.............Who Was Not There

The first thing I did on Friday, after I found that crayoned note in my newspaper, was to leave a message at the number that Doyle had given me. I heard nothing back for the rest of the day, and nothing on Saturday, either. Sunday I got a text. Basically, it said to do whatever I planned to do on Monday, and someone would find me.

I really had no plans for today, but I went out and stopped at a few places.

 First, ShopRite to check out their sales. I picked up a few things. Next, P. C. Richards. My car radio died and I wanted to check out one that they had on sale (with free installation). I'm actually kind of iffy on this, and since no one came over to offer any help, I just left. Maybe I'll check to see if it's really just a problem with a fuse.

No contact so far.

I decided to take the long way to Target, so I got some coffee at Dunkin' Donuts, and turned down the side road. The evidence of last weekend's storm is still lying all over. Tree branches are stacked at curb sides all along the residential streets, and there was at least one spot that still had evidence of a downed power line problem. It's been like this for over a week. Thank God, I didn't have any problem, but I did feel kind of bad for people upstate who still have no power.

I checked out a few things in Target, but didn't buy. As I left the store, I saw Craig standing by my car.

"Hey, Craig. Thanks for coming out."
"No problem, Mr. O'Neill. I understand you have something from our Delaware subject?"

I opened the car, and took the newspaper out.

"From Del? Yeah. Here. I don't know what you can do with it."
"Probably nothing, but I'll let the lab boys try anyway."
"You're not questioning that this is a message from Del?"
"No. We're pretty sure that it is."
"Then there's something I don't understand....He seems to be claiming that he caused these..this...Event. How could that be? Don't you guys keep these things out of the papers?"

Craig put the newspaper in a plastic envelope he took from the side pocket of his jacket.

"We thought the subject, or rather Del, was in Pennsylvania. There were.....indications. It doesn't matter now. He blindsided us."
"OK. But how did it get into the newspaper?"
""Look, Mr. O'Neill, you were here last weekend. That storm wreaked havoc all over the area. There are still problems."
"I know. I've seen some of the damage."
"With all due respect, sir, the damage upstate was much worse. When we were notified that his Flasher had been used, we mobilized right away. But we just couldn't get in there without attracting attention."

He paused, and I waited him out.

"the People Upstairs decided that we could use the storm damage situation to disguise what happened. So we had one agent slip in, and set it up to look like carbon monoxide poisoning...I'm not proud of it, but there it is."
"It wasn't you, was it?"
"No...No, thank God. But it was one of us....It just didn't seem right.."

I didn't bother to argue with him. After all, I'd never bothered to ask what happened with the other Events in the past.

"Well, should I be worried that Del sent this to me?"
"No. Our shrinks think that he's happy to get into the papers, so he reached out to someone he felt would understand. We don't think you're in any trouble. They think he's just showing off."
"Damn. All right. well, what about what appeared to be initials..the A. G.?"
"We don't know. It may be that he's using an alias. They're definitely not his real ones."
"What are his real ones?"
He grinned at me.
I just stood there a while,, nodding my head. This time, Craig waited me out.

"So....status quo, huh? Keep doing what I do, and you'll let me know whatever you think I should know?"
"Yes sir. For now. But feel free to contact us whenever you have a question, or something..." he held up the envelope, "..comes up."
"Thanks, Craig."
"Have a good one, Mr. O'Neill."

He walked away. I got in my car and drove home.

The Little Man.............

For the last 2 1/2 weeks, I've been feeling guilty. I was stressing over some test results, and used the Flasher to take it out on some people who annoyed me. I had reacted quickly, without really thinking about the consequences. Luckily there were none. No one saw me, and no one - so far - has called me on it.

Now, I'm coming up on my 3rd Anniversary as a transplant recipient. I'm reliving all those "good to be alive" feelings. This is leading to a lot of regret at having played along with Doyle and DHS. At first, of course, I felt like I had no choice, but later.......?

What's that quote.."Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely"..?

When there was a quota - deadlines - it was different. When Doyle, or Givings, or Craig was in the picture, I guess I justified what I did as being part of The Project. Now that it's only me, I have to admit that I let it go to my head.

I had power.

I had power, and I used it.

I had power, and I used it,.. wrongly.

I know that things have changed at the DHS. I've been led to believe that someone - hopefully, Doyle - would eventually contact me about The Project. I'll have to control the urges until they do.

Not stop..control. After all, they didn't take the Flasher back. They must want me to continue using it. Just not so much for my own gratification.

Today was to be the first day of my new resolve. I got up around 8, and ran through my morning routine and checked my emails. I went out.

I put my wash in a machine, picked up the paper and some lottery tickets, and did some food shopping. I picked up my wash, had breakfast at Mickey D's, and picked up a sandwich at Subways.
I went home. Put away the wash and the groceries, turned on the TV, made some tea, and sat down to read the paper. I didn't get too far.

Scrawled in what looked like crayon was the message.."Denny, Mine! A. G. (Del)".. next to a circled  sidebar article about a couple being found dead during the power outage.

What?...... How?............Who?............

It was addressed to me.

I don't buy my paper at the same place every day, and I don't always take the top copy, so it couldn't be a set up. The paper had been in my car when I was picking up my wash, eating, and buying the sandwich. Could someone have gotten at it then? Why?

It was addressed to me. And it looked like "Del" inside the parenthesis.

The article was about a couple who died, supposedly by carbon dioxide poisoning. But what if it was Del, the DHS subject from Delaware?

And why would he be doing this..sending me this message?

Who, or what, did the letters "A. G." stand for?

Too many questions, and no answers at all. Some lines from a poem I remember hearing when I was a kid came to me..

          He was not there again today
          Oh how I wish he'd go away.

If this was Del, I really did.