"Go By"

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///chapter two///




The summer arrived and passed slowly.


Kansas summers were mild and pleasant, allowing the yearly spurt of green crops to populate its boundless fields. Farm work never slowed Clark down since he finished a day’s work before sunrise; only dropping out of super-speed every now and then to tend to the animals. He admired the serene spirit that embodied them, as if they never considered the weight of the world would ever rest on their shoulders.


Not that Clark envied dairy cows.


It was just that lately Clark’s days were arduous. Ever since the discovery of his ship and Kawatche caves, everything surrounding those green meteor rocks created trouble that perpetuated week after week. Kids from his school seemed to be getting infected one by one, causing a stir in the other wise stagnant town.


He’d done his best to right all of the wrongs the green rocks inflicted, but it proved difficult without exposing himself or his vulnerabilities.


After what could be called the weirdest year of his life, Clark searched for normalcy wherever he could find it that summer.


Pete swung by every Sunday after noon to eat a late lunch and play a game of “horse” on the net tacked up on the back of the barn. The game always ended with Clark missing every last “E” and Pete reveling in Clark’s predictable game clutching miss. But Clark always smiled, and shrugged, delivering a tired excuse that the game was rigged. And it was. Clark always lost. For if Clark ever actually won, he figured the triumph wouldn’t be gratifying. Clark had a big advantage and besides, he was too attached to the playful banter than came with Pete’s inevitable victory. Clark cherished every afternoon he and Pete shared; even if it meant Clark taking a few losses. Shooting hoops with a buddy was as normal as it got for Clark.


**


During those leisurely days, Clark worked up the courage to meet Lana for coffee on her breaks at the Talon. She’d been the girl Clark doted on since he was four.


Their conversations always revolved around the latest news from Whitney, Lana’s beau who enlisted in the Marines earlier that year. Lana and Whitney exchanged several correspondences that summer while he was away at base.


Despite Lana’s open uncertainty about her feelings for Whitney, Clark never took the chance to confess that his heart was reserved for her.


It was a different world since he and Whitney first crossed paths. Yes, its true Whitney once strung Clark up as a scarecrow in a cruel prank, but all of that was forgiven with time. The two boys eventually became friends, even if it was for Lana’s sake.


Clark remembers the last words Whitney spoke to him; that he trusted him. To Clark, it was like winning a great accomplishment, a long time foe turned into a friend, at last.


It took Clark a long time to earn Whitney Fordman’s trust and he wasn’t about to break it.


So Clark gladly settled for friendship with Lana. She was there everyday, smiling and chatting. They became good friends, sometimes hanging out after closing hours, or catching a movie with Pete on Friday nights.


It more than enough for Clark to be in Lana’s inner circle, learning every quirk and idiosyncrasy she hid behind her alluring brown eyes.


But even as friends, Clark still left Lana’s side in a daydream, shyly passing beyond a polite smile they shared every day.


**


Nights after his parents had gone to bed, and Pete left for home, Clark stayed up in his loft, fiddling with the telescope his grandfather had given his father, and his father had given him. He studied every cluster of stars, silently meditating if he would find any answers there.


He wondered if anyone come looking for a boy they had lost years ago. Or maybe they had forgotten about him altogether.


Clark snuck away some nights down to the caves where he let his flashlight trace over the paintings that adorned its wall for centuries. They told of a legend named Naman; A man from the stars who traveled to earth with his brother, Sageeth.


Researching every glyph, Clark digested the ancient lore, reciting every broken scripture. They were so poignant, and visceral to Clark, every night he spent researching further on the Kawatche legend, Clark felt they were speaking directly to him.


Clark would remain there for hours, contemplating the ideas men had illustrated so many years ago. Clark imagined himself as Naman, travelling so far from the stars to rest on this far away planet. Away from everyone who was once familiar, to live among man. Clark himself had come from the stars, but instead had no brother. That he knew of anyway.

Maybe I’m not alone. Clark considered seriously, grasping for straws of hope. But even if he found another one like him, what if the legend were true? What if they became enemies?


It was this part of the Kawatche legend always disheartened him. If Clark was destined to be alone except for the one brother who would be his mortal enemy, then what was the point?


But there, in the smaller portion of the caves, was an even smaller reference. Naman’s soul mate. Clark always paused there, staring at the symbol blankly.

Soulmate? Clark reflected.


He didn’t really know what soul mate meant. Maybe Clark was too young or too naïve, he’d barely begun to understand love. He could hardly smile at Lana without becoming a bumbling fool. He couldn’t imagine sharing all of his secrets with someone. It scared him more than the Sageeth part.


But Clark always shrugged it off, only continuing to wander restlessly among the walls of those damp, dark caves for hours and hours that summer.


Afterward, he frequently retired to the old red couch above the barn, where his mind relaxed and restless thoughts cleared. Clark’s mind predictably wandered over to the same subject most times, about how a certain spunky friend was faring in the big city.


Clark sent a few emails Chloe’s way, fishing for details of her new life in Metropolis. What returned were short, one line responses that veered far away from Chloe’s usual illustrative paragraphs. Her responses were brief and reserved. Distant.

She found new friends, Clark thought as he read one of her rare emails, one night in his room.


He curled his hand under his chin, looking out of his window to the spot where he’d last seen her. Strangely, it didn’t seem like it had been that long ago, as Clark remembered it all, putting the elements back together.


Outside his window, the night sky dissolved into the bright blue Clark remembered, with a soft yellow ball resting above.


A bright, red car was driving up. He saw himself, from his bird’s eye view, walking towards it. He saw himself smiling.


There she was. Her golden hair glistening competitively with a soft, spring sun. She held something out, something equally as shiny.


The keys.


Clark leaned back in his chair, and reached into his pocket.


They were there, along with the memory he kept safe with her.


Leaning back in his chair, Clark rested his mind at the root level, listening for the chirping of summer crickets outside his window. He then focused further for individual insects that were nesting way across the field. He’d discovered yet another ability that summer, and it was taking good practice to get used to this super hearing.


This was an exercise that helped Clark sleep at night, when his over active mind couldn’t stop swirling with ideas and expectations. He couldn’t be sure if there would be another meteor infection tomorrow, or if the sky would fall with another meteor shower. He couldn’t be sure of anything.


So he used his last remaining minutes of those nights before bed to lower his consciousness and just listen. He heard the white noise of Smallville as a whole. It was a mixture of choral chirping and wind nestling with occasional percussion events. He listened further, hearing the edges of clamor from the neighboring towns between here and the city that was three hours away by car.


Clark closed his eyes, prodding his abilities even further, clumsily sifting through the blaring idiosyncrasies that made up Metropolis. Slowly, clusters of elements fell away until only a soft murmur chanted Clark deeper into relaxation.


If he concentrated even further, he discovered a funny, thrumming every now and then. He could never really pinpoint what it was, but he contently tuned in, only leaving its happy, pleasant rhythm for the drifting of sleep


chapter three