It was evening, and Jessica, my partner, and I were correspondents tagging along with border patrol agents in a pickup truck. We found ourselves at the US-Mexico border, followed closely by national guard troops in an armored truck.
The drive stretched on for three and a half hours, taking us from the bustling checkpoint to a remote location west of the Rio Grande. It seemed we had ventured deep into the heart of Big Bend. The landscape grew increasingly rugged, with jagged peaks piercing the sky and storm clouds gathering above, casting an eerie shadow over the land. Despite the impending storm, there was a certain tranquility in being surrounded by the untamed wilderness.
As we rode along the edge of the border, I couldn’t help but marvel at the natural beauty that unfolded before my eyes. The canyons, carved by time and weather, resembled ancient temples reaching for the heavens. The mountain range stood as silent guardians, their majestic presence instilling a sense of awe within me.
It was a stark contrast to the chaos and darkness that lingered at the border. Here, in this wild expanse, I found solace, even if only for a fleeting moment. Nature had a way of offering respite from the harsh realities of the world, and in that moment, I felt a glimmer of hope.
Yet, as the storm clouds loomed ominously overhead, a nagging sense of unease tugged at my consciousness. There was something amiss, something hidden beneath the surface. The border, with all its complexities and controversies, held secrets that I was determined to uncover.
As the landscape unfolded, so did my thoughts. I pondered the lives affected by the border policies—the dreams shattered, the families torn apart. The notion of safety and security, once perceived as noble intentions, now seemed entangled in a web of corruption and darkness. I was here to shed light on the truth and expose the harsh realities that unfolded at this dividing line.
Little did I know that the truth I sought would far surpass anything I could have imagined. The storm brewing overhead seemed to mirror the turmoil within me, foreshadowing the tempest that was about to be unleashed upon my unsuspecting soul.
As the journey continued, my senses heightened, and a subconscious alertness urged me to be vigilant. I noticed subtle signs and small details that didn’t quite fit the picture. The soldiers’ unwavering stamina from carrying equipment by hand and wearing balaclavas, combined with the peculiar camaraderie between the soldiers and the CBP, created an unsettling bond that defied logic and morality.
As we arrived at their campsite, an unusual sight unfolded before our eyes. To my shock, this Bradley IFV stood in front of us, alongside the familiar presence of Caiman MRAPs, weathered up-armored Humvees fitted with machine guns that I could see where once used in Afghanistan as there are some with markings of pashto calligraphy, yet I wouldn’t be too surprised as US has brought back some equipment from the conflict and used them here at the border. As I continued to gaze at the camp, what I saw were Mexican Humvees in their green digital camouflage and even a few DN-IV Caballo APCs used by the Mexican army.
American and Mexican soldiers mingled, engaged in conversations, and shared laughter, an unsettling scene considering the heavy weaponry surrounding us. This level of military presence was something I had only witnessed during my time in Iraq.
I approached the CBP captain to inquire about the situation. “Captain, why are such heavily armed vehicles being used here?”
He looked at me with a serious expression. “We’ve gathered intelligence suggesting that cartels are escorting truckloads of some sort of special cargo.”
Curiosity piqued, I probed further. “How many are expected to be part of this escort?”
“We believe there will be 14 Ford cargo vans,” he replied.
“Good Lord, that’s a significant number,” I remarked, feeling a sense of unease wash over me.
In response to our questions, the captain decided to take us to a nearby hill that provided a vantage point overlooking the border. Jessica and I stood side by side, watching as the sun began to set.
Within minutes, we spotted headlights approaching the US side of the border. All 14 cargo vans came to a halt, surrounded by a mix of US and Mexican military personnel. As we observed, armed cartel members emerged from the vans. But what unfolded next left us in utter shock.
The cartels and soldiers greeted each other, seemingly in a friendly manner. However, our horror intensified when innocent migrants were forced out of the vans. Bound and frightened, they pleaded for mercy in Spanish.
It wasn’t until later, as the sun dipped below the horizon and darkness embraced the land, that the pieces began to fall into place. The shadows grew deeper, revealing the sinister truth that lurked just beneath the surface. I saw the glimmers of fangs, the hunger in their eyes, and the chilling realization washed over me.
Jessica and I exchanged dismayed glances. The cartels herded the migrants toward the soldiers, and in a grotesque instant, both American and Mexican troops sank their teeth into the defenseless victims’ necks, drinking their blood.
They were not just soldiers and border patrol agents; they were predators and creatures of the night. Literal vampires that are federal troopers. My heart raced, and my mind struggled to process the revelation. How could such darkness have infiltrated the very institution entrusted with protecting the border?
The sight was beyond comprehension. I turned to the captain, only to find him gripping Jessica’s shoulders with one hand, while his mouth latched onto her neck, consuming her life force. With a wicked grin on his face, he tore off her shirt, exposing her chest, and caressed her left breast. Then, with ease, he thrust his hand into her chest, extracting her throbbing heart, which he held triumphantly above his head.
“You see, my boy, that is the special cargo we’ve been waiting for,” he declared, his voice chilling my soul.
“Why?” I managed to choke out, my voice trembling.
“Why? Because, in exchange for our service, we demand only sustenance. And now, my dear correspondent, have a heart,” he taunted, his fangs glistening.
Slowly, he glided toward me, levitating almost, and placed Jessica’s warm heart in my trembling hand.
“Now, all we need is a special correspondent who will accompany us permanently,” he whispered, licking his fangs in anticipation.
Fear and rage surged through my veins as I held Jessica’s heart, her life extinguished at the hands of this monstrous captain. I couldn’t comprehend the depths of depravity that had infected those entrusted with safeguarding the border. I realized that I had to escape this nightmarish scene and expose the truth to the world.
Summoning every ounce of courage, I took a step back, my mind racing with thoughts of survival and revealing the captain’s heinous actions. As I backed away, my hand still clutching Jessica’s heart, a mixture of fear and determination propelled me forward.
The night air felt heavy with malevolence as I stealthily retreated from the hill, desperate to distance myself from the Captain and his diabolical cohorts. I knew that exposing their dark secret was not only my duty as a journalist but also the only way to honor Jessica’s memory and prevent further innocent lives from being sacrificed. Then again, who would ever believe me. Of the US and Mexican government using vampires here on the border . Sure I could write about the atrocious acts committed by them. However, I’d be dead if I were to do something stupid.
As I slowly retreated, the captain’s eyes narrowed, sensing my resistance. “Where do you think you’re going, my dear correspondent? You can’t run from destiny.”
Fear mingled with shock, I could only muster my voice. “I won’t be a part of your heinous acts. I, I…will expose the truth, a-and make sure everyone knows and that you will pay the price.”
With a malicious grin, the captain’s face contorted into an expression of pure malevolence. “Oh, my naïve friend, you underestimate the power that we have. You think you can escape? You think you can change the course of this situation you’re in? You’re just a pawn in this grand scheme.”
As he lunged toward me, his fangs bared, I dodged his attack, stumbling backward. Falling to the floor as my heart pounded in my chest as I rolled down the hill.
“Go ahead and try to run, my boy, but you won’t get far,” said the vampire CBP captain, his voice dripping with malicious delight.
Fear consumed me as I attempted to escape the clutches of this monstrous captain. I sprinted away, my heart pounding in my chest, but the thunderous roar of engines emanating from the Bradley IFVs brought me to an abrupt halt. The sheer power of the vehicles and the realization of my isolation overwhelmed me. I found myself disoriented, not knowing where to go or how to escape the nightmarish reality I had stumbled upon.
In my panicked state, I failed to notice the approaching danger. Suddenly, a strong grip seized my shoulders, wrenching me backward. Startled, I turned to face a Mexican soldier who had stealthily closed in on me.
“Please, please don’t hurt me, I beg of you,” I pleaded, tears streaming down my face. Desperation and terror fueled my words.
A sinister grin crept across the soldier’s face as he tightened his grip. “Ven aquí, cabrón,” he hissed, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger.
My heart sank as I realized I had fallen into the clutches of another vampire soldier. I was surrounded, their vampiric presence closing in on me like a pack of hungry lions overpowering their prey.
Trembling, I looked around at the blood-soaked scene, the cries of innocent migrants still echoing in my ears. I knew I had to find a way to escape, to expose the truth and put an end to this horrific alliance between cartels and corrupted soldiers.
Summoning whatever courage remained within me, I mustered the strength to resist. “You are monsters, but I won’t let you destroy any more lives. The world needs to know the truth!”
Laughter erupted from the vampire soldier, a chilling sound that sent shivers down my spine. “Ah, the righteous journalist with delusions of changing the world. You’re a mere insect caught in our web, my friend. No one will believe your tales of vampires.”
There I found myself, trapped in the clutches of the captain, his intimidating presence looming over me like a battle-hardened gladiator. I couldn’t help but tremble at the sight of his herculean stature, my own feeble form dwarfed in comparison. His piercing gaze bore into my soul, instilling a deep sense of fear and helplessness within me.
As his vice-like grip tightened around my face, pain coursed through every fiber of my being. The captain’s cruel words cut through the air, resonating with a chilling finality. “Enough of this. You belong to us now,” he declared with a tone of finality.
From that moment on, my fate was sealed. I became nothing more than their personal journalist, a puppet whose purpose was to disseminate their fabricated narratives. Days blurred into nights as I documented their atrocities, compelled to write down every detail that I could gather. I painstakingly recorded their heinous acts, capturing the harrowing truths that they desperately sought to conceal.
Whether it was on paper, my laptop, or a tattered notebook, I chronicled the horrors that unfolded at the border. The weight of their false information burdened my conscience, for I knew the stark reality of what transpired. I became their mouthpiece, forced to propagate their lies to the unsuspecting world.
Yet, deep within me, a flicker of hope remained. I clung to the belief that someday, somehow, the truth would emerge from the shadows. I prayed that my reports, concealed amongst the sea of deceit, would be discovered by someone with the courage to challenge the web of lies spun by the captain and his cohorts.
In the dead of night, under the cloak of darkness, I poured my heart and soul into every word, weaving a tapestry of suppressed truths. The weight of my captivity rested heavily on my shoulders, but the fire of defiance burned brightly within me. With each sentence, I sought to reveal the hidden depths of depravity and corruption that plagued the border.
While the captain and his comrades reveled in their illusions of power, I knew that the human spirit could not be extinguished so easily. I harbored the hope that one day, the walls of falsehood would crumble, allowing the light of truth to break through. It was my duty, my unwavering mission, to ensure that the voices of the victims were heard, their suffering acknowledged, and justice finally served.
So, I wrote. I wrote with fervor, with determination, and with the belief that even in the darkest of times, the power of words could be a beacon of hope. I wrote with the knowledge that the day would come when these reports, the chronicles of their wickedness, would be uncovered, exposing the depths of their deceit.
Until then, I continued to play my part, navigating the treacherous waters of their control. Yet, deep down, I remained resilient, holding onto the belief that one day, the world would awaken to the truth, and the atrocities committed at the border would be laid bare for all to see.