The Identity Gamble

Hunter settled into the plush, first-class seat. He looked down at his board shorts and flip flops. For once, he felt liberated. Not because he ditched the suit and tie, but because he actually was calling the shots now. 

He slid his hand into his laptop bag and fiddled with the small electronic device. What the hell have I done? 

There was no turning back now. The twin Rolls Royce engines roared and the Airbus 350 ascended skyward. He let his head melt into the headrest and replayed the last six hours.

His phone buzzed at exactly 3:43 p.m. He was packing his leather laptop bag, neatly rolling up his laptop cord so it would fit perfectly into the appropriate keeper in the bag. 

He had complained to his therapist a few weeks prior about his worsening state. She said something about ataxophobic tendencies. He had always been organized, but then he became obsessive. His therapist said it had something to do with controlling his own environment as a way of coping with uncertainty. 

He reached into his bag and pulled out his work phone. It was an email from his boss. The title read, “Swing by my office.” No text in the body. That was it.

He left his bag next to his standing desk and walked down the corridor to the big corner office. Frantic secretaries scurried from one office to the next with stacks of binders that tested the upper limits of their physical conditioning. 

Hunter peered through the open door into the grossly oversized executive suite. Mr. Jenkins sat with his back to the door, gazing out the windows overlooking the Chattahoochee River. 

“Yes sir. You needed to see me?”

Mr. Jenkins spun in his seat to face Hunter. He wasn’t much for foreplay. 

“You’re needed in Tampa tonight. You have a seven p.m. flight on Delta. Return on Sunday. Apologies, but they were almost fully booked, so you have middle seats down and back.”

“Sir, my fiancé and I rented an Airstream for the weekend. We’re going to Blue Ridge. The leave is already approved.”

Mr. Jenkins offered a puzzled look and then cocked his head as if there was suddenly a language barrier.

“It’s Peninsula Engineering, Hunter. They’re having a marketing crisis. Their marketing department is a disaster. Talk some sense into these guys, will you?”

Did he not hear me the first time? 

“Sir, I really can’t…”

“Your leave was canceled earlier this week. Did you not get an email about it? Fourth-quarter sales are right around the corner. Everyone’s leave was canceled. Don’t take it personally. Every other junior consultant is busting ass too. Again, sorry for the late notice, but it is what it is.”

It is what it is. Hunter wondered if that same line would work with his fiancé. Probably not, but at this point, what would?

Hunter walked back to his office and pondered the possibilities. He could go back and tell his boss what he really felt. At least he’d enjoy a nice weekend with his fiancé. But in reality, Hunter was spineless. He spent his entire life coloring in the lines and that wasn’t going to change now.

He pulled his phone out of his laptop bag again. Text or call? Damnit. I’ll call.

She picked up after the first ring.

“Hey babe, I just loaded up the truck. Heading to go pick up the Airstream now.”

“Hey, I’m really sorry. I’m heading to the airport. Another last-minute trip. I’m sorry.”

There was an awkward pause. Then a deep breath and an exaggerated sigh. Here it comes.

“Hunter. You can’t be serious. I’m sick of this crap. We need to figure out how…”

“Tell Charlie happy birthday for me. He’s turning eleven tomorrow. I left a bone for him in the pantry.” 

Hunter hung up and turned his phone off. What else was there to say? She was on the cusp of leaving him anyways. In between the last two work trips, she said something about “rekindling the fire.” It was her idea to do this getaway.

Getaway. That was an interesting word. As in, get away from everything. This job. This relationship. This whole damn life. 

As in, how did I let her get away with it?

She didn’t know yet, but a few weeks ago, Hunter came home early from a similar business trip. His fiancé’s Crossfit coach was just leaving their apartment. He looked disheveled and sweaty. The only problem was that they didn’t own any exercise equipment in their apartment. Instead of addressing the problem, Hunter stayed the night at a local hotel. Spineless. 

Like every good errand boy, Hunter went straight to the airport as per Mr. Jenkins’ orders. He reasoned that one day he’d make senior consultant, pay off the one-hundred thousand in college debt, and who knows, maybe he’d work things out with his fiancé. Or maybe she could keep “working out” things with her Crossfit coach and Hunter could move on to someone else.

The flight was full and, as promised, it was a middle seat. 38B. Surprisingly, it was a peaceful flight. No screaming babies. He even got to share the armrests with the reasonably-sized humans seated next to him. 

The plane taxied up to the jet bridge and Hunter eventually made his way through the airport to the rental cars. After signing the paperwork, Hunter took the escalators down to the car lot.

A white Toyota Corolla awaited Hunter. He threw his laptop bag in the passenger seat, adjusted the mirrors, and pushed the key into the ignition.

“Do something stupid and I will kill you right here.” 

A handgun appeared from the backseat and pressed up against the back of Hunter’s skull.

“What… the…”

“Turn around slowly. Let me look at you.”

Hunter put his hands up in shock and slowly peered over his right shoulder. 

He appeared tall and slender with dark circles under his blue eyes that told the same story of exhaustion. His hair was parted the exact same way. He was the spitting image of Hunter. A true doppelgänger. 

But unlike Hunter, he had an aura about him. He had an attitude. He had a spine. If Hunter was the beta, then whoever this was was the alpha.

“I don’t understand… Are we related?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want to take your life.”

“You’re going to kill me? Look man, please don't kill me. Take my wallet. Take my laptop, I don’t care.”

“No. Sorry, that didn’t come out right.”

“Okay…”

“I want to take your life. And you can take mine. I want a one-for-one swap.”

Hunter stared back dumbfounded.

“You don’t want my life man, I promise. My job sucks. I’m underwater with college debt. Another man services my girlfriend.”

His doppelgänger squinted, as if he wasn’t hearing what he wanted.

“My dog Charlie is sweet though. He’s old and blind. He doesn’t have much time left, but he loves to cuddle. My wallet has three-hundred dollars in it. I drive a brand-new Camry. So, it's not that bad… I guess.”

“Stop talking. You sound pathetic. I don’t care about any of that stuff.”

“Okay... then why do you want to swap lives with me? Oh, let me guess. You’re some Jason Bourne-type and now you’re going to tell me that you’re on the run from some government conspiracy.”

There was an awkward silence in the car.

“Shit.”

“Part of that is true. I do kill people for a living. But, I’m not on the run because of that.”

“So, you are on the run, then?”

“My last job went sideways. A king’s ransom of Bitcoin went missing. I had nothing to do with the heist, but I ended up with it.”

“So, how did you find me?”

“A reverse image search. Fortunately for me, you post everything about your life on Instagram, so finding you was easy. I will say, though, your life seems a lot better online.”

Hunter closed his eyes and rubbed his face and eyes with his clammy hands. He considered the proposition, then he mustered up the courage. “So how will this work?”

“We trade identities. And you keep these.”

The doppelgänger pulled out his passport. Then he pulled out a Ledger, a cold-storage cryptocurrency wallet. 

“There’s twelve-million in Bitcoin on this device. All of it was cleaned through a tumbler, so it’s more difficult to trace. These are both yours… in exchange for your life.”

“How about the gun?”

“Nice try, Hunter. I’ll keep that.”

“Where do you suggest I go?”

“There’s a flight from Tampa to Houston. You can take a direct flight from Houston to San Salvador. 

“San Salvador? Like South America? What the hell will I do there?”

“Central America, Hunter. Bitcoin is now one of the official currencies of El Salvador. There’s a small beach town called El Zonte where you can surf, eat, buy a house, or whatever you want. All paid for with Bitcoin.”

Hunter pursed his lips and sighed heavily. He seemed incredulous and asked, “Seems like a good plan for someone that’s on the run. It seems like you already have all this mapped out. So why don’t you follow through on your getaway plan?”

His doppelgänger lifted his shirt and tucked his pistol back into his waistband. 

“Hunter, I’m fed up. I just need a fresh start.”

Hunter nodded in agreement, his face a blend of disappointment and relief.

“Me too, man. Me too.”

He slid the Ledger into his laptop bag, left his wallet in the car, and walked away from it all.