Walked out of the safe house this morning to find a white large windowless van with New Jersey plates parked to block the driveway. It had the words DELIVERY DRIVER in orange letters on the side and nothing more. Black windows. It made sure we saw it, then slowly drove away.

Had to stop by my house briefly to arrange some things and pack others. 15 minutes there. Weird noise on the roof, a whirring. Avoided the study but the ear pain began again. Still have it. Plus red face on one side. Burned feeling in my head and neck.

As we were walking to the car to leave, a black car, new, with Texas plates, drove by slowly. Turned around. Parked in the driveway across the street. I live on a cul de sac in a rural town. Everyone knows everyone. We do not know this car.

I waited to see what happened next, standing in the driveway.

A young white man gets out. Short, slick hair. Expensive business casual clothes. Shirt tucked in. Nice belt. Fancy shoes. Not the sort you see around there. Absolutely the type you find at Quantico. Or Blackwater.

I watched him go into the neighbor's front courtyard. Waited till he came back. I knew he wouldn't get an answer even if he knocked.

As the guy walked back toward his car, I strolled over.

“What happened at that house?” I asked, neighborly.

The man looked startled and suddenly very uncomfortable.

“Is he home?” He asked.

“Did you knock?”

“I wasn't sure if he was home.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He sputtered and stuttered. “I um, I was here about his direct TV.”

“With Texas plates?”

“It's a rental car.”

I smiled, Cheshire. It was the most obvious lie. The house in question had a dead old man in it from early January until just a couple of weeks ago, when someone realized he was missing. We only recently moved in, after the man had already died alone at home. His body was finally discovered and removed not too long ago. I am quite sure he did not have direct TV anymore.

“Got a card?” I asked, friendly.

He stuttered again. “I'm yeah.”

“Can I see it?”

He fumbled and produced a badge, the kind that opens secure workplace door pads. It said Dish Network, and had the name Nathan something.

“Thought you said you were with direct tv. This says Dish. Oops.”

Stammering. “Well, I came to ask him about switching.”

I stepped closer. “The guys who do stuff like that usually come on foot, in pairs, with a clipboard, wearing logo polos. And they're local.”

Nothing. Stares back.

“I meant a business card, so I could give it to him. A flyer. Something. For you. I'd do that for you.”

“I dont carry business cards.”

Staring contest. I blink first.

“Who are you, really?” I asked. Heart pounding. Even as I write this.

“I told you. Nathan with… Dish Network.” The eyes of a wolf.

“Uh huh.”

“Is he home?”

“Probably not. See you later, Nathan.”

I returned to my car, feeling like throwing up. They plan to kill me, I thought. This shitnis actually happening.

He called out, “Can't i just do my job in peace?”

I smiled and said, “I was gonna ask you boys the same thing. Funny.”

They know where I am, at all times. This is fucking horrible.

This is Nathan. And his rental car. And notice how he held his phone as I approached, filming me. If I was wrong about him, let me know. But i don't think I am wrong about him.