Don't+answer+the+call+and+dial+911+instead.

You hit the "Reject" button, silencing the ringtone. Your fingers fly over the buttons, and with shaking hands you find the numbers.

9... 1... 1...

The operator's voice sounds: "911. What's your emergency?" You don't know where to start. You search for the right words, but nothing comes to mind. "Hello? Hello? Are you hurt? Talk to me." You struggle to breathe. "No...no. I'm not hurt. I...I..." Your voice is shaky. You take a deep breath and try to keep calm. "Are you safe? What is your emergency?" "I...I need help. I...I found a note. I..." "Do you need us to send help? Are you safe? Where are you?" "Well...I think so...I mean....yes. Maybe. No. I don't know." "Are you safe, sir? Answer the question." "I don't know." You squeak. "Is there anyone in the room with you?" "No...well...I don't think so." "Are you in danger?" "I don't...yes? I...yes. I'm in danger." "What is your location?" You give him your address, name, and callback number. Your voice is trembling with nervousness. "There is an officer on his way. Stay on the line until he gets there. Calm down and breathe. Please try to explain to me what happened." "I...I was eating breakfast on my balcony. And I came back in and found a note." "What did the note say?" "...I...it's long. Basically to meet them at Preston Building at 1 PM." "Who are they, sir? Do you know them?" "No...I don't know who they are. It's signed 'us'." "Have you searched the house? Did you see anyone?" "I searched a little while ago. I didn't find anyone." "Have you seen any vehicles pull up in your driveway?" "No...but...I mean...my back was turned. I supposed it could have slipped by without me noticing."

Your heart sinks lower as you hear yourself say the words. They could have broken in. And you would have never noticed. A tear gathers in your eye but you push it away. You try to stay calm and answer the rest of the officer's questions as best as you can. You jump when you hear the knock at your door.

"Police," says a firm, deep voice. "Open the door."

You hang up on the dispatcher and shuffle to the door. You open it to find a brawny man of about your height standing in the doorway, pointing a gun at your face. He lowers it when he sees you.

"Sorry," he murmurs. "Force of habit."

He leads you to his car and you climb in. You notice that his nametag reads "Officer Ulysses Stephen." You ride in silence as you are brought to the station. The yellow sticky note is crumpled in your hand, damp with sweat. When you arrive, you are led to a grey room with two chairs and a desk in between. There is another officer sitting in one of the chairs. His gold nameplate tells you his name is Deputy Frank. You take a seat in the opposite chair and stare nervously around. Deputy Frank asks you to give him the note, and you comply.

Deputy Frank hands the note to Officer Stephen. He takes it and leaves the room. Frank explains to you that this is not the first note they have received. As it turns out, plenty of men have reported threats made by "us." You take some comfort in knowing that you are not alone. The officer tells you that the note is being sent for DNA testing, which, he says, will not take long. He tries to take your mind off of things by making small talk, but you find it hard to reply. You are too preoccupied with the events of the day.

You look down at your watch and cringe. Your shoulders slump and you slide further into the metal chair. 1:25. You've missed your conference. You can't believe your luck. Just as you begin to question your decision, Officer Stephen comes in.

"There were no fingerprints found but yours," he reports, staring at you. His gaze shifts to Deputy Frank and he nods. Officer Stephen signals to you to follow him and you get back into the police car. You ask him where he is taking you. His reply is curt.

"Home. There is nothing we can do. We have tried to catch these guys for years now, and nothing seems to work. We will keep trying, but for now, there is no use for you staying in the station. We will assemble cameras at your house. That way, if anyone breaks in, we will know. But, other than that, there is nothing we can do."

"How do you know I won't be captured?" You inquire; your pulse has slowed a bit now, at least enough for you to speak normally.

"We don't. But if anyone leaves a note on your fridge again, we will be the first to know."

"Okay." You say. Doubt swims through your brain, but you decide to take his word for it. As he said, there is nothing you can do. You ride for a couple more minutes in silence, and then something dawns on you.

"Wait a second," you say. "How did you know that the note was on my fridge?" You had never mentioned that.

Officer Stephen looks at you through the rearview mirror, the sides of his mouth curving into a wry smile. "You're a quick one." He says, a tone of malice in his voice. Your brows furrow in confusion, why is he looking at you like that? You look out the window and notice something else. This isn't the way home. He has passed up your house.

"Excuse me, Officer, but...my house is back there," you motion backwards.

"I know," he says. "We're not taking you home."

//We?// You think. //We're// not taking you home? What does he mean by that? You look at him through the mirror and the glint of his nametag catches your eye. "Officer Ulysses Stephen."

U.S.

us.