Superman: Dawnbreaker (DC Icons #4)(33)

“It’s not the police I’m worried about.”

Creeping forward slowly, they exchanged a look as they neared the edge of the tree line. Then they proceeded into the thick grove, picking their way carefully and silently through the dense foliage. They got as close as they dared to a large clearing on the other side, stopping behind the trunk of a broad tree.

There were three men in the clearing, wearing unmarked black fatigues. Clark thought of the man downtown who’d attacked his teammates. But that guy had been wearing brown fatigues. And he was Mexican. These men were white. They looked like they were part of some kind of top-secret Special Forces unit. Two of the men were measuring something in the tall, weedy grass while another followed along behind them making marks with a can of white spray paint.

Whatever they were doing, it had nothing to do with traditional farming.

Or designing vineyards.

The clearing was large, nearly half the size of a football field. And it was well protected. Two thick groves of trees on opposite ends, to the north and south; a small hill to the east; and a shallow valley with a creek running perpendicular, to the west. And there was the crater. It was slightly larger than the one on Clark’s property. There was some kind of machine inside it, digging into the center.

The area was obstructed from view by anyone nearby on the ground. It could only be seen from above. And Clark had a sneaking suspicion that this clearing, and the crater, were the reasons Wesco had purchased the farm.

A huge black truck with a row of runner lights mounted across the top of the cabin was parked behind the men. A fourth figure sat inside it, just a silhouette behind the glare of the sun off the windshield.

When Clark shifted his weight to try to get a better look at the truck, a large branch snapped under his feet. He and Lana cowered, wide-eyed, as the men stopped what they were doing and looked in their direction.

“Who’s there?” a man wearing a black hat shouted.

A second man stepped forward, calling out, “Stay where you are!”

Clark watched the man in the hat reach behind his back and pull out a small, dark object that looked like a handgun. Clark’s eyes widened even more as he looked at Lana. “Is that…?”

“What?” Lana whispered anxiously. “What are you talking about?”

The man in the hat was pointing the object toward the ground as he advanced on them. Clark instinctively positioned himself between the man and Lana, saying quietly, “He’s got a gun.”

“Jesus!” She grabbed him by the arm. “Come on, Clark. Let’s get out of here!”

The two of them spun around and took off running.

Lana led the way, tearing back through the line of trees, in the direction of the farmhouse. Clark raced after her at what he thought was a normal person’s pace, keeping himself in a position to block Lana from view as much as possible. When he glanced back, he saw that three of the men were chasing them. The fourth had stayed behind with the vehicle.

“Stop!” the tallest of them shouted. “We just want to talk to you!”

Clark then heard a brief argument among the three men.

He and Lana were now halfway across the wide-open field. If they could just make it past the final line of trees, they could take cover on the other side of the farmhouse. And then he could go get Lana’s car and bring it around so she wouldn’t be out in the open for long.

Two gunshots cracked across the field, ripping through the trees ahead of them. Lana screamed and tripped. Clark dove on top of her to provide cover, terrified that she’d been hit. He could hear the men shouting at each other behind them.

“Were you hit?” he asked her, his voice trembling.

“I’m fine,” she barked.

Clark lifted Lana up by the back of her shirt and shoved her forward, yelling, “Go!” Just then a third shot rang out, and Clark felt a slight stinging sensation in the small of his back, like someone had slapped him there with a bare hand.

He ran, making sure he stayed positioned between Lana and the source of the gunfire. But the shooting had ceased.

When Clark glanced over his shoulder, he saw the tall guy shoving the man in the hat to the ground and shouting him down. The third man was still moving in their direction, but more slowly. And he was unarmed.

When Clark and Lana finally reached the farmhouse, they raced around the corner, and Clark looked back again. The third man was walking now, shouting, “Go on! Get out of here! This is private property!” The other men were just two shapes in the distance, standing at the edge of the line of trees. And it appeared that they were still arguing.

As Lana knelt down, catching her breath, Clark tried to make sense of what had just happened. This was the first time in his life he’d ever been shot at. At least he thought they were shooting at him and Lana. Or had the shooter been aiming at the treetops, trying to scare them?

“Shit!” Lana barked between desperate breaths. “Do you see them anywhere? Are they still following us?”

Clark looked again. The third man was retreating now, heading back to the other two. And Clark heard one of them say, “It was just a couple stupid kids. Our orders were to use force as a last resort.” Clark tried to determine if any of them had a good view of Lana’s car, if they could have seen her license plate. He didn’t think so.

“They’re going back,” he told her. “Let’s get out of here.”