John Saw It Coming

Dear Readers, Thank you for again for visiting one of my stories. Very little sex in this one. It started off as a short story and grew. It was just something I always wanted to do, a little thriller. I put it in Romance because under it all that's what it is, a story of two people falling in love under very unusual circumstances.

It was a really fun story to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, no editor here, so the mistakes, plot breaks, extraneous commas and timing issues are all mine. The people places and things herein are figments of my imagination, everyone involved here is over 18. It does include some sex so if that bothers you don't read it.

As always, comments and votes are the only pay we make here. Please be constructive, if you hate it I'm sorry, just let me know why. All rights reserved 2021 ©

JJ1

John saw it coming... the guy just dropped his bag next to the elevator and walked away from it. He normally would not have noticed it but it just struck him odd. He looked around the packed lobby, at all of the people and knew he would never be able to save everyone. A brief feeling of melancholy swept over him before he yelled "Run!!" He saw the fire alarm on the wall, pulled it and turned to run and knocked a woman off her feet, completely off her feet, as in see your feet before you hit the ground kind of off your feet. He fell on top of her, and saw the look of fear and disgust and the bluest eyes he had ever seen...

"Get off me..." BOOM the bomb blew, glass broke and people screamed. The thing John remembered most was the screaming of projectiles as they whizzed past him. He felt bee stings in his back and the backs of his legs. He had felt them before and knew it was going to hurt a lot more tomorrow, if there was a tomorrow... his vision narrowed and slowly the black took him.

When he woke up he decided he was right, it hurt a lot more today than it did yesterday? He didn't know if it was today, tomorrow or yesterday. His mouth was dry and his throat hurt and the machine attached to him beeped incessantly. He did not smell the cordite, or smoke he had learned to smell after an explosion but smelled the antiseptic smell of a hospital. It had to be a while ago, he knew the smell of cordite stuck in your nose for a while before it dissipated.

He was laying on his stomach, his back and legs just a mass of burning pain. Nothing new, he had felt this before.

"wha..." he tried to clear his throat. "...uhhh, what happened?" he groaned.

"Oh! You're awake! Let me get the doctor." The silver haired nurse ran from the room.

When the doctor came in he was young, American. "Mr. Murphy, how are you feeling? I'm Dr. Morris, I've been in charge of your care."

"I feel like I got run over. What happened?"

"Apparently a terrorist left a bomb in the building. No one saw him, they don't know where it came from, don't even have a description of the guy, but it was a nasty little bomb, he used jacks, those little star toys that kids play with... as shrapnel. It worked very well. We've been really busy for the past couple of days. You took hits to your back and legs, they were very difficult to get out of you without shredding more tissue. You had a little lung damage but nothing you're going to notice going forward."

"Does everything still work?"

"I would expect it to, but you will have to tell us. Have you moved your legs?"

John lowered his hand and looked at it over the side of the bed, he moved his legs but the pinching pain stopped him. "It hurts."

"Pain is good right now, means you can still feel. It'll take a few days but you should be fine. You have a couple hundred stitches that will have to come out, we were worried about the blood loss, and I don't know if I got all of them out, your back looked pretty much like hamburger when we got started. You also have some burned flesh on the back of your legs that will have to be dealt with from time to time. It'll hurt but there's nothing we can't help you get through. Relax and we'll get you something for the pain. Any one we can contact for you?"

"No, I'm from out of town, I'll call work later."

"No family, perhaps a wife?"

"Just an ex. Don't bother, pretty sure she wouldn't give a shit."

"Up to you..." The doctor looked at his clip board. "You had some old scars on your back. Where did they come from?"

"Took some RPG shrapnel in the sandbox a lifetime ago."

"It healed well, I'll be back on rounds in the morning. Get some rest, we have a bunch of tests for you in the morning. From the amount of damage you had, the burns, you were pretty close to the explosion. I'd say you are very lucky to be alive, let alone have everything still working."

The nurse held a straw to his lips and the water he was able to get from it tasted better than the best beer he ever drank. He relaxed, lay his head down and drifted off to sleep, his dreams were of blue eyes watching him. It wasn't a creepy watching him, they were tender and caring.

John woke up the next morning hungry and thirsty. He pushed the button and when the nurse came in this time she was young and attractive. She smiled at him.

"Yes Mr. hero... can I get you anything?"

"I'm not a hero. I need something to drink."

"How about ginger ale or orange juice?"

"OJ will work just fine. Thanks."

"Whatever the hero needs, the hero gets..."

"What's this hero shhhtuff?"

"You don't know? Have you watched the TV? No I guess you haven't have you? You've been on TV for the past two days. Here, just push this button, doesn't matter what channel, you'll be on it."

The reporter was just getting started in front of a hospital that John didn't recognize. "We understand that he is in this hospital and has been released from ICU late yesterday evening. He regained consciousness yesterday evening. There is a police guard at his door and we have not been able to interview him. There were only 2 people killed and 37 injured including our mystery man. After pulling the fire alarm which sent everyone racing to the exit and saved countless lives, he threw himself on Ms. Angela Martin. Police have told us that without the bravery of this man we certainly would've lost America's sweetheart as she was walking into the area where the bomb exploded. We almost lost our favorite voice in this vicious attack. She was checked out at the hospital and then whisked to the airport where she got on a plane to New York and her Manhattan apartment. She has not made a statement.

We understand the man's name is John but have not been given any additional information including his last name, they also informed us that his injuries do not appear to be life threatening. Police said he will be interviewed today. Engineers are surveying the damage to the building, which appears to be superficial at this time. Live at the hospital, this is Ron Peters for channel..."

"I didn't throw myself on her, she fell and I tripped over her feet, I knocked her down but it wasn't on purpose. I'm not a hero."

"Mr. Murphy, you are my hero! I just love her. I love her music, she's so pretty and sweet."

"I didn't do anything."

"They said you did, and that's what I want to believe, so that's that." She frowned as if planting that idea in her head. He knew she was a nurse and therefore pretty bright but she gave an amazing rendition of someone that a cold drink of water and an original idea would probably kill. "Listen, don't tell anyone that other story... Take your moment of fame, I can't wait to tell my friends that the famous hero John is my patient." She looked at him with a look he found difficult to interpret, smiled at him like a he was a wayward puppy, patted his hand and left the room. He thought he preferred the older nurse.

The remainder of his day was a series of MRI's, he hated that machine, sonograms and x-rays. Changing his dressings took hours, getting out of bed and laying on his back was a new level of pain, only outdone by the pain of debridement of dead skin on his legs, and then he had the interview with the police.

"We thought that perhaps you were involved but we finally got the surveillance film. The guy is pretty nondescript and the film isn't very clear. Can you tell us what you remember?" The Detective was older than John, not what he expected in a cop. He was trim and intense, hair graying at his temples dark eyes that didn't seem to miss much. You could sense the power in his arms where his suit jacket fit tightly over his biceps.

"He was tall and skinny, dressed in a black hoodie, had a beard, but not a full beard, more like stubble. I noticed a scar on his face, running from his right ear to the corner of his mouth. He dropped a back pack, like the college kids take to school, right next to the elevator. It just didn't look right, ya know? He was too old to carry a backpack. And then the fucker ran away."

"I know what you mean. Was he white, black, in between?"

"He was either middle eastern or Hispanic, kind of in between right?"

"What made you jump on Ms. Martin? How did you know it was her, why did you pick her? That was a risk ya know? If nothing happened and you tackled the most popular pop star in the history of the A listers... well you know. We live in a litigious society."

"I didn't mean to, I pulled the fire alarm and turned to run, trying to avoid..." John looked at the beeping electrical equipment attached to him through various wires and tubes, winced with the pain of moving in his bed, "...this. When I turned to run, she was there, I knocked her down then I guess I tripped over her feet. Not real heroic if you know what I mean, the shrapnel is in my back." John smiled and the detective smiled back knowingly. "She fell hard, is she ok?"

"Bruises and a mild concussion, we don't know if that's from hitting her head on the floor or the bomb going off." He smiled at John. "So did you know who it was? When you pushed her down and jumped on top of her?"

"I didn't jump on top of her, I told you, and no, I didn't know who she was until I saw the TV report. I did notice she had amazing blue eyes."

"That's not the story going around."

"That's the truth. No hero here, I fucked up and she benefitted. Guess it just wasn't her time and god wanted me to suffer a little."

"That's not the story we are telling and that story won't change. You saved her by jumping on top of her."

"Gee thanks." John said dryly. "Great, she'll probably sue me. Seems to be my luck of late."

"That was the risk you took." The Detective smiled. "Enjoy your 15 minutes of fame, don't get used to it, it comes and goes pretty quick, seen it too many times over the years. Stay in town, I'm sure we'll have more questions."

"I'm supposed to be heading back to Baltimore, I'm just out here for work. Had a meeting but haven't heard from my client since all this shit happened. I need to get back home."

"We need you here. When you get released come see me and we'll see what we can work out."

"Got it. I'll see if I can extend my stay at the hotel."

"You need to think about security. If this was an organized group they're going to be pissed that you fucked up their plan. I'll have a guy outside your door and we'll talk before you check out. Doc said you're going to be here for a while." The officer gave him a card, patted him on the shoulder and left the room.

"Hello?" the ringer on the phone next to the bed almost made him roll out of the bed. Fuck that hurt. He wasn't expecting it. Jerking like that hurt in more places than he was willing to admit and he had just found the one position he had been searching for all day. Between the sores, the stitches, and open flesh, there was one single angle that he could lay on without pain.

"Hi, could I speak to John?"

"This is he..."

"John, this is Angela."

"Angela who? Do I know you?"

"We've only met once. It was... umm, explosive..." the sound of her giggle was like the tinkle of a piano. John liked it.

"Oh, it's you... how did you get my number? I didn't think they were giving it out."

"My assistant was able to get it. I don't know how she does it, but she always seems to be able to do the impossible. It's ok that I called? I... I just wanted to... to say thank you."

"Nothing to thank me for really, I should be apologizing for knocking you over. Did I hurt you? I heard you hit your head on the way down."

"I did hit my head, but I didn't die because of you. I would've been right beside it when it went off. From what I hear it would've been bad."

There was an awkward pause. She could buy and sell him out of simple pocket change, she was gorgeous, the envy of every man that had ever seen her either in person or on stage. He was a working stiff, an environmental engineer. He worked with dirty dirt for crying out loud, basically a construction worker. Definitely the other side of the tracks.

"How are you feeling? I saw them take you away, you were a mess. How bad are you hurt?"

"Not too bad, got a couple new openings in my body, but they sewed them all shut. Looking forward to getting out of here, the cops won't let me go home yet."

"Do you have visitors? Would it be ok if I... if I came to see you?"

"You don't have to do that. I know you're busy, and I really didn't do anything... I just knocked you over.

"You certainly did do that." Again the giggle. 'I could get used to that' thought John.

"The TV said you were in New York anyway. Three thousand miles is a long way to travel for a chat. The phone is probably more efficient."

"I just would like to stop by and thank you. You... you saved my life. No one has ever done that before. I don't know what to do to say thank you..."

The thought that she would travel across the country just to say hello re-emphasized the difference in their stature. "Ms. Martin, please... it was nothing, I just knocked you over and fell on you. I mean I would've tried to help you, but it wasn't anything heroic. Not like they're saying on TV. How do you get used to that shit, um stuff, sorry. They lie."

"You never get used to it John, and please call me Angie."

"Nah, Ms. Martin feels more right. I wouldn't feel right calling you Angie. You're THE Angie, and deserve respect. It's what I was taught when I was little so it must be true." She giggle softly again. "But I was wondering if you could advise me, what's the best strategy? Duck and cover? They'll go away right?"

"John, please... call me Angie, you saved my life."

"I didn't save your life, God saved your life, my parents saved your life letting me be clumsy when I was a child, Karma saved your life. I don't know, but I didn't. I just knocked you over."

"John, I understand how you feel, I do... um... I think. Nothing like that has ever happened to me before. I would just like to say thank you in some way. Can I send you somewhere, vacation to rest and heal, can I get you anything?"

"You said thank you. I really enjoyed speaking with you. I don't need anything, but thanks for offering."

"Can I come see you?" She asked again.

"Why would you want to do that? You're in New York, right? I'm here in the hospital in LA for I don't know how long, then I'm going home. I'm sure you have things going on that you need to do. I'll be sure to tell everyone you have been incredibly sweet, like everyone thinks you are, you really are... sweet. I'll buy your next album, I promise."

"This is not a publicity stunt John." John could hear the anger in her voice over 3,000 miles of phone line.

"Then why are you interested? You know what happened, me and you, we're the only ones. You know as well as I do that this hero stuff is all bullshit. I just want to be left alone to play in the dirt. I'm sorry I knocked you over and I'm glad you didn't get hurt too badly but, I didn't do anything!" She could hear the anger in his voice over the same 3,000 miles.

"I'm sorry, this hero stuff is getting under my skin. I don't deserve it. I'm banged up in this hospital in a gown that shows my ass," This time it was a belly laugh and almost distracted John enough to shut up. "I can't get up without help, not at my best. Besides, there's way too much distance between your world and mine. Much more than just 3,000 miles of real estate. I have nothing to offer you."

"I'm sorry John, I'm so sorry you got hurt, and I feel like we have a connection now... and there's... something else. I can't really talk about it... not over the phone. But I have to see you, can we meet when you get back to the east coast? Please?"

This pop star wanted to meet him? He was never great looking, kind of roughly handsome, but not in the league of the people she hung around. It would just be embarrassing.

"I'm sorry Angela, I truly doubt we could find a middle ground, a connection like you say. I'm a fan and thank you for the call, it was sweet." John hung up the phone gently but decisively, hoping his 15 minutes of fame just ended. He didn't want to be a publicity stunt. Another reason for her to get her name in the papers, the human interest story.

The phone clicked in her ear and he was gone. She would never forget that day, she was on the way to meet her agent, her lawyer about her last most recent public fuckup. She just wanted a few drinks, which led to a few more drinks. Everyone wanted to buy her a drink, everyone wanted something. Guys looked at her with lust in their eyes, just wanting another meaningless fuck.

She just wanted to sing but she hated the pop shit she was putting out. To truly write good music she needed to feel something and other than afraid she didn't feel much. Her circle consisted of people in the industry, her yes men and women, her reviews were going downhill, her music considered mindless chatter. It made money, always had and the studios couldn't get enough but she didn't feel anything, how could she write about it? Maybe that's it, she could write about feeling nothing.

She just turned the corner to the elevators when she was hit hard. She flew backwards, then felt his weight land on her. It knocked the wind out of her, she smacked her head on the floor and everything got fuzzy. She was angry, started to yell at this guy, but his eyes stopped her, soft brown, looking concerned, she felt an instant of connection, like this guy really wanted to help her, and then boom. She heard the whistle of things flying by her, and a loud buzz in her ears, she felt his body twitch with multiple impacts.

She struggled out from underneath him, her legs still trapped when a cop reached down and pulled her out from under him with one hand, the other had a gun trained on the unconscious guy who had been on top of her.

"Don't hurt him! He saved me!" She looked up and saw and smelled the smoke, the dust, concrete lying on the ground, windows shattered. She slid down into the cops arms as she passed out.

By the time she woke in the ambulance, and was off-loaded on a gurney into the hospital, her people had showed up. She went through a brisk visit with a doctor that looked over worked but even he smiled at her knowingly. She was whisked out of the hospital in a limo, rushed to the airport and a couple of hours after the bomb blew, she was on a private jet lifting up out of John Wayne Airport on her way to new York. She had no-one to call.

A few days later John woke to the face of the Doctor and several of his sycophants, all nodding to everything he said. "Well, Mr. Murphy, how are we feeling today?"

"I don't know about you Doc but I'm feeling well enough to get out of here." He gave the group a smile that bordered on insolent.

"Your stitches come out today, and we'll change your bandages again, but give up the let me out routine. Always happens with you hero type." The Doctor returned his idiotic smile with one of his own. "You're going to be quite sore for a while, just lay back and enjoy. We have to get the burns on your legs healed a bit, there was a little muscle damage that we want to sort out before you leave. When you get out of here where are you going?"