The Last Guardian (Ch. 13)

( Every character in this story is a legal adult over the age of 18 )

The Last Guardian

Chapter 13

Harry walked into the dealership like he already owned the place. Metropolis had skyscrapers that reached high into the clear, blue sky, but in this part of the city, everything huddled close to the cracked blacktop and chain-link fences. The dealership looked newer than most of the buildings in this area, and he saw his reflection in the clean glass walls as he stepped inside.

The sales floor was filled with men in pressed button-downs and one woman who looked more than happy to use her sex appeal to make a sale. They eyed Harry and sized him up, but he walked straight to the back, where the work trucks were all lined up and gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

He circled a silver truck and ran a hand along its side. He could tell it had been freshly washed and waxed. An older salesman approached him. His gray hair was combed straight back, and his teeth were too white to be natural.

“Are you looking for power, or style?” the man asked.

“I’m looking for both,” Harry replied. “But I only want to pay for one.”

The salesman grinned. “That’s what they all say,” he chuckled. “If you want both, then I suggest the 2005 Silverado 2500HD,” he proudly stated, slapping the hood of the silver truck Harry had been eyeing. “It was just released yesterday, and we only have two more in stock.”

“Is it a workhorse?” Harry asked. He had heard the farmers in Smallville using that word about the trucks they owned, and Harry was pretending that he actually knew what he was talking about. 

The salesman grinned widely. “This baby’s got a 6.6 liter V8 Duramax diesel engine that puts out 310 horsepower and 520 foot-pounds of torque. This thing could tow the moon right out of orbit,” he chuckled. 

Harry nodded as if it all checked out. The truck was big and shiny, and it seemed powerful enough for anything he might need. “Let’s talk price,” Harry said. 

He drove a hard bargain, but Harry was just as relentless. The haggling went on for nearly fifteen minutes before Harry sensed that he wasn’t going to get any better of a deal. When Harry stated that he’d pay in full, the salesman decided that he could knock off an extra five hundred. When Harry finally agreed, the salesman shook his hand with such enthusiasm that one would think that they had just brokered world peace. 

Harry produced his bank card and signed a mountain of papers. An hour later, Harry sat behind the wheel of his new truck. The seat hugged his body, and he inhaled the new car smell. Harry then turned the key, and the truck rumbled to life. Harry had a huge smile on his face, and he didn’t think he’d be this excited to buy a new vehicle. 

The drive out of Metropolis was spent getting used to all the truck’s features. Harry played with the mirrors, adjusted the seat, and tried to figure out the radio. When he approached a slow-moving semi-truck, he jammed his foot on the accelerator, and the engine roared even louder. He zipped past the semi and swerved back into his lane. 

The long road home was sandwiched between cornfields and empty, overgrown lots. The sky was clear and bright, and the sun beat on his bare arm as it rested against the outside of his door. Harry left the windows down and let the wind tangle his hair. He was having the time of his life. 

Near the edge of Smallville, he caught a flash of color in the weeds beside an abandoned field. Two tractors sat there, nearly covered in tall weeds. They were sun-bleached and rusted. He braked, swung the truck onto the shoulder, and hopped the shallow ditch. The tall grass reached his waist as he pushed his way through. 

The tractors were huddled at the edge of a field that had probably once been farmland. Harry crouched down, tracing the faded letters on the side of the nearest machine. The letters read, “Farmall 966”, and judging by the design, Harry guessed it was from the early seventies. Its once black exhaust stack was covered in rust, and the front grille was caked in spiderwebs and dried mud.

He ran his hand along the seat, which was thoroughly rotted and patched with duct tape. The steering wheel’s rubber coating was cracked and brittle, and the chalky gray tires were flat and buried at least two feet into the ground. White paint chipped off the rusty rims. 

He glanced at the second tractor, which was an old John Deere. It was at least a decade newer than the other but just as dilapidated. The paint had faded into a lighter green, and there was hardly a piece of metal that wasn’t dented. Still, everything was there, and as rusty as it was, it still looked solid. He knew these machines were made to last. Harry smiled.

He held out his left hand, and it glowed faintly. A green shimmer wrapped around the two tractors, outlining their metal and rubber in perfect detail. Harry visualized his barn, its big, clean concrete pad, and the spare bay next to the horse stalls. The space between his hand and the tractors crackled. For a second, the air grew icy cold, and the tractors flickered out of existence.

He straightened up and let out a breath he had been holding, pleased with his work. They’d be waiting for him at home. A semi sped past on the highway, blaring its horn, but Harry didn’t flinch. He wiped a smudge of oil from his hand and walked back to his truck. He felt lighter, as if the new purchase, the fresh air, and the little act of thievery were all part of some greater master plan.

Harry gunned the engine, and the truck roared, eager to hit the road. As he merged back onto the highway, he could already picture the tractors sitting in the barn. He couldn’t wait to see them once they were cleaned up. 

The Last Guardian

Harry’s new truck looked right at home in the driveway. The shiny chrome reflected the midday sun, and a thin layer of dust already covered the hood and bumper. Lana had told him that cars didn’t stay clean in a farm town like Smallville for long. She proved that by asking him to use his powers to clean her car every couple of days. He cut the engine and got out.

He walked straight for the barn, his shoes crunching on the gravel. The big sliding door squealed in protest as he hauled it open. The familiar smell of straw, diesel, and the wet stone floor hit him in the face. The tractors sat side by side in the center, and one was leaking muddy water all over the concrete floor. 

Harry walked over and circled the machines. The teleport had been perfect. There were no scorch marks and no missing pieces. With a flick of his hand, he summoned his power. A haze of green energy pooled around his fingers. “Let’s get you two cleaned up,” he said.

He snapped his fingers, and the tractors glowed a blinding green. Layers of grime lifted, and the paint scrubbed itself clean. Spiderwebs vanished, and the dirt and mud were wiped away. When they were spotless, Harry leaned against the wall and admired his work. Their tires were still flat, the seats were still mangled, and both engines looked like they hadn’t fired in decades, which they probably hadn’t. He closed his eyes and pictured the machines the way they ought to be.

Green light shot from his hand and traced the Farmall’s cracked seat, smoothing the rips and sewing the foam back in place. Rust disappeared, and certain parts were re-chromed. The suddenly shiny black tires filled themselves until they were bulging. The engine compartment ticked and shuffled as if an invisible mechanic was tinkering inside. The John Deere got the same treatment. It gleamed with a new coat of paint, and the dents squealed in protest as they were straightened. The process took less than a minute. 

“Much better,” Harry said, proud of his work. The tractors looked brand new. Already prepared for this day, Harry filled both tractors with oil.

He climbed up onto the Farmall and checked the ignition. The keyhole was empty. He pictured a key, and a second later, a ghostly green image of a key appeared inside the ignition. When the green light faded, a metal key remained in its place. He pulled the key out and checked it over. It was metal and icy cold. 

He slotted the key into the Farmall, jumped off, and unscrewed the fuel cap. Harry grabbed a plastic gas can from the corner and poured some diesel into both tanks. He wiped his hands on his jeans, jumped back onto the tractor, and fired it up. 

The engine coughed once, then roared to life. Harry whooped in triumph. He pumped the throttle, let the old beast purr, and repeated the process with the John Deere. Both tractors idled side by side, smoke curling from their pipes. 

Harry steered the Farmall outside, through the wide barn doors. The tires tore shallow furrows in the damp ground as he rolled onto the field. Harry took a slow lap around the house, past the garden where nothing grew yet. He made it back to the porch in time to see Lana stepping out with a mug of coffee in her hand. She looked at him with a surprised expression. “Where did you get that thing?”

Harry beamed. “I found it. I was on my way back from Metropolis, and I saw it just sitting there in a field.”

“You found a working tractor?” she skeptically asked.

“It was destined for the scrap pile,” he said, and then revved the engine. Smoke billowed out of the exhaust pipe. “But you know me … I have the magic touch,” he said with a smirk.

Lana stepped onto the porch and studied the tractor more closely. It looked like it came directly from the factory floor. “You’re telling me you just … took it?”

Harry shrugged, grinning wider. “I figured no one would miss it. Trust me, no one had visited this thing in years.”

She put her hand on her hip and gave him the look that he was so familiar with. “Harry, you’re impossible.”

“C’mon … I’ve done worse,” he replied with a boyish grin. 

“Was that the only thing you brought home?” she asked, pointing at the barn, where the John Deere’s grille peeked out.

He coughed theatrically. “Well, they were a matching set. It would be rude to just take one.”

She rolled her eyes, but he could see that she was smiling. “You’re going to end up in prison if you’re not careful.”

“Relax, it was just a pile of abandoned junk in an empty field.” He cut the engine and hopped down. “Besides, you know no prison can hold me,” he stated proudly. 

She sipped her coffee and stared at him over the rim of the mug. Harry reached up and pulled a bit of straw out of her hair. Lana had been getting the stables ready so she could bring her horse back home. “You want a ride?” he asked.

“In this?” She waved at the tractor.

“In the new truck,” he said, and pointed at the Silverado glinting in the driveway. “I bought it this morning.” Her eyes swept over the truck and then returned to him. “I’ll take you out for a burger,” he said, sweetening the deal. 

She snorted, but her smile softened. “I’ll grab my shoes.”

Harry waited, leaning against the porch rail. While it was still relatively warm, he could tell that it wouldn’t stay that way for long. The mornings and nights were growing colder every day. Harry went into the barn and turned off the other tractor, happy with how it idled. He’d test how it drove when they got back. 

Lana came back out with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. “Alright. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Harry opened the passenger door for her and let her climb in. Lana smiled prettily at him. He started the truck, and Lana immediately fiddled with the radio until she found a station she liked. Harry backed out onto the road, threw the truck into drive, and gunned the engine. Had anyone been around, all they would have heard was the roar of the engine and the shrill voice of a girl loudly telling him to slow down. 

The Last Guardian

Harry was out running some errands, and when he got home, he found Lana in the kitchen, rinsing her mug in the sink. Her shoulders were hunched, and her hair hung forward so he couldn’t see her face. Harry set his keys on the counter and came up behind her. He hesitated a second, then gently touched her back. She flinched like she hadn’t heard him enter.

He slid an arm around her. “Hey,” he said softly, “Are you okay?”

She sniffled and said, “Sorry. It’s just … Clark said some things to me when I went over to the Kents’ place.”

He pulled back and looked at her face. Her eyes were red, and she’d been holding back tears for a while. She wouldn’t look at him. “Mean things?” he asked.

That got a reaction. She set her mug down a little too hard, wiped at her cheeks, and nodded. Harry steered her to the kitchen table and sat her down. “What happened?”

Lana pressed her lips together and stared at the duck-shaped salt shaker that she had recently purchased. “I went over there to give Lois her homework since she missed class, and I ran into Clark.” She looked up, and Harry saw anger mixed with the sadness. “He said some really mean things to me. I don’t even know where it came from.”

Harry nodded, waited while she stared at her hands. “He said nobody wanted me around, and that I’m just desperate for attention.”

“He said that?” Harry asked in surprise. Clark was always so polite whenever Harry was around him. 

“Yeah. There’s more, but I really don’t want to repeat it.” Her hands balled into fists. “I know Clark. He’d never say stuff like that, not even if he was mad at me. It’s like … he was a different person.”

Harry tapped the table, thinking. Lana sniffed, stood up abruptly, and said, “I’m just going to go study. Tell me if you want to go get dinner later.” She fled upstairs.

He sat there for a minute before getting up. He stepped out onto the porch and looked across the fields. The Kent farm was visible from here. He didn’t bother with driving. Instead, he cut straight across the field. As he crossed it, he thought about what Lana had said. If Clark really had said those things, something was seriously wrong. Harry doubted that Lana was exaggerating. She was too honest for that. If anything, she was downplaying it. And the way she’d described Clark … like he had been replaced … something was definitely going on.

He reached the Kents’ place, and Harry saw Clark exiting the big, red barn. Harry walked over. “Hey, Clark,” Harry called out. 

“Hey, yourself,” Clark responded, leaning on the barn door.

Harry instantly knew that his smile was fake. Clark’s eyes were always kind, even when he was annoyed, but this Clark’s eyes were cold. “What’s up?” he asked.

“I just came by to see how you were doing,” Harry said. He kept his tone light. “And to check on Lana. She’s pretty upset, you know.”

Clark shrugged. “She’ll get over it.”

“Yeah, probably,” Harry replied. He watched Clark closely, searching for any flicker of the old Clark. “She said you really laid into her.”

Clark brushed some dust off his shirt, not really caring about anything else. “I told her the truth. Nobody likes being told they’re annoying, but maybe she needed to hear it.”

Harry’s lips pressed tight together. “Funny. You don’t usually talk like that.”

Clark laughed, but it sounded wrong. “Maybe I’m finally growing a spine.”

Harry nodded and pushed gently, searching Clark’s mind. He suddenly saw memories that didn’t belong. Harry saw things like dark oak offices, whiskey glasses, silk ties, high-class prostitutes, and the smell of expensive cigars. It wasn’t difficult to discover that it was really Lionel Luthor in there. Harry had never met the man, but the owner of this mind was a narcissist through and through. He was already planning to declare the triumphant return of Lionel Luthor to the world once he had conquered it. The truly shocking part was the discovery of Clark’s powers. Lionel Luthor with Clark Kent’s powers was a very dangerous combination. 

Clark watched him, and his lips curled into a smirk. “Is there something on your mind?”

“I was just wondering if you’re feeling okay,” Harry said. “You seem a little off.”

Clark’s eyes flashed. “Actually, I’m just starting to feel like my real self.”

“Maybe,” Harry agreed. “Well then … I’ll leave you to it.”

Harry tipped two fingers in a mock salute and walked away. He circled around the barn and stopped, turning himself invisible. He focused, reaching back into Clark’s mind.

He watched Lionel’s distorted memories. There were visions of cold, steel bars, a prison cell, and men with shaved heads and tattoos. Harry could practically taste the fear. Harry skimmed the memories until he saw Lionel looking into a mirror and seeing Clark’s face staring back. There was a rush of panic, relief, and then a feeling of invincibility. Lionel had never had a body like this before. He reveled in it.

Harry exhaled and opened his eyes. He felt sympathy for Clark, who was locked away in Lionel Luthor’s physical body. Harry apparated away. 

Back at the house, Lana was in her room with the door closed. Harry didn’t disturb her. Instead, he went to his room and powered up the computer. He typed “Lionel Luthor news” into the search bar and hit enter.

Within seconds, he found what he needed. “Lionel Luthor, Metropolis industrialist and philanthropist, is currently serving a life sentence in Kansas State Penitentiary …” Harry clicked the article. The photo showed his mugshot.

Harry sat back and thought about what to do. Lionel had somehow swapped bodies with Clark. Harry was sure of it. He’d seen it in Lionel’s mind. He checked the time. It was a few minutes to five. If he hurried, he could get to the penitentiary before Lana even knew he was gone. Harry quickly used the internet to find out exactly where the prison was located. Once he knew where he was going, Harry turned off the computer and got up.

He walked outside, turned himself invisible, and launched into the air. Flying still gave him a rush. He loved the freedom, the speed, and the wind against his skin. He aimed straight for the penitentiary and accelerated well past the speed of sound.

On the way, Harry thought about what he would say to Lionel. He grinned. If anyone could handle a body-swap mission, it was him, but first, he had to find Clark and figure out how to swap them back.

The penitentiary loomed ahead, surrounded by a sprawl of razor wire and floodlights. Harry circled once before landing inside the fences. Still invisible, Harry looked through a window and apparated inside. 

Inside, the penitentiary was hot and stuffy, despite it being nice and cool outside. It didn’t take long for Harry to find the main cell block. Orange jumpsuited prisoners shuffled in single file along a catwalk, guarded by three beefy corrections officers with bored expressions. Harry apparated past the sliding mechanical door and floated above the walkway, invisible to everyone below.

He scanned the rows of cells. Each one was barely wider than a closet. He drifted along, making sure not to bump into anyone. It took less than five minutes to find the cell. Inside, Lionel Luthor sat cross-legged on a battered steel cot, talking quietly with his cellmate. The guy was kind of goofy-looking, and he wore a very small black beanie on his head. He looked very out of place. The walls were covered in drawings and pictures of strange symbols. Harry even spotted a picture of the same symbol that was tattooed on Lana’s back. 

Lionel’s face looked terrible. He was gaunt, the skin under his eyes was bruised purple, and his hair was greasier and thinner than in his mugshot. Harry stood outside the door and listened in. The gangly guy was rambling about Stones of Power.

Harry let himself slip into Clark’s mind. Clark was desperate to get back to himself and terrified of what Lionel was doing with his powers. It was all very understandable and expected. 

Harry apparated to just on the other side of the door, still invisible. He waited until Clark’s cellmate turned away, then jabbed his finger at him. A green bolt of energy shot forward and hit him in the back. The cellmate slumped forward, unconscious before his head even hit the pillow.

Clark jumped to his feet, and Harry could see panic blooming across his face. “Edgar?” He rushed to the man’s side, checking for a pulse.

Harry materialized in the center of the cell. “Relax, he’s just sleeping,” he said.

Clark spun around and nearly tripped over Edgar’s shoes. “What the …” Clark’s eyes were wide and disbelieving. 

Harry reached out and caught his arm, steadying him. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Clark,” he said, grinning.