk discovery if he had to in order to save a life.
He set a rack for glasses onto the stainless steel table that was part of the washer. He filled it with the dirty glasses and slid the rack into the washer and closed the door. He pressed the button to start the cycle, picked up another rack and started to fill that with more glasses.
It wasn't particularly hard work but it was monotonous. There seemed to be a never ending stream of dishes and glasses to clean, but Clark enjoyed the work despite that. He liked keeping busy. The alternative was to sit alone in his room, brooding and slowly going insane.
He played it safe and used his x-ray vision to search any new customers for the tell tale opaque blue of lead. He never found anyone with any on them, but he never forgot to search when he heard someone else come in the restaurant. He had to be careful.
------
Another day of work went well, except when Stan needed his help getting something from the walk in freezer. Clark hated the small, closed in space. He didn't want Stan to know how much he hated it, however. He tried to not call any extra attention to himself and severe claustrophobia like he had, thanks to his time at the lab, wasn't normal so he hid it as best he could.
He swallowed hard and blocked the door open with a five gallon bucket of coleslaw. The lock on the door to the walk-in freezer was broken and didn't work from the inside, so Clark was always careful to block the door open. It was the only way he would go in... He didn't want to risk getting locked in. He shuddered at the very thought...
Stan didn't hear Clark drop the container of frozen hamburger patties on the counter behind him because his music was so loud. Clark smirked. Mack was indulgent with Stan always having one ear bud in. He did his job quickly and was a good cook, yet was willing to work under the table.
Clark sighed as he pulled the bucket away from the door of the freezer and let the door close. He was glad the patties had been close to the front.
He took off his apron and scanned the customers once last time before he left. There was no lead on any customers and Mack gave him the cash he'd earned for the day. Clark tucked it into the front pocket of his jeans before stepping to the window to look outside, facing away from the only camera in the place. He used buttoning up his coat and pulling on his gloves and hat to cover the fact that he was really searching the street outside. He scanned for the blue of lead but the only lead he spotted was the lead he expected.
He stepped out into the pre-dawn street, where almost no one was moving, and started to walk home...
Clark called the place he stayed 'home' but it wasn't. The hotel where he stayed was dirty and run down, but it was cheap and no one really looked at him there. He felt invisible there, which was just fine with him.
Hungry, Clark went into the convenience store around the corner from the hotel. He wanted to grab some milk and a package of pop tarts before he got home. A strange man who browsed the newspaper rack, suspiciously well dressed for this neighborhood, took a long look at Clark as he waited for the clerk to ring up his order. Clark was a bit worried and scanned the man, but no solid blue met his eye. He paid for his purchase and left quickly. Using his x-ray vision to peer inside the store, Clark looked behind him a time or two to make sure that strange man wasn't following him, but he remained at the newspaper rack for quite some time.
He got to the hotel and walked quickly up the stairs to his room. The hallway on his floor smelled vaguely like sex, the cheap hotel was a favorite place for hookers, and Clark hurried as fast as he thought a human might to his room.
He quickly entered and, using his x-ray vision, looked back at the convenience store. The man who had been there was now gone. He searched the area and found the man across the street looking at Clark's hotel. He was talking on his cell phone and seemed to be looking straight at Clark. It spooked him badly, even though there was no way that the man could see him through the brick and plaster between them.
Clark listened... "...I'll be back in touch." The man flipped the phone closed and turned and walked away.
Dammit. Clark thought.. He hadn't heard who the man was talking to. He sat down glumly on his bed.
Clark shook his head. Maybe it was nothing... Maybe he was seeing dangers where there were none. The guy could just be creepy without having an agenda. Maybe living a life on the run was making him paranoid...
He sighed and tore open the wrapper of his pop-tarts. He bit into the dry pastry, loving the sweet and spicy brown sugar cinnamon filling, and figured that he would just avoid that particular store from now on. He decided he would have to try and walk different routes to work.
As he slowly ate the pop-tart, Clark methodically traced new routes to work as far as he could with his x-ray vision. Other ways of going took him through more run-down areas and those buildings had more lead paint. So, it was harder to trace the routes from a distance. He simply would have to be more careful as he walked along the new routes and be on the look-out for security cameras he couldn't see from here.
As he tried to map out the new routes to work, he tried hard to convince himself that the new routes were necessary, even if they took him miles out of his way. He was just being careful.
After all, just because he was paranoid it didn't mean that people weren't after him.
-----
The next day, Clark called his parents from over the Missouri-Kansas border. There was a big snowstorm and the roads were almost empty and the air was clear of air traffic thanks to Denver International and most of Kansas's airports all being closed.
He felt very safe. He wasn't cold at all as he hung in the double digit sub-zero air inside a huge bank of snow clouds that were, combined with the strong winds, causing blizzard conditions far below him. He could see his parents each talking on the couch on separate extensions. The fireplace had a brightly crackling fire, but the chill must have reached the living room despite that because Clark's mom had one of her quilts covering her lap.
His father spoke quietly. "Son, we've been so worried about you... You should call more often. Are you okay? Do you need any money?"
"No, dad... I'll be fine."
"We thought for sure you would have used up all the money by now, how are you surviving?"
Clark didn't want to lie, but he knew they'd be unhappy with his answer.... He replied quietly. "Well, I'm working..."
His mother was incredulous, her eyes big as she looked in shock at her husband. "You're working? Why on earth would you take the risk?"
"I was spending the money too fast, mom..."
His dad's voice sounded grim. "That's not a good idea, son. It'll be easier to find you, the paperwork alone..."
"No, Dad. I found a job that pays cash so there's no paperwork... I'm happier working anyway, dad, if I can't be home." His voice dropped to a desperate whisper. "I'd go crazy otherwise. I need to be around people, Dad... Being alone was so hard..."
He looked at his parents as they exchanged worried glances. His dad was about to say something, but his mom held up her hand indicating she wanted to handle this.
"Clark, it's incredibly dangerous that you're working, especially now. You should call more often if you're lonely and we'll figure out some way of sending you more money so you can get it safely..."
"Mom, don't worry about me... I'll be okay."
"You shouldn't be surprised that we're worried about you, Clark. You're our only child who's already been through so much..." She cleared her throat and unfolded the paper that lay on the coffee table. "You read the paper lately?"
"The paper? No, mom... I haven't really had the time..."
"I think you should look at the paper today, there's an ad that might make you rethink working..."
"Why? What ad?"
"It's been in every issue of both the Smallville Ledger and the Daily Planet the past two weeks. I checked when I first saw it a couple of days ago. I went and checked other papers at the library and it's also been in every major newspaper in the country, Clark..."
"Why are you worried about an ad? I don't understand..."
"Well, I got it right here..."
Clark focused, the paper wasn't where he could read it.... "Could you turn the page, Mom?"
"Turn the page? You can see the paper I'm holding? How close are you?"
"Not close, Mom... I'm about several hundred miles away..." His parents exchanged shocked expressions.
"Several hundred miles? I had no idea you could see that far, Clark..."
"Yeah... I think my vison's gotten stronger, Mom, but you need to turn the paper a little to your... uh... left and hold it up..."
She held it up and turned the page around. She pointed to the ad she had been talking about. It was in the personal ads.
As he read the ad, his chest got tight and he felt like he couldn't breathe...
HUGE CASH REWARDS!!! Thousands for information!
Seen someone do something that shouldn't be possible?
Help us identify persons with Super-Human abilities!
Major Genetic Research Project needs your help NOW!
Call *866-444-SUPER* and Get CASH TODAY!
His mother's voice was rough with emotion. "Clark. That can only be you they're looking for... They must be getting desperate... You have to quit that job, it's too dangerous. We'll figure out how to help you..."
Clark didn't know what to say. His mouth was dry and he felt nauseous. Clark had been lulled somewhat into a false sense of security. It'd been months since he had escaped and aside from the occasional strange look from a stranger, which could be chalked up to the other person just being creepy, he hadn't seen any sign of his location having been discovered. The surveillance from Lana's old house aside, he hadn't suspected any real dangers, even as paranoid as he'd become.
Watching his parents' house is one thing, them actually giving people money to rat him out was something else. That plan, unlike their laying in wait for him, would probably work.
Clark wasn't as naïve as he used to be. He knew if you give some people enough money, they'd do almost anything. He'd seen that fact in action back at the lab...
He knew that the plan would work, and maybe it already had. He had used his abilities carefully, he had thought, but what if he had slipped? What if someone had seen?
Clark shook his head, dismissing the idea. No. He'd been very careful. He was sure no one had seen... He'd just have to make sure to be extra careful now...
"Clark, you should stop using your abilities now unless it's absolutely necessary. You can't risk anyone seeing you use your powers."
He grimaced, "Mom, I can't stop using my abilities. It's not like a switch I can turn off. Besides if someone is in trouble, I've got to help them. I can't turn away from someone who needs help. You know I can't..."
The phone started beeping. Clark looked and the display told him that the amount of time left on the phone was about to expire... It was prompting to either buy a new phone or purchase more time.
"Mom, Dad... I've got to go, but I promise I'll phone more often and I'll be as careful as I can about using my powers."
His mom was holding back tears, not wanting to upset Clark but he could see her struggle to sound calm. "Clark, we miss you so much... You have to stay safe. Please call as often as you can so we don't worry...."
The beeping picked up in volume and in tempo... the phone was insistent that Clark buy more time now.
He was sorry he didn't think to buy another phone before calling his parents. Clark's voice was rough with emotion as the storm worsened around him. "I will, Mom. Don't worry about me. I love you."
His dad's eyes brimmed with unshed tears, "We love you, sss..." Then Clark's phone turned off, now that it was out of talk time.
He closed the phone and crushed it into powder in his fist. As he dropped down lower into the furious storm, he opened his hand to let the dust disperse into the winds that buffeted him. Angry that the men who chased him seemingly wouldn't ever give up, Clark watched his parents hug each other as his mother was reduced to tears. She sobbed and clung desperately to her husband as Clark watched, sad that he was unable to offer more comfort than he already had.
Tears of anger and frustration welled up in his eyes as he tore off into the darkening sky. He was going to be late for work if he didn't hurry...
The sonic boom trailed behind him and rocked houses below him all the way from Central Kansas to when he slowed down over North Jersey...
Continued here....