As Henry walked toward the front entrance, he saw a car sidle up next to him. It was Jonathan.
“Get in,” he ordered softly.
“What’s going on?” Henry asked.
“Get in,” Jonathan ordered again.
Henry paused, then did as he was told. Jonathan did a tight u-turn and drove out of the parking lot. He said nothing until the got out onto the highway and the wind made it hard to hear.
“Someone killed Hassan and Osam from inventory last night,” Jonathan stated soberly.
Henry’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “Do they know who did it?” he asked.
“Yes,” Jonathan answered. “It was all caught on tape. They have a clear picture of the killer’s face.” Jonathan paused for a moment to take a turn sharply. “It was you,” added as they straightened out.
Henry was still in shock from the fact that two men had been killed. It did not fully register what else Jonathan had said, so Jonathan continued. “Obviously, one of the clones has lost his mind. The problem is that we don’t know which one. We don’t have a good way to tell them apart as it is. They could’ve traded cards easily. I suspected some have been doing it for a while. They’re trading identities as part of a small gambling ring one of them organized. It has something to do with the weathergirl. I don’t know much beyond that.”
“What are you going to do?” Henry asked, finally finding his voice again. The fear in his voice came through clearly, even with the wind howling past the car.
“Find the one responsible, and turn him over to the police. They’ll be arrested as you.” Jonathan turned to Henry. “Sorry, but it looks like you’ll have to stop being you.”
Henry blinked, unable to discern what that really meant. Jonathan continued to drive in silence. They left the city limits and drove into the suburbs. Periodically, Jonathan would take a turn sharply, and then watch the rearview mirror to see if anyone was following them. After nearly an hour, they approached a small, run down motel. “Wait here,” Jonathan instructed. He ran in, grabbed keys off the desk, and came back outside.
“Don’t you need to check in?” Henry inquired.
Jonathan rolled his eyes. “I’ve got an agreement with the owner. I give him a call. He puts a key out, goes to lunch, and can say that he never really knows who’s using that room around the corner.” Jonathan puled the car around to one of three rooms that could not be seen easily from the road. He did not shut off the engine. “Yours is the first. Get in there, don’t call anyone, and wait for me to come back and get you when this is done.” Henry dutifully obliged. Jonathan did not wait to see that he got in, but instead sped away as soon as Henry was clear of the car.
Henry felt nervous inside the motel room. It was clean enough. He’d imagined a bug infested hell-hole that stank of mold and rotten food, but it was well-lit, with a made bed and no signs of infestation. The TV worked, but the phone did not. Henry would not be making any calls anyway.
As he sat down he realized he had no change of clothes, no food, only about $20 in cash in his wallet, and a bunch of credit cards he could no longer use because he had to hide from the police until they caught clone that committed the murder.
Henry turned on the TV and changed it to the weather channel, but they had driven far enough to be a different region, and tall, heavyset man was forecasting rain. Henry flipped through a few different channels, then turned the TV off with a frown. He didn’t enjoy hiding, especially because he had no reason to hide!
There came a knock at the door. Henry assumed Jonathan had forgotten something, perhaps he’d brought him lunch. As he opened the door, he found himself face to face with Jonah.
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