Pack Secrets || WLW

Pack Leader

 I must call Angela a dozen times on the ride from the sheriff's department to the highway. June follows Sheriff Gray's cruiser despite his attempt to make us stay behind. June's usually the stubborn one, but this time I'm the one who ignored his advice.

"She's not answering," I say, dialing her number again.

June doesn't respond. We haven't had a real conversation since we heard the news over Sheriff Gray's walkie but we both know what this means. In the next few minutes, we might see my best friend swinging from a tree on the side of the highway.

You have reached the voicemail box of...

I hang up, bouncing my legs to ease the jitter in my limbs.

"Oh shit," June says under her breath.

My head snaps in the direction she's looking.

I wish I hadn't looked. The scrambled eggs June made for me this morning threaten to make a second appearance as I take the sight in. Tears slide down my cheeks as I clamp a hand over my mouth.

June pulls the truck to the side of the highway and we stay like this for a moment. Her, staring at the dashboard. Me, refusing to peel my eyes away from the bodies dangling from the trees.

"I didn't think..." June doesn't finish her sentence.

She doesn't need to. I didn't think it would be this bad either. I've seen things in horror movies. Things gorier than the image in front of me, but something about it being real makes everything so much worse.

The bloated bodies stare down at us as we slide out of the truck and cross the highway to join Sheriff Gray. The image is burned into my mind. Even when I blink, I see them. Dark bags on pale skin. Black fingers and swollen faces. The air is tainted here, hard to breathe.

June's whispering something under her breath, something rhythmic.

"No." She shakes her head and starts over. "Five, six, seven..." She looks at Sheriff Gray. "What the hell is this?"

Gray heaves the old man sigh I've gotten so used to from him. He still scribbling something in his notepad as he answers. "Dead bodies, walker."

June's jaw clenches. "Why are there eight?"

Gray shrugs. It's the first time I've seen him without a snarky response.

June pushes him, clearly forgetting the incident in the parking lot when he threatened to shoot her.

His lip pulls into a snarl. "Watch it, Walker."

June jabs a finger into his chest. "You only told me about seven missing people."

"And what?" His voice is so loud it booms through the trees. "I don't have to tell you everything that goes on in this town. You ain't the leader of it yet!"

I'm only partially drawn into their conversation. Mostly, I'm staring at the bodies in the trees. My eyes flick from one body to the next, down the line, making sure none of them suddenly morph into Angela. I shake my head after the third time. The stress is making me crazy.

"June, let's go," I say, when I notice the sheriff absentmindedly fidgeting with the handcuffs on his belt.

Her and the sheriff exchange a silent glare. I slip my hand into June's and pull her along with me, toward the truck.

"What's going on?" I ask once we're far enough from listening ears.

June's shaking her head, refusing to look at me as we walk. "Something isn't right." That's all she says before clicking the truck unlocked and climbing in. Billy's sitting up in the backseat now, slumped over, but at least he's awake.