Roadside

It was a crisp night; a veil of low-hanging fog covered a rural forest road, the smell of petrichor was thick from a storm brewing in the distance and a single combo gas station and mini convenience store with bright neon lights stood at one side of the road; all in all, it was just another boring but peaceful night at work. A night of sitting behind the counter or meandering about the inside of the building reorganizing things as you did. There was a small tv used mostly for the news and weather along with the quiet radio that filtered through the stores' speakers, oh the joys of working in a 24-hour station in an isolated area. It was only around 2 in the morning, you still had a few more hours before the morning shift came in to take over.

The fluorescent lights flicker gently as you happen to catch a glimpse of a rather well-maintained old VW van pulling over on the opposite side of the gravel road from the station. It was a pale blue color and littered with various stickers on some parts. Three men slowly emerge from the van at their own pace, you can't help but take notice of their drastic tastes in clothing; not like there’s anything better to do at this hour than people watch when the opportunity arises… The tallest one looks like a dressed-down soldier and surprisingly he pulls out an actual paper map which is kinda weird, the service isn’t that bad out here; something you’re grateful for. The second guy is dressed in bright clothing and is climbing his way onto the top of the van and just… sits there for a minute and intently stares off down the road they came from, like he's looking for something before climbing down and into the back of the van. The last one is dressed all in black, a kind of streetwear look going on, he leans on the front of the van and lights a cigarette. The lights flicker again and you make a mental note to tell the manager about it.

Maybe those three are just double unlucky, lost and with dead phones and they’ve pulled over for a map break. You try to ignore them, not in the mood to go out of your way to be friendly to non-customers especially so late at night but there's something different about the way they carry themselves... At that thought you roll your eyes so hard they might pop out, you must be really bored or the constant buzzing of the fluorescent lights is starting to drive you nuts, you swear it's getting louder and now the tv is being jumpy. The storm must be getting closer. If those guys need help then they’ll just come over and ask for it. Plus walking over to a group of men in the middle of the night is some dumb shit right out of a horror movie.

You whip out your phone and scroll through the various apps, doing nothing in particular when you take a glance at the men again and the one smoking catches your eye and he doesn’t look away… at all. His expression is unwelcoming, with lazy hooded eyes and a frown etched into light brown skin. The radio raises and dips in volume. “Damn.” You think to yourself, got caught staring… when try to play it off and go back to your phone you find that you can’t look away and your thoughts suddenly start to race. It feels like the station is suddenly full of people and you feel a bit lightheaded, nauseous even... Where's that static buzzing noise coming from? These guys... This feels wrong, you don't know why, you can't put your finger on it. Your hair raises on end and something primal is telling you to turn tail and run. Shooting caution to the wind you say fuck it and decide you want these guys gone, how long have they been standing there? Did they move at all? Can they even read that map? And what the hell is going on with the lights and electronics in the station right now? Is the storm going to be that bad?

You muster up all the courage you can and leave the comfort of the well-lit store, your phone gripped tightly in your hand; the map app is thankfully working so you'll just ask where they're headed and give them directions anything to get them out of here. You make your way over to them remembering to plaster on a painfully strained smile, the one smoking notices, he never stopped staring and scrambles to make his way to you pretty quickly, faster than your walking pace. For a second you think he might straight up deck you in the face or plow right through you without even stopping, he certainly looks intimidating in the lighting. You barely take notice of the lights gently flickering out here too, the outside speakers sounding muffled and garbled. The man in black reaches you quickly on the station's side of the road and suddenly his whole expression and demeanor changes so quickly it could have given you whiplash.

His frown is now a lazy smile to match those eyes, it's smug and gives off the feeling that he knew you wouldn't be able to help yourself... You kind of want to slap that look off his face. He speaks calmly and quietly, what little fire you had going in your gut is snuffed out immediately as his voice draws you in. His voice has you listening so intently it reminds you of a child listening to their mother as she tells you why you should NOT talk to strange men at night. He has your full attention, you hear nothing but him. You manage to exchange pleasantries and the like as he tells you that he and his brothers are fine, they’re just taking a break and have their route figured out already. You don’t have much else to say, they don’t seem to need you or your services. Your gaze lingers on the VW, the back windows are tinted and there's a faint noise coming from it; probably the radio, but you're too far away to tell. You continue examining it until the guy in black pops into your vision again. It startled you out of your trance and he asks if you're feeling alright, you nod dumbly and quickly say your goodbyes and wish them good luck and hurriedly turn your back on the three, heading back to the safety of the station. You faintly hear the heavy backdoors of the VW open and slam shut, once inside the station you notice the brightly colored one is back on top of the VW. You don't linger on them for long as your head starts to throb and that static noise picks up again, you lock yourself in the break room for the rest of the night. Fuck the night shift.

You didn’t know it but you were lucky you walked away when you did. They don’t like people who pry and they don’t like nosey onlookers, Good Samaritans be damned. They’re working just like you, but their work is different… their work had them pulling over right across from a single gas station with bright neon lights on a crisp night; a thin veil of low-hanging fog covering a rural forest road, the smell of petrichor thick in the air. Their work was in the back of their van putting up a fight again, desperately trying to get the attention of a lone gas station employee, heavily muffled whimpers all they could manage. The brightly colored one had slipped into the van for a reason he had taken care of their work, finishing it. They lingered after to listen to the whispers that came from the woods, praising their good work.

You never gave the encounter a second thought just like you never thought twice about the news of a body found in the river not too far away from the station, VW tracks completely washed away from the storm. You never saw them again and your memory of those unsettling strangers became like static on an old television screen before completely fading away.