"Go By"

///chapter eight///



.








Blue and red.


At night, the violent hues burned bright into every pair of eyes on the street and those that peered through windows.


Police cruisers raced past damp pavement, their air horns and high beams bouncing off and in between the brick and boulder.


The sirens ricocheted off one building to another, all the way from the sticks and shipping yards, bouncing around to the heart of Metropolis, to the corner of Fifth and Concord.


There, several suits rushed out of the swirling, gold gates that regularly spun out breaking news no matter what hour of night.


Tonight the hounds followed the blue and red flashing lights that trailed for blocks after the bright red engines screamed by.

Tonight a multi-billion dollar bridge collapsed into the river.


Many have jumped from that bridge, but tonight, the last would always be remembered as the man who took it down with him.


Tonight, Seth Nelson died.


It was a name Chloe barely remembered in her brief stint at Smallville High. Evidently Seth had developed a few meteor powers since then, only to be institutionalized by his own parents, living inside a facility called Belle Reeve, a compound kept for keeping the meteor infected contained.


That’s where Seth had met Alicia Baker, another girl who Chloe barely remembered. The two met and fell in love while incarcerated inside that dreary, prison.


Even as Chloe stood at the riverbank where Seth’s body had washed up, her mind couldn’t focus objectively on the story of two young people whose jail run had hit a dead end.


All she could think about was the possibility that the body underneath the tarp could have been hers. Somehow she’d barely escaped the confines of the military’s meta-human asylum. Somehow she’d managed to stay under the radar.


For now.


She grieved for them, for everyone who was still trapped inside.


Chloe moved out of the way as the paramedics lifted Seth’s body into one of the several ambulances blocking out the marshy bank. There, over by the squad cars were several detectives with no clue as to where the second Belle Reeve escapee had gone.


Several diving crews were already searching the river, other units combing the perimeter. But Chloe knew they wouldn’t find anything. If the police had actually done their research, they would have known that Alicia Baker’s meteor abilities practically made her impossible to track down.


The couple had staged their escape for years, as their absence hadn’t been detected for hours. With Alicia’s teleportation, ten minutes was more then enough to be gone, permanently.


They were free, and on the run. Like a contemporary, meteor freak Bonnie and Clyde, running from their past, running from their captors, running forever.


But somewhere between their freedom and failing hope, Seth Nelson felt remorse for what he had done.


Nelson’s ability to manipulate metallic objects also came with the ability to manipulate minds, via electro magnetic activity within the brain.


Seth desperately wanted someone to love, someone to love him, someone who would run away with him in a fantasy that could have been real if it weren’t for cold reality.


Alicia Baker didn’t love him.


After he'd confessed what he had done, why he had done it, it all fell apart from there.


Seth’s mind, so twisted and manipulated into itself by years of aggressive treatments and experimental pharmaceuticals, fell into the paradigm that he was more alone now that he had broken the spell he had cast on Alicia for years.


Perhaps Seth wasn’t used to the vast, open spaces, or thick, gritty air the free world provided. Nor was he prepared for the open ended conclusions that found him once outside of the controlled, supervised life he knew in Belle Reeve.


Possibly it could have been a chemical imbalance, as the drugs that usually kept Seth from thinking too hard, or thinking at all were absent from his system.


Or maybe it was the all too honest rejection of not being loved in return.


Tonight Seth Nelson climbed the bridge that connected the two halves of the city, and in his heartbreak and crumbling state, took the steel bridge down with him, all the way to the bottom of the river.


**


The news casters were already reading lines from tele-prompters, covering the dive team search for the other missing escapee, a high school photo of a very pretty young blonde inserted on every television screen.


Her picture seemed familiar to Chloe, but of course Smallville was years ago gone. Everyone back then seemed like a blur, Chloe grimacing at the thought.


Having seen enough, she closed her notebook, tucking it away in her pea coat, joining Jimmy who waited for her at the top of the bank.


“Tragic night.” He said, offering a sympathetic smile as he packed up his equipment.


She didn’t say anything, only unclipping her press pass.


Jimmy closed the trunk to their car and joined her where she stood, her gaze fixed on the choppy dark waters where it had all ended.


He looked at her, already knowing what she was thinking. Jimmy had witnessed it for years , watching as Chloe took responsibility for every meteor freak, every meteor rock. He’d watched as her happiness in life overall suffered from it. No one should have to worry so much about the world like Chloe did. It made him worry about her.


“Hey. Are you ok?” He raised a gentle palm to her cheek, directing her gaze towards him.


“Jimmy,” she stared at him distantly, “you know how they’ll spin this.”


They meaning every media owed by Luthor.


“I know.” He nodded, but caught her cheek again before she could turn away. “But then there’s us. The only thing we spin is the globe up top.” He smiled, hoping for one of hers in return.


He didn’t get one.


She looked at him once more, a look of doubt, before sliding into the car.


***


The drive back to the Planet was quiet.


Chloe was able to close her tired eyes as Jimmy quietly suffered the headache of driving through a congested Metropolis. The bridge collapsing caused a great detour to half of the city.


Through closed lids, she imagined herself bound to Seth Nelson’s body, sinking deeper and deeper into obscurity, buried farther within those dark waters only to be hauled out and exposed for what she was.


She was a freak.


It sent shivers through her, so she clenched her eyelids tighter, shutting out the thought.

Instead, she thought about the girl, Alicia Baker, still running, hiding somewhere no one knew, where no one would ever find her. At least Chloe hoped no one would ever find her.


Hazily, she felt the car stop and heard Jimmy’s voice telling her they were home.


She opened her eyes to where they fastened onto the bronze letters that spread with regal kerning across the aged brick.


The Daily Planet.


She landed her dream job a year ago, straight from high school and while she completed her degree at the university.


The repertoire of stories published in both school papers seemed to talk for themselves, managing to lift her far enough into the basement level of the building where she worked as a junior reporter, pitching stories up to the top.


But it wasn’t what she imagined.


Maybe she’d been dreaming about it for too long, and now reality paled in comparison to such great expectations.


Sure there were stories to chase out in the big world, but none of them mattered against the sole purpose that enveloped her life now, the one she’d been chasing for years.


Belle Reeve wasn’t just a military establishment; it was a gateway to Lex Luthor’s experimental exploits. For years, contracts between the U.S. government and LuthorCorp were created with the only purpose that Lex Luthor have first dibs of which meta-human to extract samples from while he pumped investments into military bonds.


It was disgusting and horrifying, knowing that innocent people were being experimented on like trapped animals that were only waiting to die or be euthanized. No one outlived their term in Belle Reeve. All incarcerations were indefinite.


To the public’s belief, and through thick propaganda, Belle Reeve was a godsend. Lex Luthor managed , very easily, to buy out almost all of the media that existed in Metropolis and recently, the world. And with every channel of influence, Lex strengthened his persuasion. It was Lex’s manifesto that every contained meteor infected citizen, created a safer world for those without the ugly mutation. LuthorCorp vowed to find every meteor rock and destroy it and all of its alien properties. Lex Luthor promised to save the world, one less green rock at a time.


And with that motto, LuthorCorp reveled in record breaking stock sales.


Lex Luthor could claim he was a humanitarian, but he was a profiteer first.

Chloe could see that the cards were stacked against her. It was her against Lex Luthor and the rest of the world, evidently. Lately, every door that was previously open to her was slammed in her face.

She could feel Lex’s subtle supervision over her work.

She knew it had to boil his blood how he couldn’t quite buy out the Planet, couldn’t quite remove the last thorn in his side. Couldn’t suffocate the last remaining torch that threatened his unchallenged tyranny.


But Lex was a good strategist, and made do with what he did have power over.


Therefore all of her previous contacts and witnesses she’d interviewed in her case against LuthorCorp who were once very willing to comply turned, now adamant that they no longer wished to participate. On some even stranger accounts, previous contacts had relocated to addresses that simply did not exist, conveniently disappearing completely.


But it wasn’t a reason enough to quit. Chloe Sullivan never quit.


Everyday was another opportunity, every revolution of that shiny globe above proof that the world wasn’t over, yet.


**


She followed Jimmy through the revolving doors, only to be spun out so quickly it snapped her out of her sleepy state.


“What’s going on?” She looked at the bodies pouring out of the crowded, clamoring lobby, fleeing out to the street.


Jimmy looked to her with equal curiosity.


“Sullivan!”


Both of them turned to see Perry White tangled up in his overcoat, trying to force it onto his hefty shoulders.


“Hey, Chief. What’s the bustle about?” Chloe advanced, with Jimmy right behind her.


“The bridge! Why aren’t you over there?” Perry wiggled one arm through the sleeve and fussed with other until it followed suit. “I want pictures, Olsen!”


“But Chief, we were just there. I have like a hundred shots of it sinking into the river.“ Jimmy looked to Chloe who looked back at him.


“That’s old news, Olsen. One of those hero types raised the damned thing, pulled it right out of the water!” Perry rushed past them, disappearing into the spinning doors.


The two of them looked at each other as more reporting teams hurried past.


“You better go, Jimmy.” said Chloe.


Jimmy didn’t move, instead he waited beside her and smiled. “No, I’ve already got my shots. And we already have our story.”


Good old Jimmy, always supportive and thoughtful. But they both knew the meteor infected angle would be overshadowed by the latest update of the night. Super powered celebrities had a way of taking over front page.


“Jimmy, don’t be silly. You know this is going to be front page. You should go back out there and capture it. It’s not like everyday a bridge is resurrected from its death.”


Her words cut deeper than she meant. Images of Seth Nelson’s body floated to mind. No one would care about his story, not after this.


Despite Chloe’s own devotion concerning the meteor rocks, she knew Olsen had ambition of his own. Just because she wasn’t fond the superhero angle didn’t mean Jimmy wasn’t. Chloe knew that deep down Jimmy idolized the type that could run faster than a speeding bullet, repell from skyscraper to skyscraper, maybe even fly.


After several more protests, Chloe finally gave Jimmy a good shove. “Jimmy, if you don’t move your butt and get going, I’m going to have to throw you out!”


“Okay, okay! If you’re going to push me out the door I guess I’ll have to chase the picture of a lifetime.” He said, a boyish grin lighting up his face.


After he transferred through the revolving door and into the waiting world outside, Jimmy stood at one of the windows, watching as Chloe headed for one of the elevators with its highly polished brass doors open.


As she turned to press the elevator command, she spied him at the window, camera in hand, still watching her with a goofy grin. She waved, finding herself smiling in return, and just before the brass doors closed, she thought she saw Olsen wink. But now, they were closed, and she found her own image staring back from the perfectly polished, brass plane.


Her hair was a mess, too long and inconvenient to her tastes, but she could never find the time to stop at a salon, nor did could she afford the inflated price of a good stylist in the city.


In the brief time between the elevator ride from street level to basement, Chloe swept up her shoulder length hair, gathering it into a makeshift, but artfully crafted bun.


Super heros didn’t impress Chloe like they marveled the rest of Metropolis. To her, it seemed like an everyday occurrence, wasn’t it?


First there had been the kid with the speed. Flash, he called himself, as he posed for television cameras.


Then there was the guy who could be spotted in the surf, the one who could swim faster, way faster than any recorded being. He donned himself Aquaman. Not spectacularly original, Chloe thought, but descriptive enough.


One that peaked Chloe’s interested was a guy named Victor Stone. She’d actually heard of him way before his alias, Cyborg, had dried on the presses. Victor was subjected to the inhumane experimentations Luthor Corp had been known to since Lex’s rise to power. Chloe tried desperately to get an exclusive with Mr. Stone, but he kept elusive, only traces of his computer hacking programming left behind.


Lately there were rumors of a new hero, “The Blur” they called him, since his image never quite graced enough pixels to form a clear image.


Then of course there was the Green Arrow.


It didn’t take much for Chloe to reveal the green archer’s identity, just a few tricks and an unrelenting curiosity required.


After the man in green leather had swooped in and saved her from a rather messy, life threatening situation during one of her investigations, she couldn’t resist in discovering the true identity of her savior.


Though, it did come as a surprise that it was Oliver Queen, renowned playboy and billionaire. Evidently the man created a reputation at both sides of life.


Afterwards, it wasn’t a total surprise when she started receiving little green thumb drives, all of them containing encrypted information imperative to her campaign against Luthor.


She wasn’t sure which man sent her these, Oliver Queen or Green Arrow, but she appreciated both of them greatly. At least she had one ally against Luthor.


**


The elevator chimed, doors opened, revealing the room she’d lived in for the past year.


So, it wasn’t her actual home, but it might as well have been. She’d survived many nights in this basement.


And why not.


It was cozy, dark, and quiet when everyone else had scattered out after hours. There were facilities, a coffee machine, snack machine and a nice, powerful network at her fingertips.


Home sweet home.


She didn’t really mind working at the sublevel. In a way, answering phones and writing obituaries left plenty of time to finish her studies at the university, and still have time to research for her own angle of the world.


And besides, those big time journalists up stairs might know people at the top, but Chloe Sullivan had connections at the bottom. Only difference was that her connections worked for tips, and for a lot less money.


She plopped down in her desk, and turned on her computer.


It looked like it was going to be another one of those over-nighters.


She leaned forward, resting her chin upon her hand, gazing up at the stained glass that her desk faced. She imagined that in five more hours the first signs of morning light would shine through them, revealing the slumbering beauty within its colored panes. But as of now, they were dim, and dead.


The entire basement was dead, only Chloe’s computer screen humming, glowing as a singular light source.


Her eye lids felt heavy, and she resisted the urge to close them, waiting for her computer to boot up. There was work to do. Hours of research to dig up, connections to make.


But her lashes fluttered lower and lower, the cloudy sensation of sleep creeping in.


She couldn’t fall asleep, not now. Not after Seth had died, and Alicia was still out there, scared. She could seek out to her, let her know that there was still someone who cared, who wanted to help her.


She would write their story, every story.


Chloe wouldn’t let the world forget about them so easily.


Caught up in thought, she didn’t notice her lashes descend for the last time, closing completely.


**

In her dream, she found herself standing beside Seth Nelson, on top of that bridge. It was cold up there, scary, so high up, away from anything else.


But, it was quiet.


The boy who she vaguely remembered in high school turned to her, and smiled taking her hand in his. His face, it seemed so familiar with his dark hair and elusive eyes, although she wasn’t sure she was looking at Seth anymore or that of someone else.


But before the image was clear, they both jumped; and the dark water below rushed towards them.


In air, she could feel the wind whipping past, in some sort of reverse flying state, where the destination was always the same, controlled by gravity and fate.


Falling, she looked at Seth once more, and saw that his eyes were closed. She had the feeling that she should close hers too, but they wouldn't.


She couldn’t watch her fate with closed eyes like Seth had.


Instead, she stared at the remaining distance, plummeting down, waiting for the violent stop the tall drop promised.


Her body accelerated down, desperately wanting to meet the water, heartbeat pulsing faster as if racing towards an imaginary finish line that meant the end.


Eighty feet.


Twenty.


Then, only inches.


That’s when she woke up.


She jumped, her heartbeat expanding to in her eardrum and fingertips.


Recovering her bearings, she felt a strong breeze whip past her desk. She watched as her papers picked up in air and scatter, as if the wind from her drop from the bridge had transferred into the basement.


“Weird.” She whispered, heart slowing now as she settled her files back again, brushing misplaced strands of hair behind her ear.


Whatever caused it, the strange draft made a few of her papers fly completely off her desk.


She stood up and walked over to pick them up, her high heels disturbing the otherwise silent basement. She knelt down, and began gathering up them up when she heard a noise from the back.


“Hello?” She thought she was alone, but maybe not.


She looked around, but saw no one. Just vacant desks and lonely office chairs.


She heard it again, and spun around towards the old telephone booths tucked away in the corner. They dated since the forties, no longer operational, but nonetheless historical.


She walked over to one and paused as her hand fell to the door.


She remembered that she was alone, and it was late. If there was someone hiding in the telephone booth, obviously they didn’t belong here.


Instinctively, she grabbed a heavy paper weight off a nearby desk, deciding that whatever stumbled out of that booth wouldn’t get very far past her, at least without a good sized knot on its head.


Her other hand fell to the door again, preparing to whip it open.


But it opened on its own, faster than she could even react to throw her defensive tactic at the stranger inside.


Surprised, she gasped, tripped over her heels, falling back into air, anticipating the ungraceful landing.


But she never hit the floor.

Instead, she was caught, suspended backwards as if still falling from the great height she envisioned falling from moments earlier.


chapter nine