Hey, everyone!
Crazy year, am I right? It seems that I only got my writing mojo back after my college shut down xD Interesting.
We are reaching the story's climax here, my friends, and I am very excited to get to it! Do I still hate cliffhangers? Yes. Will I ever stop using them? No.
:)
Brenner roared with pain and clutched his right arm, blood leaking through his fingers.
Nancy watched his gun fall to the floor, unfired. It took her a second to process the fact that she wasn't dead. And then a second more to realize who had actually fired a gun. She looked to her left and couldn't help smiling slightly.
"Stay the hell away from her!" Jonathan added for emphasis, his gun still held out in front of him in a tenacious grip.
Glancing at Brenner one last time to check he was thoroughly distracted, Nancy scrambled to her feet and ran to stand beside Jonathan, watching the scene play out in front of her.
Brenner glared at them with a rage in his eyes. But then he caught sight of something behind them and smiled coldly. Before Nancy could follow his gaze, hands from behind roughly grabbed her, slamming her into the wall and keeping her pinioned there. Next to her, she heard them do the same to Jonathan.
Brenner watched his men restrain them, before talking in a low voice to the one closest to him, which Nancy could not hear. He then spoke up to address them both. "You foolish kids should never have come here," Brenner seethed through gritted teeth, reaching down to retrieve his gun.
In a state of shock, Nancy watched him turn and walk away alone, without another word. In the same direction as–
"No!" she shouted, fighting against the arms holding her back. "NO! Leave them– leave him alone!" She hoped with everything she had that Brenner didn't find Mike again. Hopper and Joyce and Steve? They all had guns. The boys had El, and Nancy liked to imagine El would kill that man before he could even think to raise his weapon. But her brother? He was defenceless and alone, and it scared her more now. Anyone could see Brenner's calm resolve was fading, his behavior now unpredictable. It made her realize Mike had been relatively safe before.
Of course, Brenner ignored her protests and disappeared round the corner, leaving Nancy and Jonathan held captive.
"El!" Dustin shouted, pushing against the sealed vent cover again. "EL!"
"Forget it, man, she's long gone now," Lucas sighed, after enduring his shouting for a period of time. "Have you tried kicking it down?"
Dustin rolled his eyes. "Dude, she sealed it into the WALL! I'm not the Hulk. Unless she comes back, which I doubt, we're not getting out of here."
"You know, I don't think she really thought this through," Will said, his voice a lot calmer than the other two. "I hope she's gonna be alright."
"At least she's got powers," Dustin argued. "What the hell do we have?"
"Uh, a pretty decent hiding place?" Lucas offered.
Dustin was about to reply when he heard footsteps coming in their direction. Footsteps too heavy to be El's. Tension inside the vent escalated when the others heard it too, and they all fell silent.
Walk past us, walk past us, Dustin begged, slowly backing away from the entrance of the vent.
A shadow grew visible through the vent cracks, and the footsteps inexplicably cut off. Dustin held his breath.
The look Hopper and Joyce exchanged was a silent agreement to leave and find the others.
Hopper stared down at the soldier, who was still in front of the computer. "Don't follow us," he warned, raising his gun in a threatening manner, before he took after Joyce up the staircase.
"Hopper, listen, I'm sorry."
He looked up and stopped, when he realized she had as well. She'd turned to face him, her expression concerned.
"For what?"
"For what I said back at the cabin." She looked like she was bracing herself for a fight. "I shouldn't have… y'know… brought her up."
"You were right though," he answered calmly. "I didn't understand, but you did the right thing… telling Karen."
"But I don't want you to think–"
"It doesn't matter now," he said, and it truly didn't. He'd had a lot of time to put things in perspective. "What matters is us all getting the hell out of here."
She smiled thinly, and nodded.
Hopper raised his police radio. "Jonathan? Nancy? Did you find Mike?" Static racketed through but no voice followed. After a pause, he tried again, to no avail.
Joyce was growing paler the longer the silence went on. "Do you think they're…?" she croaked, her question faltering off.
"I don't know, but we'd better find them quick."
A face suddenly appeared in front of the vent and Dustin almost screamed.
"Guys?" the unmistakable voice of Steve rang out. "Is that you?"
"Steve?" Dustin gawped with relief. "Yeah, it's us. You didn't have to scare us like that."
"Are the others with you?" Will asked.
"Uh, no..." Steve looked down at the vent. "But I think they're okay– how the hell did you do this to the vent?"
"El did it and then left us," Lucas muttered.
Dustin kicked him. "You know why she did it."
"She did a pretty damn good job too." Steve tried to pry the cover away from the wall with no success. "I'm gonna need some kind of..." He looked towards his left and saw a door labelled 'SUPPLY CLOSET'. "That'll do."
Ten minutes, fifteen different tools and eighty-five 'suggestions' later, the vent cover gave way. "Finally!" Dustin pushed it away with a sharp crack. "I told you the wrench would work."
Steve set the vent cover down. "Okay, but we should hurry now. God knows we've been making a lot of noise–"
"HEY!" an unfriendly voice roared. Steve snapped round to look in that direction, while Dustin quickly retreated back into the darkness of the duct. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THAT VENT?"
Steve stood up to confront an equally as unfriendly face and a gun pointing back at him, both approaching fast. "I was just um..."
"Save it!" the soldier barked. "I know you're one of the fools that broke in. Hands where I can see them."
The teenager obeyed, side-stepping subtly to the right, hoping to divert attention away from the occupied vent. It seemed to work, as the man slowly followed him.
"Try to run and you're dead," the guard warned. "We've already found your friends, maybe it's time you join them."
Steve nodded calmly, figuring at least this would give the three boys a chance to escape.
The man gestured with his head. "Well, get moving then. We don't have–"
A loud crack rang out – Steve wondered for a moment if he'd just been shot – and the soldier's unfriendly face suddenly became one of surprised shock, before he collapsed forwards onto the floor, unconscious. Dustin stood behind him, holding up Steve's nail-bat.
"Found this in your bag," the curly-haired boy said, panting. Lucas and Will were in the process of following him out the vent. Dustin looked down at the man in front of him. "Oh crap, did I just... did I–?"
"No... No, you're good," Steve replied after taking a closer look. "He's not dead." He patted the younger boy on the back. "Good job though."
"Should we go," Lucas suggested, dusting himself off. "Y'know... before more come."
Steve fixed up his backpack and slung it back over his shoulders. "Right... but we don't know which direction they're gonna be coming from."
"Brian?" The radio call made them all jump. It continued to crackle for a moment before the man continued. "Any luck on your end? Over." Unfortunately for him, 'Brian' was out cold.
Will was the first to react; he knelt down to retrieve the radio from the unconscious man's pocket. It had gone silent, the man on the other end clearly waiting for a reply he wasn't going to get.
"Tell him everything's fine!"
"No, you idiot, they'll know it's us!"
"Give it here!"
There was a flurry of panic and whispered shouting between the three boys as they argued about what to do. Steve finally managed to grab it for himself.
He switched it off. The static abruptly died. "Problem solved."
"Now they know something's wrong!" Lucas snapped.
A new dilemma quickly followed: footsteps could be heard coming their way, accompanied by voices, meaning... more than one. Meaning they were unlikely to get lucky again. Peaceful moments in this place were scarce apparently, Steve thought.
"Dammit," he said aloud. "We need to move."
Dustin's face fell, as if he'd suddenly remembered what they were here for. "We can't let them follow El," he insisted. The other two nodded in worried agreement. "She went that way not long ago and–"
"Fine." Steve noticed that shadows had started to appear from behind the corner as the voices grew louder. "We'll lead them away from El. Get ready to run."
It was funny; she'd spent all her life so close to these corridors yet she'd never walked through any of them. Of course, she didn't understand irony, but that was certainly what it was.
She was still running. She wasn't sure for how long, but she kept going, trying to ignore boys' voices that were still ringing in her head.
(EL!)
She didn't want to hear it. It only made her feel guilty for leaving them behind. But for some reason, it was getting louder.
(EL! EL, WHERE ARE YOU?)
Except…
Her running slowed down slightly, as it sunk in. This wasn't the boys. It was one boy.
It wasn't exactly his voice she could hear. It was still just a feeling. A feeling which had sprung up from an unchanging flat line, into a flurry of stress and desperation. He was okay. He was okay and he was looking for her.
Her pace quickened again. She knew exactly which direction to go in.
His heart had picked up a light and rapid flutter that was close to arrhythmia. His heavy breaths rang loudly in his ears. Every time his feet slammed into the marble floor it sent vibrations rocketing up all the way to his head. But he kept running.
EL! he thought. He needed to find her; if he could just find her, everything would be alright. EL, WHERE ARE YOU?
He was blindly turning corners, entirely lost, entirely alone. He should've known he couldn't keep this up. He might be going in circles, or towards danger, for all he knew. This wasn't going to help Nancy. This wasn't–
Somebody sped around the corner towards him.
He abruptly stopped.
And so did she.
It was unclear who saw the other one first.
There he was. Cheeks flushed. Hair a mess. Eyes shining. But an uncontrollable smile spread across his lips as he looked at her.
There she was. In a sweater which was too big for her. Her expression was filled with shock, then relief, then happiness.
"Eleven?"
"Mike."
Without thinking, they both took the last few steps.
Maybe this is just the void, El thought. Maybe he was going to turn to dust as soon as she touched him.
But he didn't. His form collided with hers and she threw her arms around him in a fierce embrace. Solid, warm, tangible. Finally. She felt like if she ever let him go, he'd slip once again into the internal darkness.
Mike returned the gesture just as reverently, holding onto her tightly as he tried to comprehend the fact that she was completely and wholly here. It had only been days since he last saw her, but it felt like so much longer. She wasn't dead, or captured, or hurt. She was right here. Right here! El. His El.
They couldn't speak. They just held on to each other like their life depended on it. The amount of time they stayed like that was distorted, but unimportant. It didn't matter where they were, or what was at stake, as long as they were together again.
But maybe it should have mattered.
Brenner turned the last corner and laid eyes on the two children. He watched silently as they hugged, completely unaware of his presence.
His gun was still clutched in his hand. It would be so easy. So easy just to end all this disruption with the threat of violence. Eleven cared about people now; she cared about the boy. He could get her to cooperate on that alone. So easy.
But that's exactly why he couldn't do it. Her motives would always be compromised. She'd seen too much from the other side. How long could he hold her under those conditions? She might start to lie, or try to escape again. He realized, much too late, that she'd become an unreliable source. She had been the most important subject, but was now useless.
Perhaps he had been naïve to ever think there could be any other outcome. He had lost her and there was no coming back from that.
Brenner decided there was only one conclusion. If he couldn't have Eleven, no one could.
His injured shoulder had been his dominant arm, so he raised his weapon with the other. It shook unsteadily in his unpractised hand, as he aimed it in her direction.
It was time to end this. He pulled the trigger.
A gunshot rang out from it.
