The Phantom's Curse

Chapter Five

Clark

Clark squirmed, letting out a an alarming cry through the small, tight, gag tied between either corners or his cheeks. He struggled a few times, inching his head over to one side, hopeful to see his friends dark colored eyes, but letting out frustrated gasps of pain, he was defeated and unable to keep on trying. Mostly because his cheeks burned like boiling coal, and his lips were cracking slowly, but the tight knots he was forced to bite down upon in order to keep the gag tightly secured. This was a whole new low, the gag had been new, meaning he was in more greater danger if he didn't escape soon.

He groaned as the sides of his head throbbed painfully, sharp and steady at first, though clammy and wet a few minutes later. He felt drowned, almost feverish? As Sarah stayed hours before. His wrists were no longer bleeding, though the smell of fresh blood still lingered in the air above where he sat. How he urged himself to just use his power, no matter the cost of the pain. But as he shifted forward, his eyes dropped, then his head went up in more frustration. The motor rock. Better known as Kryptonite. Yep, it was still where it had been hours before he'd passed out to sleep. The meteor had gotten there during the battle with the creature, Clark had to be sure of it, how else would a medium sized piece of rock be able to find a new home inside his body, without him being able to notice.

perhaps that was why and how he'd been taken down so easily. Why he felt the weight of his strength vanish. His thoughts turned to dust, as beats or sweat dripped down his forehead, down his the side of his head, mixing with the skin of his cheeks. Hopeful, he thought of Peete. Thought of his best friend, the one who got out. The one he saved, happy now that it wasn't Peete going through what he was. If he died, Clark wasn't sure he'd be able to recover from it. The fever seemed to be at its strongest in the night, the strange hourly difference caused confusion for Clark. At this moment, he wasn't sure how long he'd remain conscious for, till his body told him to sleep more. And if he didn't obey what his body demanded, he knew he'd feel the pull from his eyelids, forcing closed, as he saw himself still trying to fight, however at this weak with the strange fever still painting him, making him feel as if he'd been sitting in a sauna for hours, would be a difficult task all on its own. Soon, there would be no more fighting lt.

And still given everything he still hadn't seen the face or the voice of the person responsible for kidnapping them. Himself and Sarah. Who as he bit his lip to try and focus even past the pain, caused worry to creep up on him. There had been no sounds or noises from her direction, nor did her eyes make out other dimly colored eyes past the blanket of shadows in those corners.

The fever remained still, as a few minutes passed above his head. It grew so slightly, and caused flame in his eyes, and for a split second from all the pain, he thought this was the end. Clark was going to die. He shook his head at the powerful thought, fearful and frightened. Hopeful to get home, hopeful to escape and see his parents. To see Peete, to see Chloe, to see Lana, but most importantly to see the love on his parents faces, seeing for themselves that he returned alright. That he had returned alive, just like he told them he would. He only prayed the fever would kill him first, instead of thr kidnapper. Painful torture? Or sickened infection? Clark will take door number two...he thought, which resulted in a tiny, breakable smile.

"This all could've been avoided, had she just stayed in the basement!" Barked a voice. Clark's attention shifted and he gazed over, drawing his eyes to the top where be noticed the set of perfectly arranged stairs. He sighed loudly, letting out a much needed breath, as he shifted back, his fingertips running along the cool, tint of the water pipe, in which the knots were circled around. Anything for base and strength, he never moved his fingers from that spot. He shifted his eyes to the side now, gazing and searching for Sarah, the vertical branches of pipes and wires traveled along the back walls of the medium -sized room. Generally merging in a single return pipe in which was connected to the two long running pipes, connected to the boiler. No wonder Sarah hadn't felt the coolness of the chilling breeze, the boiler was giving her its heat, while Clark was left freezing with warm sweat cooling his pale colored cheeks.

The voice he picked up on before, circled around in the back of his mind. It was male sounding. Quite and confident all at the same time. He was beginning to feel like a prisoner, as the captor was some kind of royal saint, Clark being the slave, or convicted criminal? He felt more like a visitor in his throne room rather than a man tied to a basement wall, with bloody ropes. In the corner, pressed against the cold, material that was the stone walls, Clark could see three perfectly shaped pieces of rock. All greased in which seemed to be pools of dark stained shadows, that covered the base of all three surfaces. Two of them appeared to be mixed with granite, the last seeming straight with chucks of blue, red, and green. All shapes of different sizes, but placed in multiple different spaces all along the rocks front.

Kryptonite. Clark thought. This had to be what was being used on the corpses, when the police had found the recent body out in that wheat field. So? The kidnappers are experimenting with the meteor rocks, creating nuclear paint, and painting their victims faces, hopeful for some paranormal result? Clark shifted his shoulders, his mouth was dry, and he craved for some water, but he was proud of himself for coming up with something. Something that could be come some vidal information for the police, for the sheriff herself, once he escaped.

Awhile later, came the sound of furniture crashing above him, against what he thought to be title flooring, which startled him. He tried to pull against the ropes for the third time, blinking rapidly as to drain away the beats of sweat covering his under eyes. Startled by the sensations now waving through him, Clark motioned forward, then gasped. The smell of toxic chemicals, and rotten eggs, drowned him, though he never took his eyes away from the image of a towering, rotating, yellow teeth stained creature. Its face cooled with white paint, giving away from the bowels of two empty, black, eye sockets. Clark gave out a painful gasp, then a cough that burned the back of his throat, as his tired, sleep craving green eyes, froze. The creature only stood, without eyes, Clark wasn't sure if the creature was staring into him, or if he was just getting closer, in order to smell the dry blood covering the once thick, brown ropes.

Suddenly something other than the creature, startled him. Startled by a noise suddenly close by to him, he stopped staring at the creature, and turned, his expression clearly to stunned to realize who had caused the noise. When he did, when he was able to make out the shape of the well dressed clothes, and rounded head, he'd realized. Then the voice all made sense. For a moment, he seemed to surprised, to shocked to do anything, but sit there, sit there and stare at the man responsible.

Then as if on cue, the gag in between his lips, slowly fell from where it had been tied around his head, allowing him greater amounts of oxygen. He shut his eyes tightly, then routinely, and rightly opened them again. "I should've guessed, it was you. Tina.''