Halley's comet | Steve Harrington

xviii. irregular roadkill

"𝑺𝒉𝒖𝒕 𝒖𝒑,"

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

It was dark. Not the kind during the summer, where you could see the different dark blues and blacks painting the sky with a sense of familiarity and home, but the kind that held the horrors little kids would hide from under blankets. The trees jutted up more jaggedly than they seemed to in the day time, each branch looking like a possible murder weapon.

A high pitched whine came from in front of them. Too far away to see, but loud enough for them to know it was relatively close. The way the trees condensed and cast large shadows only fed into Halley's bad feeling.

She and Nancy both turned to each other, stopping in their tracks at the sound.

"What, are you tired?" Jonathan asked, sounding pretty tired himself. The argument from earlier had been overshadowed by the two teasing Halley about her quick reaction to a family of raccoons scuttling around in shrubs. In her defense, they're glowing eyes made them look ferocious.

Halley shook her head, "Shut up," she whispered. The wind was blowing, but the sounds of leaves were too harsh to be because of a breeze.

"What?" he asked, trying to follow the two girls' gaze.

"We heard something," Nancy said, taking a few steps forward, and another whine sounded out. A cry for help. Halley cringed. Though, it seemed Jonathan heard it this time, because, he quickly turned, his flashlight bobbing.

Despite her gut telling her to go home and forget about everything, Halley was the first to step toward the noise, hoping the other two couldn't hear the way her teeth chattered in fear.

Jonathan took to the middle, shining a path in front of them and the girls took watch on either side, making sure nothing was following them. The cries were getting louder. Each beam from their flashlights shook with a fear none of them spoke of.

While looking through a canopy at a passing bat, Halley jumped at the sound of Nancy gasping. "Oh, God."

In front of them was a fallen deer, blood matting it's fur around the neck. Its limbs were sprawled out beneath it, and it only cried again when they got closer. Nancy crouched down, reaching her hand out, but then deciding against touching the animal. It didn't even move it's head.

"It's been hit by a car," Halley muttered, catching Nancy's eyes as she looked up at her.

"We can't just leave it," she finally said, looking down at the deer, then back to the Byers. Looking away, Halley nodded. She knew the deer was in pain, and that they weren't equipped to help it, even if it could be helped--but the idea of doing... that. Even if it was in the deer's best interest.

She couldn't help but wonder what Will would have named it.

Nancy reached in her pocket weighing the gun in her hand before looking down at the deer. She stood up, her lip quivering, until Jonathan gently took the weapon. "I'll do it."