DC Oneshots

The Gift from the Sky

Five dollars and ninety nine cents. That was all it cost. The velveteen rabbit smiled at her from behind a cloud of pink tissue paper, its knitted cap poking over the top of the gift bag. If Martha closed one eye, she could imagine a child sitting in the rabbit's place. A happy child, boy or girl - it wouldn't matter - laughing at something Jonathan did. But there was no denying the dead weight in her arms. Imagination could only go so far. She would give up all her life savings, and more, to hear a child's laughter ringing through the house.

But it wasn't meant to be. She turned away from the inanimate toy in her grasp and looked out the truck's foggy window. It was a week till Christmas, and the landscape was aglow with freshly fallen snow, the pure-white kind that hadn't been tampered by muddy footprints or pesky critters. Cornstalks rose through the mound of snow; their mucky leaves reaching up to the full moon. The longer she looked at the mucky-green leaves the more they began to resemble a baby's plump fingers reaching up for their mother.

A baby she would never get to hold. Eyes as green as a cornfield in spring, she mused. She would be the envy of the entire county. He would grow into a strong, stubborn man, just like his father. If only. Dreams were for rookies.

"We could always adopt," Jonathan said, reading the turmoil on his wife's face, as easily as the morning newspaper.

Martha turned towards Jonathan. In the light of the dying sun, his tawny hair turned golden. "We're barely making ends meet as it is," she pointed out. Though she supposed she could always call in the 'Big Guns," as Jonathon would call Father. The thought crossed her mind on numerous sleepless nights. Damn her pride. She couldn't stomach asking that shark for anything. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how badly off they were. A part of him died when Eliza Clark left them, that was no excuse though. He wasn't much of a father even before Mama's illness took her.

"We'll get by," Jonathan said with conviction. "We always do," he put on a brave smile. "It'll be good for Jill to have a playmate," he grins at her. Martha sighed heavily. It wouldn't hurt for her niece to learn to share either. Harry spoiled the girl rotten; Jill quickly learned she got her way when she brought on the waterworks. Some would argue that Jill Kent was the best birth control, but Martha didn't care; she would rather have a hundred Jill Kents, than none at all.

"I can't believe it's already been a year," she said in awe. "They grow up . . ."

Martha did not get the chance to finish her sentence. There was a blinding flash, a jaw rattling boom! And the truck exploded. A warm liquid trickled down her face. She felt weightless, like a phantom ghost floating over a grave. Her head spun madly, the world winking in and out of focus . Martha peeled her forehead off the broken window with some effort, shards of glass clinging to her scalp. There was a ringing noise echoing in her head that she couldn't shut out, try as she did. She blinked rapidly, willing the horde of lights obscuring her vision to ebb. Too late, she realized that the ball of light was all too real, and heading straight for her.

"Martha!" Jonathan screamed, his voice clipped with fear. Rough, calloused hands guided her out of the wreckage. The air smelled like a burning furnace, and when she swallowed she tasted ash. Hand in hand she tore through the cornfield with Jonathan, and out of the street. And not a moment too soon. A meteoroid crashed into the hood of the truck, and it exploded into a cloud of flames.

"Sweet Jesus! Jonathan explained, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She found solace in his farmer's scent; a mixture of fresh hay, and mint toothpaste.

The entire sky was falling. Meteoroid after meteoroid fell out of the heavens, leaving a trail of black smoke and destruction in its wake. All of downtown lit up like a bonfire at full blast. She could hear the screams for help miles away. Sirens blared to life, but it was no use. They were not equipped for such a catastrophe, no not in Smallville. Martha had slept since her college days, but she swore these massive emerald boulders were nothing like the meteoroids they studied in her astronomy class. Some of the meteoroids were as large as a full grown elephant, and wholly unnatural, like the jagged hide of a dragon, with crystalized shards protruding from the top.