Superman: Dawnbreaker (DC Icons #4)(52)

Clark nodded along as he listened. He understood what Bryan was saying, but his mind went somewhere else. Hearing the guy be honest like this, and vulnerable, gave Clark the feeling he was actually seeing the real Bryan for the first time. “Thanks for telling me that.”

Bryan scoffed. “I didn’t tell you so you’d thank me. My point is, I’ve decided to try and be someone with more of a backbone. No matter the consequences.” He paused for an uncomfortably long time, like he was still trying to process all this himself. “Maybe it’s better to have a short, brave life than a long, gutless one.”

“But, Bryan—”

“Anyway, I should probably do legs now,” Bryan said, cutting Clark off. “And I usually do this part alone. So…”

“Okay,” Clark said, backing up. “We can catch up later, I guess. Text me?”

Bryan nodded.

“Cool.” Clark turned to leave, but he didn’t go all the way out the door. He sort of loitered near the locker room, watching Bryan. The guy squatted two sets of heavy weight, despite the bad ankle, then went over to his duffel bag in the corner of the weight room. He looked around, making sure no one was watching, and then took out a small green kit. He pulled a light green liquid into a syringe, tapped the needle, and then yanked down one side of his sweatpants and discreetly stuck himself in the right butt cheek. The sight made Clark feel physically sick.

Bryan tossed the syringe into the trash and went back to the squat bar, where he attacked the next set with an astonishing level of intensity. Not even the football players Clark knew went that hard.

Stinging with disappointment, he watched Bryan for a few more seconds. Then Clark turned and left the gym. He knew Bryan wasn’t open to talking yet, and he needed to figure out a way to help his friend.

It was time to answer some questions about himself, too.





After all the chores were finished for the night, Clark wandered into the small living room, where his parents were reading. Clark picked up the comics section and sat on the couch. But he didn’t read. He watched his folks instead. From his earliest memory, he’d always felt close to them. But he’d also sensed that there was some kind of family secret being kept from him. It was the way they’d sometimes look at each other when they thought he wasn’t paying attention. Or after he’d demonstrated one of his powers for the first time.

Tonight was the night, he told himself. No turning back this time.

“Dad?”

Jonathan looked up from his paper. “Yes, son?”

Clark pulled off his glasses and looked at his mom, then at his dad again. “Honestly…what am I?” As soon as the words left his mouth, butterflies ravaged his insides.

Jonathan took a deep breath and looked across the table at Clark’s mom.

She studied Clark, then gave Jonathan a firm nod.

Jonathan turned back to Clark and met his stare. “From the very beginning, we’ve always known this day was coming.” He looked down at the table for several seconds, shaking his head. “But now that it’s here…”

Clark’s heart began pounding inside his chest.

His dad stood up. “Martha?”

She shook her head. “You go on. I want to talk to him after.”

After what? Clark thought, slipping his glasses back on.

Jonathan motioned for Clark to follow him.

Out of habit, Clark scooped up his backpack on the way outside and put it on.

“It happened seventeen years ago,” his dad said, leading Clark toward the old barn.

“What did?” Clark asked.

Jonathan pulled a set of keys out of his pocket as he walked. “Well, that’s when we…” He turned to Clark. “It’s when we found you.”

“When you found me?” Clark didn’t understand. Did he even want to?

Jonathan stopped at the barn and sifted through his keys. When he located the right one, he forced it into a new lock and turned. The old wooden doors groaned loudly as he pulled them open.

The barn was as dark and musty as it had been the night Clark snuck in here alone. The ground was still littered with dusty old tractor parts. Ancient tires. Tools that Clark had accidentally snapped in half in his youth. Cobwebs draped from every corner, and this time Clark heard the faint sound of flapping wings up near the ceiling.

They moved toward the back corner. Jonathan began dismantling the much smaller pile of rubble that now covered the object. He tossed a couple of tires out of the way, then strained to lift a large chunk of rusted sheet metal and leaned it against the wall.

Clark took off his backpack and anxiously stepped forward to help.

After several minutes of working in the dim light, they found themselves staring at a tarp lying across a large oblong object. It was a little smaller than an SUV, and Clark could now see that there was a metallic point poking out of one end of the tarp.

A wave of nerves hit him hard as his dad grabbed the edge of the tarp and slowly pulled it off the object. Dust billowed across the old barn, and for a few seconds, Clark could hardly see a thing. When his eyes adjusted, though, his mouth fell open.

What he saw seemed impossible.

“Seventeen years, four months, and eleven days ago.” His dad put a hand on Clark’s shoulder, then removed it. “That’s when you arrived in this.”