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Fugitive

He hated to do it, but he woke Angela up. She’d slept through all the commotion. He supposed being a cop made her immune to unsettling nature of chaos. Waking her up and breaking the news she was stunned. After a few minutes though she said, “Well, I think it’s horrible. But what can we do about it? We are foreigners and this is MUCH larger than us. I know we’ve had a penchant for getting involved in those kinds of things but I don’t think we have to this time. The world can survive without John Constantine for one emergency.”

 

He couldn’t believe his ears. It sounded like a wonderful idea. After an hour or so, they’d maneuvered through traffic enough that the flashing lights were behind them. Night fell and bus rolled into Geneva. Once again, they found themselves exhausted and looking for a room. They had a few more choices this time and opted for one in the heart of the city. They both danced awkwardly on their heels on the elevator ride. Entering their room they found it much different than the last, two beds and a couch. That’s what I get, John thought, for booking a room at the Marriot.

 

Angela took her bag into the bathroom and John sat down on the edge of the second bed to untie his shoes. In a few minutes he was tucked comfortably under the covers, Angela came out. She looked at John and switched off the light. Through the darkness and the faint lights from outside shining into their room, he could see her approach. She came to his bed, walked over to the other side, and joined him. Barely seeing her silhouette he saw her lean into him. Their lips met. She pulled back. He could swear she was smiling. “Good night, John,” she said and laid her head down on his chest.

 

“Good night Angela.” John had never felt so happy.

 

But a fire burned in his dreams. It was brighter and hotter than before and he couldn’t wake up. He could hear screaming. In an instant, he knew. It was Angela. He woke up, jarring Angela who still slept calmly with her head on his chest. He panted heavily.

 

“John,” she said waking up, “what’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing,” he said trying to not bother her, “just a dream.” She leaned up and kissed him.

 

“Want to talk about it?”

 

“No, I’ll be fine. Let’s just go back to sleep.”

 

She could sense his hesitancy. “John, I don’t know what ‘we’ have here, but either way, you can talk to me. After all we’ve been through, I hope you know that.”

 

He waited a long minute. She was a persistent, little cutie – again a thing to like about her – so he took a breath and said, “There was a fire. It was burning. It grew hotter and brighter but I still wasn’t waking up. But then… then I heard screaming. It was you Angela, I know it was. And that’s what woke me.” He could feel her soft hand caress his face. She kissed him again.

 

“I’m okay and I’m right here,” she said. She put her head back down on his chest but seemed to be hugging him tighter than before. He could feel his pulse slow. He let it. He had learned to calm himself in tense situations. Angela fell back asleep soon enough but John couldn’t shake the sound of her screams from his mind and didn’t sleep at all.

End of Installment

If you missed part 1 – read it HERE

If you want to just go back a step and read part 2 – GO HERE

For the next installment – GO HERE

If you liked this and would like to read the complete prequel, Angelkiller, go HERE

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