A Hero In The Dark

Chapter 2: Better Left Unseen

It's 11 am.

The bus could only take me to an area just an hour from the border. At which point, I called a taxi.

Once at the border, we stop for identification.

I wait in line at immigration to be approved into the country.

Seeing all the security in the facility make me nervous. It's not that they should be suspicious of me; I haven't done anything. Authority just tends to intimidate me. That's all.

"Next please," says the middle-aged man in the booth.

I approach steadily and hand him my documents. He begins looking them over.

"Reason for entry?" the officer asks.

"Only to visit friends," I reply.

"Duration of stay?" he asks.

"30 days," I answer, even though I am really not sure.

It's part of the cover story I've been roleplaying over and over in my head on the journey here.

The officer stamps the passport green.

"Welcome to America," he says. "Enjoy your visit."

I nod, take the passport, and leave the building.

I head back to the taxi that will take me further in. Hank, the driver, meets me as I approach the car.

"I'm going to use the restroom before we head out," he says.

I nod.

And so, I lean against the car with my arms crossed, taking in the fresh air while observing the area.

There are others doing the same. Parents with kids heading back to their vehicles, kids I hear needing to go to the washroom, police patrolling the common areas.

That's when I notice them.

At the edge of the border. Far away from any others.

Three tall men. All of them seeming to be extremely pale. Wearing long black trench coats and black sunglasses even though there is hardly any sun at all.

They stand outside a white van.

One of them meets my gaze. I'm a couple hundred feet away and I don't like the way he's staring at me.

I gulp.

Mogadorians. They have to be.

"Shit," I mutter under my breath.