The next day...
Near the Smallville River.
Officer Lane stood beside a wilted marigold at the riverbank, smoking one cigarette after another, as if one more might finally relieve the heavy feeling pressing down on his chest and help him breathe easier. But even after the last cigarette, the weight inside him hadn't lightened at all.
Shaking his head, he flicked away the cigarette butt and walked over to the coroner, who was examining a corpse nearby.
In the grass lay a body, its face twisted in a grotesque expression. The skin was cracked and aged, resembling an unwrapped mummy.
"Have we identified the victim?" Lane asked his assistant.
"Preliminary ID confirms the deceased is Don Haggerty, twelve years old."
"Twelve?" Lane looked at the dried-out body in disbelief. "How is that possible?"
The assistant handed him an evidence bag. "This is the ring found on the victim's hand. We asked those who knew him to confirm it, and they verified it's the ring Don Haggerty always wore."
Lane looked closely at the ring, noting the initials "D.B." engraved on it, as a surge of shock welled up inside him.
"This can't be..."
He crouched down, staring at the strange corpse. "It looks like he was completely drained."
A thought flickered in his mind—could it really be a vampire? No, impossible! He quickly shook his head, pushing the absurd notion away, and asked his assistant, "Who was the last person he was seen with?"
"According to some classmates, after a dispute with Clark Kent, he left alone, riding his bike home."
"Who?" Lane froze at the name. "Clark Kent, Peter Podrick's godson?"
"Yes."
Peter Patrick again? Lane muttered Peter's name under his breath, his brow furrowing.
At that moment, Clark was unaware that Don Haggerty, the boy he had clashed with the day before, was now dead. He was working on the Podrick farm, doing chores for pocket money.
Nearby, Azu angrily crumpled a flyer he'd found somewhere and threw it to the ground. Clark, curious, set down his pitchfork and picked up the paper. It was a Christian flyer disguised to look like a dollar bill, warning young people against wasting their lives on activities like "Dungeons & Dragons" and other "devil's games."
Clark, uncomfortable, tossed the flyer aside, understanding why Azu was upset. Azu, being a bit of a penny-pincher, must have thought it was real money and eagerly picked it up, only to find he'd been tricked.
"I don't believe any of this," Azu grumbled, setting down the weeder with frustration. "Dad says he doesn't want us to be worshipped or hated like gods. I hate gods!"
Clark's father, Jonathan, was a Christian and didn't mind religion. "God blesses each of his followers, Azu," he remarked.
Azu countered with something Peter often said, "Dad says Christians talk about 144,000 seats in Heaven, but billions have died on God's green Earth. If He only likes 144,000 of them, then God must be a bit clueless."
Clark fell silent at Azu's "blasphemous" words. Though he wanted to argue, he couldn't find a solid rebuttal.
"Well, maybe Godfather has a point," he mumbled, just as a police car pulled up on the farm, with his parents following close behind in their car.
Clark paused, scratching his head in confusion, wondering what had happened.
A few minutes later, Clark and Azu stood nervously beside Peter, while Jonathan and Martha sat nearby, looking serious.
After a few questions, the police left, but Jonathan and Martha were visibly shaken. If not for the police visit, they wouldn't have known Clark had been in a fight yesterday.
Martha looked at Peter. "You knew about this, didn't you?"
There was a hint of jealousy in her voice. It seemed as though Clark always confided in Peter, even keeping secrets from his own parents.
"Yes, I knew," Peter replied calmly, sending Clark a reassuring glance. "But I didn't think it was a big deal. Clark didn't even fight back."
"But... Don Haggerty is dead!" Martha said, her voice filled with concern.
"That was just an unfortunate incident, not Clark's fault," Peter said, pouring more coffee into her cup. "We can't blame Clark for an accident, can we?"
"I'm not blaming him. I just think..." Martha looked at Clark with a sigh. "Clark, you should have told us about this."
"Sorry, Mom, Dad," Clark apologized to his parents.
Jonathan, more understanding, ruffled Clark's hair. "Did they hurt you, Clark?"
"No, Dad."
"And you didn't fight back, right?"
"Yes, but I really wanted to punch those guys. Punch them hard," Clark admitted.
"Hey, Clark!" Martha quickly stopped him.
"It's okay, Clark. I wanted to punch them too," Jonathan said, trying to reassure him. "But you held back, didn't you?"
"Yes, Dad, I know... you want me to control myself."
Clark repeated what Peter had told him the day before to Jonathan and Martha, who exchanged a glance after hearing it.
Jonathan looked at Peter with gratitude. Although he sometimes disagreed with Peter's methods, he knew Peter understood and supported him. This was why he trusted Peter and let Clark stay with him so often.
Once Jonathan and Martha had left, Azu turned to Peter, puzzled. "Dad, did Don Haggerty really die?"
He'd been looking forward to getting back at Don, only to learn he was now dead.
Peter had already received a call from Chandler about the state of Don's body and the strange circumstances.
"Yes, Don Haggerty is dead."
"But... why, Dad? What happened?"
Clark, his ears perked up, also leaned in. Although he'd wanted to rough up Don yesterday, he was troubled by the boy's death.
"I don't know. Maybe it was just an accident." Peter's expression grew serious. Just what could turn a once-living body into a withered corpse?