The Midday Walkers

I take the old service road past the grain silos and the abandoned tractor depot on my way to the station. It’s a straight, gray ribbon of asphalt that cuts through the outskirts of town, lined with rusted chain-link fences and the occasional empty warehouse. No traffic lights, no roundabouts, just the occasional lorry rumbling past. Most people avoid it, but it’s the quickest way to catch the evening train.

That Tuesday, I was humming along to a forgotten tune, my mind already wrapped around the weekend—two whole days with Marcus after a month of long-distance phone calls and pixelated video chats. The sun was high, a pale autumn disc in a washed-out sky. The road was empty, as usual.

Then I saw them—two figures, far ahead, walking down the middle of the road. Not on the shoulder, not on the pavement that ran along the chain-link fences, but directly on the white line that split the asphalt. As I got closer, I slowed, frowning. It was a couple, maybe in their thirties, dressed in what I can only describe as ‘office formal’: he in a dark suit, she in a gray pencil skirt and a blouse. They walked with a stiff, almost mechanical gait, their steps perfectly in sync. They didn’t seem to notice my car, didn’t turn their heads as I approached. I honked once, lightly, but they didn’t move. I had to swerve onto the opposite lane to pass them, and as I did, I caught a clear look at their faces. They were pale, almost waxy, their eyes fixed straight ahead. Their mouths were closed, but their lips moved slightly, as if they were whispering to each other, or to themselves.

I shivered, even though the car was warm. I told myself it was just an odd couple, maybe tourists or lost office workers, but the memory clung to me. I picked up Marcus from the station, and we drove back the same way. The couple was gone. I didn’t mention them.

It happened again a week later. Same day, same time. I was on my way to the station, and there they were, in the middle of the road again. Same clothes, same stiff walk, same vacant stares. This time, I didn’t honk. Something in my gut told me not to. I slowed to a crawl, and as I approached, I saw their lips moving more distinctly. They were mouthing words, but I couldn’t hear them over the hum of the engine. I passed them, and for a moment, their eyes snapped to me. Their gazes met mine, and I saw that their pupils were pinpricks of black in milky-white irises. My heart lurched. I pressed the accelerator, and the car surged forward.

When I reached the station, Marcus was already waiting, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. I told him about the couple, expecting him to laugh it off. Instead, his face went pale. ‘You saw them too?’ he said. He told me he’d seen them on the platform, standing motionless, staring at the tracks, not boarding any train. A passing worker had told him they’d been there every day for weeks, but no one knew who they were. They’d tried to talk to them once, but the couple had just smiled, their lips moving in silent, unintelligible words.

On our way back, they were gone. But now I was scared. The next week, I took a different route. I avoided the industrial area altogether, even if it meant extra traffic. But when I got to the station, Marcus wasn’t there. His phone was off. I called his workplace, his friends, his mother. No one had seen him. At the station, a station attendant told me he’d seen Marcus talking to a couple matching the description before walking off with them into the back alleys near the silos.

I drove back, my hands shaking on the wheel. The road was empty, but as I passed the silos, I saw two figures standing by the chain-link fence. It was them. They were staring at me, their lips moving in unison, and this time, I could read the words on their mouths: ‘Come join us.’

I never found Marcus. The police searched the area, but there was no sign of him. I quit my job, moved far away. But sometimes, at dusk, when the light is low and the roads are quiet, I see them. They’re always the same, standing on the shoulder, their lips moving. And I know, one day, they’ll be walking down the middle of the road, and I’ll be beside them, unable to stop.