The Mandela Effect

Ch 43

 Jon exits the train station and is once again on the street. He turns and heads in the direction of his apartment. He moves with purpose but not with haste. His eyes are scanning the few people on the street and the cars, both parked and moving.

He hadn't ever felt this paranoid before. Even living in Chicago, he had never felt so unsafe. He had a cold sweat running down his back despite the frigid temperatures.

Jon closes in on his block. When he turns the corner, he can see his apartment building in the distance. Jon stops and looks up and down the block. He'd never taken notice of the cars before, but in that moment, he wished he had. He couldn't tell what was a familiar car and what wasn't.

Jon takes a deep breath and exhales. A cloud leaves his mouth from his warm breath. It's a very cold night. Jon looks back towards his building. Something catches his eye that hadn't before.

One block ahead, sitting at the corner was a car parked illegally. The engine must have been running because a cloud of exhaust, hot in the night air, is emitting from the tailpipe. Jon walks slowly in the direction of the car. Midway down the block, there is an alley way. Jon turns into the alleyway. He waits a moment and then pokes his head out. The occupants of the car don't seem to have noticed him. Jon tries to figure out who they are.

The car has out-of-state plates, but it could be a rental. It looks like two guys are in the front seats, but he can't be sure. They seem to have their attention directed at the front of Jon's apartment building.

Jon stops and thinks for a moment. He takes a deep breath and considers his options. Making up his mind, Jon turns around and heads down the alleyway.

He turns left at the next corner when the alleyway hits another cross street. Jon walks to the next corner, an intersection of two streets rather than an alley. Before exposing himself on the street, Jon looks down the block. This time, he's looking for the tell-tale sign: the running car. Not seeing anything, Jon continues on, crossing the street, and moving into cover past the next building.

Jon stops and turns around. He peeks out from behind the building again. There, midway up the block, he sees it. The exhaust fumes clouding up in the cold night air. Once again, Jon can't make out anything inside the car, but he assumes the occupants are watching the front door of his apartment building.

Jon grits his teeth. He turns back and continues to move in the direction he was going down the block. Reaching another corner, he turns left again and moves carefully down the block. Jon checks the cars as he moves down the block. He doesn't see a single occupant or running car.

When he reaches the corner of his street again, he stops again and peeks down the block. There, as could have been predicted, he sees another running car; its occupants looking down in the opposite direction towards his building.

"Shit," Jon curses under his breath.

Jon continues through the intersection, crossing the street and up around the block behind his building. He travelled carefully, but without a view of his front door, he assumed no one would be watching. He turned left again at the next block and walked midway down before stopping.

Jon looks left and right up and down the block. He doesn't see anything or any one out of the ordinary. Once he's assured that no one is watching, he turns and walks between the buildings.

Making his way down the access sidewalk to the rear of the building, Jon finally reaches the small concrete pad outside the back of the building. As he turns the corner of the building, he finds an old black man, dressed as a janitor, standing outside of the back door. He's leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette.

The janitor chokes on his last drag, "hey man, you can't be back here."

Jon thinks quickly, "hey brother, I'm sorry. Just trying to get home."

"Home?" the man asks.

Jon looks the man up and down, "yea, kinda."

The janitor puts out his cigarette.

"My old lady," he says, "that bitch. She takes up with some other guy. She changed the locks on me."

"Shew," the janitor says shaking his head, "women."

"Yea," Jon sighs, "my apartment. My shit in there. I go to work every day to pay for her life and she's fucking some other guy."

"Damn," the janitor answers, "that's cold. I got me an ex-wife too. Same shit."

"Oh really?" Jon feigns surprise.

"Yea," the janitor continues, "and there were times when I wanted to do what you're doing here, but trust me, it's not worth it."

Jon realizes what he thinks.

"Oh no brother," Jon chuckles, "it ain't like that. She ain't home, I just can't go scrambling in the front door if you know what I mean."

The janitor nods his head understanding.

"But I want my clothes, and some of my stuff," Jon continues, "and I want my dog."

"She kept your damn dog?" the janitor asks, "what a cunt."

Jon chuckles, "you don't know the half of it."

The janitor eyes Jon up and down, "alright man, Im'ma help you out."

He motions over his shoulder to Jon and walks towards the fence at the back of the property. Jon follows.

Reaching the fence, the janitor pulls back some ivy and reveals a gate in the fence. He turns towards Jon.

"Fire access," he smiles and winks. The janitor pulls a set of keys from his pocket and looks for the correct one.

Jon pats the janitor on the back, "I can't really walk out the front with all the stuff..." He trails off at the end.

"I gotchu," the janitor answers, locating the key, "I'll come back out for a smoke and lock it up in a half hour. Just be out before then."

Jon smiles at him, "thank you."

"Just don't get yourself caught," the janitor warns him.

"I'll try my best," Jon laughs.

The janitor jerks down hard on the padlock holding the gate closes. A cloud of dust and rust erupts from the lock as it gives way. The janitor pushes the gate open.

"There you go," he says.

"Thanks again," Jon offers, patting the man on the shoulder again. With that, he pushes past the janitor and into the similar space behind his own building.

Much like the space he just left, this one has a small concrete pad and some junk piled around. Jon walks up to the back door and gives it a tug but it doesn't budge.

"Shit," Jon mutters and looks around for another option.

To his left, he sees more fog being produced from a set of vents. He steps closer and takes a deep breath. The air smells sweet. Jon realizes that it's the exhaust from the dryers; the dryers in the laundry room in the basement.

Jon was in the laundry room, in the basement of the building, at least once a week. He probed his memory to find a clue, some way he could get in, if there was a way. Suddenly, the idea of a doorway in the far corner of the basement jumps into his head. He can't be sure, but something tells him that he saw it once.

Jon walks around the corner of the building. There, he finds a sunken stairwell, leading downward. Jon descends carefully, being wary in the cold, slippering conditions. When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, Jon finds a door. He grabs the door handle, and says a short prayer before trying the knob. It turns.

Jon is instantly overjoyed. He's in! He's also somewhat terrified – how long has this door been unlocked. Every moment, he feels like his former life was more and more of a lie. He always felt protected, always safe. But there was a darkness brewing just below the surface that he never saw.

Jon pulls open the door and enters, pulling the door closes behind him. He has 25 minutes.