I was driving through the interstate, late at night, on one of those roads where its just empty as far as the eye can see. It’s cold, and there’s no light other than the dim beams of my ‘08 Corolla. I lost data a few miles ago and I just wanted to be home. I was pressing down on the gas. 60. 60. 70. 80. 90. 100. In the darkness, I suddenly made out a hobbling figure, walking across the road. I slammed on the brakes. The brief instant before I ran over that man felt like an eternity. I memorized every feature of his face before I killed him. He was old, with sagging skin and sunken cheeks. He was bald, save for loose pieces of white hair. But what scared me were his eyes. I looked in his piercing blue eyes and I knew that his death lasted as long as my murder.
Was it my fault? No. He was the one crossing a highway, in the middle of the night. He was the one who wasn’t looking for traffic. He was the one who didn’t see my beams.
These things do not make death easier.
I got out of the car(against my better judgment) and walked through thick blackness to find the body. For a moment, I almost believed I imagined the whole thing. But then, there he was. He looked like roadkill. I will spare you the details, except those that are necessary. Reader, I swear to you on all that is holy that that corpse had no eyes. While his skull was damaged, it wasn’t so ruined that his eyes should’ve been gone. But there were just two pits of empty flesh staring back at me.
The next hour I drove at the edge of my seat. I felt eyes in the woods. Maybe they were wild animals. Maybe. I was beginning to gain some confidence when the streetlamps came back. Just then, in the distance, a silhouette hobbled across the street. I braked properly this time. When they saw me, they shuffled to my window. Reluctantly, I rolled it down.
“Hi!” The young man said. He was tall, and crouched down to speak to me. “Are you headed down this path long?”
“No.” I lied. “I’ll be taking the next exit.”
“That’s where I’m headed!” He replied enthusiastically. “Do you mind if I ride with you for a bit?”
I let him in. After an initial period of discomfort, I began to appreciate his presence. His name was James. He was a farmer, and he owned several acres of land in the area. He seemed a bit old fashioned with his outfit and mannerisms, but he was a decent man. Finally, I asked the question building on my mind.
“So James,” I said. “What’s got you out so late at night?”
His expression darkened. “I’m looking for my father.”
In the dim light of the street I could not help but notice how blue his eyes were.
I turned my face to look only at the road. “Why? What happened?”
“There’s blood on your shirt.”
It took me a moment to realize my nose was bleeding. As I covered it, he began to speak.
“My father,” He began, “Is a very old man. He’s lived a long life. He’s not strong enough to work anymore, but he gets restless sitting at home. So he goes on walks. Hours at a time. He usually doesn’t come back until midnight.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“Nothing from the forests would harm us.” I could feel James’ eyes staring into the side of my head. “No. I usually trust him to find his way home.” But I heard him yell out, so something may have happened.”
Did the old man scream as he died? He didn’t. I was sure he didn’t. But even if he did, it was miles away. Surely this was a different person. It was impossible. It-
“-I asked you a question,” said James. “Did you see anything?”
“As the streetlamps whizzed past us, James was continuously revealed in light before being hidden in shadow. When the lights shone upon him, he was a friendly looking man, even if his smile stretched a bit too far. In the darkness, he was completely invisible, apart from his shining blue eyes.
“No. You’re the first person I’ve seen in a long time.”
James tilted his head. “Are you sure?”
I gripped tight to the steering wheel. “It’s been completely empty. It’s haven’t-”
James grabbed my shoulder. “Look at me.” He ordered. And I did. As we passed streetlights, he was covered and uncovered in light. Each time the dim lights revealed him, he took the shape of a different animal. First a fox, then a wolf, then a bear, then a different man, and finally himself. Through it all, his eyes remained that same color. That same shining blue. It occurred to me that I was being preyed upon.
“Are you sure?” He asked.
So I confessed. I told him exactly what happened, as it seemed from my perspective. In turn, he listened, and it felt like everything around me fell silent to listen, too. My heart rate slowed. When there’s nothing else you can do, there’s no point in stressing.
He let go of my shoulder. I had forgotten he was holding onto it. After a long pause, he spoke.
“As you leave, do not stop for anything. And when you leave, do not ever come back.”
Those were the last words he spoke to me. I drove alone after that, but for miles I was watched. There were many other strangers on the road that night. I doubt any of them would have done what James did, let me go with a slap on the wrist. But he saw me first, and I made it home safe that night.
If there’s a takeaway from this, it’s that I am very, very lucky. The next time I get the lottery wrong, or my packages are lost, I will think of this and remember I have spent enough luck to last several lifetimes. Sometimes I will see a bird watching me for a bit too long, and I will know they haven’t forgotten me. So I hang a feeder. It’s best to be grateful.