Rodger waited at the platform, irritated and staring at his phone that was about to run out of battery. He told his boss that selling their products in some unknown little village in the middle of nowhere was not going to be effective, and although his boss politely encouraged him to try anyway, Rodger knew deep down that it’s all corporate greed that brought him here. After all, he could see it with his back-eye.
Besides himself, Rodger didn’t know anybody else who had a back-eye, nor was it socially acceptable to go around asking, but ever since he was born, he could see much better with the eye at the back of his head. He could really see what people meant when they spoke – their desires; their wants. People looked quite differently when he turned his back to them and their mask fell off because they thought nobody was looking. But little did they know that Rodger could observe them secretly through his thick, curly locks.
Rodger’s phone was the only other source of light aside from a distant lamp post by the station house at the other end of the opposite platform. This whole place was uncivilised, Rodger thought. Like the dark ages when street lamps didn’t exist. Who was even going to buy eye drops from some random salesman out here? Rodger knew coming here was a bad idea, but as long as he got paid, he kept making those useless trips. But how he wished he were home instead, standing under a stream of hot water in his comfortable shower, then eating some leftovers while mindlessly watching whatever first show he found mildly entertaining on TV.
He hated the countryside more than he could ever put in words. The smell of dung thick in the air when the fields were being fertilised, the buzzing of bugs flying into his face, trying to get into his eyes and mouth all day long. He couldn’t even rest anywhere. There were no shops, no restaurants, no coffee places to sit down and enjoy his lunch break. Instead, he had to work relentlessly all day long going from house to house, barely making any sales.
But more than anything, he hated the trains out here. Not only did they stop in every single little station known to mankind, making the journey fifteen thousand times longer than it would’ve otherwise been, but they were also unreliable to a fault, and now he was stuck here because of some issue with the tracks causing the previous train to ask all its passengers to disembark. Or, well, it was just one passenger taking the train so late at night – Rodger himself. He was cursing his luck as his phone’s battery finally died, the light flicking off.
With a silent sigh, he shoved it into his pocket and began scouring the station. It was a small place, nothing much to see: a wired fence ran around the premises and separated the station from the grassland around it; to his left was a staircase leading to a narrow underground passage that connected the station house to the platforms. There were only two of them, the one he was on and the one opposite. He suddenly spotted a figure on the other side and jerked, feeling his heart jump to his throat.
The figure was staring at him, Rodger could tell. It was a tall man, but from this distance, in the dark, it was hard to make out any details. What does he want, Rodger wondered, fidgeting from foot to foot. He dropped his gaze to the platform, then looked at the tracks. Standard rails. Just your run-of-the-mill steel. Was the man still looking at him? He wondered. He dared lift his gaze up and felt the man’s eyes piercing him, as if he was standing there like a lamb at the mercy of a gigantic wolf.
Moving like he was possessed, the man’s body swayed ever so slightly back and forth as if in prayer, as if he was chanting something wordlessly. Rodger’s entire body tensed and he shrunk into himself. “He must be drunk”, Rodger concluded. “Or on something”. But Rodger was safe because he was on this side, and the man was on the other. There’s so much space separating them, he tried to convince himself.
He stole another look, barely able to see anything but the silhouette of the man’s suit and something else – something the man was holding onto tightly in his hand. It looked like a suitcase. “If it’s really a suitcase, he wouldn’t leave it behind and rush towards me over the track, would he?” Rodger wondered. But if he’s a local, he might know the train schedule, and then he’d know not only when it was safe to cross, but how much time he’d have to come back. Not like anybody was going to steal the suitcase if he left it there for a minute.
Rodger’s hands were sweaty despite the light chill in the air. He was beginning to feel desperate. If he could only turn around and look at the man with his back-eye, he’d know immediately if there was reason for alarm. What if the man meant no harm to him at all?
“But what if he’s waiting for me to not pay attention? The tracks are really slim, it’s not that far,” he thought, swallowing despite how dry his throat had felt. But he didn’t even have much money on him. Would that save him?
“Hello? Do you need help?” Rodger shouted, trying to sound friendly, but his voice cracked. The man didn’t respond.
Rodger strained his eyes to see if there’d been any reaction and felt a chill run down his spine. Did the man just move in his direction? Rodger wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it. Maybe, like an idiot, he’d just announced his presence? The man probably hadn’t even noticed him before. “He was just looking in my direction. But now he knows I’m here.” Rodger thought.
“If you have any business with me, then say it!” he shouted, his stomach turning and shoulders shaking.
He noticed a distant light coming towards them – it was his train. Finally. Safety.
The train quickly rolled into the platform. Without casting any further looks at the man on the opposite platform, Rodger wedged himself inside through the doors, rushing in and falling into the first seat he saw, shutting his eyes like a kid burying himself under a blanket to block out the monsters lurking in the dark.
But Rodger was curious, and as soon as the train began moving, he looked back at the other platform, first with his back-eye, but he couldn’t sense a thing.
Then, he slowly turned and opened his front eyes. He stared at the platform illuminated by the train’s light, and saw, on the other side, standing at the edge of the pavement and staring back at him nonchalantly – a tree. Just a tree.