No sooner did the blonde step onto the bus at the end of Hickory Lane Friday morning than a powerful bellow hailed her from the back. "Yo, Claire! Over here." An arm waved in a completely unnecessary gesture to pinpoint the location of the bellow.
Claire Kent strode up the aisle toward the waving arm and then plopped down into the seat next to a dark-skinned girl just as the bus started to roll down Hickory Lane. She leaned back in the seat and glanced around. There was something missing. Or rather, somebody.
"Where's Charlie?" she asked, sitting up straight in order to make a better visual search around the bus for the missing body.
"Don't know," Petra Ross answered. "He wasn't waiting for the bus this morning. Was I surprised! I was expecting him to hand me a bunch of errands for his publicity campaign for the benefit concert. It's been what, a week since you guys had that first meeting?"
"I know, but nothing's been nailed down yet. The committee's still contacting groups and trying to settle on a day." Claire leaned back into the seat and looked at her best friend, a concerned expression on her face. "I hope Charlie's not sick."
"He seemed fine yesterday." Petra grinned. "Hey, maybe he's out chasing down a hot story!"
Claire sat up straight. "Stop the presses! Tear out page one! 'Scoop' Sullivan has a new exclusive!"
Petra removed an imaginary cigar from her mouth. "Egad, 'Scoop,' you've done it again!" She tapped an imaginary ash from the "cigar" and bugged her eyebrows, Groucho-style.
Falling back into her seat, Claire began to snicker. "Ya know, we'd better stop this. It's not right to rag on Charlie behind his back."
"You're so right, girlfriend." Petra took a long drag on her "cigar." "It's much more fun doing it to his face."
"Oh, yeah? Well, if we keep this up, sooner or later one of us is going to slip and call him 'Scoop' to his face. And then we'll both be toast."
Petra's face fell. "Whoa, I hadn't thought of that. Let's talk about something else, quick!" She snapped her fingers. "Hey, did you see that write-up in yesterday's Ledger about that wacko doctor and his amazing meteorite show?"
"Yeah, pretty crazy, hunh?"
"Crazy? Let's talk Looney Tunes! I didn't think there were enough old hippies alive who'd buy into that cosmic bullsh ---"
"People believe all kinds of things, Petra."
"Yeah, but I can't believe the Ledger wasted paper on that guy."
"They have space to fill, and the guy has lured a lot of out-of-towners who are spending money in the county." Claire looked out the window at the passing cornfields. "And the meteorites give it even more of a local angle."
"Now you're beginning to sound just like Charlie."
"Well, it is the sort of story that he'd..." Claire suddenly stopped and turned her gaze back inside the bus. She and Petra looked at each other, eyes growing wide as the same thought occurred to both of them. "No, he wouldn't," Claire said, shaking her head slowly.
Petra nodded vigorously, reaching a hand into a pocket. "Five bucks says he would!"
Donald Jacobi came down the back stairs of the old farmhouse to find his partner sitting at a long table in the kitchen, crunching numbers on his portable computer.
"Good morning, Jimmy. How're we doing?"
"Not too bad, all things considered. I'm a little worried about the central projector. The calibration on the lasers was a little off Wednesday night. One of them was highlighting the edges of the display screen. I think I can nurse it along, but we may have to get our hands on a backup element." James Wolfe reached over to a side table and filled his Styrofoam cup from a steaming coffeemaker. "Don, my hat's still off to you for the way you handled that fainter. That couldn't have gone better if we'd rehearsed it."
"Nell Potter? Well, it helped that she was attractive and still relatively young. Her type is almost as receptive to my charms as the kindly old grannies."
"I'll say. She not only showed up for last night's seminar, she enrolled for the whole series. I suppose you got her phone number?"
"And address. Nell gave me her card. I put it onto our mailing lists." Jacobi's smile turned wistful. "She was lovely, wasn't she? But it wouldn't be wise to get romantically involved with a local."
"That's my boy." Wolfe leaned back and cracked his knuckles. "Okay, here's how things now stand. Our devoted out-of-towners are currently renting thirty-seven of the campsites in the east acreage. And we've already received phone and fax reservations for another fifty-four. And, adding in the donations we received at the end of the first lecture" --- he leaned over the keyboard and tapped a couple of keys --- "we've so far grossed nearly seven grand. We're still a long way from recouping expenses, but seeing as how that was the first night, and a Wednesday... we're way ahead of where I thought we'd be."
"Just wait until the weekend."
A knock at the door interrupted the discussion, and an orange-vested security volunteer opened the door just enough to allow her head and shoulders into the room. "Pardon me, but there's a young man out here who wants to speak with Dr. Jacobi. He claims to work for a newspaper."
" 'Claims'?" Wolfe cocked an eye toward the volunteer. "Did you ask to see his credentials?"
"Uh, yes." The volunteer looked uneasy. "And he has a press pass for something called the Torch. But he seems awfully young."
"It's all right." Jacobi smoothed back his hair. "Show him in."
As Wolfe cleared their financial reports from his computer screen, the door swung wide.
"Dr. Jacobi? I'm Charlie Sullivan of the Smallville Torch." His appearance would have surprised his high-school friends, dressed in a tailored dark gray suit and polished black leather shoes.
"How do you do? This is my associate, Mr. James Wolfe, and... wait a minute! Sullivan...? Torch...?" Jacobi's eyes seemed to light up at the names, and he warmly shook the reporter's hand. "Young man, I am very much in your debt!"
"You are?" Charlie looked surprised.
"I am indeed! You are the Charlie Sullivan? 'Land of the Weird, Home of the Strange'?"
"Uh, yes. I am."
"I have devoted much of life to unlocking the mysteries of the genetic code. And you have given me a vitally important key!"
"I have?"
"You most certainly have! Mr. Sullivan, you are, of course, familiar with the hypothesis that comets seeded our world with the biochemical building blocks necessary for the development of life?"
"A little ---"
"For years, I have studied meteorite fragments and their effects upon the human genotype. I believe that they --- like the comets before them --- have given life on Earth a periodic boost up the ladder, so to speak. I found your paper a godsend!"
"Really?" Such a rave review was almost completely foreign to Charlie. He was used to his ideas being, at best, tolerated. He didn't stop to wonder how this man had gotten hold of a small-town high-school newspaper. "You really like it? This... this is beyond anything I ever ---!" He stopped himself. Get it together, Sullivan! You're gushing like a girl! Keep it impartial, remember? "I mean, I'm flattered, but I didn't come here for an ego boost. He pulled a microcassette recorder from a pocket. "You've started attracting a lot of new attention to Smallville, and my readership would like to learn more about you and the work of the Ascendance Foundation."
Wolfe clamped his jaws tight, choking off a laugh. I don't believe it. An interview for a high-school newspaper? "We... uh... try to help the media whenever we can, Mr. Sullivan, but you've caught us at a very busy time. Dr. Jacobi has a radio interview in less an hour. Why don't you come to the doctor's lecture tonight? You could learn much more there."
"Yes, well... I'd like to attend, but my paper has a limited budget, and..."
"James, we can provide complimentary tickets to tonight's lecture for Mr. Sullivan and some of his friends, can't we?" Jacobi nodded pointedly to Wolfe and returned his attention to Charlie. "Mr. Wolfe will take care of everything. You really should experience the program for yourself, Mr. Sullivan. It would provide excellent background for your article. And in the meantime, I think I can spare a few minutes to answer a couple of questions before I have to leave."
He turned up the wattage on his smile. "What would you like to know?"
Shortly after nine, Lex Luthor turned her gold Lamborghini onto an old gravel lane and drove past a row of ancient poplars to an isolated old farmhouse and barn. Parking out of view of the road, she got out of the car, casting an eye around her. The house appeared deserted, and that was close to the truth. The man she'd come to see spent most of his time in the larger building.
Lex pushed open a small side door and entered the barn. The makeshift laboratory within was as cluttered as ever. There were a number of experiments in progress, scattered across a series of lab tables, and each experiment involved a glowing green chunk of meteorite. But there was no sign of the experimenter. She looked around, noting with some satisfaction a shiny new centrifuge and a new computer terminal. At least Hamilton's starting to put some of my money to good use.
An angry curse suddenly erupted from behind a partition wall.
"Dr. Hamilton? Are you over there?"
"Just a minute!" Something slammed shut with a loud boom, and Dr. Steven Hamilton stormed out into the main part of the laboratory. "Ms. Luthor! Should have known it would be you!"
"Who else?" Lex briefly surveyed the scientist. Hamilton had put on a bit of weight since their initial meetings, a good development, and he looked considerably more kempt. Good to see he's taking better care of himself. Hamilton's jeans and lab coat looked new, the white coat gleaming against the man's dark brown skin. His T-shirt, also new, was emblazoned with an image of Albert Einstein wearing a police officer's cap, and the slogan: 186,000 MILES PER SECOND --- IT'S NOT JUST A GOOD IDEA, IT'S THE LAW.
Lex had to smile. He's on his way back up.
Hamilton had once been one of the nation's most respected mineralogists, until a scandal had cost him his research fellowship. For years, he had worked in virtual anonymity, studying the meteorites of Smallville from the laboratory he'd cobbled together in the old barn. Recently, Lex had become his patroness; she found the scientist's research a neat fit to her own curiosity about the meteorites. Funding Hamilton under the table satisfied that interest while concealing it from her billionaire industrialist father.
"Well?" Hamilton waved his arms, as if trying to engender comment from his visitor. In one hand he clutched a bottle of aspirin, in the other an old transistor radio. A thin wire snaked from the radio to his left ear. "What do you make of this?"
Lex looked at him quizzically. "An aspirin bottle and an old radio? I give up, what? A death ray?"
"No, no, no!"
"You'll have to give me a better clue, I'm afraid. I never saw myself as the mad scientist type." Too late, Lex realized what she'd just said. "No offense."
"None taken. I meant, what do you make of what's on the ---? Oh, hell!" Hamilton yanked the earphone jack from the radio, and its tiny speaker instantly blared to life.
"... currently fourteen after the hour on K-T-O-W, the Voice of News for Lowell County. And we're talking with Dr. Donald Jacobi, noted geneticist and founder of the Ascendance Foundation."
" 'Noted geneticist,' my ass!" Hamilton handed Lex the radio, and began rummaging through the drawer of a lab table.
The radio droned on. "Doctor, the second of your lectures is tonight. I understand that there is an admission fee?"
"That's right, Cassie. A small charge of seven-fifty. I wish we could present our entire series free of charge, but expenses being what they are..."
"Say no more, Doctor. That's still cheaper than a dinner and a movie. Now... from what I've been reading, the meteors of Lowell County play a big part in the work of your Foundation, is that right?"
"Yes, Cassie. In fact, they are absolutely crucial to our research. It's hard to explain in such a short time. Those of your listeners who are interested are invited to attend our lectures."
"I'm sure they will, Doctor. We'll be right back with the times and location of that lecture series after this word from Pleasant Meadows Homes --- making America a better place to live!"
Lex switched the radio off, as Hamilton pulled a glass beaker labeled Beverage Use Only from the drawer and began filling it with water from the tap on a nearby sink.
"I take it that Dr. Jacobi's work fails to impress you?"
" 'Doctor'? Hah!" Hamilton tossed back a couple of aspirin and downed the beaker of water. "He got his doctorate from one of those Caribbean diploma mills. And if his Foundation exists for any reason other than to make money, I'd be deeply shocked."
"Are you saying his reputation is worse than yours?"
"At least I once had a reputation." Hamilton scowled and perched on a stool. "No, Jacobi is very charming. He talks a good game. But as far as science goes, he's a lightweight. He has few credentials, and he's never published anything of significance. His biggest claim to fame is his newsletter. That alone probably nets him over $50,000 a year." Hamilton paused, remembering --- that had been the sum on the first check Lex had given him. "No offense."
"None taken." The young millionaire grinned. "We both know that what I gave you was just a retainer for your services. There'll be more to come, much more." She leaned back against a cabinet. "So, aside from offending the standards of science, what bothers you most about Jacobi?"
"Just that he might lure a bunch of yahoos to the area and get in the way of our research."
"Is that really likely?"
Hamilton looked up at his young patroness. "You seem to know everything that goes on in and around this town. You tell me."
It wasn't until noon that Charlie Sullivan finally caught up with Claire Kent and Petra Ross. They were midway through lunch in the high-school cafeteria when he came running over to them.
"Hey, ladies!"
"Talk about fashionably late." Petra put down her sloppy joe and looked him over. "And speaking of fashion, what's with that outfit? Who died?" She abruptly slapped a hand over her mouth. "Omigod, did Stuart ---?"
"No, he's still hanging in, the last I heard." Charlie lowered himself into the seat directly across from Claire. "And there are reasons other than funerals to dress nicely, you know." Reaching up to his throat, he started to loosen his tie.
"Let's see... too early in the day for a wedding. Job interview?"
"You're close." Charlie pulled his tie off completely, folded it, and stuffed it into his breast pocket.
"I don't want to play this game." Petra picked up her sandwich. "Where were you this morning?"
"Yeah," Claire asked, "what's the scoop?"
It wasn't so much what Claire said, as her totally innocent delivery, that made Petra drop her sloppy joe. She pounded the table, faking a cough to cover her laughing jag.
Charlie looked at her, startled. "Are you okay?"
"Huh... yeah." Tears were coming to Petra's eyes. "Something just went down the wrong pipe."
"Well, stay alive! I'd hate to lose you, especially now." Charlie leaned in closer. "You guys aren't going to believe this! I went over to interview Dr. Jacobi this morning."
"You skipped your morning classes to talk to the tent-show guy?" Claire exchanged a knowing glance with Petra. Good thing I didn't take her bet.
"Just first period, and I had a valid excuse. I was working on a reporting assignment given me by the editor of the Torch."
"Charlie, you are the editor of the Torch." Claire shook her head. "I don't believe you'd waste your time on that guy."
"Yeah, but since he's involved in meteorite research, I just had to check him out. And I'm so glad I did." Charlie gazed longingly at the leftover french fries on Claire's plate. "Would you mind if I...?"
"Help yourself." She pushed the tray toward him.
"Thanks." He snagged an especially long fry and waved it about. "It was so great. Dr. Jacobi totally agrees with my weirdness theories."
Petra looked skeptical. "And this is good --- how?"
"It validates all my efforts to make people wake up and pay attention to what's going on around here. A national expert with a major lecture series is saying what I've been saying all along. This is even better than selling a story to the Ledger!"
"Charlie..." Claire searched for the right words. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."
"Yeah, my pop thinks this guy is some kind of snake-oil salesman."
"Petra!"
"Mine, too."
"Claire!" Charlie gave them both his sternest look. "Has either of your fathers heard him speak?"
Claire looked at Petra, who shook her head. "No, but ---!"
"Has either of you heard him speak?"
"Well, no."
"Good. Then we can all judge for ourselves!" Charlie was all smiles as he pulled a handful of tickets from the inside pocket of his suit.
"Wha ---? No way!"
"What's the matter, Petra? Afraid to find out that your father could be wrong?"
"Hey, I don't think Pop's off base about this. He can be wrong about some things, maybe even a lot of things, but ---"
"There's an easy way to find out." Charlie fanned the tickets out, waving them under her nose. "Don't tell me you're busy tonight!"
"Me? Of course, I'm... it's just that..." Petra faltered. "Okay, I got nothin'."
"Claire?" Charlie fanned her with the tickets from across the table.
"Well, I am curious, but..." Claire took a closer look at Charlie's fan. "How many tickets do you have there?"
"One-two-three... four-five! That's funny. I told them I had a couple of friends..."
"Maybe they thought you'd want two for your parents."
"Going out on a Friday night... with my parents?" Charlie's nose crinkled as he frowned. "I don't think so. Besides, my dad's gonna be in Lowell until late tonight." Charlie's mother had left years ago, before his father brought what remained of the family to Smallville. "They must have thought I was the most popular guy in school!"
"Charlie... Claire!" Arguably the most popular guy in school called out to them as he crossed the cafeteria. "I'm so glad I found you here. I'm trying to set up a time for another planning meeting. Petra," he added to the third member.
Claire looked up at the newcomer and smiled. "I'm pretty flexible."
"Me too." Charlie smiled as he rose from his seat. "Any time is fine for us, as long as it's not tonight."
"Okay." Landon Lang pulled out a notepad. Once the ball had gotten rolling, he'd stepped up with the same leadership qualities he'd shown on the gridiron as the starting quarterback. "You two have a date ---?"
"No, not a date!" Claire was quick to correct him. "A bunch of us are going to hear the Ascendance Foundation lecture at the old Davis place. Charlie scored some tickets. We have a couple extra, maybe you'd want to come along?"
"To hear the tent-show guy? Weird!"
"Hey!" Charlie's stern expression instantly returned. "What's so weird about him?"
"Sorry. Weird timing, I mean. Aunt Nell went to Wednesday night's show, and now she won't stop talking about 'the great Dr. Jacobi.' She even went to a special seminar the Foundation held last night, and that cost her nearly a hundred dollars." Landon shook his head. "Can't get over it. Nell is always so smart about her money. Now she has posters for his show up in the window of her flower shop and everything. She's already made plans to attend the entire series."
"I guess you wouldn't be interested in going then." Charlie started to stuff the tickets back into his inside pocket.
"Actually, I have to admit, anything that could get Aunt Nell so worked up does make me curious. It all sounds so wacky, it might just be fun... I mean, as long we didn't have to sit beside her."
"What's wacky fun?" Britney Fordman came up behind Landon and took his arm. "And who aren't we sitting beside?"
Landon slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze. Claire could have sworn she felt that squeeze all the way down to the pit of her stomach.
"Charlie has a couple of extra tickets to the Foundation lecture tonight."
Britney seemed confused, which, in the view of the majority of the people at the table, was not an unusual condition for her. "Foundation...?"
"You remember, that one Aunt Nell was going on about."
"Oh, the tent-show guy!"
"His name is Jacobi." Charlie's face began to redden. "Doctor... Donald... Jacobi!" He took a breath to compose himself. It's tonight, though. You're probably busy."
"Nope. For once I'm free." Britney leaned against Landon. "One of the store's sales clerks came back from vacation early. I have the night off. I was gonna suggest burgers and a video, but if you wan to go to this show, that's cool, too."
"You wouldn't mind...?" Landon turned to Charlie. "That is, if you really have enough tickets?"
"Oh... sure." Charlie forced a smile and held up the two extra tickets. "Be my guest."
"Thanks." The tickets vanished into Landon's hand. "See you all tonight, then." He gave a little wave, and he and Britney disappeared across the cafeteria.
Charlie's teeth were clenched as he waved back. "Thank you so much for mentioning the extra tickets, Claire."
And did you have to fall all over yourself telling Landon we weren't on a date? Not that just hanging out with her was all that bad, but he'd been wanting to take her out ever since he'd first met her. What boy wouldn't want to take her out, with that shining golden hair, bright blue eyes, and gorgeous figure? Take her out on a real date, take her out someplace quiet and romantic. And then someplace even quieter and more romantic... just the two of them. And then she'd slip into something more comfortable, and...
"Sorry, Charlie." Claire's voice interrupted the fantasy as she slumped down in her seat. "I just thought ---"
If only she didn't have her heart and soul set on Landon. I'm not even a blip on her radar. He forced himself not to look into her deep blue eyes. "Claire, it's reserved seating. They're all in a block. I could end up sitting next to ---"
"It's okay, Charlie." Petra patted his hand. "Claire and I'll sit between you and Britney, if it come to that."
"Huh!" He angrily chewed another french fry. As long as Claire doesn't end up sitting next to Landon.
"Tell you what, I'll even provide the transportation for us tonight."
"You're on." Charlie's stomach began to make soft rumbling noises. "Pardon me. Thanks for the fries, Claire, but I think I'd better grab a sandwich or something, if I'm going to last through the final bell." He rose from the table. "Pick me up a little before seven, Petra. We want to get there in plenty of time."
"I'm on it!"
Claire looked over at Petra as Charlie passed out of earshot. "Are you sure you can get your father's car on such short notice?"
"Nothing's ever sure, Claire. But I'd rate my chances at a good eighty-five percent."
"And what if you wind up in the fifteen percent group?"
"Well, I didn't say what kind of transportation." Petra looked thoughtful. "Though Charlie probably wouldn't want to ride double on Dick's dirt bike, would he?" Dick was one of Petra's older brothers.
"No. Especially not since there's rain in the forecast." Claire put an elbow on the table and cupped her chin in her hand. "When you talk to your dad, I suggest you lay on the charm."
"You know me, girlfriend."
"Yeah, I do." Claire nodded gravely. "That's why I'm suggesting you lay on the charm."
Five hours later, Petra Ross breezed into the living room, where her father sat reading the paper. "Hey, Pop! Okay if I borrow the car tonight?"
Dale Ross peered over the edge of his newspaper. "That depends, Petra. How late are you going to be out, where are you going, and with whom?" With four other children before Petra, he had the routine down pat.
"I'm taking in a lecture with Claire and Charlie, and I sort of promised that I would provide the transportation. It shouldn't run too late."
"Okay then." He folded the Lowell Ledger and fished out his car keys. "Charlie, huh? Just how are things between you two? Getting serious?"
"Serious? Charlie and me?"
"Well, as I recall, you two did go to the Homecoming Dance together."
"Not as a date. We hung out together 'cause neither of us had real dates. We're buds, Pop. He's my friend, just like Claire's my friend."
"Okay, I'm cool with that." Dale handed over the keys. "Just keep it on the road, keep to the speed limit ---"
" '--- and don't bring it home with the tank empty.' No problem!" Petra gave the keys a kiss and tossed them into the air. Then she spun around and pulled her jacket out wide to catch them in her pocket as they fell.
Dale couldn't help but laugh. Petra always cracked him up. In a family of rather serious overachievers, his youngest had carved out a niche as the one who was smart but funny. Still, he worried about his only daughter. "You know, Petra, when I was your age ---"
Uh-oh, Petra thought, here it comes.
"--- even being 'just friends' with a white girl would've gotten me a lot of dirty looks and maybe a threat or two. Your granddad would've gotten a cross burned on his lawn --- or worse!"
"Times have changed, Pop. Things are better now." And I'm not one of your sons.
"And thank God for that. But they still haven't changed for a lot of people, even in Smallville. I just want you to be careful."
"I always am, Pop!"
"I hope so, Petra. I dearly hope so. Drive carefully, it looks like rain."
That evening, Petra Ross picked up Charlie Sullivan at about 6:45, then swung around to Hickory Lane. There, before Charlie could get out and offer Claire Kent the front seat, Claire opened the back door and slid in.
"You need the legroom more than I do," she told Charlie, fastening her safety belt.
Charlie swiveled around so he could look at both girls. "This lecture is a really big deal. Promise me you'll both be on your best behavior."
Claire placed her right hand over her heart. "I promise."
"Yeah, yeah. Me too." Petra glanced in the rearview mirror and started to turn the car around. "But don't you think you're going just a bit overboard?"
"I just want to have a nice evening out with you ladies." He put a slight emphasis on the final word. Neither of the "ladies" took any particular notice.
In just a few minutes, Petra joined a line of cars heading onto the Foundation Compound. She tailed the others along a new gravel drive, following the signs to the parking lot. The car was moving at a crawl when they were stopped by a man in an official-looking reflective orange vest, wielding a flashlight.
Petra rolled down the window. "Hi, we're here for the lecture."
"Tickets?"
"Already got 'em, right here." Petra produced the three tickets Charlie passed her from the passenger seat.
Orange-Vest checked the tickets with his flashlight, nodded, and passed them back. "Okay. Hang on to those and give them to one of the ushers as you enter the tent. No cameras or recording devices are allowed inside. Parking is five dollars."
"Say what?"
Claire reached for her wallet. "If you're short, I can cover you." Charlie got the tickets, Petra got the car. It's the least I can do.
"Never mind." Petra pulled a well-worn five from a pocket. "Here ya go,"
"Thank you, ma'am." Orange Vest pocketed the money and waved them on. "Park it anywhere straight ahead."
Petra pulled her father's car in between a gleaming vintage Mustang convertible with Texas plates and a battered Beetle sporting Colorado plates. "And here I though this evening wasn't gonna cost me more than half a tank of gas."
Charlie was all smiles as he emerged from the passenger seat. "Thanks, Petra. I owe you!"
"Darned right you do!" Petra slammed the driver's door shut and headed for the big tent.
As the three friends neared the tent, they found themselves passing ever-more-expensive cars. Many of them sported FULFILL YOUR DESTINY! bumper stickers.
"Look at this!" Claire gestured at the lines marked off on the ground. "These cars got to park in extra-large spaces. There won't be any dings from opening car doors here. This has to be planned."
"That's correct." A woman in an orange vest confirmed Claire's suspicions. "This is our VIP parking section, for Foundation members and attendees who made special arrangements."
"Lincolns, Caddies..." Petra let out an appreciative whistle. "Look, there's a Prowler! Whatever this Jacobi dude is preaching, he's sure attracting a high-rolling congregation."
A familiar horn sounded and a gold Lamborghini pulled into a reserved spot less than twenty feet away.
"Hello, Claire. Charlie... Petra."
"Lex!" Claire sounded surprised. "I never would've expected to find you here."
"Same here." Lex Luthor glanced over at Charlie. "Well, perhaps I should have."
"We'd better be going in." Charlie checked his watch impatiently. "The lecture will be starting soon." He held up the three tickets. "Claire..."
Claire snatched one out of his hand. "Go on ahead. I'll catch up to you."
Charlie took Petra by the hand and pulled her after him.
Claire and Lex followed along at a more leisurely pace. "So, have you learned anything new about this Jacobi guy?"
"Not as much as I'd like. He does appear to possess a doctorate --- courtesy of some island college of dubious repute."
"So getting back to my original question, what are you doing here? Do you think you can learn anything valuable in person?"
"One never knows. But it's worth a try."
"Why are you putting so much time into this?"
Lex stopped short. "Claire, everything that happens in and around Smallville is my concern." There was a driven, implacable tone to her voice. Then she smiled. "Besides, I could use an evening's entertainment. I assume you came here to back up Mr. Sullivan?"
"Yeah, somebody has to keep him out of trouble."
Lex's eyebrows rose a bit as she looked over Claire's shoulder. "Are you sure that's the only reason?"
"What do you mean?" Claire suddenly realized that Lex was staring back at the parking area behind her. She started to turn around.
"Well, hello, Landon." There was just the hint of a smirk in Lex's grin. "Ms. Fordman."
"Hello, Lex... Claire."
"I was just suggesting to Claire here that there are any number of reasons to take in this lecture tonight. Don't you agree?"
"I suppose." Landon Lang looked from Lex to Claire. "I'm here mainly out of curiosity."
"I just think it'll be good for a few laughs." Britney Fordman shrugged. "And I hear there's a pretty good light show."
"Well, I shouldn't keep you three from your fun. Enjoy the show." Lex handed her ticket to an usher and was conducted to a seat near the rear of the tent.
Another usher took the tickets Claire, Landon, and Britney presented, and started leading them toward the front of the tent. Midway down the aisle, Nell Potter caught Landon's eye and waved. "I can't believe this," Landon whispered. "We're farther down front than my aunt? Than Lex? How did Charlie pull this off?"
"Hey, they'd better be good seats, after what they charged us for parking," Britney muttered, holding tight to Landon's arm. Claire pretended not to see.
"Here you are." The usher finally stopped alongside the second row. Charlie and Petra waved from their places, one seat in from the aisle. The usher handed Britney and Landon their ticket stubs. "You two are in seats four and five. And you, ma'am," she gave Claire hers, "are in seat one, right here on the aisle. We hope you all enjoy the lecture."
"Nice seats, Charlie!" Claire looked around. There were at least a thousand people seated under the big canvas canopy. "I haven't seen a bigger crowd in these parts for anything less than a football game."
"What...?" Britney looked around as instrumental music began to build over the tent's sound system. "Aw, don't tell me we have to listen to this classical stuff!" To Britney, the Beatles were old-fashioned.
"Britney, please!" Landon shushed her, folding his long legs into his seat. "Let's at least give this a chance."
Petra looked up at the back of the stage. "What's with the swirling stars? Looks like some big computer screensaver."
"Shhh!" Charlie hissed. He glanced from Petra to Claire.
Claire held up her hands, palms out. "Hey, did I say anything?"
As he had on Wednesday night, Douglas Oliver stepped up to the podium. Tonight, he showed no sign of nerves, and he no longer needed his index cards to prompt him. His introduction was so measured, heartfelt, and sincere, and Dr. Donald Jacobi stepped on stage to thunderous applause.
The crowd rose to its feet, pulling any confused newcomers along with it. Their applause was deafening. Claire glanced back up the aisle. It didn't seem possible that even this many people could generate so much noise. I could almost swear it's being amplified by the sound system.
Tonight, Jacobi allowed the ovation to go on for nearly two minutes.
"What's with these people?" Britney had led cheers in football stadiums and in packed gyms, but this was beyond her understanding. "He hasn't even said anything yet."
Landon silenced her with a look, but he, too, was perplexed by the doctor's apparent hold on the crowd.
"Thank you, friends, thank you!" Jacobi held his hands up high and then slowly lowered them, quieting the crowd. "I see many familiar faces out there tonight. But I also see many more newcomers. Welcome! Welcome one and all!"
He paused for the length of two breaths, letting the crowd's anticipation build, before he went on. "I know that many of you have never attended one of my lectures, and you are curious as to what our Foundation does, and just who I am."
"You can say that again," muttered Petra, earning a poke in the ribs from Charlie' elbow.
"I have devoted much of my adult life to the study of the stuff and substance of humanity" --- Jacobi swept his arms wide, taking in the entire audience --- "to understanding the linked causes of disease and disharmony in our lives... to recognizing the complex physical and metaphysical interactions which make us the cosmic beings that we are..."
In her aisle seat, Claire sat up with a start. Did he just say "cosmic beings"?
"... and to developing integrated techniques to answer the questions, not just of what we are, but of what we can be...and what energies exist that can make us greater still."
Suddenly, someone in the middle of the audience shouted, "GOD'S LOVE!"
Jacobi rushed to the front of the stage and thrust out an arm, pointing in the direction of the shout. "I don't for a second discount the power of spirituality, my friend! There is indeed a spiritual level to our being, just as there is an emotional level, a mental level. They all reside within our physical being. For all I know, the spirit is what moved you to come here tonight!" He smiled. "There are some who would pit faith in God against belief in science, but I am not one of them. After all, God gave us brains to think, eyes to see, voices to wonder. And the study of science has revealed so many amazing and wondrous things about this world and those in the cosmos beyond!"
The lights dimmed and the onstage screen behind Jacobi suddenly displayed the famous image of the Earth as seen from the surface of the Moon.
"Science, my friends, has allowed us to study other planets, to walk on the Moon. But it has also allowed us to turn inward, to study the very building blocks which make us who we are. Behold!"
A swirling column of light suddenly appeared alongside Jacobi at center stage. Slowly, the swirling light turned into a rotating image of a DNA helix, as big as a man.
"All right!" Britney was finally impressed. "Check it out!"
Landon's eyes wide, his mouth forming an O.
"Sweet." Petra turned to Charlie and Claire. "What is that? Some kind of hologram?"
"But how?" Charlie sat transfixed by the display. "It's like a special effect in a movie!"
"They must have a multilaser projector around here." Claire glanced upward, and her eyes caught a telltale glimmer in the trusswork overhead. "See, the laser projects a regular video image into the display medium. That gives the illusion of a 3-D projection."
"Display medium?" Charlie looked at Claire. "What display medium?"
"Must be a kind of transparent screen in the middle of center stage. Yeah, there it is..." She pointed to an edge glowing softly alongside the rotating image. "You can hardly see it. It probably slid up out of the stage when the lights dimmed."
Now Petra was staring at her friend. "How do you come up with that stuff?"
Claire shrugged. "I read about it for Physics."
Jacobi walked around the rotating helix, allowing his audience time to ooh and aah before going on. "Deoxyribonucleic acid... DNA... the molecular double helix of chromosomes within the nucleus of every living cell in our bodies." He waved an arm toward the turning hologram. "This is our own personal instruction book. The bits and pieces of these strands determine our physical being... whether we shall be short or tall, dark-haired or fair, blue-eyed or brown. Though microscopic in size, it is macroscopic in its impact. This is the great cosmic ladder that lifts us up from the primordial ooze to the heavens themselves. We have just begun to understand how this twisting ladder works. When we fully understand it, we will have a golden age the likes of which humanity has dreamed of for millennia. And the key to that understanding --- the catalyst which will enable us to reprogram our DNA --- waits all around us!"
The holographic helix flickered slightly as it faded away. The display medium slid back down into the stage, the lights brightened slightly, and the screen behind Jacobi again displayed the Smallville Meteor Capital billboard. Whispers of recognition ran through the crowd.
"Yes, we've all seen this sign, haven't we? Again and again! The Meteor Storm of 1977 is this area's greatest claim to fame. At the time, it was regarded as a terrible calamity. But I believe that it was also a wondrous gift from the heavens... the harbinger of our new golden age!"
Three seats from Claire, Landon fidgeted in his folding chair, and his fists clenched in anger. That "gift from heaven" killed my parents.
Smallville High's quarterback was not alone in his feelings. Others in the crowd began to mutter angrily.
Backstage, James Wolfe sat down his cup and whispered into his microphone. "Better watch your step out there. Some of the locals are getting ugly."
Onstage, Donald Jacobi was already playing to the anger.
"Yes, the meteors took a horrific toll on this land. They rained catastrophe upon this area, causing death and suffering... and we must never forget that! However, neither should we ignore the gift that was left us in the storm's aftermath!
"My friends, the storm of 1977 was just the latest in a series of events ---cosmic events --- which have helped mankind emerge from the darkness of the caves. It is my fervent belief that the meteorites can provide a new boost up the great cosmic ladder. They will enable us to ascend to the next great level of humanity!
"There have been many such meteor storms over the eons... many impacts of nonterrestrial bodies on our world. Some may have made life on Earth possible. Others are now thought to have caused the extinction of the dinosaurs and other, earlier species... clearing the way for the rise of humankind. There are those who worry that further strikes could one day cause our own extinction, as well. I don't discount that danger. But don't all of us live with danger daily? Smallville is still very much a farming community, and farming can be very dangerous work. Existence itself is uncertain. And life, like old age, is not for sissies!"
That earned Jacobi a ripple of gentle laughter from the audience, and he smiled. They were his again.
From the back of the tent, Lex Luthor watched Jacobi play to the crowd. Yes, he's good.
"My friends, I am an optimist." Jacobi placed his right hand over his heart. "I am confident that an ascendant humanity will find a way to protect us from such dangers. And, as I said, we have within our reach the key to that ascendance."
Backstage, James Wolfe pushed a button, and the onstage screen changed to show several meteorite fragments, studded with glowing green crystals. In the second row, Claire Kent shifted uneasily in her aisle seat.
"There they are, my friends." Jacobi half turned to gesture at the screen. "The seeds of our cosmic legacy... the key to the rise and advancement of mankind. In the aftermath of the '77 storm, the great institutes of science and learning combed the county, scooping up the largest meteorite fragments and carting them away for study. And what was the result of that study?" He faced the crowd, a look of indignation on his face. "I'll tell you what it was --- nothing! Absolutely nothing.
"They gave those samples, at best, a cursory examination. The public was assured that any minor space rocks left behind posed no danger to public health. We were told that there was nothing out of the ordinary about the meteorites. Oh, there was some minor radiation, they told us, but nothing to worry about... no more exposure than you'd get from the luminous dial of a wristwatch. And, technically, they were right. But in a larger sense, they were very, very wrong.
"Because, I say to you now, those scientists... no, I shouldn't dignify them with that title... those bureaucrats failed us! We did have something to worry about... a great boon to humanity was being ignored, discarded. Yes, there was some danger... it was the danger of that great tool being improperly used! Or not used at all! In recent months, we have seen many examples of the consequences of this bureaucratic incompetence."
The meteorite fragments faded from the screen, to be replaced by a high-school yearbook picture of a young man about fifteen to sixteen years of age.
"Take the case of young Jeremy Creek. He was institutionalized after he suffered major trauma from exposure to a near impact of one of the largest meteorites. Comatose, suffering an extreme electrolytic imbalance, he has not aged a day in over a decade. The experts are baffled. But Jeremy's case is far from unique."
Jacobi began to pace back and forth across the stage as more pictures followed on the screen. "One local boy recently disappeared following the death of his mother under suspicious circumstances... her body was found encased in a sort of cocoon, as if spun by a giant insect. A young lady fell victim to a runaway metabolism, endangering herself and others. Another young lady gained the ability to take on the form of various animals." He stopped and faced the audience. "These cases are proof of the power of the meteorites. Local citizens can tell you... they all occurred in this area in recent months. Young people have been institutionalized. Tragically, there have been some fatalities. This is cause for concern... but not for fear!
"The majority of these cases have involved teenagers, those who were young children at the time of the meteor storm... those who have lived their whole lives in this environment. What happened to them was not their fault." Jacobi's voice grew softer. "My friends... we should not live in fear of our children. Meteorite exposure was only one factor out of many which led to this handful of extreme cases. Those unfortunate few are just a tiny fraction of the population. The vast majority of young people in these parts are healthy, normal individuals."
Charlie Sullivan squirmed uncomfortably. He cited all those cases, but didn't mention the source. Don't I and the Torch get at least a mention in passing?
"Earlier, I referred to the potential for danger. Well, a power saw, used improperly, can cause serious injury, even death. But if you use that saw properly, as it was meant to be used, you can cut and trim the lumber to build a fine, sturdy home. There's a proper use for the meteorite fragments, as well." Jacobi turned to stage left. "Douglas?"
Douglas Oliver approached, pushing a wheeled cart. On top of the cart was a small metal case.
"Thank you."
As Douglas departed, Jacobi snapped open the latches of the case. The lights began to dim again, and a hush fell upon the crowd. "Think what we could do, if we could harness the power of the meteorites as a force for good!" Jacobi opened the case, and his face was bathed in a soft green light.
In the second row of the audience, Claire Kent began to get a queasy feeling.
Jacobi lifted his meteorite from the case.
Claire gripped the sides of her chair, and felt the metal start to deform in her hands. She quickly bent things back into place as best she could. Relax, Claire... keep it cool. As long as he doesn't come down off the stage with that thing, you ought to be okay.
"This is my own personal space rock." Balancing it in one hand, Jacobi lifted it high. "I have kept it close by my side for approximately three years now. I bathe in its soothing rays daily, and --- I can assure you --- I have experienced no ill effects. On the contrary, I haven't suffered so much as a cold in all that time. My studies are not yet complete, but I do not believe this is a coincidence." He smiled. "But I am talking about more than just a cure for the common cold, welcome as that might be. I'm talking about the eradication of virtually all disease... the extension of the human life span... the advancement of humanity to its next level... the fulfillment of our destiny as citizens of the cosmos! I firmly believe that these meteorites, if they are utilized properly in a controlled environment, are the key!"
Jacobi lowered the rock to eye level and examined it. "Just imagine possibilities: The energies that could halt the aging process for over a decade could arrest --- perhaps even reverse! --- mental and physical deterioration! A mineral that could make living human tissue as malleable as plastic, could promote levels of healing we can at present only dream of. Missing limbs might be regenerated! Injuries could heal without scars!
"This is all within our grasp if we but seek it out. Is there danger? Yes! But the greater danger is in not continuing to strive and better ourselves! None of our hopes and dreams will be realized if we do not soldier on!" He held the meteorite aloft. "I promise you --- I will not shirk my responsibility to you. I will continue to study these meteorites. And, unlike other institutions, the Ascendance Foundation will not keep any discoveries under lock and key! All our discoveries will be shared with others. We cannot rest until we master this great tool! I believe that I am very near to a great breakthrough... very near to discovering potent new therapies that can improve the quality of life. We can do it, and we will do it, thanks to the generous help of all who have joined and contributed to the Foundation!"
"Doctor, I want to help!" Heads turned toward the voice from the audience. A spotlight swept across the crowd, coming to rest on a modestly dressed man in the fifteenth row. An usher rushed over to him, pointing a wireless microphone in his direction. "My name is Herb Langley, and I've been a subscriber to the Foundation newsletter for over six months. I agree with you one hundred percent. We all have to do our part to make this happen."
"Thank you, Herb. The money you've already contributed through your subscription has helped underwrite our work."
"Thank you, Doctor! But I want to do more." He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket. "I'm not a wealthy man, I'm just an average working stiff. But I have a hundred dollars here that I want to contribute to the Foundation!"
"Herb, I don't know what to say." Jacobi's voice seemed to crack, and his eyes grew misty. "Members often make additional contributions and bequests to the Foundation, but I've rarely received such a heartfelt ---!"
"I want to contribute, too!" A second spotlight picked out a woman standing another two rows back. "I attended your seminar last night."
"Ah, yes. I remember you, dear. Ms. Carney, isn't it?"
"Yes, Doctor... Elaine Carney. I've suffered from bursitis in my shoulder for a very long time. But during that seminar, I had an opportunity to sit close to your meteorite, concentrating on its power like you told us to --- and look at me now!" She raised her hands high above her head, moving her arms gracefully. "There's no pain at all!"
"That is absolutely remarkable, Ms. Carney. But we can't be certain the meteorite was solely responsible for ending your pain."
"I'm certain!" There were tears in her eyes. "I haven't felt this good in years! There's not enough money in this world to repay you, but I have to make a start. Here's three hundred dollars to put toward your work!"
Then another member of the audience stood up, and another. Suddenly, ushers were dashing back and forth with buckets to collect the contributions, and people were fumbling with wallets and purses, trying to contribute something --- anything --- as the buckets went past.
"What is going on here?" Charlie Sullivan whipped his head around in obvious puzzlement as another usher breezed past, bucket in hand. "How did this suddenly turn into a revival meeting?"
"Well, they better not pass the hat to me." Petra Ross leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. "I gave at the parking lot."
"So did I." Landon Lang agreed, looking around, and then tried to disappear into his seat. "Oh, my God! Now Aunt Nell is getting up!"
"DOCTOR! I NEED YOUR HELP!"
From the back of the tent, a large man came striding up the aisle, hat in hand, a woman and a teenage boy following close behind. "My name is Ray Harrison, and my son is sick!"
Backstage, James Wolfe caught a glimpse of the Harrison family on one of his monitors, and cursed silently to himself. He started to bring up the music and thumbed a switch to warn his ushers, "Basket case dead ahead and closing fast."
Ray grabbed a microphone from one of the ushers, but it went dead in his hand as Wolfe flipped more switches on his console. Ray handed it back, pushed the usher aside, and kept coming. His voice was a hoarse bellow, fighting to be heard over the music. "Doctor, my boy has a TUMOR!" A couple of ushers tried to turn Ray aside, but he bulled right past them, too. "His doctors say they can't do anything for him. Doctor, you gotta HELP US!"
The crowd grew silent. Sweat poured off Wolfe's brow as the Harrison family filled the screen on one monitor.
"Stu...?" Ray pulled his son forward, hugging him to his side. "This is my son, Stuart." Ushers who were moving in to block the Harrisons got a good look at Stuart and stopped in their tracks. Stuart Harrison's skin was as white as parchment, and he was almost skeletally thin. Stuart's balance was uncertain, and he leaned heavily against his father to steady himself. A soft cloth cap clung tight to his head, as if shielding it from the night air. Sick as he was, Stuart looked embarrassed, and just a little angry, at the stares he was getting.
The ushers stepped back to let the family pass.
Up on the stage, Donald Jacobi set his meteorite down atop the case, and looked out over the audience. Half of the people in the crowd were staring at the Harrisons. The other half were staring up at him.
"Doctor, I don't have a lot in this world, but it's all yours --- my house, my car, every last bit of it --- if you'll just help my son! PLEASE!"
Shouts of "Do it!" and "Help them!" erupted here and there, as the music swelled.
Jacobi thumbed his main microphone off and whispered into a smaller closed-circuit mike hidden in his collar. "Kill the music."
"Are you crazy?" Wolfe's voice buzzed in his earphone. "That kid's at death's door. We've gotta get out of this fast!"
"It's too late for that. I have to deal with this! Kill that music. Now, dammit!"
Wolfe punched a button and sank back into his chair. The music died out.
Jacobi held his right hand up high. Except for scattered murmurings, the tent grew quiet.
"I hear you, Mr. Harrison. I don't want your property. I wish with all my heart that I could help your son, but our research is still ongoing. I'm afraid we're still along way from being able to ---"
"I thought you said you were close to a breakthrough!" Weak as Stuart was, his voice still carried. He took a swaying step forward and yanked off his cap. His hair was cut close to his scalp, and a tight, puckered scar snaked across the crown of his head. "You're full of it! That miracle space rock of yours can't do squat!" He flung his cap with a sweeping sidearm throw, and it sailed down the aisle like a Frisbee, landing on the stage at Jacobi's feet.
Stuart turned to his father. "I told you this was a waste of time."
"STUART!" The audience jumped as Jacobi's amplified call echoed from the speakers. "I never promised that I could perform miracles. That's the stuff of faith, not science." Jacobi moved to the edge of the stage and dropped to one knee, picking up the cap in one hand. "I don't know if I can help you or not. All I can really offer you is hope." He stretched out his other hand. "Are you willing to take a chance?"
The teen stared up at Jacobi. The crowd hushed, waiting. Barely breathing.
Stuart shuffled forward and took Jacobi's hand. The crowd roared, and two ushers rushed forward to help boost Stuart up onto the stage.
Petra Ross looked over at Charlie and Claire. "What are they doing?"
James Wolfe just stared at his monitor screens, dumbfounded. "What the hell are you doing? We are screwed! You can't help that kid!"
"Why not? What do I have to lose?"
"My thoughts exactly!"
Jacobi handed the meteorite to the teen. "Could we dim the lights, please?"
Numbly, Wolfe did as requested.
"All right, if everyone could remain seated and quiet..." Jacobi put his hands under Stuart's forearms, steadying the teen and helping him support the meteorite. "Stuart, I want you to grasp the sides of the meteorite --- yes, just like that --- let its light fall upon you. Now, close your eyes and relax... relax..."
"Son of a ---!" Wolfe ran a handkerchief over his sweat-soaked head. "You're going to try the hypnotherapy? Now? Under these conditions?"
"... nothing else matters... just relax." Jacobi's voice was soft, soothing. "Relax. Let the tension drain from your muscles. Picture the power of the meteorite flowing through you. Let it wash over you... washing away the toxins, cleansing your body and mind. Tell me... how do you feel?"
"Better..." Stuart's response came slowly. His voice sounded lighter, a little surprised. "... good."
"Yes... good. Relax and feel all tension and fear subside. Let the power replace it. Picture yourself growing stronger..."
Backstage, Wolfe bit his nails. You've got more nerve than sense! He switched his mike to Channel Three and gave his ushers a new heads-up. "Okay, people, it's important that we not interrupt the Doctor's experiment. But some members of the audience may become a little... overly excited when it's over. I want you to start edging, slowly and quietly, toward the stage."
Wolfe leaned against the console with both hands, and his cup began to tip precariously. He grabbed for it --- a fraction of a second too late --- and it toppled over, spilling his sports drink down into the lighting control bay. There was a sizzle, a pop.
High above center stage, the hologram projector's lasers suddenly blazed to life. One of the beams pulsed --- full power --- directly down into the heart of the meteorite. Green light flooded the stage, blazing all around Jacobi and the teen.
Stuart Harrison began to convulse. He shook so violently that Jacobi was thrown back from him.
A few yards up the aisle, Mary Harrison began to scream.
"No! NO!" Wolfe slammed his hand down on an emergency switch and the laser went dead.
Stuart collapsed onto the stage, dropping the meteorite.
"Stu!" In the second row, Landon Lang jumped up his feet.
Claire Kent was out of her chair in the same instant, but as she raced up the aisle to the edge of the stage, her knees began to buckle.
"STU!" Ray Harrison bolted down the aisle, Mary close behind.
Claire gritted her teeth and strained, managing to pull herself halfway up onto the stage.
Two ushers grabbed Ray by the arms, trying to hold him back. He flung his arms wide, knocking the ushers aside, and charged ahead.
Trapped in his row, Landon Lang vaulted over the man in the row in front of him as if evading a blitzing linebacker and dashed to Claire, boosting her up the rest of the way onto the stage.
Mary Harrison ran two more yards and started to faint.
"Mrs. Harrison---?" Charlie Sullivan reached out to help the woman into Claire's vacated chair. "Petra! Britney!" His classmates were already half out of their seats, not sure what to do next. They immediately moved to help Mrs. Harrison, relieved to be able to do something, anything.
"Claire!" Swaying slightly, she turned back to see Landon giving Ray Harrison a leg up onto the stage. "Claire! Give us a hand!"
Claire grabbed the older man by the forearms and pulled as Landon pushed. Ray got up to his feet and ran to his son, as Claire helped Landon up onto the stage. In the course of pulling up the bigger boy, the girl fell back on her rump at the edge of the stage, her strength spent.
Back at the center aisle, an usher tripped and almost fell against Mary Harrison. Charlie scrambled past the girls and hauled the shaken volunteer out of the way. He took a water bottle from the man and passed it to Petra.
At center stage, Ray dropped to his knees and gathered his son up in his arms. Jacobi leaned over them, his lips moving silently, as if he'd lost the power of speech. In his hands, he held the meteorite tipped toward them, its green glow casting over the Harrisons, Landon, and Claire.
Landon pulled Claire back up to her feet and charged forward. "C'mon, Claire, don't stop now!"
Claire started forward and immediately started to stumble. She glared at Jacobi. "HEY! GET THAT ROCK OUTTA HERE!"
Jacobi jerked upright, as if awakened by Claire's shout. He spun around, rushing to shut the meteorite away in its case.
Claire instantly felt her strength return. She quickly joined Landon by the Harrisons' side. The quarterback had two fingers pressed to the side of Stuart's throat.
"How is he?"
"Breathing." Landon shook his head without looking up. "But his pulse is weak."
"Oh, my God, he's burnin' up!" Ray looked pale, almost near collapse himself. "I gotta get him to a hospital."
"CLAIRE!" Lex Luthor's voice, accustomed to issuing commands, carried over the growing din of the crowd. Claire looked up and saw the young millionaire threading her way down a side aisle, waving her mobile phone over her head. "Ambulance is on its way! I told them to pull around to the rear of the tent!"
"Good work!" Claire shouted back, then looked back over her shoulder at the others. "Did you hear that, Mr. Harrison? Help's on the way."
Claire stared out over the audience. Nearly everyone was in motion, filling the aisles. She could see Britney fanning Mary Harrison in the second-row seats, as Petra urged the woman to take a sip of water.
Charlie stood at the end of the row, guarding the aisle. "Claire, Landon, you got things under control up there?"
"I think so," Landon answered. "Can you look after Stuart's Mom and the girls?"
"No problem." Charlie gave him a thumbs-up. "I'll get 'em out of this crowd as soon as I can."
"Thanks!" Landon returned the thumbs-up, then reached down and pulled Lex up onto the stage.
"My fault..." Ray was like a zombie. "... this is all my fault."
Lex crouched down beside Ray. "No, it isn't, sir." She pitched her voice low, sounding confident and reassuring, yet at the same time commanding. "Try to pull yourself together. You'll want to be able to give your son's medical history to the paramedics as soon as they arrive."
"Right... right." Ray closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Clare could almost hear the man's pulse returning to normal. He opened his eyes and looked around the stage. "Mary? Where's my wife ---?"
"She's still stuck in the audience." Claire put a steadying hand on his arm. "But it's okay, Mr. Harrison. She's with friends. They'll meet us outside."
"We need to move Stuart outside, to the rear of the tent." Lex glanced from Ray to Landon to Claire. "I believe the four of us can handle that."
I can by myself, Claire thought, if it comes to that.
"Here, use this." Landon peeled off his jacket and spread it out on the stage.
They eased Stuart onto the open jacket. Then Ray, Landon, Claire,and Lex each took a corner and lifted the unconscious teen in the makeshift stretcher. They made their way down a set of steps at stage right and out the back of the tent.
Behind them, unnoticed in the confusion, James Wolfe sat slouched in front of his monitors. Monitor three showed people crowding into the aisles, leaving the Foundation's more devoted members standing around, looking lost. Monitor two showed half a dozen of their ushers, standing shoulder to shoulder, holding back a few angry men who wanted to storm the stage. And on monitor one, Don Jacobi stood leaning against the podium at stage left, grasping at it for support as his world spun out of control.
A light rain was coming down and the flashing red lights of a Lowell County ambulance lit the night sky as Charlie Sullivan, Petra Ross, and Britney Fordman finally emerged from the rear of the tent. Charlie held an umbrella while the girls between them supported and comforted Mary Harrison.
"Yo, Claire!" Handing the umbrella to Petra, Charlie left the women and jogged over to his friend. "What's the score?"
"The EMTs have checked Stuart out. He's conscious now." Claire Kent lowered her voice as Mrs. Harrison hurried past to join her husband and son. "He's conscious but groggy, and he's got a high fever."
"Hey, don't look so down." Charlie placed a hand on her arm. "You did all you could for him."
"Yeah, I guess we did." Claire turned to watch the Harrisons crowd into the back of the ambulance alongside their son and an EMT. I could probably have carried him to the hospital myself by now, but what if he started convulsing again along the way? I can administer basic CPR, but that's about it.
They watched as the ambulance pulled out, siren wailing. It roared ahead about fifty feet, then its rear end slid four feet to one side. The vehicle's wheels spun uselessly, digging down into the wet earth, and a sharp burst of profanity came from the cab's open window.
Claire was the first to reach the driver's side. "What's wrong?"
The driver frowned. "Wasn't expecting this much mud." He eased his foot slowly onto the gas, but the wheels continued to spin. He looked over her shoulder. "Can you get some of your friends to give me a push?"
Before Claire could tell him she could do that by herself --- or rather, simply do it without telling him anything --- Landon Lang appeared at her shoulder. "Sure!" He gave a sharp whistle, and Petra and Charlie came on the run. Lex Luthor glanced down at the mud already on her expensive designer shoes, gave her shoulders a shrug of resignation, and joined them. In seconds, they positioned themselves around the rear of the ambulance.
Landon, used to calling signals to a team, took charge. "Okay, everybody, on three! One... two... THREE!"
The driver gave it the gas, and the five young people put their shoulders to the ambulance and pushed.
But one of them was all that was really needed. Unseen by the others, Claire reached under the vehicle, grabbed hold of the frame, and lifted. The weight of the vehicle caused her to sink to her knees in the wet earth, but the ambulance started to rise up out of the mud.
"We're... movin'!" Landon was breathing heavy. "Give it all... you got!"
Claire gave a mighty shove, and the ambulance shot ahead, reaching the compacted gravel of the drive.
Landon let out a whoop as he and Charlie picked themselves up from the muddy ground. "We did it!"
"That we did." Attempting to brush off her hands, Lex watched the lights of the ambulance strobe off into the night. "It was easier than I'd expected."
"Speak for yourself." Petra was still down on her hands and knees, spitting bits of mud and grass. As Landon and Charlie each grabbed one of her arms and pulled her to her feet, Lex looked around. "Where's Claire?"
"Here." Claire slogged up out of the darkness, covered in mud from the waist down. "Ground must've been a little softer where I was standing."
"Wow! You guys are a complete mess!" They turned to see Nell Potter and Britney Fordman making their way gingerly across the soggy ground. "You'd better get under cover."
"It's a little late for that now, Britney." Claire grabbed a corner of her jacket and wrung water from it. "At least this is a warm rain"
Nell looked pretty shaken. It was quickly decided that Landon would drive his aunt home. Britney would follow in Landon's truck, and then he'd drive her home. Together, they headed for the parking area.
"I should be going as well." Reaching the VIP parking area, Lex wiped a muddy shoe across the grass, without seeing much improvement. "Ah, well, I was meaning to have the car detailed soon anyway. Good night, all."
"The car ---!" Petra took a good look at Charlie and Claire, and then down at herself. "Oh, man, we're gonna get mud all over the interior of Pop's car. He'll kill me!"
"No, he won't, Petra. After all, this was an emergency. He's a pretty understanding guy."
"Yeah, but he loves that car. Maybe if you we all take off our shoes and jeans...?" Petra looked again at her two closest friends, and shook her head. "No, scratch that. No way would he be that understanding!"
Claire wrung more water from her jacket. "Look, I'm a lot grimier than you two. Why don't I just walk home?"
"That's miles away! It'll take you forever."
"No, it won't. Besides, the rain's letting up. I'll be fine, really." Claire started striding away. "Catch you guys later!"
"Claire!" Petra called out, but her friend had already disappeared into the darkness. She scratched her head, chuckling. "That girl is something else."
"Yeah... she sure is."
Petra turned back to Charlie. "Hey, you okay? You don't look so hot. And I'm not talking about the mud."
"I'm just bummed over what happened. Bummed, disillusioned, and a little weirded out. I mean, I thought Dr. Jaccobi was the real deal. He was championing all of my theories...he said all the right things. And then, it all turned into... I don't know what."
"Yeah, I can see how that would weird you out."
"No, no." Charlie shook his head. "That was just the bummed and disillusioned part. No, I mean what happened to Stuart tonight, with the glowing meteorite and the laser and all...!" He gave a shiver and lowered his voice. "Petra, I think we might have seen part of my weirdness theory in action."
The glass double doors of the Emergency Entrance whisked open as the EMTs wheeled Stuart Harrison into the Lowell County Medical Center. Dr. Caroline van Etten came on the run, her white coat flapping around her legs. "Joel... Mark! Is that our cancer patient?"
"Check, Doc! Male Caucasian, eighteen years old. Convulsed and collapsed at a public event. Convulsions had passed when we arrived." Joel passed her the report. "Conscious, post-ictal. Temp's one-oh-four. BP's one-twenty-six over eighty-four. Pulse one hundred and thready. O2-sat at ninety-eight percent, regular sinus on the monitor. Blood glucose normal. We gave him one hundred milligrams of thiamine on-site."
Van Etten turned to the emergency room's admitting attendant. "Rudy, light a fire under Oncology --- we need a consult down here on the double."
A big man was following along behind the gurney --- half leading and half carrying a woman along with him. "Dr. van Etten!" The man looked distraught. "It's my boy --- Stuart Harrison!"
Van Etten remembered Ray Harrison from when he'd brought his son to Emergency just two weeks before. The kid looked much worse now. What the devil had gone wrong? She waved to the attendant. "It's okay. They can come along." She scanned the EMTs' field report. "No anticonvulsants?"
"None yet. Like I said, the convulsions had passed."
She looked into Stuart's eyes as they wheeled him into ER One. "Stuart, can you hear me?"
"Green... green..." The words came slowly from behind the breathing mask.
"What was that?" Van Etten could barely hear him.
"I think he's saying 'green'." The emergency room nurse leaned in to insert a tympanic thermometer in Stuart's ear. She checked it and looked up in alarm. "Temperature's one-oh-five."
"Get some cold packs on him! And set him up for a CT scan now!" Van Etten flipped through the report and turned to the Harrisons. "He's not allergic to any medications?"
"No." Mary Harrison shook her head. "None."
"Good." She started leading the Harrisons out of the examining room. "We're going to do a quick scan of your son's head to look for signs of intercranial bleeding or pressure, masses or tumors ---"
"You'll find a lot of those, Doc." Ray's voice broke, and Mary hugged him tight.
"Of course." Van Etten added a notation on the chart and looked around impatiently. Where was that oncologist? "Anyway, if there're no signs of elevated pressure, we'll do an LP. That's a ---"
"Lumbar puncture." The words fell from Mary's mouth as though she said them every day. "You're searching for signs of infection?"
"Right." Van Etten reminded herself that she was speaking to parents of a cancer patient. By now, they probably knew most of the terminology as well as she did. "We need to find the cause of that fever in order to treat it most effectively. It could be meningitis."
"It was that damned rock." Tears were welling up in Ray's eyes. "This is all my fault. I never should've taken him to that show."
"Rock?" Van Etten stared blankly at the Harrisons. "Show?"
"Stuart was holding a meteor rock," Mary began, "when it just... lit up... like a searchlight."
"Yeah." Ray nodded. "One of the kids who helped us afterwards said something about a laser going wild."
Van Etten turned from the Harrisons to the EMTs, who were collecting their field gear. Joel nodded. "They were all at that Foundation tent show. The father took his boy there, hoping to get him healed by some New Age weirdo."
"Yeah." Mark stacked their portable heart monitor on the cart. "We didn't see it, but apparently the quack had him up onstage, doing a laying on of hands with a chunk of space rock, when the lighting went haywire. That's when the kid convulsed."
"Okay." The doctor scribbled a hasty note to herself at the bottom of the chart. "Any deputies on the scene?"
"They were arriving as we left."
Van Etten called out to the attendant. "Rudy, call the Sheriff's Office. Tell 'em we need everything they can get us on a chunk of meteorite that was used at that show. And make sure they know to handle it carefully --- it might be harboring bacteria." She steered the Harrisons back to a row of seats next to the emergency admissions desk. "I need to check on the CT. If you could just wait here, Rudy'll have some paperwork for you to fill out. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Ray and Mary sat down and were soon joined by the attendant.
"Sure you're familiar with this by now, folks." Rudy was sympathetic but brisk. "We need your name, address... name of the patient... insurance..."
"We..." Mary couldn't go on.
"We don't have any more insurance. Our policy ran out." There was both shame and anger in Ray's voice. "But you gotta do what you can for our Stu. I'll find the money somehow."
A sharp, even voice called out from behind the Harrisons. "Don't worry about the money. It's covered."
Ray squinted up at the well-dressed but mud-spattered figure who had just come through the double doors. "And you would be ---?"
"Lex Luthor." She was already reaching into her purse even as she walked toward the group. "Stuart Harrison is to have the best care available, no matter the expense. Is that clear?"
The Harrisons looked up in surprise, and the attendant gaped, as they now all recognized the young millionaire approaching them. "Y-yes, ma'am."
"Good." Lex extracted a small, platinum-colored plastic card from her purse. "Do you take American Express?"
