The Mandela Effect

Ch 46

 A few hours later, Jon tosses his duffel bag into the cargo area under the bus. Keeping the backpack with him, he boards the bus, after showing the driver his ticket. He finds an empty seat towards the back, behind the rest of the passengers, and settles in. He takes the backpack off, but wraps his arms through the straps and faces the back towards his chest. Finally, after a very long day, Jon closes his eyes.

He had sat in the lobby of the bus station for a little less than an hour when he felt the edges of sleep creeping in. He didn't want to lose his wits, especially this close to getting out of town. So, he stands and walked around the lobby for a while, but that didn't keep him occupied for long. After making several laps, the woman behind the window eyeing him up the entire time, he went and checked on his locker. He found it securely locked. Giving the lobby a look, and finding no one paying attention to him or anything other than their phones, he headed back out the double doors and into the cold air.

He had walked back the way he had approached, seeming to remember an old diner along the way. When he turned the corner to head north, he was rewarded with the sight of Lou Mitchell's. He walked that direction and went into the diner.

He had a cup of coffee and a slice of pie a la mode. Not much sustenance for the trip, but he figured why not. They had the daily paper there. He sipped his coffee and read the paper. He ordered a sandwich to go and asks the waitress to wrap it up. She brought it to him and he paid her for both. Checking his watch, it was just about that time. He grabbed the backpack and made his way through the door.

On the way back, he thinks for the first time about T. He pulled the phone from his pocket and flipped it open. He pressed send to bring up his latest calls. They were all, of course, the same number. He presses send again and puts the phone to his ear, trying to angle his head away from the wind.

"Hello?" T's voice rings in his ear. Jon holds his other hand against the free ear.

"Hey T," Jon answers.

"Thank god," T sighs, "I was getting worried."

"I'm alright," Jon tries to calm him.

"Where are you?" T asks.

"Still in Chicago," Jon answers, "but leaving soon."

"How are you getting out," T continues.

"Bus," Jon says matter-of-factly, "I listened to what you says. Something inconspicuous, paid with cash, no ID."

"Good," T says, "that's about the best mix of stealth and speed you could hope for. When do you get in?"

Jon gets around the corner and sees the bus station ahead.

"About this time tomorrow," Jon says, "maybe a little sooner."

"I'll try to meet you if I can," T answers.

"I gotta go," Jon continues, "bus is loading up."

"Alright," T answers, "stay safe."

"I'll see you soon," Jon says before hanging up the phone.

Jon went inside and grabbed his bag from the locker. He queued up behind the few people waiting for his bus.

When the bus started to move, Jon opened his eyes. He had dozed off and wasn't sure how long he had been asleep. The backpack was still securely against his chest.

Jon looked around the bus and it seemed like most of the few passengers on the bus had nodded off. Jon checked behind him to be sure that he was in fact the furthest back.

Securing the bag a little tighter against him, he crossed his arms and fell back to sleep.