Clark did not rush over to demand an explanation from the children. If whoever was behind this had such a well-developed route for getting the drugs to the children, then they must have been prepared for an attack.
If that was the case, charging in recklessly might not only fail to catch the mastermind, but could also put these defenseless children in danger.
So Clark quietly descended, slipped around the Welfare Institute building without making a sound, and entered a cluster of abandoned buildings nearby. From across the courtyard wall, he watched to see what was passing the crates of orange juice up.
A crate of orange juice slowly rose from the entrance to the sewer, but what held it up was not a human arm. Clark took a closer look with his super-vision and discovered that it seemed to be some kind of tree root.
He could not be certain because, theoretically, tree roots could not move like that. Nor could Clark remember any tree whose roots could grow to such a scale.
Clark took a step forward, intending to peek into the manhole and see what was below, when he heard a bang. One of the Welfare Institute's courtyard walls had been blown open.
Clark immediately rushed out from behind the wall. When the dust settled, the children were unharmed. A group of people wielding baseball bats and hammers charged out of the smoke.
Only when they drew closer did Clark realize they looked like a group of hippies. Their hair was dyed every color imaginable, metal rings hung from their noses, lips, and ears, tattoos covered seemingly every patch of skin, and most wore colorful studded vests and leather boots.
The moment they rushed in, the children scattered. But Clark noticed that while the kids ran, their