Phantom Shift- Sublimation

This is Part Four in a series. You can click here for all chapters.

Alex, or rather Raul as he had decided to go by the last cover name he used, had sat quietly in Jason’s van for four hours. He had been watching Haberdashers, waiting for Tupac to retrieve the documents. While most people would think of being on a stakeout as torture, Raul quite enjoyed it. It was a simple task. Sit in one spot for as long as possible, observing your target. Most would think there was little to do in the meantime, but he had learned over the years that it’s best to bring some kind of entertainment.

Some people brought music, some would listen to the local news on the radio. If you had a partner you could bring a book and trade-off who was watching. But Raul was alone, in a strange new world, full of new things to explore. So, as he laid on the floor of the back seat of Jason’s van, staring at the tablet he had rigged up to the spotting scope, he listened to one of the audiobooks he found on Jason’s phone. Unlocking the phone was his first impersonation of Jason. He didn’t know why the ease of unlocking his doppelganger’s phone came as a surprise. They were the same person in almost every way. Hell, they even had the same scar on their head.

Oh, oh, there he is. Let me see your face. Raul thought as he watched the man check the pegboard, before heading to the third shelf, on the second to last bookcase from the back. Why is he acting so suspicious? It’s a bookstore for Christ's sake. Just walk to the front desk and pay. Shit, shit, he’s getting spooked. What are you doing? Don’t get pinched for stealing a book that nearly nobody will understand. Hell, I don’t get half of what’s in that thing. Well, you’re running now. What is she doing? Come on lady, it’s just a book. Damn, she’s fast.

“FUCK!” Raul exclaimed as he jumped up in the van after watching Tupac shoot, Alexis. “Fucking amateur hour!” He said as he pulled the door handle, and threw open the side door. Slamming it shut, he began running towards Tupac.

**********************************************************************

Five weeks earlier- Jason’s dining room

Raul wasted no time making a break for it after he retrieved the diary from Jason’s table. He wasn’t sure if he or the man on the floor was the intended target. He hadn’t taken the time to look at the man initially. His safety was at the top of his mind. Having no idea where the shooter was, or if they were still out there, he wasted no time as he made his way out of the room.

Reaching the otherside of the wall seperating the dining room from the living room, Raul pulled his gun from his pocket and dropped to a low crawl. He proceeded to make his way out of the living room, and down the hallway to the laundry room. Entering the laundry room, he raised himself to his knees, lifted the trapdoor to the crawlspace, and slipped below the floorboards, all the while expecting a clearance team to enter. Now crawling out of the necessity to not bang his head, he made his way over to the sleeping bag he had pulled from Jason’s closet earlier in the day. Settling himself into a sleeping position, he pulled the tarp from the shed the rest of the way over his body and settled in for the night.

0946, the next morning- Jason's crawlspace

RING, RING, RING. BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG! Raul awoke to the sound of someone banging on Jason’s door, and ringing his doorbell. Crawling towards the sound, he lay there listening for a sign of what may be coming.

“Any luck on his phone?” Raul could hear the frustration in the man’s voice.

“Naw, mate. No dice,” the other man responded. The American slang sounded odd coming from the Gaelicized English of the second man. He must’ve immigrated. At least they’re here for him, not me. But still, I need them to stay out. I still need him.

“Alright then, let’s go,” the first man said.

“You don’t want to check ‘round back?” The second man asked.

“No, if he were here, the rooster would be facing out. I’m sure he’s fine. It's a home game after all,” the first man responded.

“The rooster?” The Irish accented man asked.

“There’s a small, porcelain rooster in the corner there. You see it? He turns it every morning before he leaves to signal anyone needing to know whether or not he’s home. If he’s here, it faces out, if he’s gone, it faces in. Nobody’s taught you this? I know you’ve always done analysis, so you’re not super familiar with tradecraft. It’s alright, I’ll teach you some things everyone should know,” the first man responded, “let’s go. Freddy’s calling me, and I don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“Right then, you want to stop at the kebab place on the way?” The Irishman asked.

“Yeah, sounds good. Hi, sweetheart,” the first man responded as he stepped off the porch.

As the two men left, Raul let out a long sigh of relief, and slithered his way back to the crawlspace entrance, and back out into the laundry room. Dusting himself off, he made his way to the kitchen. Pulling the bread from the cabinet, and the mayonnaise, mustard, ham, and cheese from the fridge he made himself a sandwich. Putting the condiments, ham, and cheese back, he grabbed a ginger ale and headed for the dining room.

As he stepped towards the doorway, he got a rude reminder of the night before.

“Oh, right. I forgot you’re here,” he said, as he sat himself down on the floor. With his plate on his lap, he began to eat.

“I see we have the same scar on our forehead. I know how I got mine, but how did you get yours?” He knew it was weird to be talking to a dead body, much less one that was, as far as he could tell, him. But all things considered, it was probably the least weird thing he had done in the last few months. He figured it was like self-talk. At least there was an actual object to face. There was a strange, yet familiar feeling in talking to the man lying on the floor.

This shouldn’t be a thing. We’ve all heard the phrase, “staring death in the face.” But this, this is unnatural, perverse in a cruel way, he thought as he took another bite of his sandwich.

After finishing, he squatted over Jason’s body. The force of the gunshot had knocked Jason forward onto the table, before his body slumped onto the floor, cocking his head to the left.

At least I don’t have to look at the exit wound. Not that I’m squeamish, but this already ain’t right.

“Let’s find out who you are,” he said, as he pulled Jason’s wallet from his back pocket.

“Huh, Jason Alexander Costas. Well, I see your parents leaned into your Greek side too. Let’s see here, credit cards, library card, VA card, alright well that’s all consistent. Time to check your phone. Now, how do you unlock this?” Raul said as he began to press Jason’s various fingers to the touchpad. He would have tried his own, but the risk of bricking the phone was too great.

“There we go. Now let me reset your security settings, so I don’t have to do this again,” Raul said, opening the settings app. After resetting the security setting, he began going through Jason’s phone, looking for clues on how to access his life.

Is this ethical? I don’t know. Can you steal from yourself? Fuck it, I’ve been off the edge of the map of morality for months now. Besides, I’m becoming you, so what does it matter?

Raul spent the rest of the day working through all of Jason’s log-ins, resetting passwords, codes, and pins until he had the things he needed changed. The only thing that truly bothered him was when he was using Símon and Mara’s information. Not that he was harming them, it just reminded him that Rosaria had just learned she was expecting their first. She had tried to hide it from him, she was only three months after all. But she had messed up and left the ultrasound on the counter when she had gone to the restroom, not expecting him to come home early. But he didn’t want to ruin her surprise, so he slid the photo into her purse before she came out.

I wish she had told me sooner. I wanted to jump with joy when I found that. But she had her ways. Oh, Rosie, you loved your surprises. But this was one you should’ve told me about sooner. Is that why you sent me to that think tank? I probably wouldn’t have done this if I knew. I would’ve got out of the field. I would’ve rather been struggling, riding a desk, than this, Raul thought to himself as a tear rolled down his cheek as he laid on the floor of Jason’s bedroom.

************************************************************************

Georgetown, Washington, D.C.- 06:33 am, The Day After the Incident

Shhk, shhk, the sound of Mariam dragging her Buttercup Powerpuff Girls slippers across the hardwood floor was unmistakable. Mariam began her usual morning routine, shuffling her way from her bedroom across the living room to the kitchen, groggily filling and turning on her coffee machine, before shuffling back to her room and into the shower. After her shower, it was back to the kitchen to grab her coffee, before making her way to her recliner that faced one of her two windows. It was a small apartment, but it was all she needed, for now.

Ding, ding. Who is texting me this early?

“I’m sorry for our last encounter. I know how I look. Can we meet?” Mariam’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest when she saw who the text was from. JASON!? JASON!? Mariam thought. She could feel the palpitations rise in her chest.

“When? Where?” She responded.

“Jefferson Memorial, north side, 5 pm. Come alone.” The response came.

“Ok. See you then.” It was all Mariam could do to keep it together as she responded. She then called Bob, after sending the text.

“Good morning Mariam, how are you this morning?” Bob asked in a surprisingly cheerful tone.

“I-I-I’m not good, Bob,” Mariam began to sniffle as her emotions took control, “I-I—”

“It’s fine, sweety, I understand. Between Jason being gone, and Alexis’s incident, you’re under tremendous stress. Just take the day off to recuperate,” Bob said reassuringly, “I’ll have Barb come in to help. She won’t mind.”

“T-thank you, Bob. I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good day.”

“You too Mariam. Feel better. We’re all here for you,” Bob responded before hanging up.

Yeah, right. The one person I need the most now is in the hospital because some sociopath stole from a bookstore and shot her. At least I don’t have class today. I can sit here, and wallow in my anger-filled sorrow until I go meet this asshole. He better have a good explanation. It's in your best interest that my Alexis's injuries weren't caused by you. I swear, I swear.

“I SWEAR I’LL RIP YOUR HEART OUT MYSELF JASON! IF I SO MUCH AS GET A WHIFF OF RESPONSIBILITY IN YOUR DIRECTION. FUCK!” Mariam screamed as she kicked her coffee table, sending her cup flying across the room. “SHIT!” She said scrambling for paper towels. She didn’t know whether to sob or feel elation at the thought of seeing Jason. Later as she wiped the coffee off of the floor, she knew what she was definitely going to do now.

“It’s too early for this shit. I’m going back to bed,” she said as she threw the paper towels in the trash. Going to her room, she peeled back her comforter, climbed inside, turned on the first appealing thing she saw and began crying as the muted tones of The Good Place droned on in the background.

************************************************************************

3:53 pm

Mariam didn’t mean to sleep for nearly eight hours. But that didn’t matter now.

“Ugh, shit. I gotta get ready for this. You better have a good explanation. You stupid, handsome, son of a—” Ding, ding, another text interrupted Mariam's rush to get ready.

“Just sit on the steps when you arrive. Don’t look for me. I’ll come to you if it’s clear. Be safe. Keep an eye on your surroundings,” the text read.

“Ugh, what have you gotten into this time Jason,” Mariam exclaimed, as she pulled her hair into a ponytail, pulled on her raincoat, grabbed her purse, and headed towards the door. Slipping on her rain boots, she headed out the door, and for the bus. The bus was remarkably on time, something unusual for DC buses, especially at that time of year.

“Hey George, how are you?” She asked the driver.

“I’m good Mariam. Where are you headed at this hour? I was surprised I didn’t see you earlier,” George responded as he hit the button to close the door.

“Oh, I got lucky, you could say. I just needed a day off, and the store was able to survive without me. Just headed to see an old friend that needs some help with a project,” Mariam answered as she swiped her pass, and started to move to the back.

What did that boy do? This girl is all out of sorts. She almost never sits that far back. Only when it’s busy does she sit so far away, George thought as he watched Mariam sit in the middle, just forward of the door, and lean her head against the window.

Mariam popped her headphones in and sat in quiet contemplation as she tried to drown out her thoughts with the serenading of Fatoumata Diawara.

************************************************************************

4:42 pm, The Jefferson Memorial, Washington, D.C.

Mariam trudged her way through the particularly cold and wet Virginia rain that was slowly turning to sleet as the temperature dropped. Making her way to the north side of the memorial, the feelings began to well up inside of her. Anger, relief, grief, happiness, that mysteriously warm feeling you get when you see someone you are in love or infatuated with.

It only took a few minutes to walk from the bus stop to the memorial. Mariam decided to wait in the rotunda, until walking down to the steps at 4:55 to wait for Jason. She had been waiting for nearly ten minutes when a homeless man approached her.

“Excuse me, do you have a cigarette?” The man asked.

“No, sorry, I don’t smoke,” Mariam answered politely.

“That’s good, you’ll live longer,” Raul said, dropping his fake accent, “I’m going to sit just behind you. Don’t react. Just keep looking forward. As far as I can tell, we don't have observers.”

“Jason?” She could barely contain herself, “why do you look like that?”

“Not exactly,” Raul responded from under the hood of the overcoat he found in the dumpster a few days before, as he gathered materials for his homeless man disguise. It was the perfect disguise for downtown DC, because as unfortunate as it is, in many societies, some people are functionally invisible.

“Who are you then?” Mariam asked with a puzzled tone.

“As I said before, they call me Raul. That’s not my given name though. As strange as it sounds, I am not from this world. I came here—”

“What do you mean you’re not from here? Your accent is remarkably American for you not being from here,” Mariam had cut him off before he could finish.

“As I was saying, I came here from another world. As far as you and anyone else in this world are concerned, I am Jason. However, the reality is that the real Jason is dead. I am a version of him, or he’s a version of me. Jason, the man you know has been dead for five weeks. Someone shot him. Somehow he came into possession of a diary I brought here to exchange with my handler for a new life. He also retrieved the dead drop of cash intended for me. I’m sorry you had to learn the truth this way,” Raul said solemnly.

Mariam immediately turned to face Raul. As he told her of Jason’s death, she felt her heart collapse with the weight of a thousand suns. And yet, as she stared at a copy of the man she had loved, she could not help but feel a sense of relief. It was a spooky feeling. She could not divert her gaze from the carbine copy of Jason. How could this be? She thought as he continued to explain how he had gotten into this predicament.

“None of this was ever my intention. I was supposed to do a quick jump across the timelines, drop a copy of the diary, grab the cash promised to me, and go home,” Mariam watched as tears welled up in Raul’s eyes as he told her his story. “But that was well over a month ago. Now I’m stuck here, as my return window closed four days after your boyfriend died,” he said, as he pinched the bridge of his nose to hide that he was wiping away his tears.

“I don’t completely understand what you’re saying. But I do know that sitting out here for long we’re going to catch our death. Where are you staying?” She was hesitant to ask, because she knew the most likely answer, but didn’t want to face the reality.

“I’ve been staying in his house. But I’m starting to run low on supplies, so I’ve been forced to subsume myself into his life,” Mariam could see the immense weight on Raul’s mind.

“Well, if you think it’s safe, you can come back to my place, and we can untangle this together,” she could feel a twinge of self-doubt in her mind as she said it. Am I suggesting this out of caring for him? Am I doing this for myself? To just spend one more moment with Jason, even if it’s just a close approximation of him.

“Yes, I think that would be good. At least for the night. It would be nice to walk around a house in a normal fashion, not skulking around like a criminal,” Raul responded, “We should walk separately though. I’ll follow your lead.”

With that, they proceed to the bus stop, with Raul following a few yards behind. Mariam hadn’t noticed when he slipped between the food kiosk and trees to drop his disguise. How did he change so fast? She thought, as he now stood next to her in red Converse shoes, blue jeans, a gray hoodie covered by a dark green hard-shell jacket, and a plain brown baseball hat. Where did that even come from? Even if he had most of it under the other clothes, how do you change your shoes in this weather without getting your feet soaked?

Vzzz, shhh, tsh, the bus managed to only show up five minutes late from its scheduled time. Getting on separately, Mariam took a seat near the front as Raul continued to the seat just across from the backdoor. As the bus pulled away, it took every ounce of Mariam’s strength to not turn and stare at the man her heart said she was still in love with.

You better make this worth it, she thought as the bus faded into the fog.

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Continue to Part 4:

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