Hopper reaches the police station, drags his feet up the walk and through the door. Davis, Powell, and Callahan are in the back, talking with a group of high school students and their parents. He makes a beeline for his office, avoiding attention. He shuffles to his desk and sinks into his chair, closes his eyes for a moment. He picks up the phone and begins to listen to the missed calls and messages.

The first few are from frightened parents, inquiring about the incident at the school. After sifting through about five or six, he receives a message from the Microbiology Department at Indiana University. He presses the button with shaking fingers, and the disembodied voice of Dr. Gordon Jones confirms his worst suspicions. Hopper's heart drops through the floor.

He jots down the phone number, and looks up to see Flo standing in the doorway. She gazes at his wearily. He returns the phone to its receiver and meets her eyes, feeling like he's going to be sick. He grips the edge of his desk to keep himself steady.

"We've got a problem."

. . .

Phone calls are made, and letters are sent. And exactly eight hours later, the military units begin to invade Hawkins, Indiana. Soldiers in hazmat suits, equipped with high-caliber weapons, roll into town on military-grade trucks. Government agents in black suits and shiny cars arrive on the scene. Scientists from all over the world, experts in Microbiology and Chemistry, venture to Hawkins to run more tests.

At 6:00 AM on April 7, 1987, a national broadcast appears on the screen of every T.V. in Roane County, warning the public to avoid using water from the tap until notice is given.

Water stations are set up in every neighborhood. Restaurants are temporarily closed. The sewage and water systems are shut down.

The police department is thrown headfirst into a nightmare, facing public complaints and national news reporters. The town descends into a panic, and Hopper is right at the center.

He stands on the sidewalk, toes just at the edge of the asphalt. He takes a drag on his cigarette, keeping his eyes on the road. In just under a minute, he's watched at least three military vehicles pass by. It's been twenty minutes since the county-wide warning was issued. And the calls and complaints are rolling in. His entire staff is here, already, trying to combat the public's fear, the total chaos of the situation. So much for keeping everything under wraps.

A car pulls into the station's parking lot. Hopper waits and watches, chewing on the end of his cigarette, as three men get out of the car. Two are dressed in suits, and one is an armed soldier in a uniform. He bites back the bitter taste on his tongue and approaches them.

"Hello, sir." The taller of the three says, casually. He offers his hand and Hopper shakes it, thinking it best to uphold the usual formalities. The last thing he wants to do is write his name at the top of their shit list. At least, for now.

"Hello. Jim Hopper." He says, shaking each of their hands in turn. The tall man gives him a polite smile.

"John Raymond." He says. "It's my understanding that you are the head of the police department here, in Hawkins."

He's broad shouldered and broad chested, with graying hair and dark eyes. Hopper nods.

"In the flesh."

"Alright. Well, Jim Hopper, we're here to ask you a few questions. Mind if we go somewhere, er, a bit more private?"

"Not at all. Let's go to my office."

He throws his cigarette on the cement and puts it out, turning up the walk. The men follow him. He leads them through the station. Callahan raises his eyebrows, and Hopper shoots him a look. They file into his office, and he shuts the door behind him.

"So, gentlemen," Hopper says, clearing his throat. "What can I do for you?"

Raymond waits for a moment, then opens his mouth to speak.

They begin to attack him with questions, starting with general inquiries. Soon, though, their question become dangerously specific. They are unrelenting, and meticulous to the last detail.

Hopper has no choice but to talk to them. They were never involved with MK Ultra, and they're certainly not Brenner's people. Still, he doesn't trust them. Not after everything that's happened. Not after everything he's seen . . .

He tells them what he knows. He tells them the stuff they most likely already know: Brenner and MK Ultra and the case that leaked to the public those few years ago. He tells them about the Gate to the Upside Down and the Demogorgon, though they look at him like he's crazy. He doesn't tell them about El, because to do so would put her in danger of imprisonment, lab experiments, or worse . . .

He cares about the girl, he really does. She has become a much a part of his world as Joyce or Will. He doesn't love her like he loved his daughter, but he cares for her. And it scares him, because losing her would be reminiscent of losing Sarah, and he's not sure he can handle something like that. Not again.

He doesn't tell them about Will, either. It's too dangerous. If the kid ever returns, no, when the kid returns, they might capture him for study or experimentation. He can't risk that. So he pretends like he doesn't know the origin of the slugs in the water, only that they're in the town's water and they are, most likely, the cause of these monster attacks and disappearances and incidents. He tiptoes around their demands, all the while trying to ignore the hammering of his heart and the sweat that clings to his neck and the back of his palm. He shouldn't be this nervous. It's not like he's never lied before. In fact, some would say he's a professional.

Hopper reiterates the incident at the school, though he's sure they're directly involved in it already. They don't stop him, so he keeps talking.

He's gambling. He doesn't trust them, and yet he's feeding them massive a amount of information. He's handing them a gun and telling them where to shoot. It's a dangerous game, but he has no choice. The entire town, entire county, is in danger and he's right at the center. He's holding the lives of twenty-thousand people in his hands.

The government officials make a few final notes and make towards the door. They thank him, file out of the station. Hopper watches their car as it pulls out of the parking lot and disappears down the road.

Callahan sighs, loudly. Hopper glances at him. He folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head. He snorts, laughs maniacally.

"Mental."

. . .

Will lies curled on the tiled floor, trying to get some rest. El sleeps fitfully in the bed above him, turning and fidgeting, mumbling words he doesn't quite catch. Nine and Seven are curled side by side in the opposite corner, burrowed down in a pile of old sheets. Six sits alongside the wall, watching the door. He sits up, rubbing his eyes. She gazes at him, silent.

Their vocabulary seems to be limited, just as El's was when she escaped. He hasn't heard more than five or six words come out of Seven's mouth. Six and Nine, however, seem to be more skilled in that area.

They abducted El when she was only a baby, but Six looks to be in her early thirties. He can't help but wonder, had she lived her entire life in that lab? Or does she have memories of a life outside of it?

Nine looks to be no older than fourteen. Younger than El. And Six said they were weaker. Do they, too, have supernatural abilities? Powers, like El does?

He can't imagine spending four years here. It's impossible for him to comprehend. Each minute contains an eternity. They have no sense of time. There is no sun, no stars, only a perpetual semi-darkness. The climate does not change, either. It's freezing and damp. Like wearing wet clothes in the snow.

El cries out, and Nine sits up quickly. She blinks, eyes locking on Will across the room. Six fidgets, shifting her weight.

"She needs medicine." He says.

"There is none." Six says, quietly. Will sighs, brushing hair out of his eyes.

"We can walk to the hospital, in town. It's a few miles away. We can get there in an hour or two."

"Dangerous. Monsters." Nine says.

"She's going to die if we don't. And we need her. She can open a gate, she can get us out of here." Will pauses. "I need to keep her alive. She's my friend."

Six and Nine remain quiet. He swallows the lump in his throat.

"Please."

. . .

Six walks alongside him, eyes darting around. They set off at a brisk pace, trying to get there and back as fast as possible. They're quiet for a long time, and the only sound is the soft crunching of plant matter under their feet. They make it through the fence and up alongside the road, following Mirkwood.

"How did you get here?" Six inquires.

"I . . . I opened the rift. I went through it." Will says. "El followed me."

"How? Why? Here is a bad place. Why come here?"

"I . . . I'm sick." Will says.

"Sick?"

"Yeah. I was trapped here a few years ago. I got sick, and it makes me go crazy. Sometimes . . . sometimes, it's like . . . I turn into a monster. I'm not myself."

Six gasps.

"You are a Vessel." She says, looking aghast.

"A Vessel?"

"Yes. My friend, Experiment Five, she was a Vessel. She died." Six says.

"What's a Vessel?"

Six gives him a hard look. "Like a host. A dog is a host to worms, a Vessel is a host to the Queen's offspring."

"The Queen?"

"Yes. The Queen is an ancient being. She controls the creatures here."

Will's head spins.

"The offspring . . . the offspring are the slugs? Slimy creatures?"

Six nods.

"Yes, they start small and grow bigger. If you are a Vessel you transform into a monster. The darkness takes over. Will, you're a Vessel. You are in danger."

Will's heart sinks. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to stop the sky from spinning. He's quiet for a long moment. They cross the street and turn onto Kerley, the road that will take them into town.

"How do you stop being a Vessel?"

"I don't know." Six says, uneasily. "Five got sicker and sicker. Once, she changed and she didn't change back, she tried to hurt us. I, I . . ." She trails off, face twisting into a sorrowful grimace.

"I killed her."

Will's breath catches in his throat. He searches for the right words . . . what do you say to something like that?

"I'm sorry you had to go through that." He gets out, finally.

"It was the only way." Six says. Her voice is ragged. She falls silent, looking distant, lost in a memory . . .

. . .

Six remembers the moss under her fingertips, the stench. And the darkness. The darkness was suffocating. She recognized her surroundings. She knew she was still in the lab, but it was different, somehow. Darker, quieter, colder. She was alone.

She got off the floor, where she'd woken to the sound of a child's scream. She gathered her bearings, enough to get herself moving and looking for something, anything, that made sense.

And she found Seven.

A child, only eight years old. Taken as a newborn and raised in the lab. Seven didn't quite meet Brenner's expectations, so he was shoved away in a closet like the rest of them.

Six doesn't know many things. Sometimes, she struggles to fit the pieces of her memories together. It's all fragmented. She suspects Brenner had a hand in it. They did something to her memories, her mind.

She had a life outside of the lab. And though she doesn't remember much of it, some things come back to her in dreams. She was loved. She had a family, friends. And it's impossible to make a person forget something like that. Something like love.

Six and Seven kept each other company, kept each other warm, until Nine, disheveled and terrified, appeared in the doorway of the cell where they were hidden.

A mere hours later, they found Five.

They'd been in the closet for too long. They awoke to a scream, and the stench of dying plants.

So they stayed hidden. They kept each other alive. They stole food and clothes from the houses in town. And they remained near the lab, because it was the only thing they'd ever known.

Then the monsters came, and they learned of the Queen, the nickname coined to the beast that lives along the outskirts of Hawkins. The creature that controls all the others.

The monsters came.

And Five went missing.

When she appeared again, months later, she was not the same.

She'd become a Vessel, a host. A carrier. The Pestilence was inside her, and it would destroy her. It started with the sickness and the slugs.

And the flashes. She became inhuman, and stuck between two worlds.

And when she changed, and didn't change back, Six killed her.

The light left her eyes quickly. It was a bloodless, painless death

Six replays it in her head too often, desperately searching for something she could've done, something that would've kept her alive. The thoughts run circles inside her head like a dog chasing its tail.

There's never any resolution. It doesn't matter anyway.

She's dead.

. . .

"Where is the Queen?"

"I don't know. She lives far from here. The creatures in this place, they're controlled by her. They're offspring, too."

Will and Six arrive at the hospital. The building, like everything else in this place, is encased in vines, dark and deserted. He pushes on the double doors. They groan, swing open. They make their way past the lobby. He finds the sign that reads "Pharmacy" and it leads them through another set of double doors and down a hallway.

Every sound, every creak and groan, makes him jump. Their footsteps echo through the halls. Here, in the Upside Down, the hospital isn't much different from the lab. It's white tiled walls and halls are eerily familiar.

The door to the pharmacy is at the end of the hall. He reaches it, and pulls open the door. He hears a shuffle, a frightening shriek. Something collides with the side of his head and he blacks out.

. . .

Will props himself onto one elbow, hand reaching for the bleeding wound on the side of his head. He blinks, groggily. Six is yelling, combating a monster. Immediate fear rises in his throat as he looks on, watching her dodge an attack. It's sluggish, yet oddly reptilian. It's small, it's shoulders barely reaching Six's waist.

The monster's cries echo inside his head. The room tilts dizzyingly, and he struggles to regain his balance. His stomach twists painfully, and he slumps forward, hand jumping towards his mouth. He coughs, reaching for breath. The horrible, yet familiar, feeling of the slugs climbing up his throat fills him with dread. His body convulses, his eyes sting with tears. Two small slugs tumble out of his mouth, onto the tiled floor. He squeezes his eyes shut, wiping his mouth.

And just as quickly as the feeling came, it leaves, leaving him weak and dizzy but no longer in danger of puking up anymore slugs. He sighs inwardly, relief washing over him. He didn't transform. Not this time.

He looks over to see the monster throw Six against the wall, claws ripping at her clothing. Will springs to his feet, crushing the slugs beneath his foot. He turns, rushing to her aid.

"Stand back!" She yells, lifting her arms. The monster launches backwards, thrust against a glass window. It shatters, and the creature screams. It twitches, then falls still. Six blinks, slumps against the wall. Blood stains her upper lip, and for a moment, she looks so much like El . . .

The monster is dead, its soft underbelly impaled by a shard of glass. Six stares at her hands, looking mildly surprised.

Will blinks at her, hardly daring to breathe. His heart is hammering, his thoughts all jumbled together. He makes his feet move, eyes darting from Six to the monster's body and back again. She stares at the crushed slug bodies, not more than a few feet away from where he stands.

"Are you alright?" She says, pointing towards the slugs' squashed bodies. Will nods.

"Hurry, get the medicine." She says, stepping forward. "We need to leave."

. . .

Will edges around the broken glass, makes his way over the door by the counter. In the back room, there are shelves lined with various medicines. Six appears by his side, still pale and breathing heavily after her battle with the . . . the whatever that thing was. Together, they rummage through the bins, drawers, and boxes, searching for anything that may be of help. He knows it's dangerous to give El anything without a prescription, without knowing the proper dose, but they have no choice. She's dying. This is their only option.

He finds a small glass bottle with some colorless liquid. Wiping away the slime and debris, he reads the label. It's an injectible antibiotic. Six hands him a cardboard box containing several packaged needles. He stuffs the glass bottle and the needles into his pocket, then sifts through a few more medications. He finds some a bottle of pills labeled "fever reducers, etc." He pockets them as well, giving Six a thumbs-up. She gives him a curt nod and clambers back over the counter. They make their way back to the lobby and through the double doors. A heavy silence surrounds them. Will focuses on the squelching sound of their footsteps and the soft clinking of the medicine in his pocket; He tries not to think of home, or El's dire predicament, and can think of nothing else.

. . .

Back in the lab, Will sits at the edge of the bed. He holds the bottle with shaking fingers, looking at the dosage instructions. It's listed by weight. He glances at El. She's barely five foot two. On a good day, she couldn't weigh more than a hundred pounds. Now, after a week of little water and no food, she's probably eighty. Tops. Her face, once healthy and full, is gaunt and skeletal. Her eyes appear to be sunken too far into her head. Her cheek and collar bones are too prominent, her skin waxy and pale. He sticks the needle in the top of the bottle, pulling the plunger to the correct mark on the syringe.

He grips her wrist, taking a deep breath. He sticks the needle in the soft skin of her upper arm, presses the plunger. She does not stir, remains unconscious. Six tips her head back and forces a couple of the fever pills down her throat. Nine approaches the bed, places her hand on El's forehead. She frowns, brow furrowing. Will takes a breath, and tears spring in his eyes. Hastily, he wipes them away.

Seven clings to Nine's waist, blinking concernedly at Will. He gives the kid a small smile. Nine takes her hand away, reaches down to pat Seven's arm, gently. Six meets Will's eyes.

"She's in control, now. We can only wait."

Will nods. Nine retreats to the corner, where she continues to stare, silent and brooding, between them. Seven goes to the corner and picks up a small stuffed lion, runs his hands along it's matted fur. He trots toward Will, holding it out to him.

"Thank you." Will says, weakly, taking the animal from the boy. He used to have one just like it, back home. Seven grins, then goes to Six. She wraps her arms around him. A thought jumps into his head.

"You have powers, like El." He blurts out. Six nods.

"Yes. From the experiments. From the bath."

"Can you open a gate? Can you get us out of here?"

Six's face contorts. She shakes her head.

"No." She pauses, chewing on her lip. "Not strong enough. My powers are weak, it tires me greatly." She gestures to El. "She is much stronger, much more powerful than any of us."

"Nine? Seven? You have abilities, too?"

Nine nods, looking grave.

"Yes. I cannot do what Six can, but I can feel . . . emotions. I can feel what you feel."

"You're an empath." Will says. Nine blinks at him, confused. "Empaths can feel emotions." He explain.

She nods.

"Yes . . . I am . . . an empath." She says, slowly, tasting the word. "Seven is an empath, too."

"Cool." Will says. Even though he's known El for almost four years now, it's still hard to comprehend. The whole superhero thing is still difficult to wrap his head around.

Two empaths. And Six has telekinesis. He's pretty sure El can do all that stuff. She can detect a lie in an instant, and she seems to pick up on other people's emotions a lot better than everyone else.

. . .

Will recalls the time Mike fell out of a tree and broke his arm. At the time, El wasn't anywhere near him. In fact, she was with Will at the school, helping Mr. Clark with a new experiment for his sixth grade class. They were stapling papers together and organizing a bunch of test tubes and thermometers. El dropped the beaker she was holding, crying out in pain. Will looked up, thinking she cut herself on glass or something.

He couldn't see any blood. She was pale, though, her eyes wide with fear.

"Mike." She said.

"What?"

"Mike's hurt."

"What? How d'you . . ."

She was already up and running, out the door, through the school hallways to the payphone in the parking lot. Later, they would go to visit Mike in the emergency room. He broke his arm in two places, at the wrist and along the Radius bone. He was exactly four miles away from El at the time.

. . .

He can't be sure, but he strongly suspects Mike is able to communicate with her in ways that others can't. She can probably communicate telepathically with anyone she wants to. And Mike just happens to be her preferred conversationalist.

No surprises there.

"Cool." Nine echoes, looking amused and perplexed. Will nods. Silence stretches between them, but it's not uncomfortable.

Will settles himself at the foot of El's bed, still holding the stuffed lion. He traces it's once-soft ears with his fingertips, chewing over the events of the last few hours.

He puked slugs, and yet he did not change. He didn't become a monster this time around. Why?

Six's words replay in his head. She told him he was a Vessel. Whatever that means . . .

He supposes it makes sense. He carries the slugs. He's a host. And the slugs are the Queen's offspring. He shudders, inwardly. The Queen. He can only imagine . . .

And Number Five. Six told him that she changed into a monster, and she didn't change back.

Now, she's dead.

He pushes the foul thoughts from his mind, suddenly lightheaded and exhausted. He yearns for a pencil, a piece of paper. Anything to get the demons out of his head.

He takes a deep breath and leans back against the mattress. He glances at El, who remains motionless and asleep, all skin and bones and deathly pallor. Will sighs and closes his eyes, slipping into a fitful slumber.