Arc 6

Passing the Time............................

Usually, I find it easy to wait. I'm not in any hurry, and I almost always have a paperback book with me. Today, however, is tough.

I had an ultrasound done last week at my doctor's request, just to check on a couple of other internal organs that might be affected by the immuno-suppressants I take. I was told that the results would be evaluated and sent to my doctor within 24 hours. Unfortunately, the test was on Friday, and the 24 hours mentioned were "business hours". Saturday wasn't bad, but I didn't sleep well last night and I woke up early this morning definitely out-of-sorts. Plus, I don't know what my doctor's office hours are today so I don't know when I might hear.

It was a nice morning, and thinking to take my mind off of this, I decided to get a hair cut. My barber opens at 8:00, so I drove to the middle of town and parked in the municipal lot. As I walked towards Main Street, I passed this guy in the yard of a Slovak church, pruning the trees and bushes. He was whistling away, happily.

I got to the shop, but the barber had one guy in the chair, and three others waiting already. At maybe 8:15. On a Monday morning. Ridiculous. Today, I was in no mood to wait. I turned around and headed back to my car.

As I came up towards the Slovak church again, I could hear the tree-pruner still whistling. Now, it bothered me. I looked around. No one else was out. I came up on the tree-pruner from behind with the Flasher in my hand.

Point, press, Flash.

I kept walking to the municipal lot, got in my car, and drove away. I was feeling a little better.

I needed gas, so I headed for this no-name station that I use. The gas there is usually cheaper. When I got there, there was no waiting so I pulled up on the side closest to the street, with my passenger side to the pump. I could see the attendant sitting at the desk in the office. It didn't look to be my regular guy. I got out of my car, and waited for him to come out.

And I waited.

I knew he's seen me, because we made eye contact. He was just taking his time - and wasting mine. I was not in the mood for this.

Finally, he came out, and he filled my tank.

 I got back in my car, rolling the passenger side window down. When he was finished, he bent down into my car and I paid and thanked him. He just sort of sneered at me, but that was OK because...

Point, press, Flash...

I was ready for him. He slumped down between my car and the pump. There was no one around to see, and I drove off.

I had some food shopping to do, and since I prefer the self-check-out lanes, I didn't have any more waiting to do. The day was brightening, with a nice breeze. I decided to drive to Johnson Park on the Peninsula and just gather my thoughts.

It was quiet there. Joggers passed by as I sat on a bench looking out over the bay. I felt myself calming down. I'd be able to wait for the doctor's call now.

Then I heard her.

she was sitting on one of the walls, at some distance from me, but she was talking on her phone to someone in as loud a voice as possible. I couldn't quite hear what she was saying, but it didn't matter.
The shrillness of her voice was enough to ruin this peaceful setting. I got up and headed back to my car. I detoured slightly so that I would pass her on my right.

There was no one else in this side of the park. As I passed..

Point, press, Flash..

and she tumbled backwards off the wall.

I got back in my car and headed home. I'd watch some TV, eat lunch, and maybe take a nap.

And wait for my test results.

Waiting For The Fall................

I've always liked the Fall. I like the sharpness of the morning air. I like the way the leaves go out in a blaze of glory. I like having the window open and needing a light blanket at night. Unfortunately, the last few days have been humid, and now we're in for a string of rainy days. It reminds me of when I was a kid and school would start. It always seemed rainy to me.

Doyle called yesterday. We agreed to meet for lunch today at a deli in Raritan Center.

I got up early. Earlier then usual. There was a strange feel to things, and I hadn't slept well. I didn't know what it was, but it was like an itch you can't scratch. Anyone who's spent any time in a hospital bed hooked up to monitors knows what I mean.

Rain was predicted for today, but so far it was only gray out. A humid day with a winter sky. I thought to clear my head by picking up something to eat and driving to Merrill Park. I took some bottled water, and picked up some apple strudel at ShopRite.

There was no one around as I pulled into the park. I thought there'd at least be a jogger or two, but I didn't see any. I pulled into one of the parking areas. I turned off the engine and started to open the strudel package when I noticed this guy. He was lying on one of the picnic tables, doing leg exercises.

Now, I'm all in favor of letting people do what they want, but this guy was lying on a picnic table. Where people eat. That didn't seem right to me.

I looked around. For all I could tell, we were the only 2 people in the park. I got out of my car. I held the Flasher down by my leg. I walked towards this clown.

"Excuse me." I called. He ignored me.
"You know, people eat on those tables." He still ignored me.
"Don't you think you should do that somewhere else." He stopped ignoring me.
"Fuck you.", he said, and went back to what he was doing.
I looked around. No one else.

Point, press, Flash.

I walked back to my car, got in, and drove away. He was still on the table, but I was hopeful that someone would clean it off once they found him.

I drove to Roosevelt Park. I still needed to finish my breakfast.

......................................................................................................................................................................

I met Doyle at the deli. I hadn't been there in a while, and they had changed a lot. They'd rebuilt, and were now an open-room cafeteria-style place, with a side room full of tables. You bought your food at one of three counters - depending on what you wanted- then took it in to the side room. I could see Doyle sitting at one of the tables, so I got myself a Philly Cheese Steak and an unsweetened iced tea and joined him.

"Hey, Denny. Thanks for coming. Good to see you." He was eating some kind of salad, and had a large cup of coffee on the table.
"Good to see you, too, Doyle. How're things?"
"Everything's good, Denny." He ate some salad, then wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Just thought you'd like to know how things turned out."
"How what turned out?" I said around a mouthful of steak and onions.
He smiled and drank some of his coffee.

"It's been almost 2 weeks since The Anniversary. Everything went well in New York. Yes, we had that "3 suspects" scare, but that was for controlled panic."
"Controlled panic? What're you talking about?"
"Look, Denny. We get a lot of threat chatter all the time, but when we were getting close to 9-11, it picked up. We expected that, and we wanted to add extra security, but the Mayor baulked at it. So Mr. Smith suggested that we "specify" a threat and Mr. Jones agreed. So there was a "possible threat" from 3 unknown individuals who may or may nor be coming in to the country. Whatever....it worked."

He went back to his salad.

"You mean that was all made up?"
"No...Not entirely. Believe me, there were threats. Viable threats. We stopped two of them, in fact. But we couldn't broadcast them. The media has given our enemies way too much information about our activities. We decided to give them something they could run with."
"Something that would give you what you want, and yet would still be partly true?"
"Exactly." He pushed his plate away, and had some more coffee. " And it did what we hoped. Mr. Jones got the credit and has been put in charge of the entire East Coast."
"So, now Smith will do, what..?"
He grinned. "Mr. Smith stays with the People Upstairs, only now there are only 5 members so they have to wait until a sixth can be appointed."
"And that means..what?"
"Nothing new can be started. In fact, the only thing we have to do now is wrap up some loose ends."
"Does that include me?"
"No. Although, to be honest, I don't know what Mr. Smith wants to do with The Project. But I do know that he likes you and what you've done."

He paused, finished his coffee, then looked right at me.
"The only loose end we have, Denny, is the guy you call Del. Our Delaware subject. We need to find him, and contain him."
"What do you mean by 'contain' him?"
"Look, Denny...we made a mistake with Del. He's...crazy. We have Events of his that stretch from Delaware to South Jersey. Fifteen. All within the six month."
"I didn't read anything about those."

He laughed. "Come on, Denny. Have you ever seen anything about your Events in the paper? Of course not. We make sure of that."
"Well..I thought you couldn't track him, that he slipped off your radar some how. How do you know he's involved at all?"
"True. Some how or other, he's made himself invisible to us. But he can't mask the signal the Flasher gives off when it's used. Believe me, he's involved."

I had to agree.
"OK. So..what happens now?"
He put his leftovers on his tray. "You wait. And you continue to do whatever you want. We track down and control Del. They add a member to the People Upstairs. We go from there."

He stood up, with his tray in his hands.

"Enjoy your lunch, Denny."

He left.

I pushed my sandwich aside. It was cold.

Given Enough Time................

Doyle called. Surprising, since I haven't expected to get called by anyone from DHS, least of all Doyle. We agreed to meet this morning at The Raconteur in Metuchen.

I like Metuchen. It's a small, quiet township that for some reason sits right inside the borders of Edison Township. I like to think of it as an example of small town America, although decidedly upscale. It's quaint. It's clean. And I like to think that it doesn't suffer from the problems that other urban areas experience.

It's Main Street shopping area runs for about 3 blocks south from the train station, and has an assortment of small, niche shops such as outdoor cafes and a tobacconist.  It also has it's share of For Rent space but, considering the economy, not much. The Raconteur is a used book store - although they probably refer to it as a "pre-owned books" shop.

Doyle had said he'd meet me in the back at 11:00, but I got there early to look around. Like any used book store, they have a varied selection of hard covers and paperbacks, sorted into genres such as Mystery, History, etc. I'm guessing that they try to keep each category sorted alphabetically by author, but they only have so much space and a lot of books are just piled up near where they should go.

While I was waiting for Doyle, I actually found a copy of "At The Earth's Core" by Edgar Rice Burroughs.

The back of the store has a few wooden chairs, and is devoted to Children and Young Adult books.

While I was browsing through some of these, Doyle came through the back door.

"Denny, How's it goin'?" We shook hands. He looked the same as always. Dark suit and tie, white shirt. Government issue.
"Doyle. Good to see you. I didn't expect to hear from you again. What brings you back?"
"Just passing through on my way to New York. Thought I'd stop by to see you. After all, it's kind of an anniversary for us. Two years, buddy, since I got you into this."
I had forgotten. Or blocked it out. Whichever.
"Really? And you stopped to see me? I'm touched."
He grinned.
"Don't make a big deal out of it. Like I said, I'm on my way to New York. I'll be working security for the 9/11 celebrations."
"Yeah? Wow. That must be a plum assignment. Smith must be happy to have that."

He shook his head. "Mr. Jones is in charge of the New York coverage. In fact, Mr. Smith didn't want it."
"What? Why not?"
"Politics, Denny. Mr. Jones has always been about getting noticed, getting ahead. Mr. Smith doesn't care about those things. He's more concerned with results."
"So how does this involve politics?"
"Mr. Smith figures that if Mr. Jones does well here, he'll be fast-tracked, if not, he'll be sunk. Either way, he's out of the picture."
I had to admit it made a kind of sense.

"Anyway, Denny, I also wanted you to know not to worry about our Delaware subject - you called him Del, didn't you? Ha! Funny. Anyway, we're pretty sure that those notes he left for you were to get our attention since it looks like he's contacted us directly."
"How so?" We had been standing, but now took a couple of the chairs.
"Everyone in the DHS offices from D. C. to Boston received the same email yesterday. It contained a YouTube link to a 32 second video posted on September 3, 2006, of a ticking clock."
"For real? A ticking Clock?"
"Yep. Posted originally by a site called ratherboringvideos, one word."
"How do you know it was Del?"
"Well, we don't know for sure, but it appears to have come from the Vice President's office."
"The Vice President? As in "of the United States"?"
"That's the one. And since he used to be a senator from Delaware, well, you can see how we jumped to our conclusion."
"What do you think it means?"

He paused, thinking of the best way to answer that.
"To me, the only way to interpret it is that time is running out. For whom? How long? Why? I don't know. Other people smarter then me are working on that. Me? I gotta get to New York. Just thought that, since I was passing by and all, I'd stop by. You know?"

I knew.

We stood, shook again, and - grinning - Doyle left through the back.

I sat there for a while, thinking about the whole thing. I had this feeling that they weren't looking at it the right way. To a transplant recipient - like me, like Del - a ticking clock doesn't necessarily mean that time is running out. It means that it's still ticking..that there's still time to do something. But what?

I ran outside to try and catch Doyle. To tell him this.

The back door leads to a municipal parking lot, and there was no sign of Doyle. He probably had a driver waiting.

Del was planning something. I only hoped that Doyle's people figured it out. In time.

I went back inside. I still had to pay for my book.

Summer Days..............

I live in a first floor apartment in a 3-story building on a very busy street in Woodbridge. Woodbridge is a city - not on the same scale as Newark or New York, but you wouldn't know it from the traffic that passes by my building on a daily basis. Oh.. did I mention that my bedroom faces this busy street? During the seasons when I can keep the windows closed, it's not too bad, but even I have to open them during the summer.

Actually, at night, the traffic noise is minimal, so sleeping isn't a problem. The mornings, however, can be a different story. That's why I usually jump at the chance to house-sit for my friend in Avenel whenever she goes away. That's where I was for about a week and a half, just getting home this past Wednesday.

Avenel is part of Woodbridge, but it's more like a suburb, predominantly private houses. It's a quiet, residential area. For the most part, the only noise you get in the morning is bird-song, and at night it's crickets. For the most part. There's a new neighbor who is out early almost every day, with some sort of noisy, annoying gardening machine. A mower, an edger, a weed whacker, whatever. Every other day, at least. And early! 7:00 A. M. early!

Of course, I didn't say or do anything, since I didn't want to cause my friend a problem.

Like I said, I got home Wednesday, and did sleep well that night. As I was getting up Thursday morning I heard a series of noises outside. Apparently, the business across the street has hired a landscaper who showed up bright and early.

I do admit that they weren't as early as that neighbor guy in Avenel, but 8:00 is still early. It annoyed me so I looked it up, and the local ordinance allows them to be there that early.

Needless to say, I went out that morning feeling a little put out. And I drove up to and around Avenel for a while hoping to see the neighbor. I thought, fleetingly, of whether Del might be following me, buy I put him out of my mind. He hasn't actually done anything to me. Just left some stuff in my mailbox. I'm guessing Craig was right, and he was just sending a message. It didn't matter anyway since that neighbor wasn't out.

This morning, I woke to no loud noises, just the usual sounds of traffic. I took a ride towards the Main Library, but realized that they were on summer hours and wouldn't open until 10:00. I drove passed the back of the high school and saw a U-Haul in the parking lot. The driver was standing in the doorway of the cab.

 I made sure my windows were down, and the Flasher was ready. There was no one else around.

I slowed as I got closer. The driver never looked back, apparently concentrating on whatever he was doing. I closed in.

Point, press, Flash.

I kept driving as he sagged into the cab. I followed some back streets, exited to Rahway, and headed for Avenel.

The neighbor was out, working the curbside.

I pulled to the curb just passed him and got out. He didn't even look up. I stood there watching him for a few minutes, and checking the neighborhood. Like I said, it's quiet here. That worked to my advantage. I walked up to him and..

Point, press, Flesh.

He slid down the length of the edger as I got back in my car and drove away.

I could still hear it whirring when I turned the corner.

Just Because You're Paranoid..............

It's been over 2 weeks since I spoke with Craig. Over 2 weeks since I've gotten anything besides mail in my mailbox. Over 2 weeks since paranoia kicked in - big time.

When I thought that it was Jones' people leaving me the messages, I wasn't really worried. After all, they were government people - they worked for DHS just like Craig, Doyle, Smith, etc. They just didn't agree with what we were doing with The Project.

 But, of course, it couldn't be them. They'd all been reassigned. There were top-priorities
now, involving real risks and needing experienced field operatives. There was no one to spare to follow me around.

So who did that leave?

According to Craig, the answer was - the subject from Delaware. The one chosen by Jones to participate in The Project. The one who they lost track of - even though he had an implanted tracker similar to mine. The one that Doyle said was probably a psychopath. Craig thought the subject - let's call him "Del", since it's easier - was probably using me to send DHS a message. Del was letting them know he was here, by following me around and commenting on my activities.

Oh Good...being followed around by a psycho. Paranoid much?

I go out every day - rain or shine, hot or cold. Something I've done ever since I recovered from the transplant. I used to enjoy it. Now...not so much. Driving around, I find myself watching the mirrors more intently. Looking over me shoulders everywhere I went. All the fun was gone.

I'd finally had enough yesterday. I was heading towards the Menlo Park Mall.

I started to think,  "Am I being followed now? Is he in the car directly behind me? Or in that white one?"

I couldn't even enjoy browsing at Barnes & Nobles. I found myself staring out the 2nd floor window at the parking lot.

Thinking, "Is h out there? Waiting for me? Is he here?"

"Is he one of these guys?"

I had it bad. And I knew that I had to get passed it.

I went home, left the TV off, and read through these entries from the beginning.

It was therapeutic. I remembered why I continued to do what I did, even though there was no insistence on it. I enjoyed it. And, after all, what did it matter if someone was watching me? He hadn't turned me in. He hadn't taken me out. If there's one thing I've learned it's that there's no sense worrying about something you have no control over. I would just start varying my routine more.

I went to bed and slept well. Until I was rudely awakened.

They've been working on the street outside my apartment. On one level, I understand it. They're putting in those handicap access corners on all the blocks around me, and they do the work early because it's been very hot. But...it's been too early in the morning for that much noise.

I couldn't sleep any longer so after my usual morning routine, I left my apartment to pick up some stuff. I drove to the next corner and found one of the workers replacing the street sign.

He wasn't paying any attention to me, so I just sat there watching him...and looking around. We were the only one's about. When he got down on his knees to work on the base, I took one more look around. Still no one.

Point, press, Flash.

I drove away, glancing in the rear view as he and the sign sagged to the right.

 Let's see what Del does with that, I thought.

I spent the next few hours picking up some food, having breakfast, and making my 6 month doctor's appointment. I was heading home when I decided to arbitrarily turn off Woodbridge Avenue into a development I'd never driven through before. I figured to go a few blocks, make a left, a few blocks, then another left, and I'd wind up back on Woodbridge. It was pretty quiet there. No one around, no other cars moving, until I saw him.

He seemed to be picking weeds out of his lawn. I drove completely around the block and approached him again, slowly. We were the only one's around.

Point, press, Flash.

I looked back when I reached the corner, and saw him lying there. I made my left and headed home.

I was feeling better about things, but I waited until late in the afternoon to check my mail. Nothing in the box.

Strangely, I felt a little disappointed.

Crazy Days of Summer.....

We're into July now, so the year's half over. My family has had a run of ceremonies so far that you might expect from an Irish Catholic clan. Personally, I've passed the 2 1/2 year mark for the transplant, and I'm coming up on my 60th birthday. All in all, everything is good.

We've had a great run of weather this last week and yesterday I decided to drive down to Monmouth County. My car has air conditioning, but I prefer what an old friend of mine used to call "260 AC" - 2 windows, 60 miles an hour. The radio doesn't work, but I have a small, portable one with ear buds and I found a station with some old rock, driving music.  Moving along and feeling good.

I stopped for breakfast in Hazlet, at a Perkins. I know, there's one near where I live, but I used to take my daughter here when we lived nearby. Good times.

I drove down Route 35 for a while just enjoying the day. When I decided to head home, I found myself passing Middletown, so I stopped at their library. I hadn't been here in a while. I noticed that the parking lot was relatively empty, but that may be because it was the Friday prior to the Fourth of July weekend.

You enter through an automatic door into a vestibule, then there's another automatic door into the library. To the left of the vestibule are the rest rooms and meeting rooms. To the right is a small alcove with a window. Seated in the window was an older man playing with his cell phone.

I entered the library and browsed the selection of books-for-sale that they have there. When I came out, I noticed that the guy was still sitting in the window. I turned in to the rest room area and watched him for a few minutes. I noticed that he had his phone plugged into the wall. This seemed odd to me. I keep a charger in the car but it uses the lighter. I never carry my home charger.

 No one came in or out while I was watching. I took out the Flasher. I hadn't used it since I'd gotten that weird note in the mail but now I had the itch.

I walked outside, waited a bit, then walked back in. No one else was around. I waited again near the rest rooms, but no one passed and the guy never looked up from his phone. Must've been browsing some web sites.

I stepped out, looking around. I could see the library desk through the doors, and there was no one there. I walked quickly toward the guy. Looked around again, then..

point, press, Flash..

and I exited the library. I walked back to my car, and sat there for about 10 minutes. No one came running out.

I headed home. Still feeling good.

I grabbed my mail on the way in. It looked like the usual assortment of ads, maybe with some extras due to the holiday. I was mistaken. When I sorted through it, I found brochures from the Middletown Library.

The same day!

I was getting worried. I sent a picture and a text to my contact number. I wanted to speak to someone right away.

About 20 minutes later, I got a message. Craig would meet me in the morning.

......................................................................................................................................................................

I drove over to the Menlo Park Mall early. I had agreed to meet Craig there at 8:30 in the Food Court, way before the stores opened. At that time, there shouldn't be many people about. Even the food shops don't open till 9.

I took the escalator up to the second floor and saw that Craig was there already. It looked like he was the only one there.

I took the seat across from him.
"Thanks for coming, Craig."
"No problem, Mr. O'Neill. It's my day off and I had no other plans."
"I didn't mean to ruin your day off.."
"It's OK. It would've been hard to work something out if I was on duty." He paused. "I understand You've been getting some threatening mail?" It sounded like a question.
"Not threatening, exactly, just..I don't know..strange."
"I heard about the Penney's note, and now you've gotten something else, right?"
I filled him in on everything - the Events at Penney's and the Middletown Library and the stuff I'd found in my mailbox both times.

"Look," I said, "Here's the stuff I got..the calendar note and the brochures. Maybe you can have someone look at them. I don't know..fingerprints, maybe." I handed him a plastic bag. "Mine are obviously on there. My fingerprints, I mean."
"I understand, Mr. O'Neill, but I can't promise anything. The project is off the table for now, so I'm going to have to have these tested on the sly. Fortunately, there are some agents that still feel they should thank you for the Givings situation." He chuckled, then went on. "I have to tell you that Mr. Jones and all of his associates - at least the ones we know about - are all accounted for. Since the Bin Laden kill, and with the 9/11 Anniversary coming up, the whole Department is on high alert. In fact, Mr. Jones is in Washington with Mr. Smith and the rest of the People Upstairs, and so is Agent Doyle."
"So, you're saying that we should rule them out?"
"At least for now, I would think."
"Then who does that leave?"

There was an awkward pause. I looked across at him, and he looked down at the plastic bad I'd given him. Finally, he looked up.

"Agent Doyle has a theory, though there isn't any proof."
"What is it?"
"What?"
"You know, the subject of our.."
"I know who you mean..I ..How? How does he know who I am? Where I live? What I look like?"

Another pause.

:We don't know. Agent Doyle theorizes that since the subject was chosen by Mr. Jones, that it's possible that Mr. Jones provided that information....We just don't know."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Nothing. Agent Doyle believes that if he meant to harm you, he would have done so already. We think he's just having fun. That he's letting us know that he's still out there by toying with you. It makes some sort of sense."
"So, you're saying I have nothing to worry about?"
"No. Well, at least not right now. But you do need to be very attentive to where you are and who's around you. We will try to get you some information on the subject - background, a picture, something - but all of the Project files have been reclassified and locked down. It won't be easy."

"Can you at least tell me what he looks like?"
"Not from personal experience. Agent Doyle says he's an average person - average height, weight, etc. - that he blends in. Sort of like you."
Oh great. I just need to watch out for someone I wouldn't even notice. Just great."
It's the best we can do for now, Mr. O'Neill. I'll pass this on to Agent Doyle, and will be back in touch when I have some information."

He stood, and put out his hand. I shook it.

"Have a good weekend, Mr. O'Neill."

Oh, sure.

What the.............

Recently, I've been thinking of driving up to New Providence. There's a place up there that I wanted to check out. Now, I don't have one of those GPS things - I don't like driving outside my comfort zone - so I found the website for the place I was interested in and wrote down the directions. These were from Google, and had a lot of "slight left turn" steps, so I also used MapQuest for directions, which seemed simpler.

Yesterday started out overcast, but by the time I'd made a few stops it had brightened up. I decided to make the drive right then. Both sets of directions start by me taking Lake to Martine to Park, with a few of those "slight left turns". Neither set of directions mentioned that what I thought would be 3 separate roads were actually 1 road with a few curves. It took me a while to figure out that the different towns I passed through renamed their sections of the road.

When I got to Scotch Plains, I had a problem. Google said to take a road which I couldn't find because it had no street sign, and MapQuest left that turn off it's instructions completely. I did figure it out after a few false moves that kept bringing me back to Route 22 (one of the worst roads in New Jersey), but there was construction and a huge back-up in the middle of the turn. I took this as a sign, and turned around and went home.

Like most people, I check my mailbox when I get home. The mail is usually delivered between 10:00 and 2:00.Yesterday, I got home about 11:30 and saw that the mailman was just getting out of his little truck down on the next corner, so I just went inside.

This morning, since the forecast was for rain, I ran a few errands, and was back about 10:30. I checked my mailbox and found one small, plain, white envelope.

It was completely blank and unsealed. No postmark, not stamp, no address of any kind. Inside was a page from one of those day-per-page type calendars. On the back of the page was written..

J. C. PENNEY'S!?!

 INTERESTING.

... in printed, capital letters.

 

The page was from the weekend and could've been in the mailbox since yesterday. Hell, it could've been there since late Saturday.

I had no idea what this meant, or who it was from. My only guess was that someone from DHS was letting me know that they were still keeping tabs on me. I took pictures, texted them to my contact number, and left a message.

About 20 minutes later, I got a response.

They hadn't sent it.

So now I have to wonder..if they didn't do this then who?

And, why?