Superman: Dawnbreaker (DC Icons #4)(29)

Tommy slapped a big mitt onto Clark’s shoulder. “Were your ears burning earlier?”

“Why?” Clark asked.

Reggie stood and brushed off the back of his black pants. “Kyle here made a pretty massive statement. He said if you would have stuck with football, you could’ve gone pro.”

“Really?” Clark looked to Kyle, who nodded. It felt nice to hear that kind of compliment, but it also made Clark feel even guiltier for quitting. He knew a lot of these guys saw football as their ticket out. But without a winning record, college coaches would be less likely to scout their games.

“Shit, we all think that, Clark,” Tommy said. “You were unstoppable.”

“Well, everyone except Paul,” Kyle said, turning to him. “Paul?”

Now they were all focused on Paul, who was leaning against the railing, looking like he was about to be sick. Reggie pulled a half-empty bottle out of his friend’s hand, and Kyle was quick to get Paul some water.

Clark made a move to help, too, but Tommy cut him off. “Don’t worry about it, Clark. We got him.”

Clark backed off a few steps, watching Paul slowly recover. In that moment, he saw the colossal distance that now existed between him and his former teammates. Talent didn’t matter as much as trust. And they only trusted the guys on the team.

He turned and started back toward the farmhouse.





An hour later, Lana was hastily pulling Clark outside, past the raging bonfire, to the edge of the backyard, where they would have more privacy. He was eager to tell her what he’d found out from Tommy, but she beat him to the punch. “I talked to Gloria Alvarez,” she said.

He paused, wondering where she might be going with this. “Okay…”

“She told me about all the disappearances.” Lana looked back at the crowd surrounding the towering bonfire. “You were right, Clark. Whatever’s happening in Smallville, it’s literally tearing families apart. And I’m starting to wonder…”

“What?” Clark said after she trailed off.

Lana looked around to make sure no one else was within earshot. “The people in town, the ones who are lobbying for this new stop-and-search law? Could they be taking things into their own hands?”

“What, like, kidnapping people?”

Lana shrugged, picking up a small rock and rolling it between her fingers. “It sounds absurd when you say it out loud like that. But there seems to be only one demographic being targeted, right?”

Clark thought about this. “But why wouldn’t they just wait to see if the issue gets voted in? Then they wouldn’t have to take such a huge personal risk.”

Lana shook her head. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Clark. This is all new territory for Smallville. Two years ago, immigration wasn’t such a big thing. Not on a local level. Now it’s all anyone talks about.”

Something about that statement felt incomplete to Clark. Everyone he talked to believed the proposed law was wrong. They were actively fighting against it. He felt like he and Lana needed to consider the disappearances in the context of everything else that was happening in town. The men trying to break into his barn. The protesters marching outside city hall. The photos he’d seen on Dr. Wesley’s wall. “So, I was talking to Tommy and them earlier,” he told Lana. “Turns out Mankins didn’t buy this place.”

Lana narrowed her eyes at him. “Then, who did?”

“Wesco. Dr. Wesley’s company. And he paid for it in cash.”

“Really?” Lana pitched the rock into the grass. “Where the hell’d he get that kind of money? You saw his office downtown.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.”

She stared at Clark for a few seconds and then smiled. “Maybe it’s time for me and you to pay Dr. Wesley a little—”

Lana was interrupted by a loud crashing sound, followed by the rise of several voices. Clark spun toward the bonfire and saw the shattered sliding glass door. People were filing out of the house to see what all the commotion was about.

Lana grabbed Clark by the wrist. “Come on!” They both hurried toward the crowd.

On the other side of the bonfire, Paul and one of Corey’s friends were standing chest to chest, shouting in each other’s faces. “I’ll talk to whoever I want to!” Corey’s friend yelled. “And you aren’t gonna do shit about it!”

“I said, back off,” Paul growled, jabbing a finger inches from the other guy’s face.

Corey rushed to the scene. “Hey!” he yelled. “Mikey! What the hell’s going on?”

“This dude’s drunk,” Mikey answered with a cocky grin. “That’s all.”

“Nah,” Paul said. “Tanya told you to back off, but you weren’t hearing it.” He scowled at Mikey, adding, “We don’t play that shit here.”

“Careful now,” Mikey told Paul. “I could have you shipped out of the country by morning. Trust me.”

Paul shoved Mikey. But when he did, he slipped and had to catch himself on the beer pong table. Paul was built like a tank and was as tough as nails, but he was also drunk. And he was still healing from his shoulder injury. Clark knew he was in no condition to fight.

Mikey returned the shove. And when Paul stumbled backward, Mikey pounced, throwing an awkward left hook that grazed Paul’s jaw. Paul grasped Mikey’s collar on the way down, pulling him into his fall, and everyone gasped as they twisted toward the roaring bonfire.