The Pack (The Pack 1)

Chapter One

The smell of exhaust fumes hit me as I stepped off the Greyhound bus and into my new life. The driver didn’t even bother getting off since my luggage consisted of the duffel bag slung over my shoulder. I hadn’t taken two steps before he was bumping back over the shoulder and onto the road.

Guess Banks, Idaho wasn’t a hotspot for travelers.

I considered my options, which were exactly nil, and let out a sigh. I was literally standing on the side of the highway with no phone – thanks again, Mommy Dearest – and no real idea of what to do next.

A covered bulletin board caught my eye and I wandered over to it, hitching my bag higher on my shoulders. Considering it holds all of my worldly possessions, it should be heavier, I thought idly as I perused the board. It had the bus schedule and – thank you, God – a map of this tiny town. It wasn’t much but it gave me a direction to start walking once I figured out which way was south. According to the tiny map, there was a town called High Valley to the north, but nothing between here and there. I was looking for the only motel around which based on my own sketchy brand of logic should be in the center of the town.

I headed south, fingers crossed I was actually going south, and thanked whoever was listening once again that I’d had the foresight to wear tennis shoes when I told my mom I was going to live with Dad. I’d packed my stuff in anticipation of what would no doubt be an epic showdown. What I hadn’t expected was the sheer vindictiveness she’d displayed. When she realized she couldn’t stop me, she’d refused to let me take anything, including my phone or debit card. I’d been allowed one duffel bag of clothes so I’d been choosy since I had no idea what to expect. As I hiked along the shoulder of the highway, it was clear I was no longer in the city. Massive trees surrounded me, the highway nothing more than a ribbon cutting through deep forest, and I shivered slightly. When I’d decided to move in with Dad, I hadn’t really considered the consequences of my decision.

My phone confiscated by a petty parent while I tried to figure out how to survive my senior year in the backwoods of Idaho. Part of me wanted to turn back, wait for the next bus and go back home, but after Mom’s last words, I knew that would never happen. I had to make this work.

After fifteen minutes of walking, my duffle bag was getting heavy and I needed to find a bathroom. I was also cursing my inability to call Dad to come get me, and somewhat shocked that not a single car had gone by the entire time I walked. I was starting to think there was no town and the bus driver had just decided to drop me in the middle of nowhere.

A couple more minutes of trudging and it looked like there was a break in the never-ending wall of forest. My steps got a little faster and then I saw the sign.

Wander Inn Motel

I snorted at the pun, but was also relieved to find it actually existed. I’d begun to wonder if Dad had just dropped off the face of the planet, but no, he’d just found the furthest place from Mom and his old boss as humanly possible.

I turned on to the gravel drive, and then stopped and stared. When Dad had told me about the place, he’d described it as old school, retro even. Staring at it now, I could definitely state that old school was a generous term for what amounted to a pay per hour dump. It was one of those old types where you drove up and parked right at the door of your room. Two levels with a staircase, no elevators here, and while it could have been nice, now it just looked like a hangout for drug dealers and pimps. I scanned the doors to see if any of them were open waiting for a John to stroll by.

I steeled myself and headed for room 119, the room Dad said he’d rented for the duration. Duration of what, I still had no idea. Midlife crisis? Licking his wounds? Finding himself? Really, no clue here. I just couldn’t abandon him to do it alone. Mom was the master of that.

I knocked a little harder than I intended, not realizing the door was some hollow core piece of crap. It wasn’t long before Dad threw it open, and I wanted to ask if he’d even bothered to check and make sure I wasn’t some drug dealing thug.

“Bunny!” I winced at the familiar nickname, the one I still hadn’t broken him from using as he engulfed me in one of his bear hugs. Even as quick as he’d been to embrace me, I’d still witnessed his surprise at seeing me. I’d told him I was coming, but I guess he’d thought Mom would convince me otherwise. He knew how she was, as well as I did.