The Seeds of Change

by danceswithgary

Summary:

An ill-advised experiment leaves Clark...and rest of the world...at risk.

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There's nothing constant in the world,
All ebb and flow, and every shape that's born
Bears in its womb the seeds of change.
Ovid: Metamorphoses

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
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The barbed wire patrolled by a line of men dressed in camouflage and carrying armament better suited for battlefields than cornfields should not have been such a shock to Lex. He'd read and watched the screaming news reports, had his own people filling him in on as many details as they could glean, but it was one thing to hear about a disaster and another to witness the results. The seriousness of the situation was borne home by the measured speed at which his slowing Porsche was approached, the stoic face of the soldier revealing nothing as he gestured with his rifle, directing Lex to lower his window.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you'll have to turn around and go back."

Lex had been warned about the strict quarantine in effect, but he'd had to test it for himself. He quickly schooled his features to a calm puzzlement. "What's the difficulty here? I need to get home as quickly as possible."

The soldier was polite, but adamant. "No one is allowed in or out, sir. The governor has declared a state of emergency, and a perimeter has been established around Smallville and the surrounding area. I'll have to ask you to leave."

Recognizing that he'd have little success convincing the military to contravene their orders, Lex nodded once and then placed the car in gear, reversing neatly to return to Metropolis. He watched in the rearview mirror as the sentry returned to his post just outside the wire barricade, noting the unrelenting vigilance evident in every line.

He thinned his lips and returned his attention to the road, his mind rapidly proposing and discarding scenarios at a pace few men could match. He would get through the blockade one way or another. He had no choice in the matter.

Clark was in the middle of that slice of hell.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
7 days ago
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"I'm sorry, Mr. Beales, but Mr. Luthor is in a meeting. May I take a message?"

Lex frowned at the young woman stationed behind the desk outside his father's office and thrust his hands a little deeper inside his pockets to disguise fists clenched in aggravation. Her polite tones set his teeth on edge, and he had to remind himself that it wasn't her fault he'd been dragged across the state for an unscheduled sunrise meeting.

"Mr. Beales?" The slightest moue crossed the assistant's professional mien as she returned the phone's receiver to its cradle. "Hmmm. He hung up." She glanced at the row of lights on the console and nodded before looking up at Lex. "I see your father has finished his call, Mr. Luthor." The polished smile didn't reach her eyes as she depressed the intercom button. "Mr. Luthor, your son has arrived."

The response was clear and sharp, a familiar rasp that instinctively raised Lex's hackles. "Well, send him in...and hold all my calls."

"Mr. Luthor will see you now, Mr. Luthor." A slight incline of the perfectly coiffed head released Lex from his holding pattern, and he strode toward the starkly elegant door, anticipating the click of a security lock releasing. He wasn't disappointed, and the heavy door swung open to reveal his father's blue-tinted lair.

"I'm assuming there's some reasonable explanation for your rather abrupt summons?" Lex kept his tone cool and aloof as he sauntered toward the massive desk where his father held court.

Lionel steepled his fingers as he settled back in his chair, one forefinger stroking his lower lip as he regarded his recalcitrant heir. With a nod, he deigned to answer. "I always have excellent reasons for my actions, Lex. You, of all people, should be quite aware of that." Slapping his hands down on gleaming wood, he levered himself up to place his gaze at Lex's level. "I need you in London to take care of some 'irregularities' in the Hardwick acquisitions. I've taken the liberty of having your staff pack for you, and the jet is fueled and waiting."

Knowing he needed to pick his battles, Lex inclined his head graciously, and then spun lazily in place to amble back out the door without a single word of acknowledgement. His shoulders only stiffened a fraction when he overheard his father's self-satisfied chuckle as the door closed behind him without a sound.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
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"Do whatever's necessary, but I need to talk to the governor...now. Call me back when you've arranged it." With an irritated stab at the tiny keys of his cell phone, Lex disconnected the call and returned his full attention to the road in front of him. He drummed his fingers impatiently on the wheel each time he glanced at the unresponsive piece of electronics suspended from the dashboard. He'd had the hands-free modules installed in all his vehicles after his ill-fated plunge from a bridge and subsequent miraculous rescue. Frowning as he anticipated the return call, he mused that, although it was safer having the phone set to speaker-mode and leaving both hands free, there was something to be said for the illusory comfort of a digital lifeline clenched warm and waiting inside a fist.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
7 days ago
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His dark face suffused with heavy color, the angry man slammed his palm against the ornate wooden door about to close. "I have to talk to Luthor!"

A condescendingly calm voice repeated from the shadows of the hallway, "I've explained that Mr. Luthor is not in, Dr. Hamilton. I've also offered to pass on any message from you."

Making a noticeable effort to calm himself, the doctor shook his head in disagreement. "This isn't something I'm at liberty to discuss with anyone else. When's he supposed to get back?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't say, sir. I suggest you make an appointment with his assistant. Good day."

Admitting defeat with a sigh, Hamilton allowed the door to snick shut, and then absently shuffled back to his car, lost in contemplation. Climbing inside, he sat unmoving for a few minutes before starting the engine and driving away, his mouth moving in what seemed to be a heated discussion muted behind steel and safety glass.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
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Lex found it easy to ignore the ground swiftly passing beneath him as he paged through the information his assistant had forwarded before he'd lost all contact with her almost forty-eight hours earlier. The electronic files included names and times of death, the compiled contact list for Patient Zero, a few autopsy reports, and speculation regarding the cause from a number of sources. He'd reviewed it all before, but since he wouldn't arrive at the state capitol for at least another twenty minutes, he decided to spend his time in the helicopter searching for the clue he was certain he'd somehow missed.

Idly paging back through the list of messages and contacts for the past month, he paused at a name on the castle's visitors list, and then cursed under his breath at his earlier mistake when he'd skimmed over the last-known contacts for Patient Zero, one James Beales. His lips thinned as he quickly located an encrypted file on his laptop and opened it, already convinced he'd found what he'd been looking for.

"Damn it, Hamilton," he muttered as he scanned the data he'd accumulated on a series of experiments being conducted under his exclusive oversight. "What the hell did you do...and why didn't you make that appointment?"

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
7 days ago
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His pink-brown nose twitching at the tempting scent that somehow managed to override the lingering stench of fire, the jackrabbit slowly hopped closer to the brightly colored flower at the edge of the road. He stretched his neck out and cautiously nibbled the unfamiliar petals, only to scramble back in alarm at a dusty puff issuing from the center of the bloom. A blunt-clawed paw scrubbed at an irritated nose before the young buck chuffed and sprang away, his tail flirting across the new-mown meadow until he was out of sight.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
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"Listen, I need you to find out what happened to Dr. Steven Hamilton. Is he behind the blockade, or did he get out before the government shut everything down? Call me back as soon as you know something." Snapping his phone shut, Lex continued to pace in the waiting area outside the governor's offices. His appointment wasn't on the busy man's calendar for several more hours, but his assistant had assured Lex that if an earlier opening appeared, she would make sure Lex could take advantage of it. Considering the bustle surrounding him, all of which seemed to be related to the state of emergency, Lex considered himself fortunate he'd been able to obtain an audience.

Up until now, the quarantine measures in place had proved highly effective in keeping Lex out of the proscribed area. A no-fly zone had forced Lex to drive farther than he'd expected in order to be able to use the corporate helicopter, and that had added another layer to the frustration he was experiencing. Lex was willing to try to work within the confines of the law, but he'd already determined that if he ended up unsuccessful in his bid to convince the governor to allow LuthorCorp resources to assist in the containment and resolution of the crisis, Lex would take the matter into his own hands and make it happen anyway.

Struck by another thought, Lex opened his phone and began dialing again. The moment the call connected, he wasted no time in making his demands clear and to the point. "Nixon, I want everything you have on what's been happening in Smallville. I don't care how trivial you think it might be. Send it to my office immediately so that my staff can start going through it."

Closing his phone without wasting time signing off, Lex weighed it in his hand as he continued to form and discard theories at lightning speed.

He might have arrived late in the game, but he was determined that he was going to win.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
7 days ago
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Hamilton's foul mood hadn't improved by the time he returned to the converted barn that contained his laboratory...all improvements courtesy of Lex Luthor. The scientist was aggravated by the number of hours that he'd wasted sitting parked outside the gates of the castle on the off chance that the missing Luthor would return. Finally abandoning the effort, he'd debated on whether to leave a message or make the suggested appointment, only to decide not to risk exposure. He was sure he had time left to clean up the mess before there were any repercussions.

Spotting the open front panel of the terrarium, he frowned at his carelessness, no doubt a direct result of his discovery of Beales' theft. As he walked over to close the climate-controlled environment, he heard a skittering noise in the corner. He shook his head as he secured the experiment, grumbling under his breath at the conditions he was being forced to perform under. One of Beales' tasks had been to reinforce the walls that were being riddled by the rodents endemic to the local farms, and he obviously hadn't finished before he'd stolen one of the plants Hamilton had been studying.

Terrarium secured, he shuffled over to the lab bench covered with various pieces of scanning and recording equipment, and perched on the stool placed in front of a small book that looked oddly out of place. He sighed and flipped the yellowed pages before reaching out for a micro-recorder. He pressed the rewind button for a few seconds, and then listened to the last notes he'd entered before setting it to record again.

"The aster nicodemus emits a pollen with spore-like properties when it detects heat generated by a biochemical source. It appears to be able to distinguish between the heat produced by combustion and that of a living organism. While its seeds germinate at a normal rate, the pollen spores propagate at a geometrically higher rate when introduced to a blood agar medium, with an exponentially greater increase on chocolate agar. This increase appears to support the respiratory effects previously documented."

Breaking off his dictation, Hamilton rubbed his eyes wearily. Beales had most likely been exposed to the pollen spores, since there was no evidence that he'd used any precautions to cover the plant. Hamilton's experiments to date had not progressed to animal trials, so he had nothing but a century-old diary to support any of his concerns. Shrugging off a niggling disquiet, he clicked the record button.

"When exposed to natural sunlight, the spores consume the medium and then each other, culminating in one or more new plants, total time elapsed to full growth dependent on medium and strength of sunlight. Recorded germination and growth periods range from three to nine hours. Spores do not survive for more than twelve hours outside the growth medium and, due to the additional requirement of adequate sunlight, the result is self-limiting propagation skewed toward seed generation."

Turning off the recorder, Hamilton set it down on the bench before standing. He was already aware that Beales had an unlisted phone number, hence no address on public record. However, he'd just recalled that, before being assigned to Hamilton, Beales had previously worked in the maintenance department at the LuthorCorp facility located in Smallville. Reaching for his phone, he obtained the plant's number from directory assistance and, after being connected, asked for the personnel department. Fifteen minutes later, he slammed down the phone in frustration, his attempt to learn where Beales lived thwarted by rules that could be circumvented only by the plant manager.

After a few moments spent reviewing his options, Hamilton decided that if Lex Luthor was still unavailable in the morning, he'd visit the plant in person. With any luck, he'd be able to convince Gabe Sullivan that releasing Beale's personal information was in his best interest.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
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"Okay, I'm calling it. Time of death: 1:07 p.m. Damn, I really thought we had a chance with this one."

"Should I let that young man in now, Doctor? He's been with her all along and he's been waiting outside since she coded.... Hunh, that's odd. He was standing right there just a few seconds ago."

"I'm sure he'll show up, Nurse. Unfortunately, we have too many other patients close to dying to start worrying about someone who's still on his feet."

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
6 days ago
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The herd shifted warily away from the squealing and thrashing that disturbed the pasture. When the noise died away, the cows resumed their peaceful grazing under the mid-morning sun with no memory of their short-lived uneasiness. As the day advanced, they ambled lazily in search of tender stalks until the orange-red cluster of new growth beckoned. Several lowing protests warned against further tasting, but each cow seemed determined to make the discovery on its own before wandering to the distant corners of the field. The untouched blossoms nodded farewell with the slightest of breezes, the slash of color a counterpoint to the sparkling green fragments scattered around their roots. A stronger gust stirred their serrated leaves until tufts of brown fur floated away, leaving behind a jumble of rust-stained ivory half-buried in the torn earth.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
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The military convoy wound its way along the gravel-strewn back roads outside Smallville, olive-green canvas concealing its cargo. The line of vehicles ground to a stop just outside the locked gate of its next destination and, once the dust had settled, no other movement could be detected in the surrounding fields. Two orange-suited guardsmen carrying rifles jumped down from the cab of the first jeep, one advancing to open the metal bars while the other stood lookout. The two men remained behind as the jeep slowly entered the grounds of the farm, the drivers of the larger transports following their orders to remain outside the gate until they were summoned.

Voices didn't carry well outside the suits' hoods, so the men never spoke as they walked along the deeply rutted drive, their weapons held at the ready. They'd learned from experience that silence could turn to screams in mere seconds and that the cliché of every farm having shotgun racks on pickup trucks...wasn't.

They reached the porch of the gray clapboard farmhouse and slowly mounted the steps to knock on the screen door. Receiving no answer, they pushed their way inside the unlocked door to enter the kitchen. There, they found their first clue that the farm wasn't as deserted as it had appeared. A rust-brown trail with more than one handprint led into the next room, and there, a few feet past the entryway, they found the person who'd left the evidence behind.

There was a gagging noise, and then one of the living bolted for the door, tearing at the hood of his protective gear. The other simply let his shoulders slump as he keyed his radio and reported, "Send in three body bags. Looks like double murder and suicide this time. And Simpkins is going to have to be quarantined if he managed to open his goddamn suit out there." He ended the transmission and sighed, muttering under his breath, "Poor kid. Never had to deal with this kind of shit before. Fuck. I wish none of us had ever had to."

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
6 days ago
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"Stay the hell away from my son, Luthor! If I catch you anywhere near him, you'll end up with more holes in you than you started with!" Jonathan Kent slammed the phone's receiver into the cradle hard enough that Martha heard the plastic crack. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in a belated protest, but her objections were overridden by another incoming call. "What the hell is it now?" Jonathan's greeting lacked any semblance of politeness, and Martha cringed at the thought of their neighbors or friends hanging up with the wrong impression.

"Jonathan..." she began, only to be rudely waved to silence.

"You bastard! Are you trying to tell me my loan application's been rejected? I'm coming down there and you'll explain to my face exactly what kind of fucked-up game your goddamn bank committee is playing!"

Martha gasped and covered her mouth at her husband's language. She watched in shock as he stormed out of the house and climbed into their pickup without a word to her. When she saw him check the gun rack in the back of the cab of the truck, she knew that the sudden changes in Jonathan's behavior had shifted from odd to dangerous. Her hand trembled as she reached out to pick up the abused phone and began to dial.

"Hello, Chloe? Clark told me he was going to stay after school and work on the paper with you. Is he there? Can I talk to him, please?" Some of Martha's fear lifted when she heard her son's voice, and she was thankful that Chloe kept her cell phone handy. "Clark? It's your father. He's on his way to the bank and...and he's so angry. I think you should try to find him before he goes inside because he...he has the shotgun with him."

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
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Lex impatiently checked his watch as he watched another somber, dark-suited group file inside the governor's office. Despite the harried assistant's best efforts, she'd been unable to move his appointment forward, and that left Lex in limbo as far as implementing any of his proposals. To add to his frustration, he'd yet to receive any information on Hamilton, and that only reinforced his suspicion that the disgraced mineralogist was somehow involved with the current crisis.

A discreet buzz from his pocket alerted him to a possible breakthrough. Flicking the slim phone open, he barked, "What do you have?"

The snide voice from the other end did nothing to lift his spirits. "Not much. They've locked the place down tight, nothing in or out except through official channels. I did find something sort of odd that I need to check out. Not sure it'll pan out, considering the source, but...."

"I need details, Nixon." Lex kept his voice low to reduce the chance of eavesdropping, but he was finding it increasingly difficult. "Stop playing games."

"It's the Sullivan girl, the one who keeps track of all the weird in Smallville. She keeps an online journal to make notes in whenever she doesn't have her laptop with her. Not much there, but the last thing she put up a couple of days ago was a name."

Lex sucked in a sharp breath before he ventured a guess. "Hamilton?"

Nixon's reply only deepened the mystery. "No. It was...Nicodemus."

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
6 days ago
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The heavy plastic bag landed on the acid-scarred lab bench with a thud. Hamilton followed its example and dropped equally as heavily onto the stool next to it. With a groan, he leaned forward and propped his head up with aching arms. It had been a long and aggravating day, and he was glad to call an end to it.

Far too many hours of his day had been consumed by his attempts to track down the errant handyman. He'd started late, his absorption with spore maturation rates keeping him in the lab until almost dawn, and then he'd forgotten to set his alarm and had slept until noon. Driving to the LuthorCorp facility had wasted more time, especially since Sullivan had been unwilling to release Beale's personal details. In the end, it hadn't mattered, since Hamilton had heard about the accident on the news as he'd pulled out of the LuthorCorp parking lot. A phone call to the news station had netted the details of the crash, including its location, and Hamilton had resolved to investigate it personally. The need for continued secrecy had been reinforced after he'd visited the hospital and had been informed that the thief was in critical condition. Hamilton knew he had to be certain that the explosion and fire had destroyed the missing plant. If not, there was always a chance it might be traced back to him.

Being escorted into Lionel Luthor's presence at the castle hadn't improved Hamilton's increasingly grim mood. The minute he'd walked into the office and recognized who was sitting behind the desk, Hamilton had realized that he was in trouble. The father was ten times more dangerous than the son...and Hamilton wasn't foolish enough to believe that he could play hardball in either man's league.

It had been apparent from the elder Luthor's questions that he'd had some inkling of Hamilton's current research, and the doctor had been hard-pressed to dodge the sharp-edged salvos. Pleading both ignorance and fatigue, Hamilton had finally escaped without revealing anything of importance, but the nerve-wracking experience had only emphasized how easily it could all come crashing down. He'd sat trembling in his car for several minutes before he'd been able to gather himself sufficiently together to drive away.

Several wrong turns had necessitated backtracking and had only added to Hamilton's aggravation. It had been almost by accident that he'd finally driven past the black char marking the scene of the fire and explosion. A convenient driveway had provided a place for him to park, and he'd hiked across the field, only to find someone else had beaten him to the spot. He'd hung back to observe the two young girls searching along the side of the road, both holding flashlights to pierce the gathering dusk.

Hamilton had stayed hidden until the girls had left empty-handed, the taillights of their car fading in the distance. It hadn't taken him long to locate the plant, its bright leaves flaring under his flashlight. He'd covered it carefully with the bag he'd brought with him, sighing in relief as he'd lifted the missing experiment from the shallow ditch. The drive back to the barn had been almost anticlimactic, and the release from too many hours of tension had left him limp with fatigue.

Admitting that he didn't have the energy to continue his work that night, Hamilton checked the bag to make sure the plant was secure, and then shuffled out of the barn, locking the door behind him. He would set up the next set of tests in the morning.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
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Bypassing the medical tents, the military transports proceeded directly to the refrigerated trailers parked at the far end of the temporary camp. They had become such a familiar sight in the past few days that almost no one watched them pass by, people's attention focused instead on the living. Only a few of the remaining residents of Smallville and the surrounding area had noticed that none of the convoys had returned carrying the living for more than a day...and those few weren't sharing their conclusions with the others. They understood the need for hope.

The atmosphere of the encampment that had overtaken the high school's playing field was grim. Thin wails of infants mingled with the rumble of complaints from adult caretakers, the occasional shout of laughter from the children darting along the makeshift corridors of khaki-colored shelters startling in contrast. Tired faces held little hope, their owners too accustomed to witnessing the rapid decline of family and friends in such a short period. Food and sleep were the only comforts for many who'd been left alone in their rapidly shrinking world.

Torn from their homes, restrained by government controls, the refugees had little left. The best they could hope for was to live.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
5 days ago
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"I'm telling you, Sally Ann, there are getting to be too many days I want to take a skillet to that man's head." Phone receiver cradled between chin and shoulder, a middle-aged woman half-heartedly scrubbed at a stain on the kitchen counter. "Jason's got Ethan tramping around in the north pasture looking for the herd when they should be out checking for anyone who might've noticed a truck full of cows driving around last night. Men. They're all idiots." After tossing the dirty rag into the sink, she pushed back thick dark hair threaded with gray, and then frowned at the clock over the stove. "Listen, I've got to run. I'll catch you later."

Replacing the receiver on the wall-mounted phone, she muttered in frustration before stomping over to the kitchen door and flinging it open. "James Neil Sanders! You need to get your lazy butt in here and eat your breakfast before you miss the school bus again." The sour twist to her mouth left no doubt of her opinion of that eventuality.

A lanky teenager bounded up the porch steps at her shout, whining in protest, "Ma, I wanted to hear what Sheriff Ethan thinks about...."

"Never you mind about that. I don't need the bother of driving you to school, not on top of everything else." She reached out to clip her son across the back of his head as he passed by her on the way into the house. "What's that you're carrying?"

Looking down quickly, as if startled by a sudden memory, the boy shook his head and then looked back up, grinning. "Oh! I found these in the pasture. I've never seen them before, but they sure smell pretty."

Accepting the bright bouquet gingerly, his mother lifted them to her face to test the scent of the flowers. After inhaling deeply, she flashed a pleased smile, agreeing, "They're lovely, Jimmy. Thank you."

Pleased that his peace offering had been properly appreciated, the teen nodded, and then advanced to the sink to wash his hands. "I'll tell you what...the bees sure do like them. They were all over them. I had to be careful picking to make sure I didn't bring any home with me." He left the sink and took a seat at the table, grabbing the box of cornflakes to pour some in a bowl. "What kind do you suppose they are?"

Busily arranging the flowers in a vase that she'd retrieved from the sideboard, his mother thought for a moment before replying, "Some kind of aster, I think. Probably from somebody's garden. All it takes is a bird or mouse to scatter seeds wherever, you know that." Turning away from her unexpected treat, she studied her son with a softer expression than usual on her face. Shaking her head wearily, she sighed and reminded him gently, "You need to hurry. You know how your pa gets...."

Exchanging a glance of understanding, he shoveled in another mouthful and nodded, mumbling around the food, "I know, Ma. I know."

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
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"We're going out again right away, sir?" The young guardsman looked up at his commanding officer in concern. The unit had just finished emptying the transports, and the exhausted soldiers were preparing to decontaminate the interiors. "We're only picking up bodies now, and I figured we'd get a little time to rest or...."

"We still have a lot of ground to cover, and not a lot of time left before the next stage. If there are people still alive out there, even if they're already sick, then the sooner we bring them in, the better. I'd hate to be the person that walks into a house a few days from now to find a baby left behind to die in a crib." The officer shuddered at the memory of finding the bodies of people who'd survived a natural disaster, but not the long wait for help to arrive. "We may be getting tired, but we're still healthy. We're the lucky ones, son."

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
5 days ago
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"First, it was Beales, then Mr. Kent, and now Lana's in the hospital. The only thing they have in common is they were all at the accident site. I'm telling you, Pete, Dr. Hamilton has to be involved somehow. It's too much of a coincidence that he was hanging around there last night. He's been working with the meteorites all along and...." Halting halfway down the dirt path that wound through the grass toward the aged barn, the young blonde slowed her tumble of words. "Sounds as if the doctor has another visitor, and he isn't at all happy with whoever it is. I'll bet they have something to do with the limo out front."

Automatically placing his dark-skinned hand in the center of his friend's back for support, Pete nodded. "Yeah, maybe we should hold off for a few minutes, Chloe. If they get loud enough, we might pick up a clue."

Chloe tossed her head in mild disagreement. "We'd have to get a lot closer." She pointed to a window set off to the side of the barn door. "That looks like a good place to start." She surged ahead with her usual confidence, leaving Pete scrambling to catch up. She flicked a smile over her shoulder at his whispered protests. "It'll be fine as long as you stay quiet, Pete." Glancing down at the plants clustered at the base of the window, she cautioned, "And don't trample the pretty flowers while you're at it."

Their stealthy attempt to eavesdrop was destined to fail. The barn door slammed open and a tall, lean man exited precipitously, his long, graying locks of hair thrown back in disdain. After brushing dust from his black topcoat, the older man shrugged his clothing back in order and strode away, muttering angrily.

The two teens exchanged surprised looks, and Pete blurted out, "Lionel Luthor! That can't be good!"

Chloe's stage-whisper was only marginally quieter. "Shhh. Do you want them to hear you?"

A muffled sneeze was Pete's first response, followed by a sniffled, "I think I'm allergic to these flowers."

"I told you not to step in them, didn't I?" Grabbing his hand, Chloe jerked him out of the clump of bright-blossomed plants, and hurried toward the door. "Come on. Let's go find some answers before Mr. Kent and Lana end up like Beales. Dead."

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
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"All right, who's up next?"

"Latest batch from the outlying farms, Doctor. They've been tagged with the location they were picked up from, any identification, and there are photos of the scene. It's all clipped to their bags."

"God, we've gotten so damn efficient at this. Never mind...I'm just so freaking tired after so many today. Just turn on the recorder, open it up and give me the basics so we can sort them into groups."

"Sanders, James. Male, Caucasian, age sixteen according to his learner's permit."

"Fuck, somehow it's always worse with the kids. Let's see...well, we'll run the toxicology and blood scans and check the extent of organ failure, but I think the cause of death is pretty apparent. I'm going to flag this as another murder, since his throat was sliced from ear-to-ear...and he obviously was still alive when it happened. Next."

"Sanders, Emma. Female, Caucasian, age thirty-nine according to her driver's license."

"Another stabbing. Let me guess. The next one is the husband...and he ate his gun."

"Yeah, looks like it. How'd you know?"

"Too goddamn much experience with human nature at its worse. This thing, whatever it turns out to be, seems to remove the inhibitions that keep us civilized before it ends up in total systemic shutdown. Let's face it. You take biology down to the basics, and it's either fuck or fight. Hell, sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between the two. Enough philosophy. Let's get this done so that I can go somewhere and pretend I'm actually going to be able to sleep."

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
5 days ago
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Hamilton attempted to ignore the tapping at the barn door but, when it escalated to heavy rapping, he abandoned his cleaning efforts and stomped over to fling the door open. "What the...?" His anger subsided a little when he caught sight of the two teens standing a few feet back from the entry, obviously wary of his reaction. "What do you want?" The question was still surly, but skirted the lighter edge of politeness in deference to his visitors' ages.

"Dr. Hamilton, my name is Chloe Sullivan and this is my photographer, Pete Ross. I'm the editor of the 'Smallville Torch' and we've chatted a few times on the internet about your work with the meteorites." The young blonde's voice rattled at first, but steadied as Hamilton let her go on without interruption.

Disregarding an odd impression that he was missing something important, Hamilton nodded as he recalled a few lively discussions about the effect of the extraterrestrial minerals on plant and animal life. "Yes, I remember you, Chloe. Are you here to interview me? If so..."

Chloe slipped past the doctor and into the barn, her bright smile charming him despite his concern about the mess Lionel Luthor had left behind. "Well, yes...and no. I'm interested in finding out why you were in the woods last night. Were you investigating the accident? You see, I happened to take this picture..."

Hamilton accepted the printout that Chloe handed him, disturbed to see his dark face just visible at the edge of the clump of trees. Tamping down his dismay, he shrugged as carelessly as he could and handed the picture back. "Accident? I have no idea what you're talking about. I was out looking for samples. They show up well at night under a flashlight." He frowned as he watched Chloe turn around slowly to survey the barn. "I suppose I could ask the same of you."

A flip of blonde locks dismissed his question before Chloe stooped in front of a pile of glass and dirt. "Oh, your plant doesn't look very healthy. Do you need any help cleaning up?"

Lunging forward as he saw her hands reach out for the flower with the broken stem, Hamilton yanked her back and to her feet. "No! I mean it was just an accident and I'll take care of it. Now, if there's nothing else?"

Hamilton noticed something uncertain in her gaze as she glanced over his shoulder, presumably toward her companion. Whatever it was, it was wiped away by a perky grin and a quick assurance, "Oh, no. Nothing else." She waved at the mess on the floor and blithely remarked, "Good thing you have more of those outside, hunh?"

Hamilton felt his heart stutter as he absorbed her comment. "Outside?" he demanded. When she nodded and pointed in the general direction of the door, he hurried past the open-mouthed boy with a muttered curse. It took him only a few seconds to spot the flowers in question, and his anxiety ratcheted up another level. He stood there, his fingers flicking in a nervous pattern for almost a minute before his two visitors exited the barn behind him and chirped their hasty goodbyes. He waved them away absently, as he walked back inside to find the tools he would need to take care of the problem plants before the situation got any worse.

He had a sinking feeling that it was already too late.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

"I'm assuming you did some research on the name before you called me, Nixon?" Lex found it difficult to disguise his distaste for the journalist, his aversion for the man's usual mud-raking tactics only barely held in abeyance by need.

The audible sneer at the other end of the line made it clear that Nixon was fully aware of Lex's opinions. "Yeah, I got a few hits. There's a village in Kansas not too far away from Smallville by the name of Nicodemus, and there's a set of memoirs, a diary, published with that name. I think the diary may be what the girl was working on because the library records show she placed a second copy on reserve in the county library system. She never picked it up."

"Do you know who checked out the other copy?"

"Yeah, and that's the kicker. It was Hamilton. Dr. Steven Hamilton."

Lex felt his heart stutter in his chest as another clue pointed to a conclusion he'd never wanted to reach. "I need a copy of that diary. I don't care what you have to do to get it. I want it in my office by the time I get back to Metropolis tonight."

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
5 days ago
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

Lionel headed directly for the chrome-and-glass bar in the corner of the room, even before the door of the penthouse had closed behind him. Splashing several fingers of scotch into a tumbler, he threw it back with a grimace at the burn, and then wheeled to throw the empty glass into the fireplace. For a moment, he regretted that there was no fire lit so that it could flare up from the alcohol, and then he reached out for a refill.

Carrying his drink, Lionel yanked at his tie with his free hand and pulled the silk free from his collar, carelessly tossing the limp coil to the floor as he prowled across the living room floor like his namesake. A discreet chirping sound from the adjoining study drew his attention, and he stalked into the next room to jab at the talk button on his speakerphone. "I told you to hold all my calls!"

"Even mine, Dad? Here I thought you wanted to be kept apprised of my every move."

The sulky tones of his son's voice rasped against Lionel's nerve-endings until his only recourse was to growl a reply. "Yes, even yours, Lex. The directive of 'no calls' applies to you as well as the rest of the idiots of the world, although, now that you've disturbed me, we might as well handle whatever it is you've called about."

"Tough day?"

Unbuttoning his shirt as he paced in front of his desk, Lionel grimaced, his face reflecting a simmering rage that threatened to break free at any moment. "Just get on with it, Lex. I'm planning on retiring early."

"Negotiations are going well, and I anticipate we'll have the necessary agreements in place by the end of the week. How are things in Metropolis...and Smallville? It seems a little odd that I haven't been notified of any personal messages in the past few days, Dad. You wouldn't have anything to do with that, would you?"

Lionel carefully suppressed a purr of contentment at the confirmation that his orders about the Kent boy had been followed. "Really son, as if I'm interested in anything beyond the completion of your current assignment..."

"I'm certain it's just an oversight on someone's part, and I'll be sure to take care of the problem on my return. I'll call you tomorrow if anything changes, otherwise I plan to fly back Saturday at the latest."

"Very well, Lex." Lionel disengaged the speakerphone with a sharp snap of the button, before sweeping the system off his desk with a satisfying crash. No one came running at the sound as Lionel had dismissed the entire staff from the penthouse. He'd wanted privacy for the loss of control he'd felt edging closer since he'd left Smallville earlier that day. The altercation with Hamilton had brought back dark memories, hard time served on mean streets before the Luthor name rose to power on the backs of broken men. He'd needed time alone to bury that man beneath the thin crust of civilization.

But not too soon. There was one more loose end to tie up. Annoyed at the inconvenience, Lionel retrieved the phone from the floor and concluded it was still in working order. He dialed a number from memory, and his voice was low and the words bitten off as he ordered, "Steven Hamilton, Smallville. I want everything, nothing left behind."

His initial fury expended, his body aching almost as much as his head, Lionel shuffled down the hallway to his bedroom. He intended to sleep off the scotch and the frustration, and then enjoy waking up to the news of the destruction of a second-rate mineralogist.

After all, no one refused to give Lionel Luthor what he wanted more than once...and lived.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

Ending the call from Nixon with a silent curse, Lex massaged the bridge of his nose as he thought about the young blonde who'd been so devoted to Clark. He'd respected her ability to dig up information and her determination to see her investigations through to the end.

"Mr. Luthor? The governor will see you now."

Taking a deep breath, Lex gathered himself together and made his way into the office of the man who was going to grant him the access he needed to find Clark.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
5 days ago
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

"Are they heading back to the farm now? Yeah, you're right, first thing tomorrow morning would be best. Thanks for letting me know, Pete, and tell him...tell him how sorry I am. 'Bye." Flipping her cell phone shut, Chloe dropped it on the desk with a clatter. A single sob broke free before she brushed a hand across her face to wipe away the tears that obscured her vision. "Oh, Clark...."

After another brief pause, she shook her head and tipped her trembling chin up, resolve written in every line of her body. She opened another search engine on her laptop and typed in a name, and then began clicking her way through the results. As she read through obscure references and library catalogs, she absently fingered the petals of the orange flower she'd brought back with her from Hamilton's. As soon as she'd finished with 'Nicodemus,' she was going to try to identify the plant, and figure out why a mineralogist had suddenly switched to botany.

Her intuition was telling her that somehow Hamilton and the meteorites were involved, and that she was running out of time to solve the mystery. It was already too late for Jonathan Kent...and Lana was next.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

"Mr. Luthor, please allow me to offer you my deepest condolences. Your father was a driving force in both the Kansas' business community and politics, and he will be sorely missed."

Lex accepted the governor's handshake with a polite nod. "Lex, please. Thank you, sir. I appreciate the sentiment." He took a seat in the chair the governor indicated, and waited patiently for the governor to resume his position behind the wide oak desk.

Leaning back in his chair, the governor studied Lex for a moment before inquiring, "How may I help you, Lex? I'm afraid my time is limited due to this latest crisis."

"That's why I'm here, Governor. I would like to offer any and all assistance LuthorCorp can provide to help resolve the problem. I have laboratories at the Smallville plant that can be made available, as well as the hazmat gear we keep on site. All I ask is that you allow me to supply additional resources, and that you grant me access to the area to personally supervise my people."

"That's very generous, Lex, but the CDC is already in place..."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I truly believe my people's experience with the Smallville area may prove invaluable with something as virulent as this outbreak. There have been some incidences in the past...." Lex broke off his plea when the governor let the polite veneer slip long enough to reveal fear. Taking advantage of the moment, Lex rose to his feet and leaned forward, his face earnest as he insisted, "You can't afford to let this spread any further, and I can help."

The governor regarded Lex silently for a few moments before nodding slowly, and then reaching out to press the button to call his assistant. "I'm granting Mr. Luthor the access he's requested. Take care of it." Closing the connection, the governor looked up at Lex and frowned. "I hope you know what you're doing, Lex. Kansas can't afford to bury two Luthors in the same week."

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
4 days ago
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

The sound of breaking glass brought Hamilton's head up from the lab bench with a jerk. Blinking blearily in the darkness, he carefully stood up, and then carefully shuffled toward the door barely illuminated by the moon and starlight shining in through the window next to it. He froze in place at a heavy thud outside, and then scurried forward to peer through the dusty pane toward his house. Narrow beams of light pierced the early morning shadows, glimmering through curtains on both floors of the old farmhouse, and Hamilton held his breath as though the intruders could hear him a hundred feet away.

The number of people involved in the break-in, and the disdain they showed for stealth had made it clear that Hamilton was not dealing with ordinary thieves. Recalling Lionel Luthor's threats, there was little doubt in his mind that the furious businessman was behind the burglary. Then, he saw the glint of metal, the long shape of a weapon held at the ready by one of the dark figures, and he knew it was something more. Patting his pocket, he sighed in relief as he felt the keys to his car. He knew that the only chance he had was to drive away as quietly as possible.

Easing the door open, he crouched and slipped outside, heading for the farther side of the barn to keep it between him and his pursuers. The swish of his clothing against the tall grass and shrubbery made him wince, hoping that the others wouldn't catch the sound. When he stumbled and fell to one knee, he held back the instinctive curse, his heart pounding too hard to hear anything else. He held still, afraid to move for a few moments, and then he rose to a low crouch. That was when the moon illuminated the plant tucked under one of the scraggly shrubs, only a few inches away from his face when he'd fallen. The plant with blossoms that held a blood-red sheen in the pale light.

The one plant he'd missed when he'd cleared out the others the day before.

He shook his head in disbelief before scrambling backward, unwilling to believe that he'd come so far only to be overtaken by disaster. He was certain that he'd escaped unscathed.

Then he sneezed.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

Clark stood in the center of his mother's garden and trembled with emotion he couldn't let free. He was afraid that if he gave in to the despair and helpless rage that surged through his veins that innocent people would get hurt. It was why he'd raced away from the medical center after he'd heard those final words. He'd stumbled to a halt outside the castle and scanned through the thick walls one last time, searching for the one person he'd been so sure could help. Lex hadn't been there, any more than he'd been there all the other times he'd tried. He'd left message after message, but Lex had never called back, and then there was no one left in the castle to take a message.

Clark knew that the patrols that were attempting to keep Smallville isolated would never be enough to keep him quarantined. Only the knowledge that he might carry death outside the confines of the artificial border tethered Clark to the empty yellow house. There was nothing left for him but ghosts, and he tried to remember his mother happy, laughing with his father, working with her flowers, not pale and silent surrounded by beeping machines. He'd had so little time to mourn his father and his friends, and his final loss cut bone-deep and felt as if it could be fatal.

A slight breeze rustled through the sunflowers, and the black-eyed susans dipped in a sympathetic wave of color. Top-heavy with red, ripe globes, a tomato plant leaned drunkenly, its stake loose in the soil. Knowing his mother would never have allowed such disarray, Clark bent to straighten the plant and re-seat the thin cane, the ordinary action oddly soothing. His hands brushed by orange-red blossoms, and he frowned at the unfamiliar plant, wondering where he'd seen it before. The question didn't linger, a fresh wave of grief bringing him to his knees as he buried his face in his hands and sobbed.

Minutes later, he wiped the tears from his cheeks and rose slowly to his feet, his movements jerky as if aged by decades. Resolving to gather a bouquet of her favorites, Clark turned toward the house to retrieve the gardening shears and a basket. Numb, he climbed the steps to the kitchen that would no longer smell of spice and sweet, dreading the silence that would greet him and take up residence in his heart.

Then he sneezed.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
4 days ago
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

Lex stared down at the phone in his hand and frowned. After Jonathan Kent's furious reaction to the last call he'd made to the Kent house, he was reluctant to take the chance that Clark wouldn't be the one to answer if he tried again. The difference in time zones was in his favor, since Clark would not have left for school yet, but it wasn't enough to tip the balance in favor. Flipping the phone open, he scrolled down through the stored numbers until he found the name he thought might be an alternative.

Unfortunately, no one answered, and he had to make a choice to either leave a message or hang up. He listened for the beep and began, "Chloe, this is Lex. I haven't been able to reach Clark, and I was wondering if you could pass on a message. I'm in London right now and I..."

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

The governor's face reflected his concern as he made his assurances to Lex. "I'll have all the necessary authorizations sent out immediately. Your people will have access within the hour."

Lex nodded in relief, his mind already running through his personal inventory of tasks. One, in particular, jostled its way to the forefront. "I'd like to see the casualty lists. There haven't been any press releases for the last two days and..."

"Of course, of course. My assistant brought me the latest about an hour ago. I can tell you that we lost a lot of medical personnel in the first days. That made the record-keeping a little difficult, but they have it under control now. I have the list right here, or I can ask her to make you a copy." The governor quickly shuffled through the piles of paper that threatened to overwhelm his desk.

"If you don't mind." Lex accepted the folder the governor handed across the desk and immediately flipped it open. The list was alphabetized, allowing him to scan for specific names quickly, and he winced as more than a few caught his eye. Kent, Jonathan; Kent, Martha; Lang, Lana; Potter, Ellen; Sullivan, Chloe; Sullivan, Gabriel; the list seemed endless, yet a few names were notable in their absence. As he reached the end, a second list of names began, and Lex looked up in puzzlement. "A list of missing persons?"

The governor's answer supplied little to enlighten him. "There have been quite a few people that can't be located, reported missing by families temporarily relocated to shelters. In fact, a number of farms in the outlying areas have been found abandoned; no sign of the occupants, machinery left the middle of fields, livestock missing. We're not sure if they're related to this outbreak, but we've been tracking all reported incidents."

Lex reviewed the second list more closely, trying to discern a pattern. "Is it possible they simply left before the quarantine went into effect?"

"Of course it's possible, but highly unlikely, that one or two family members would leave without the others. We've issued an alert to hospitals and clinics within a 200-mile radius, as well as the police but, oddly enough, many of their vehicles are still parked in their driveways. Unless those people left on foot, they're still somewhere inside the blockade. We're still conducting a house-to-house search. We just haven't found them yet."

Returning to the first page, Lex tapped one of the lines he'd noticed earlier. "I can't help wondering about something I noticed. What does the color-coding on the names correlate to?"

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
4 days ago
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

"Nell, how are you holding up, sweetheart?"

"Oh, thanks for stopping by, Sally Ann. She's...she's not getting any better. The doctors...."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. Lana's always been such a sweet girl. Listen, if there's anything I can do for you, just tell me. You know me and the girls at the garden club would do just about anything to help."

"I know, I know. Thank you. What's that? It smells lovely after spending so much time inside a hospital room."

"Oh, we think it's some new sort of aster. Emma found a bunch of them out in one of their fields yesterday, and the club thought it would be nice if we potted some to take over to the nursing home. You know, brighten up the place a little...and they do smell nice. We ended up with a couple dozen between us, and I decided to bring some over to the hospital, you know, spread them around a bit. They look real nice at the information desk and the nursing stations. Would you like one in here?"

"I think I would, thanks. I miss being at the flower shop, even after just a day. It's just so dark in here and.... Oh, Sally Ann, what am I going to do if she doesn't get better? She's all I have!"

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

Lex watched as the governor's frown deepened. "I'm afraid those indicate deaths by violent means, both victims and perpetrators. A number of the cases seem to have resulted in highly aggressive behavior and, unfortunately, homicides. Smallville's sheriff was one of the first identified. I'd assumed you knew about his attack on your father's property in Smallville."

Turning to the next page, Lex scanned quickly, his eyes widening as the significance of several names became clearer. "No, I hadn't. I'm afraid that with my father's death, I..." Lex flipped a few more pages before continuing, "...when I couldn't reach my assistant, I was forced to rely on my father's staff in Metropolis, and it wasn't until a few days later that I was informed about the situation in Smallville. I must admit I'd assumed that she'd died like the rest." Lex thought back on the chaotic days spent arranging the funeral and stabilizing LuthorCorp's wildly-fluctuating stock prices. "If I'd known sooner...I was out of the country when this all started."

"It must have been very difficult for you." The sympathy in the governor's voice, in conjunction with the latest information, threatened to break through the wall of calm Lex had cultivated. "I appreciate your dedication in the face of everything that's happened."

Refusing to dwell on the past, Lex nodded, forcing a smile. "Yes, well, thanks for letting me take a look at the list, and I would like to take a copy with me." Lex rose and extended his hand in a short goodbye, the governor coming around the desk to escort him to the door in a show of support. "I appreciate you taking the time to see me, Governor. Thanks again for your help."

Within a few minutes, Lex was on his way out of the building with the necessary paperwork in hand. As he walked toward the waiting car, he opened the folder once more and paged toward the end to re-read one name in particular on the 'missing' list.

Hamilton, Steven.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
4 days ago
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

Pete skidded to a stop just before the drop-off above Crater Lake, a wide grin splitting his sweaty face. It had been a good run; the only thing that could have made it better would have been Clark hitting the rutted path next to him on his own bike. Thinking about the reason Clark wasn't with him wiped Pete's grin away. He couldn't help thinking how unfair it was Mr. Kent had died like that, and how Lana being sick made it even worse. Pete shook his head in sympathy at his best friend's pain and wished there was something he could do to help.

Frustration was why he was out riding, instead of sitting in the hospital or hanging out in the Kent's kitchen. When Chloe had called him this morning and asked him to pass on a message to Clark, Pete had lost it. He didn't tell Chloe where to shove Lex Luthor's voicemail, but he'd come close. Now that he thought about it, maybe he should have told her that she needed to handle it herself, but she'd sounded pretty out of it after staying up all night trying to find out what that Nicodemus was all about.

Pete had hung up without saying anything, and then finally decided that if it was really important, Luthor could drive out and tell Clark himself. Feeling as if his head was going to explode any minute, he'd ditched classes for the day and hit the dirt.

The sun beating down on his head was only making the pain worse, and Pete grimaced in pain before turning the bike around to head for home. He only managed a few hundred feet when it felt as if a bolt of lightning hit him between the eyes and, as the bike tipped off the path and tumbled toward the rocks below, Pete knew that it was really going to hurt.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

Clark jerked awake with a gasp, sitting up to search his room with wild eyes. The fading remnants of his dream tried to convince him that his mother had been sitting next to him on the bed, her voice a sweet echo insisting he was going to be late for school. Reality crashed in, and he doubled over in grief, hot tears doing nothing to wash away the memory of a still body, a vibrant life dimmed to nothing.

The thought of returning to the medical center, attempting to claim his mother so she might lie next to his father, was more than his otherworldly strength could bear. When they'd buried his father, there had been others to help support him and his mother, but those people, those friends had since fallen victim themselves. Their bodies now were being held hostage, warehoused in icy darkness until the needs of the still-living had been met.

The quiet of the house was oppressive, driving Clark outside to stand beneath the sun he'd missed while haunting the corridors of the medical center. It was several minutes later that the significance of the profound silence broke through Clark's haze of sorrow.

The lowing of cows was missing, the complaining of chickens and sharp burr of insects. The air lacked even a hint of birdsong.

There was nothing to hear but the chuff of a dust devil...and the unsteady beat of a broken heart.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
4 days ago
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

"What do you mean, 'we lost him'! You were given explicit instructions, and I expected them to be followed." Sweat beaded across Lionel's brow, and he swiped at it carelessly with his rumpled shirtsleeve. "What about the rest?"

Anyone watching the conversation would have found it easy to guess the response at the other end of the line. The crystal tumbler that shattered against the wall was a distinct indication that Lionel didn't care for the answer. "Then he must have taken the notes when he left. Find him you, idiot!"

After hanging up the phone by throwing it across the room to join the shards of glass, Lionel staggered toward the well-stocked bar a few feet away. The headache that had been plaguing him all day wasn't diminishing, despite the pain medication his assistant had delivered a few hours earlier, and he was willing to try the application of more alcohol as an alternative. He'd sent everyone away hours earlier, unwilling to tolerate their inane chatter, and had directed them not to disturb him on pain of immediate termination.

As the room swam around him and he tipped forward, he regretted that action. He fell heavily against polished chrome and glass, his hands scrabbling but finding no purchase. The bright star of pain at his temple underlined his mistake in crimson during the last fleeting seconds of his life.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

Lex used every available minute of his travel time running through lists and coordinating his teams' preparations for entry behind the blockade. While the laboratories at the Smallville plant held much of the equipment needed for analysis, many other items would be delivered by trailers and handled with the necessary care to safeguard the delicate components. Lex, and by extension LuthorCorp, had spared no expense in assembling the resources needed to battle the still-unidentified agent of Smallville's destruction.

Another piece of the puzzle slotted into place with the annoying grate of Nixon's voice. "The diary talks about a plague that hit the Morelly Settlement in 1871. Some sort of flower supposedly caused almost everyone there to 'commit acts of indescribable violence and depravity' before they keeled over and died. The place was pretty much wiped out by it."

Lex didn't bother trying to disguise his skepticism. "A flower?"

"Yeah, the diary belonged to some priest, who was there at the time, and he wrote, "On God's green earth, this flower was the thief in the temple, the silent temptress that, with a single sneeze, brought out the basest instincts in men and drove them to violence." Nixon's mocking tones made his opinion clear.

Thinking back on his last conversation with the errant scientist, Lex suddenly recalled his mild concern over one of Hamilton's proposed experiments. It was a single line item regarding irradiated seeds and, when Lex had questioned the utility, Hamilton had insisted that the plants had potential medicinal applications, similar to several discovered in the remote regions of South American rainforests. Lex's initial doubts evaporated under the weight of too much coincidence. "Is there a description of the flower?"

"Yeah. The priest seemed pretty obsessed about the whole thing. He even drew a couple of pictures."

A few moments passed while Lex considered the information. "Did he include anything on how they stopped the plague?"

Nixon had that answered the instant Lex asked. "They burned everything; houses, barns, fields. There was nothing left. Turns out the land was later settled by ex-slaves, who called the place Nicodemus. Village is still there."

"Good work, Nixon. Send a scan of the pictures and the diary pages to my office immediately. I'll let you know if I need anything else." Lex hung up with a frown, his mind churning over the disturbing news. He'd make sure his teams were alerted to the potential source and, if it turned out an ancient plant was responsible for the fatalities, he'd also make certain they had a plan in place to eradicate it.

This time, permanently.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
4 days ago
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

The dust-covered car rolled to a wheezing stop just short of the state line. Hamilton slammed his hand against the steering wheel in frustration before throwing the door open and tumbling free of the driver's seat. After spending most of the day lost on the back roads of Kansas, he'd hoped to make it as far as Tennessee before nightfall. The only positive he could summon after a very long day was his conviction that he'd managed to elude his pursuers during his precipitous flight.

That optimistic view soon went missing...along with the spare gas can that wasn't inside the sedan's trunk. Minus his cell phone, Hamilton had few choices: wait or walk. The desolation of the area, combined with a headache that was growing worse with each passing second, soon convinced Hamilton that a hike to the nearest town was in his best interest.

Lost in thought as he trudged along the desolate two-lane road, he jumped sideways at a beeping pickup, the rude shouts of teenagers mocking him as they drove past. Off-balance, he stumbled and slid off the graveled verge into a steep-sided ditch, the snap of bone sharp-white lightning driving consciousness away. He woke a while later and tried to climb out, but was unsuccessful, the stab of pain causing another blackout. The sun lowered steadily, but the accumulated heat lingered, stagnant and heavy, aggravating his headache and drying his mouth until any cries he managed were indistinguishable over the rattle-pop of the rare vehicle passing by. Soon after sunset, he stopped trying to climb or call.

Later that night, he stopped breathing.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

His finger hovering over a selection in his cell phone's menu, Lex paused as a thought that had been lurking in the background shoved its way to the front. He grabbed the list of victims from the seat beside him and located the name that had been disturbing him. A particular date of death, as well as the cause, began to fill in some missing pieces in a larger puzzle that had been troubling Lex for days. Changing his selection, Lex pressed the send button and waited.

"Darius, I need you to check the call logs for the castle for the last two weeks. I'm looking for the last date and time Clark Kent called." Lex waited impatiently, already suspecting the answer but needed it confirmed."

Although the head of his personal security was relatively new, he'd obviously been well-briefed in the existing protocols and had access to the necessary programs. It was only a few minutes before he confirmed Lex's suspicions. "I'm afraid the records are only available up to when the quarantine and blockade was imposed, Mr. Luthor. All access in and out of the area fell under government control at that point and...."

Lex broke in irritably, "I'm well aware of the restrictions. Give me what you have."

"The last notation on Clark Kent was two days ago, sir, approximately four hours before the communications blackout."

"And before then?"

"I have multiple instances logged. It appears between there were between six to eight calls a day back to six days ago, the frequency was much less before then."

"Is there any indication why I wasn't notified of these calls?"

The slight delay in the response, along with the tentative phrasing, set off internal alarms. "They're coded as...uh...nuisance calls, sir. According to the training I received when I joined the security team...those types of calls are merely logged for threat assessment."

Lex knew the answer to his next question. He simply wanted to hear it confirmed. "Why were they flagged as 'nuisance' calls? On whose directive?"

"According to the records, sir, it was ordered by Lionel Luthor."

The acid that had been eating away Lex's stomach threatened to make an appearance as he contemplated Clark's futile efforts to contact him, to ask Lex for help as his world was crashing down. Even if any of the messages Lex had tried to leave had made it through, Clark had been circumvented by his father's machinations when he tried to return the calls. Lex could only hope that Clark would be able to forgive him for not making the connections sooner. At least, he could make sure it would never happen again.

"I'm rescinding that order and, in the future, I want any and all calls from Clark Kent to be forwarded to my attention immediately. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Resisting the urge to throw the cell phone out the window, Lex dropped it on top of the folders on the seat beside him. The headache that had been threatening all day had escalated hostilities and he pinched the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to keep it at bay. The discovery that Clark had been trying to reach him...and more than likely believed Lex had abandoned him...was amplifying the pain, especially when he thought about trying to explain it to Clark. Slumping into the corner, Lex rested his head against the back of the leather seat and closed his eyes, aware that it would still be several more hours before they arrived at the blockade.

He wished he could decide whether the delay made him feel unsettled...or relieved.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
4 days ago
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Luthor." The coolly polite tones of one of too-many assistants broke into the tense discussion across the massive conference table. "We received a call from the Metropolis office. They claim there's an emergency and you should contact them immediately."

Thankful for the unscheduled break, Lex excused himself to take the call in one of the outer offices, loosening the tie that was threatening to strangle him after twelve hours of meetings with upper management. Dropping onto an overstuffed sofa, he retrieved his cell phone from his pocket and turned it on to check his messages. The number of missed calls was exponentially higher than normal, and an uneasy shiver ran down his spine as he selected the last caller on the list and pressed 'Send.'

Less then five minutes later, he was bidding the waiting managers a cursory farewell, his mind consumed with the details and questions surrounding his father's unexpected demise.

It would be a long flight back to Metropolis.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

It wasn't until he'd flicked the light switch in the kitchen that Clark realized the power had gone out while he'd been standing vigil in the hospital. How long it had been out was no longer in question when he opened the refrigerator to the distinctive smell of sour milk. Deciding he wasn't hungry after all, Clark closed the door and wandered out of the kitchen to the living room where he dropped heavily onto his father's recliner, covered himself with the afghan his mother had crocheted, and closed his eyes against the shadowed remnants of his life.

A thought of candles flitted briefly through his mind, but the effort to move was too much for grief-laden muscle and bone. Names and faces flickered through his mental haze, a never-ending cycle denying him the comfort of sleep. He knew whatever it was had to be caused by the meteorites, that his arrival on Earth had doomed Smallville, had ultimately killed his family and friends. There was no room for doubt in his mind, and there was no one left to grant him absolution.

He deserved nothing beyond the dark.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
3 days ago
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

"So what you're telling me is we have almost everyone, an entire town, sick or dying...and we don't know what's causing it yet?"

"That's right, Governor. The CDC was called in yesterday and, with the rapid increase in the number of cases, a strict quarantine of the town and surrounding area has been requested, especially since they haven't been able to determine the agent or method of transmission. They're not even sure whether it's an infectious disease or a toxin. All they can say for certain is that, so far, it has a one hundred percent fatality rate."

"Jesus. What are we waiting for? Set up the damn quarantine before we have the entire state running around in a panic."

"The request arrived while you were at the morning session, so I anticipated your orders based on the criteria set out in the emergency plans on file. The Guard and additional medical assistance is already on the way and should be fully deployed within the next few hours. The remaining protocols have been put in place, all communications into and out of the area will be restricted to 'need to know' basis, and the President's office has been notified in case additional federal assistance is required."

"Good work. Keep me posted. Damn it, this is not what I needed cropping up in an election year."

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

The canvas folds of the tent pitched at the quarantine inspection point muffled the sounds of the night. To some degree, they also muted the voices within, artificially softening the impact of disheartening reports. "I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor, but Clark Kent doesn't appear on any of the lists, casualty or evacuee."

Struggling into the hazmat suit that had been waiting for him on arrival, Lex temporarily ignored the information presented in favor of zippers and seals. Once secured, he turned his attention back to the young corporal hovering nearby with a clipboard and PDA in hand. "What about the Kent farm? Anyone check there?"

Double-checking the records in the lamplight, she shook her head without looking up. "According to the search teams' records, there was no one on the property." Holding her stylus ready, she asked, "Should I have his name added to the 'missing' list?"

Lex struggled to keep the surprise from his voice, but the question still sounded harsh. "It's not already there? It's been well over a day since I started asking for information about him. What's the holdup?"

Eyes wide, she looked up at Lex, frustration and apology struggling for control across her tired face. "Sir, there are thousands of people out there, and it's only been a few days since this all started. We've lost most of the medical personnel that were here when it first hit, and we're still trying to straighten out the records. I'm afraid Mr. Kent isn't the first missing person who hasn't made it onto a list and most likely won't be the last."

Reminding himself that alienating the people in control of access was poor strategy, Lex took a deep breath and composed himself, and then nodded curtly in dismissal. He waited until the Guard's liaison left the tent before murmuring under his breath, "That may be true...but he's the most important."

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
2 days ago
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

Numb from the unending barrage of reporters, business associates, and crucial decisions, Lex absently jerked his tie free and tweaked open the buttons on his stress-crumpled shirt. His bed was only a few strides away, but it might as well have been across the city with everything that still waited for his personal input. It didn't matter that it was well past sunset; too much was riding on Lex's ability to keep the corporation together after his father's demise.

Deciding a shower would have to take the place of rest, Lex stripped off his clothes and dropped them to the carpet before stumbling into the brightly lit bathroom. A few moments later, his head bent under the pounding spray, Lex unsuccessfully attempted to will away the stress of the past two days. Funeral arrangements, board meetings, press releases whirled through the haze of exhaustion until Lex banished them with the cherished memory of bright eyes and a gentle smile.

They were Clark's eyes, and that reminded Lex that he hadn't seen or heard from him since before his trip to England, not even a call or note about his father's death. A twinge of disappointment, and even a little resentment, colored his recall until he reminded himself that Clark was only sixteen and immersed in his small-town life. He resolved to give his young friend a call in the morning before another frenzied day began, the anticipated treat imparting a measure of relaxation under the warm, soothing water.

A fluffy towel scrubbed away the remainder of his respite, and Lex shuffled into sleep pants before perching on the edge of his bed to click on the television filling one wall of his room. The night announcer was reviewing international news and introducing sound bites from around the world with a shark-like smile, and Lex stretched out to catch up with the rest of the world. His intended ten minutes stretched to several hours that ended with a gasp back to consciousness. Disoriented, Lex froze in place as he tried to discover what had woken him, the name 'Smallville' wrenching his focus toward the television.

"Citing the need to contain the spread of the unidentified contagion, the governor of Kansas has extended the quarantine in Smallville and the surrounding area, calling in the Kansas National Guard to patrol and enforce a curfew, as well as the news blackout. Reports filtering out of the area before the shutdown indicate the rapid onset of symptoms, as well as the severity, have ranked this as one of the most deadly outbreaks in US history."

The even tones of the reporter barely filtered through the sound of the heartbeat accelerating through Lex's frame. Leaping to his feet, he raced to his office, already formulating his next set of actions. Grabbing his cell phone, he pressed his speed dial and, when a sleepy voice answered, he barked, "What the fuck is going on in Smallville...and why wasn't I informed!"

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

Lex quickly noticed that after the trucks had passed the outer ring of the encampment, leaving the bustle and noise of people and equipment behind, Smallville took on the aspect of a ghost town. No movement, every store window dark, no headlights crisscrossing the streets, it was a classic setup for one of the many horror and sci-fi movies he and Clark had watched at the castle. Choosing not to be discouraged by the eerie sight, Lex directed his driver toward the Kent Farm and settled down for the ride.

The lack of traffic was in their favor, and it wasn't long before pop and snarl of gravel preceded the trucks down the driveway with a final crunch as they pulled to a stop. Lex exited the vehicle and was halfway up the stairs to the kitchen before the engine turned off, his heart thudding in dread at the unrelieved darkness behind the farmhouse's windows. The unlocked door did nothing to dispel his unease as he entered the house, flashlight on and piercing the gloom of the empty kitchen.

"Clark?" Lex's voice was muffled behind the mask of his hazmat suit, the footsteps of the men entering behind him a barely perceptible shuffle. "Clark, are you in here?" Disregarding the lack of any reply, Lex proceeded into the living room, still hoping for some clue as to Clark's whereabouts.

A pale face that glistened with sweat wasn't what Lex had wanted to find, especially after everything he'd gone through to get there, but at least he could detect the rise and fall of Clark's chest beneath the afghan covering him. Lex stumbled forward, the flashlight shaking in his hand, becoming even more worried when its glare failed to rouse Clark from what had initially appeared to be sleep. "Jesus, Clark! I've been so...Clark?"

"...get him back to the medical center as soon as possible, Mr. Luthor. He doesn't look good."

Lex jumped at the tap on his shoulder, not sure how much he'd missed of the other man's suggestions while he'd been staring helplessly at his stricken friend, who was mumbling to his mother about taking something to the lake to keep it safe. Stepping forward, he gently laid a gloved hand against Clark's face, then shook his head and ordered, "No, we're taking him to the infirmary at the plant. The team should already be set up there for analysis and treatment."

Thankful that he'd taken the time to convince a judge to grant him custody, Lex had decided early on that if his friend had fallen ill, he wouldn't be taking Clark back to the overburdened camp. Lex was certain his doctors and researchers would prove more capable and discreet when it came to caring for someone like Clark, someone whose physical attributes were 'outside the norm,' although Clark had never admitted it to Lex.

He wasn't taking any chances when it came to keeping Clark safe.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
1 day ago
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

The Porsche devoured the miles between Metropolis and Smallville, Lex taking advantage of the lack of traffic in the early morning hours to push his speed well beyond the posted limits. He hadn't accepted the recommendation to wait until arrangements could be made to use the corporate helicopter, because there was no guarantee that ground transportation would be available due to the travel restrictions imposed by the quarantine. Lex had decided to depend on his own driving to get to Smallville...and Clark...without further delay.

Nothing was going to stop Lex Luthor from finding his best friend.

Nothing.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Present
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

"...incompetent...inadequate facilities."

"I'll be sure to bring your complaints to Mr. Luthor's attention. However, his instructions...."

Lex jerked awake at angry invocation of his name, the unseen argument out in the corridor overriding the beep and chatter of the machines around Clark's bed. He groaned at cramped and stiffened muscles that complained about sitting for hours in a plastic chair instead of sleeping in a bed. His physical woes were immediately forgotten when a weak voice murmured, "Lex?"

"Clark?" Lex leaped to his feet and took the few steps that separated him from the head of the bed, eager to determine whether Clark was finally conscious. A sliver of a smile greeted him as weary hazel eyes blinked in confusion. Lex grasped a much cooler hand, carefully as not to disturb the IV line, and asked, "Clark, how do you feel?"

Shifting restlessly on the narrow bed, Clark frowned before muttering, "Not...not sure...."

"I see that Mr. Kent is awake. That's very encouraging." The white-coated doctor that bustled up behind Lex had a brusque bedside manner, his hands quick and capable as he checked Clark's temperature with an aural thermometer. "Excellent. The fever is down, all vitals normal." Assessing the flashing displays on the surrounding equipment, the doctor shook his head slowly, obviously puzzled. "The progress of the disease isn't consistent with any of the case histories I was given on the other patients. I'm beginning to wonder...."

"Excuse me, doctor...." A timid voice intruded on the doctor's musings before Lex could utter a word. Another white-coated figure, a young redheaded woman, wheeled a cart across the room to position it on the other side of Clark's bed. "I'll get these new samples taken and be out of your way in just a few minutes." She quickly wrapped a tourniquet around Clark's upper arm and began to examine his inner elbow for a suitable vein.

"Lex?" Clark jerked his arm free and turned to Lex, his voice trembling. "What's going on?"

"Just hold on, Doctor!" Lex growled, squeezing Clark's hand reassuringly as he confronted the doctor. "I think you need to explain your procedures before we go any further. I believe you already drew an alarming amount of blood just a few hours ago. I don't understand why you need more already."

The redheaded technician stepped back at Lex's glare, thrusting her hands behind her back as if believing there was a chance she'd lose them. The doctor was made of sterner stuff and frowned back at Lex before he explained, "The earlier samples were all contaminated somehow, although I'm not surprised considering the facilities and equipment we're being forced to work with. They need to be re-drawn, in order to verify what Mr. Kent is suffering from and how to treat it. As of now, all we've managed to do is re-hydrate him with the IV. I've administered no other...."

Lex interrupted the litany of complaints. "Exactly what kind of contamination are we talking about here, Doctor? I happen to know that these research facilities are state-of-the-art. I made certain of that myself." He looked down at Clark's whimper, grimacing when the grip on his hand became painful. "As far as Clark is concerned, I expect to be kept informed every step of the way as his legal guardian. That includes requesting my informed consent before any tests or treatment."

The doctor crossed his arms on his chest before announcing, "I'm simply following standard practice for an unknown disease as any responsible physician would. We've followed quarantine protocols for decontamination before allowing you or anyone else access, and that only because the disease in question, if it is the reason for Mr. Kent's condition, is not communicable by air or direct contact."

"I'm not questioning that, Doctor. I want to know what happened to the first samples since you now require more blood to be drawn." Lex's voice stayed calm despite his concern over Clark's increasing, albeit silent, agitation. "After you've explained, I'll ask you to withdraw so I can discuss things with Clark. He's been through a lot these past few days, and he deserves a little time to absorb it before being put through a round of tests."

"To put it bluntly, the blood somehow degraded until none of the test results correlate to human standards." The doctor's opinion of those results was apparent as he sneered, "The technicians were unable to manage something as simple as a type and cross-match with it. No one has been able to determine the precise reason for the degradation, so we need to start over with fresh samples and different equipment."

Clark's flinch at the word 'human' did not go unnoticed by Lex and he squeezed his friend's hand in sympathy as another piece of the puzzle known as Clark Kent slotted into place. Nodding his head at the doctor's explanation, he dismissed the man with a simple, "I see. I think that's enough for now. Clark definitely seems to be on the mend, so if you'll excuse us for a few minutes, Doctor?"

Lex waited until the door closed behind the doctor and technician before looking down at Clark and asking gently, "Do you need something to drink?" At Clark's wide-eyed nod, Lex turned to the bedside table and retrieved a cup of water with a straw, holding it so that Clark could take a few cautious sips. Replacing the cup, Lex patted Clark's arm and murmured, "I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner, Clark. Your parents...."

Tears welled up in Clark's eyes until one escaped and trickled down a slightly fevered cheek. Lex wiped it away with the pad of his thumb before leaning forward and sweeping back dark curls to place a kiss on Clark's forehead. Straightening, he smiled down into startled green eyes. "You know I'll take care of you, Clark, don't you? I'll never let anyone hurt you...or find out your secrets."

"Lex...I...I...." Clark's voice rasped before it choked off, and Lex placed a soft finger against Clark's lips.

"It's okay, you rest for now and we'll talk later," he gently reassured Clark. "I'm willing to wait until you're ready to trust me."

"You can't..." Clark protested, "...you...no more blood. Please?"

Lex nodded in agreement. "I already figured that out. I'll make sure everything's cleaned up and any records destroyed. Don't worry." He smiled and continued, "You're looking better every minute, so we'll just say you came down with the flu and that's all it was. After all, the last thing we need is for you to be known as the only one who's survived...." Lex's voice trailed off as he watched fear battle grief in Clark's face. "I'm sorry about your parents. I wish...I wish there had been something I could have done." He sighed and frowned. "If my father was still alive, he'd have a lot to answer for."

"Your father?" Clark rasped.

Lex nodded as he explained, "The bastard died a few days ago. He's the reason I was stuck overseas and then in Metropolis...not to mention he managed to convince security to keep your calls from me. I don't even know if any of my messages got through to you. God, Clark, you must have thought I'd forgotten all about you."

Clark shrugged and looked away as he mumbled, "I didn't know what was wrong and with Dad...and then Mom...." His shoulders trembled, as a sob broke free. "They're dead, Lex. There's no one...."

Lex nudged a hip onto the bed and gathered Clark into his arms, letting Clark's head rest against his chest as grief held sway over Clark's emotions. "Hey, you've got me, I promise. I'll take care of you." Lex rocked gently, soothing Clark with his hands and a soft wordless croon. He kept the words he wanted to speak hidden deep inside, knowing it was much too soon for Clark to hear him say, 'I love you and you're mine.'

~/~/~/~/~/~

With the quarantine lifted and cleanup well underway, there was no longer any reason for Lex to remain in Smallville. He and Clark had stayed at the castle while Lex's team verified that the Nicodemus plant was responsible for the deaths and formulated a treatment for the contagion. Clark's miraculous recovery had not comprised part of their research, Lex having successfully removed all traces of his illness from the records to avoid unwanted scrutiny. Although Clark hadn't yet shared the details of what he and his parents had been hiding from Lex, his actions made it clear that it wouldn't be long before Lex would know the whole story. Confident in his devotion, Lex was content to wait.

The government's solution for containment of the threat was wholesale obliteration of all plants and wildlife within the quarantined area to prevent the spread of the deadly plant and its spores. Lex had ensured that Clark had had the opportunity to remove any of the Kent possessions he wanted saved before the farm's destruction, but many other unfortunate families had never had the opportunity. In an effort to aid his former neighbors, and regretting that Hamilton's unsanctioned actions had brought about the disaster, Lex had established a fund that would help them relocate. In addition, he'd offered jobs in LuthorCorp facilities to any that were interested.

Forced to abandon his own Smallville holdings under government decree, Lex surveyed the extent of the black ash and destruction from his elevated vantage point and shuddered at how close he'd come to losing someone more precious than any property or goods he'd ever own. Chilled despite the warmth of Clark's body next to his, he was unable to blame the shakiness of his breathing on the helicopter's vibrations. He knew it would be many days and nights for both of them before what had happened faded into bitter memory, perhaps even longer that that for the land and its people to recover. No mere breeze would be able to dissipate the heavy pall of smoke that hung in the air.

As Lex squeezed Clark's hand in silent comfort, he reflected that it might just take an 'act of God,' perhaps one of the famed Kansas tornadoes, to blow through and overlay the man-made ruins with a more 'natural' disaster. Clark's gentle response brought Lex's thoughts back to the present. As he turned away from the window, forsaking the past, he faced the future with the one person he'd never leave behind again.

 

~/~/~/~/~/~
Epilogue
~/~/~/~/~/~

 

"I have to agree with whoever called it in. It sure looks abandoned. It's unlocked and I checked the glove compartment, and it's registered to a Steven Hamilton. Better call in for a tow to the impound lot. They can track the guy down."

Nodding at his partner, who had just returned from his cursory inspection of the dusty sedan, the driver of the county police cruiser thumbed on the radio. "Base, this is Alpha Charlie Five Niner. We have a confirmed 10-44 and are requesting a 10-51 at the reported location. We're 10-10. Out." The unit went back on its clip as the second officer slid back into the passenger seat. "We don't need to stick around for the truck. You up for some lunch?"

"Burgers sound good."

The black and white vehicle crunched along the gravel shoulder and onto the two-lane road, its metallic colors starkly contrasted against the green of the surrounding fields. Dust and the rustle of leaves followed behind, the flashing leap of a rabbit bursting from a ditch in front startling a laugh from the driver. "That must have been some mighty tasty grass for him to ignore us that long." In the small animal's wake, bright flowers swayed in the temporary breeze, a solitary splash of shifting color in the rearview mirror...until they stilled.

Waiting.

Notes:

My beta, jakrar sent me a bunny:
Have you ever thought about trying a 'what it' in which Lex was out of the country on business for Lionel when the whole Nicodemus thing went down? The scientist can't just burst in on Lex to complain that someone stole his flower, so he decides to wait and let Lex in on all of this when he gets back, unless things get worse (from his point of view, that is). Meanwhile, Jonathan Kent goes crazy at the bank and then winds up in the hospital, so Chloe and Lana investigate the scene of his accident, and Lana goes crazy and then collapses, too. Chloe and Pete investigate the local mad scientist's barn, and Pete gets infected, attacks Chloe and then winds up in a hospital bed of his own. But Dr. What'shisname isn't looking for a cure, because Lex isn't there to threaten him into it, so Jonathan, Lana and Pete (and Lionel's spy, of course) all die before Lex gets back to town. Which devastates Clark -- and Lex, once he knows what's happened -- but actually works to Lex's long-term advantage, since Jonathan and Pete have always been his enemies, and Lana would have become his enemy in time. And what sorts of ripple effects would there be…?
As often happens, I took the bunny in a slightly different direction, but the fundamentals are there.

Many thanks to jakrar for her diligent beta. She always makes everything sound so much better!