The Mandela Effect

Ch 48

 The incessant ringing of a telephone brings Jon back to consciousness. He immediately goes to his pants pocket, the last place he left the cell phone. Finding it, he rips it out, flips open the lid, and answers, "hello?"

There is silence on the line and the incessant ringing continues. Jon looks over to the phone on the night stand. The red light on the front of the phone is blinking quickly and he realized that it's the source of the ringing.

Jon slides over and picks up the handset, "Hello?"

"Good morning, sir," a voice on the other end says, "the time is 11:06 and this is your wakeup call."

"Thank you," Jon answers before replacing the receiver.

He looks at the clock on the bedside table, and then at his watch, confirming the time is correct. He struggles to his feet.

Instantly, realizing his situation, Jon scrambles to find the backpack. He moves back to the door and looks around the duffel bag. Not finding it, Jon jumps onto the bed and leans over the opposite side of the bed. Finding it, he picks it up and clutches the bag to his chest. He's breathing heavy and tries to catch his breath.

Finally, Jon gets back to his feet and takes the duffel from the floor, tossing it on the bed. He pulls the zipper open and digs his toiletries bag and some clothes out, placing them on the bed.

For the next half an hour, Jon showers and changes. By the time he is redressed and repacked, he feels like a new man. He looks around the room, it barely looks like anyone has been in it, other than the one towel on the bathroom floor. Jon shoulders the backpack and grabs the duffel again. He opens the door and walks out into the hall.

A few minutes later, but before the requested check-out time, Jon is standing before the front desk attendant.

She radios up to the cleaning staff to quickly check the room to be sure there are no damages. She asks all of the normal questions, like if he enjoyed his stay, and he is polite. They make small talk about D.C. before the confirmation comes in over the radio: it looks like the room wasn't occupied at all.

Jon smiles at her and nods. It seems everything is in order. With a few clicks of the keyboard, the drawer opens and she retrieves his four hundred dollar bills, counting them out and handing them over. She reaches down and grabs the receipt from an unseen printer. Jon jams the bills in his pocket before slipping the receipt into his bag. He thanks her and turns to leave.

"One moment please!" the woman calls after him.

Jon turns back to her.

"I believe this message is for you," the woman says, holding a piece of paper out towards him. Jon takes the paper.

"I'm pretty sure it's not for me," Jon jokes.

"Well," the woman explains, "they didn't leave a name or a room number, but they left a message for the late arriving guest matching your description."

"Thanks," Jon says, turning again and walking towards the front door.

Outside, Jon sets the duffel bag in nearly the same spot as he had a few hours before. He opens the folded paper. There is a ten digit number and the letter T.

Jon smiles. "You asshole," Jon says to himself.

He digs into his pants pocket and pulls out the cellphone. Instead of calling the familiar number, Jon taps in the number from the piece of paper. He presses send and puts the phone to his ear.

Jon stands outside the hotel while the phone rings. It rings and rings and rings and no one picks up. After what feels like forever, but was probably like two minutes, the sound of electronic interference come through the earpiece; then a few beeps. Suddenly, the line is disconnected.

"Well shit," Jon says to himself, closing the lid. He picks up the duffel bag and walks out to the sidewalk.

Jon looks left and right. He doesn't really have a destination in mind, and he's about to flip a coin, when he sees a Starbucks sign down the block. He smiles; fate has made the decision for him. Jon turns left and heads towards the coffee shop.

A half a block down from the hotel, Jon pulls out his phone again. He tries the number from the paper one more time. This time, with the same results. Jon shakes his head and stuff the phone back into his pocket. He shifts the bags around and continues heading towards the scent of coffee beans.

Finally, Jon reaches the corner across from the coffee shop. He patiently waits for the light to change. To his surprise, this part of D.C. has very few pedestrians in it. It's cold, for sure, but nothing compared to Chicago; maybe that's what's to blame.

After a few moments, the light changes. Across from Jon, the walk signal changes from a red hand to a white person. Jon refirms his grip on the duffel bag and steps off the curb.

Just then, a car makes the right turn in front of him, coming to a stop in the crosswalk. It wasn't that close to hitting him, but it did surprise him.

"Hey!" Jon shouts, "asshole!"

The passenger window rolls down and the driver leans over.

"You can walk if you prefer?" T says grinning from ear to ear.

"Hell no!" Jon exclaims, "let me in!"

Jon opens the rear passenger door and tosses in the duffel and backpack. Shutting the door, he opens the front passenger and climbs in. Turning to T, the two men embrace.

"It's so good to see you," T says.

"You have no idea," Jon sighs.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there yesterday," T explains, "but some stuff came up."

"Don't worry about it," Jon waves off the argument, "I made due."

"I do have some good news though," T continues.

At that moment, the lights at the intersection change and a driver from the opposite direction urges T onward with a long, drawn-out honk.

"Let's get out of here," Jon says looking around the intersection, "then you can tell me."

"You're looking as paranoid as me these days," T chuckles, throwing the car into gear and moving the car away from the curb.