FicWad

Staggering to my feet, I gasp for breath and clutch the railing for support. What just happened? I can feel pain, something that doesn't occur often. There's a deep gash between two lower ribs on my left side. Something wet drips onto my hands. Blood.

My blood.

The sticky red liquid is practically pouring out of the wound. That's something else that isn't the norm around here. My shirt is quickly becoming soaked with it. It's a shame, too. This was one of my favorites. Ok, Kent, come on. Stay focused.

But it's so hard to. I'm weak, I'm dizzy. The stairs seem forever long. But I have to get down, somehow. So slowly, I start down, one step at a time. Easy, that's it. Keeping one hand on the railing, I hold the other against my side to stop the flow of blood. My feet begin to tingle. It's spreading up my legs. Oh, gosh, I'm losing feeling in my legs. I'm going to collapse! The steps below are rushing up...

Suddenly, I meet hard with the step behind me. It's fortunate that I fell backwards, but my breathing is heavy, and my arm hurts. I don't think I can pull myself back up. My back slouches against the two steps above, and my face twists in pain. As my arm drops from the railing with a thud, I barely register the sharp pain that shoots up to my shoulder. Right now, my chest hurts too much.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, trying to focus through the fog that is taking over. Everything is turning into a blur. I can barely think. But I have to get back up. I have to make it to the house. My parents don't know what's happened to me, otherwise they'd have come running out to help.

And then I remember that they're out for the night. Perfect. Well, I'll just have to get to the phone and call them. But do I have enough strength left for that? There's no telling. I don't really have a choice, though. So, with one arm, I haul myself back to a standing position and continue back down the stairs. Slower than before, if that's even possible. My lungs are straining for oxygen. My heart rate quickens, causing the flow of blood to increase. It's covering my hand completely now.

Finally, I reach the end of the stairs and work my way to the barn door, looking out at the expanse of gravel drive to the house. It's such a long way. My legs feel like they're about to give out, and now I'm having to support myself with both hands. I'm getting weaker, and I don't understand why. This is no radiation-inflicted pain, like Kryptonite. This is real, down-to-earth, just-as-human-as-I'm-going-to-get pain. And it hurts. Oh, gosh, it hurts. I can hardly breathe, it hurts so bad.

Summoning what strength and courage I can, I make my way at a limp across the barnyard. My legs have gone numb, but somehow I still maintain some control. The vertigo threatens to pull me down again, but this time there's nothing to hold on to. So I use it to propel me forward. It works for a while, until I trip over my own feet. It's a good thing I don't go down. I might never get up again.

The porch! At last, I've reached the house. No longer will my feet obey. From here on I must pull myself along with my hands. In this way I make it up the few steps to the door. I'm gasping for breath, my heart beating wildly as blood continues to flow. The dizziness is worse now. I'm afraid of blacking out. I can't black out now. What if I never wake up?

I pause a moment, leaning against the doorframe with one hand on the knob, once again summoning the remains of my dwindling strength in order to reach the phone in time. Taking several deep breaths to try and calm myself, I fumble with the doorknob, finally flinging the door open and grasping immediately for the kitchen counter.

I've made it inside. But my progress has considerably slowed. My feet are dragging, my arms are getting tired. One hand isn't going to be good enough anymore. Which makes a reach for the phone even more difficult. Maybe even impossible. Maybe, just maybe, if I can get close enough...

It's no good. I make a grab for the phone, but the strain on my other arm is too much. I go down hard, landing on the floor with the phone just inches from my outstretched hand. It's over. I can't fight anymore. I've lost too much blood. Too weak. Closing my eyes as the room starts spinning, I pray that Mom and Dad get home soon.

Clouded thoughts flit around in my head. What if Jeremiah was right the whole time? Maybe he was the true Naman, and I'm just a false prophet? Or perhaps Naman has at last defeated his arch enemy, Sageeth. If that's true, then this is a just end. But what did I do? The story becomes twisted in my muddled head. Thinking is too much work, so I stop.

Soon, breathing has become too much of a hassle, so I stop that as well. I can feel my heart slow as a puddle of red flows to the floor below me. And I just lie there, waiting, listening. There's nothing left. Is it over? Or is the house just deadly silent? Where are Mom and Dad? They're still out. They won't be home for another... what? Ten minutes? Twenty? An hour? How much time has passed?

Darkness creeps in at last around the edges of my mind. I can't keep this up. I'm done. The burning of my chest begins to fade, as does my consciousness. There are no memories, no dreams, nothing. My life doesn't flash before my eyes. Nothing but darkness and silence. And, as one last attempt to fight back, a final thought passes through my mind unbidden.

Clark Kent has finally been defeated. Kal-El has been conquered. And no one was there to save Naman.