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The Time Traveler's Wife
How does one stop a Lois Lane from heading to the Congo to investigate a gun running story? How does one make her believe that if she goes, she won’t be coming back? Alt-Clark finds himself trying to deal with that problem when he goes back in time in an attempt to prevent Lois from being lost in the Congo.
Excerpt from The Time Traveler's Wife
Spotting the falling child, he dove, catching her in his arms before she could hit the hard ground below and breathing a breath of relief as he floated slowly up.
His heart finally beating again, he looked at the young girl who was staring at him in disbelief. It was only then that he realized he wasn’t in the Superman suit. He hadn’t even brought it with him. After all, there was no Superman in the past. And since he wasn’t allowed to make any significant changes, he’d thought it better to leave the suit at home.
But he had made a change. Potentially a big one. He’d just saved a child from possibly dying. Not that he’d undo what he’d done, but it did drive home the point of just how careful he needed to be.
"What are you?" the child asked, breaking through Clark’s thoughts. "Are you my guardian angel?"
Clark smiled. "Something like that." He slowly floated them to the ground.
"Then you’ve got to help! They’re burying a body!"
"Who?"
"The mobsters!"
Clark glanced in the direction she was pointing, rebuking himself for not considering that others might have seen what he had done. But he’d been too caught up in his own thoughts. He let out a breath of relief when he realized that the view to the young men digging a hole was partially blocked by foliage, meaning they hadn’t seen him fly. In fact, they looked awfully young to be mobsters.
"A body?" he asked as he lowered his precious cargo to the ground.
"They’re burying a body. We’ve got to get the evidence and..."
Clark turned back to the young men, lowering his glasses to take a closer look at the scene. And smiled.
"Come on," he said, taking a step towards the diggers.
"No! They’ll kill you!"
He was stopped when she grabbed onto his sleeve.
He turned back, squatting down to look her in the eye. "I’m invulnerable. They can’t hurt me. So just stay behind me and you’ll be fine."
She looked slightly skeptical, but after a moment slowly nodded.
He smiled. He had to admit, he liked this kid. "Okay." He rose to his feet and turned to push his way through the foliage.
"So... what’s going on here?" he asked the two teenage boys, trying to sound stern enough to satisfy the child behind him that he was taking her concerns seriously without frightening the young men he was addressing.
They stopped digging, turning towards the new arrivals. "We’re digging a fire pit for the party tonight."
"They are not! They’re burying a body!" exclaimed a little voice behind him.
"What’s in the bag?" he asked. He already knew, of course, having x-rayed it the moment the girl had mentioned a body.
"A tent," one of the boys said in confusion. He dropped his shovel and knelt next to the bag, opening it to reveal its contents.
They stood there for a moment, all looking at the poles and canvas that made up a tent. Suddenly, the girl slipped past Clark to examine the contents of the bag for herself. He watched, amused, at how thorough she was. She’d obviously been convinced that there was a body in that bag.
"How about I take you home?" he asked.
She looked at him and then at the boys for a moment and he could swear he could see the wheels turning inside her head as she worked through the evidence for herself. Finally, she nodded. When Clark reached towards her, she put her hand in his and allowed him to lead her away.
"I guess I was wrong, huh?" she said, practically bouncing along beside him, obviously not too upset about being wrong.
"I guess so. So what’s got you so happy - given that you were wrong."
"No one’s dead. And... Well, I might have been wrong, but what a great afternoon! I met my guardian angel and I solved the case of the mysterious black bag. I wish I could do this every day."
"Maybe you should become an investigative journalist when you grow up and then you can."
"What’s an invest... invester... what’s that?"
"A reporter." When she continued to stare at him blankly, he continued. "Never mind. So what’s your name?"
"Lois Lane."
He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her. She stared right back. "Lois Lane?" He knew the words came out slightly strangled, but he couldn’t seem to help it. This precocious child was the one great love of his life? "How old are you?"
"Nine," she responded, her chin jilting slightly upwards as if waiting for him to admonish her that a nine year old child shouldn’t be tracking suspected mobsters through the woods. It wasn’t until he, not saying a word, resumed walking along the path that she seemed to relax, catching up to him and taking his hand once again.
"What’s your name?" she asked after a moment.
"Uhh... Guardian angels don’t have names."
"Sure they do. Otherwise, how could you ever get together?"
"What?" Clark asked.
Lois let out a breath of frustration at his apparent lack of understanding. "If you were at a barbeque for guardian angels and you said, ‘Pass me the ketchup, Guardian Angel,’ all the guardian angels would pick up their ketchup bottles and try to hand them to you. Or if you were living in a house with a bunch of other guardian angels and someone called on the phone, how would you know who they wanted to talk to? So you must have names. Otherwise you could never get together. It would just be too frustrating."
WORK IN PROGRESS
BLIND MAN'S BLUFF
Story is still in the preliminary stages so can't yet guarantee this will become an actual story. However, you have to admit that it's a great title for a story and presents some interesting possibilities.
