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“Hello…?”, I croaked into the phone, groggy in my sleepy state.

Damn, it’s 2:11 am. My mind drifted back to the old “Adam-12″ TV series and its police radio dispatches, “One Adam 12, One Adam 12, 2-11 in progress. One Adam Twelve, handle Code 2″.

Who would be calling me at this hour, again.

“Dad?”

Uh oh, this can’t be good.

“Dad, are you there?! Can you hear me?! Are you there?!” The voice was female and frantic.

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s going on?” I was slowly coming out of my sleepy stupor. My daughter doesn’t call me often at 2:11 in the morning; in fact, she never calls me at this time.

“I need help! Someone’s after me and I don’t know what to do!”

Now, I was fully awake!

“Ok, where are you?”, I asked, hoping that if I could get her to concentrate on something, anything, it would help her calm down.

“I’m in the car. I left the bar after work and someone’s been following me ever since. I sped up, slowed down, turned down side streets and the car is still following me! I don’t know what to do!”

She was panicking at this point. A bunch of questions ran through my mind but now was not the time to ask them. But why was she at a bar so late at night? Who’s car was she driving? She didn’t have a car.

“I’m turning down your street, come outside!”

I jumped out of bed, pulled on my scrub pants and headed for the front door. The early morning air was chilly against my bare chest as I opened the door and stepped outside but there was no time to find a t-shirt to wear. My cell phone was in my left hand and my .40-caliber handgun was in my right; I wasn’t taking any chances with whomever was following my daughter.

“OK, I’m in your driveway! Where are you?! He’s pulling up behind me!”

Michelle, there’s no car in my driveway. Where are you?”

Now I was starting to get a bit nervous.

The female voice on the phone was now frantic AND confused.

“Dan, what are talking about? I’m sitting in your driveway and that car is right behind me?!”

I was now very worried for this girl, “Honey, I don’t know who you are but you’ve dialed the wrong number. You need to get someplace safe and call the police.”

The girl on the other end of the phone was now crying.

“I can’t get out of here, he’s got me blocked in. Oh my God, he’s coming up to the car!”

The sound of breaking glass and the girl’s ear-piercing scream were the last sounds I heard before the phone call dropped.

 

Written by David A. Ufer

October 31, 2013 at 3:37 pm

DPchallenge: Unknown Caller

with 2 comments

“Hello…?”, I croaked into the phone, groggy in my sleepy state.

Damn, it’s 2:11 am. My mind drifted back to the old “Adam-12” TV series and its police radio dispatches, “One Adam 12, One Adam 12, 2-11 in progress. One Adam Twelve, handle Code 2”.

Who would be calling me at this hour, again.

“Dad?”

Uh oh, this can’t be good.

“Dad, are you there?! Can you hear me?! Are you there?!” The voice was female and frantic.

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s going on?” I was slowly coming out of my sleepy stupor. My daughter doesn’t call me often at 2:11 in the morning; in fact, she never calls me at this time.

“I need help! Someone’s after me and I don’t know what to do!”

Now, I was fully awake!

“Ok, where are you?”, I asked, hoping that if I could get her to concentrate on something, anything, it would help her calm down.

“I’m in the car. I left the bar after work and someone’s been following me ever since. I sped up, slowed down, turned down side streets and the car is still following me! I don’t know what to do!”

She was panicking at this point. A bunch of questions ran through my mind but now was not the time to ask them. But why was she at a bar so late at night? Who’s car was she driving? She didn’t have a car.

“I’m turning down your street, come outside!”

I jumped out of bed, pulled on my scrub pants and headed for the front door. The early morning air was chilly against my bare chest as I opened the door and stepped outside but there was no time to find a t-shirt to wear. My cell phone was in my left hand and my .40-caliber handgun was in my right; I wasn’t taking any chances with whomever was following my daughter.

“OK, I’m in your driveway! Where are you?! He’s pulling up behind me!”

“Michelle, there’s no car in my driveway. Where are you?”

Now I was starting to get a bit nervous.

The female voice on the phone was now frantic AND confused.

“Dan, what are talking about? I’m sitting in your driveway and that car is right behind me?!”

I was now very worried for this girl, “Honey, I don’t know who you are but you’ve dialed the wrong number. You need to get someplace safe and call the police.”

The girl on the other end of the phone was now crying.

“I can’t get out of here, he’s got me blocked in. Oh my God, he’s coming up to the car!”

The sound of breaking glass and the girl’s ear-piercing scream were the last sounds I heard before the phone call dropped.

Written by David A. Ufer

April 22, 2013 at 8:02 am

Two A.M.

with one comment

His cell phone lit up the darkened bedroom with its artificial illumination. The blue-white light pierced his closed eyelids a split second before the frosty, icicle-like tone alerted the arrival of a text message. He rolled over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand.

Two A.M.?! Who could be texting at this early hour?

He touched the screen to open the text message application.

“I saw you.”

Suddenly he was wide awake; his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He sat up at the edge of the bed and looked again at the message. There was no phone number, just “Unknown” where the sender’s name should be.

His mind raced. Who sent that message? How could they have seen him? He was always so careful. His skin was clammy with a cold sweat. Damp footprints followed him down the hallway’s oaken floor as he plodded toward the basement door.

He unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door, flipping the light switch as he carefully made his way down the stairs. The fluorescent tubes gradually brightened until the basement was awash in a sterile, antiseptic glow.

There is no way anyone saw me, he thought to himself as he surveyed his spotless man-cave. Man-cave, ha! It was more like an operating theater but as he liked to say, “To each his own”.  The windows had long been replaced with drywall when he converted the basement so nobody had seen him from the outside. He was careful to always pull into the garage and shut the door before transferring his “goods” from the van to the basement. He was very methodical; each and every “run” was planned out to the minutia with nothing left to chance.

He inspected the basement and all its containers and storage lockers with an attention to detail usually reserved for a nosy mother-in-law visit. Nothing was out of place or appeared out of the ordinary. Even if someone did see him, he had nothing to worry about; there was nothing to tie him to anything.

Now he was mad! It was never a good idea to make him mad; bad things happened when he got mad.

He looked at his cell phone again.

“I saw you.”

It taunted him, played with his head.

This is bullshit!

It was time for him to play some head games of his own. He slowly typed a reply to his anonymous antagonist.

“You’re next….”

Written by David A. Ufer

March 25, 2013 at 8:03 am