SECTION NINE

Entry #0065: Talking with Monica
03-18-2009

This time I called her, this morning. I couldn't stop thinking about Monica and the fact she would be returning to her home someday soon.

I wanted to discuss the distance problem that revolved around a possible developing relationship, but first I ask her how much longer she was going to stay here. She said she had thought two weeks maybe, but considering the circumstances in my own life, unknown enemies pursuing me and all, she said taking the bait out of the picture might be the best plan, and that she might have to leave sooner. Alright, this began to sound more and more like an excuse to me. That's when I point-blank asked her if she was afraid of starting a relationship with me. She told me that was part of the problem, that the distance was a major factor. She told me that most of the relationships she had in the past were short-termed, and her psychic ability seemed to create problems for them, that it was too intimidating for them. They always felt like she was reading their minds and it make them paranoid. I asked her if she could read minds. She said no, but sometimes she could sense what people were feeling. I told her I had no problem with her being psychic, but she said most of the guys she'd been with said this at first too. I wanted to get more into this, but in the background I heard her Aunt Edith calling her. So she had to go.
Yeah, that's right, she had to go.

Or could I prevent that from happening? Could I convince her that she aught to consider living in the desert? Move up here to be with me? Or perhaps I can move down to the city with her? Unfortunately my problem would follow me down there, and things might only get worse. I had to resolve this problem and get the monkeys off my back before I moved anywhere. Perhaps after that, she would be willing to pursue an actual relationship. I decided I would tell her about this all this next time we talked.


Entry #0066: To Take the Bait or Not to Take the Bait
03-21-2009

Last night I called Leo, and told him everything that had been going on. He chuckled and said it sounded like the vultures are circling their prey. I didn't think it was funny. But he seemed to agree with what Monica said, that "they" might be using her as bait to draw me out. And he also thought she was afraid of relationships.

I also asked him when he could come out and visit me, perhaps help me thwart these annoying goons. He said he had better hold off just in case they might use him as part of their scheme to lure me out. Which made me think that they most likely don't know exactly where I live, just the general vicinity. If they spotted Leo entering the Valley and driving directly to my cabin, that would be bad news for me.

So no one wants to be the bait. Not Monica, not Leo. Which equally means they can't help me either, except by staying away from me. It was sad, but true. Since I am alone in this, I have to deal with it alone. We hung up after some idle chitchat.

I decided I can't hide out at Area 57 forever. I have to get out and scope out the town for those two goons. Soon.


Entry #0067: Return of the Mysterious Black Van
03-24-2009

The rats are starting to come out of the woodwork now -- finally.

I went to scope things out, see if I could detect any high strangeness in town. So I went to the Kountry Kitchen for breakfast today. I ordered flapjacks with maple syrup, and a side of link sausage, and coffee. I took one of the tables by the large windows, facing the street, Mulvern Avenue, watching cars go by, perhaps three or four per minute, since this was a small one-horse town. Occasionally a pedestrian would walk down the sidewalk. My plate of scrumptious food arrived, with a mug of hot coffee.

The Post Office was across the street, a large red brick building. Which reminded me, cancelling my P.O. Box was only smart, so my pursuers couldn't trace me that way. Although that means I am cutting myself off from the world, but I plan to resume my public address as soon as this whole fiasco is over - and I have no idea when that will be.
Paranoia makes you do strange things.

I was nearly finished with my meal, as I scooped up a bite of dripping flapjack, when suddenly I saw something out the window, almost putting the bite in my mouth, then stopped dead. In the Post Office parking lot I saw a familiar black van, exactly like the one I had seen in Sioux Falls, across from my apartment building! My neck hairs bristled - and my appetite died, as the fork dropped into the plate. This couldn't be happening. I had to take a closer look, just in case this wasn't what I feared. But if it was -

I jumped out of the seat, paid for my meal, and dashed out the front door. The traffic being light as usual, I walked swiftly across the street, then slowed down when I reached the sidewalk. Catching myself, I slowed my pace and walked casually through the parking lot, as if I were nonchalantly heading toward the Mulvern Daily Press building. As I crossed behind the black van, I saw the expected blacked out license plate. Holy shit!


Entry #0068: Return of the Mysterious Black Van Part II
03-27-2009

Alright. I felt sure that those two men in the back of the multipurpose hall at Sky High Ranch were looking for me, and this was obviously their van -- the same van I !ad seen in Sioux Falls!

I circled around the newspaper building, and as casually as possible snuck back to my vehicle. I headed down east along Mulvern Avenue, deciding to take the long way around back to my cabin, that old paranoia infecting me once again. On second thought, it would be wiser to not go home right away. I considered paying Calvin Hodges a visit instead, tell him this current development.

Why were they at the Post Office? Obviously trying to find out exactly where I lived, since I already feared they had narrowed it down to the Valley in general, or even near Mulvern. Good thing I cancelled my P.O. Box, in case they ask the Postal clerk questions about me.

But if I was lucky, they could be just randomly checking this particular town out since they could have easily figured out I had lived here in my teenage years, and speculated that I may have moved back here. But then that means they would have somehow ascertained my legal name. And if they attempted to trace my pseudonym, R. R. Stark, via various publication outfits I've used, a privacy contract would prevent them from this. Many authors wish NOT to be found, you know.

Since I had come here incognito, there's no way they could know my alias, which I concocted just last Summer. Bert Green could be anybody, and a name like that could be found in most phone books in any town or city, I would think.

Alright, so I drove up Crystal Creek Road for a mile and turned to the right on Foothill Road, and trundled toward the old five-acre ranch property that used to belong to my family. A new road had been made just east of the property line, sometime after I left home. I didn't have time to reminisce, so I stopped and parked before I reached the property, where there was nothing but a wide field of greasewood bushes and a few Joshua trees. I grabbed the binoculars out of the glove compartment and stood next to the Blazer. I put the binoculars to my eyes and scanned the town below. Essentially Mulvern consisted of the one main avenue and several cross streets that spanned for about one mile and a half. Up on the slope, especially from Foothill Road, you could see almost everything. I scanned over to the Post Office, noting that the black van was still in the parking lot. I felt confident that the postal clerk couldn't give any inquirers any information about me, especially strange men from out of town. If I was stupid and used my real name, then I would be sweating blood. Fortunately, I didn't even use my most prominent pseudonym, R. R. Stark, the name by which most readers know me. But then it occurred to me, what if those dark strangers had a photo of me and showed it to the clerk? The only way they knew what I looked like was through certain web sites that had my ugly mug posted in the bio sections, but luckily this was a photo of me wearing sunglasses and a goofy straw hat -- although I had deleted most of them recently (and stupidly kept some).

Then I noticed two dark-suited men come out of the Post Office.


Entry #0069: Dark Strangers from the Black Van
03-30-2009

Yeah, just as I expected, they wore black suits. Their hair was dark and faces clean-shaven. They could have been CIA agents, or Mafia thugs, Wall Street executives, or basic city-slickers, or just about anybody. But unfortunately, I knew this was not the case.

They got into their black van, and took off west on Mulvern Avenue. I was hoping they would leave, as I followed them with the binoculars. After a half-mile it pulled into the L and M Motel. I sighed heavily, realizing they planned to stay the night, or even longer. I waited, seeing them go to the main office, and soon a motel clerk showed them to one of the rooms, gave them the keys and they entered.

Incidentally, I never knew what the L and the M meant. Probably Larry and Moe. So where was Curly Joe?

I got back in the Blazer and headed down the road, toward Mesa. Just in case, I still decided to visit Calvin and not go straight home yet. The day was not over yet and those men in black might still be on the prowl. Whoever the hell they were.

I feared they'd find me eventually. What did I do to draw attention? What did I do to blow my cover? Or did they know where I was all along?


Entry #0070: A Visit with Calvin
04-02-2009

On my cell phone I tried to reach Monica, to tell her what was going on, but I only got her voicemail. Maybe she left town already. I did reach Calvin, told him about the dark-suited men in town, and he said I could come right over.

After I got off Foothill Rd and turned left on Mesa Road, I drove a few blocks, then right on Mountain View Road, and parked in the dirt driveway to his humble abode. Calvin was still skeptical when I told him what happened in town earlier today. Calvin thinks I'm making something out of nothing, that those two men were not what I thought they were; probably just travelers passing through. While still there, I called Leo on my cell phone, and of course, he believed me. Leo suggested I stay away from those goons, stay at my cabin for a while, and make some kind of plan to thwart "them." I told Calvin that Leo believes me because he has had similar problems in the past with articles he had published. I asked Calvin to humor me if anything. Because I needed help in formulating a plan if these two goons are indeed searching for me. I asked him, should we set up a diversion, a distraction, something to get them out of town, or what?

Calvin said he felt funny about humoring a whacko nut-job, but that he'd help - reluctantly, as long as I committed myself to a psychiatric hospital afterwards, he joked.
Unfortunately, I was feeling desperate, and probably shouldn't be relying on someone who thought I was a mental case. But, then again, I probably was. Perhaps this was all some crazy delusion - and it was all in my head.


Entry #0071: Another Talk with Monica
04-04-2009

I finally reached Monica. I told her everything that had been happening, that matters were escalating, about the black van and the two dark strangers I had spotted. Again, she stressed that I lay low, stay out of sight, that I should stay at my cabin for a while and not go to town for a while. I told her Leo said the same thing. Fortunately, I had a stockpile of canned and dried foods in my pantry. Then I brought up my ideas, that either she could think about moving to the desert someday, or that I might move down where she lives. (Remember, I can't reveal where people actually live in this account, for their own protection - and mine.)

She said she would consider these possibilities, but then she told me she was leaving tomorrow, that she had stayed much longer than expected. She said we could talk on the phone and e-mail, stay in touch this way.

She told me she had no intention of cutting me off, but to keep in touch. Besides, she feels it's better that I resolve this crazy matter with the dark strangers first before she and I get involved in any way at all. I told her I knew that it would be totally unwise for me to draw her into my problems, so I understood that it be better if she returned to the city. I told her I wanted to see her one last time, but she said that one last time might be the bait "they" take. I sighed in despair, realizing she was right. So we said our good-byes. After our phone call, I sat there in a depressing funk. I grabbed a DVD to watch -- Along Came Polly, a lighthearted romantic comedy - which didn't make me feel any better. I pulled that out and watched Aliens instead. I felt much better after that.


Entry #0072: The Tracking Device
04-07-2009

It's been only a few days of isolation, keeping myself holed up at the cabin, but mostly down in the Area 57 bunker. Just in case those men in black are looking for me down in Mulvern, or elsewhere in the Valley, or wherever.

I had to get outside for a bit. Breathe some fresh air. So this morning I was hosing down the desert dust off my green Blazer, which looked mostly brown. That's when I found it! A small black object, the size and shape of a match box, magnetically attached to the underside of my left rear wheel well! It was clearly a tracking device. Instinctively I looked around, scanned down across the slope, down toward Mulvern - seeing nothing unusual. Of course I wouldn't. Obviously this thing was placed their while I was in town, not long ago I imagine, by those dark strangers that came to town, I knew. Somehow they figured out which vehicle was mine. It might have been the same day I saw them at the Post Office, except you'd think I would have seen them snooping around my vehicle while I was sitting in the window at the Kountry Kitchen. Or maybe they attached it some time when I was getting groceries. Whenever it was, they were definitely crafty devils.
Alright, what should I do with it? Tie it to some stray dog that'll wander all over the desert, leading those goons on a wild goose chase? Or a stupid dog chase, actually. Perhaps I'd better just get a hammer and smash it to pieces.

Damn! Obviously they tracked me to my cabin, so they know where I live! So it didn't matter what I did with the freaking thing. The damage has been done. I was exposed!
So now what? Get a machine gun and plenty of ammo, press my back up against the wall of my cabin and shoot any intruders? Or hide like a coward down in the well-concealed bunker of Area 57 where they can't find me? Or so I hope. At the moment, I don't know what to do. Except panic!

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