Alan's first instinct when he hears the pulsing rumble of an aircraft engine and sees its searchlights piercing through the arched window over the desk is to run for the door. His second instinct, the wiser, is to stay right where he is, lie low until whatever strange craft is out there (it's flying low like a helicopter but sounds nothing at all like one) moves on. Then he can concentrate on figuring out what's happened to him and where he is.

It turns out to be pointless, in the end. The aircraft lands just outside, sending a tremor through the floor, and Alan's barely even managed to lever himself out of his seat before the door slides aside and figures march into the room. There are four of them, wearing blank black helmets that hide their faces and strange black armor outlined in stripes of neon red, and they are carrying staves. Alan swallows.

I am dreaming, he thinks. I fell asleep at the arcade at Kevin's desk, because it is 2:30 in the morning, and I am having a nightmare. Like the ones I used to have after Kevin disappeared.

But the armored figures are surrounding him now, laying hands on him, and this is far more vivid than any nightmare he remembers. Alan has to fight to keep his balance as he's turned roughly in a complete circle, the blank masks leaning in closer, examining him. One of the (soldiers? guards? what are they?) reaches up and removes his glasses, and he jerks. "What—hey—!"

They've all gone still now, looking at each other, making Alan more nervous than ever. One of them whispers a name.

"…I'm sorry, I don't understand what's happening here, but you're mistaken. My name is—"

But before he can continue they've got hold of him again, pulling him toward the door and whatever lies beyond.