Today's the day, Hopper thought. Today's the day you're gonna die.
When Hopper thought of his death, obviously before all this happened, he imagined himself on a wheeled hospital bed, with softly beeping machines either side. Or maybe he would just die peacefully, of natural causes. Either way, he hadn't expected to be devoured by a Demogorgon.
He had received the distressing news late at night, tossing and turning on the uncomfortable bed. As his eyes were about to close for the rest of the night he heard a dreadful sound: a key turning in the lock of his cell. He immediately sat up in his bed and one of the Russian uniformed soldiers spoke, small and steely.
"You are to go to monster cell tonight, American." He spoke with a heavy
Russian accent and when he said 'American' he sounded utterly disgusted.
Huh. They're racist too.
"Come or we will kill you now."
A gun glimmered maliciously in the soldier's holster.
Hopper obediently stood up, dazed and only slightly anxious. He had always thought, miraculously, that he could escape the wretched prison and maybe get back to the people he loved, all the way in Indiana. He had played this impossible scene many times in his head.
He would ruffle Eleven's short hair.
He would kiss Joyce (if she let him).
He would shake hands with Will.
And so on.
If he died now, who would take care of Eleven? And what would happen to Joyce?
For goodness sake, Jim, they already think you're dead! Now get it together and try to get out of here!
Right…get out of here.
"COME NOW!" another soldier bellowed.
"Yes…yes I'm coming." Hopper rubbed the sleep from his eyes and dutifully let the soldiers place a firm grip on his shoulders and walk him to that haunted cell. A young guard poked a wooden stick in his back every time he slouched, even just for a second.
When they finally reached the cell, Hopper was not shoved mercilessly inside. Instead he was placed outside the bars, where the soldiers normally watched the fights.
"Wait here," The soldier said in a threatening voice. "If you leave, terrible consequences," A tall, dirty man appeared from the dark behind Hopper. "Just for safety measures."
Hopper was left next to the dreadful cage, with the man grunting behind him. The man pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it, and began to smoke. The smoke was thick and heavy and made his head swim. The man passed Hopper a lit cigarette, and they both smoked together silently.
After about twenty-three minutes, Hopper stubbed his cigarette out on the bars of the cage, hearing loud footsteps thudding on the metal floors. Smoking was prohibited for prisoners and captives. As was drinking.
"This is General Turgenev. He is in charge of all you dirty prisoners," The soldier spat on the floor. "He will be asking you the questions, American. And you must answer truthfully. Do you understand?"
"Ok."
The general spoke to the other men, who looked meek in comparison. He was short, had long black boots and a riding crop. He wore a different uniform to the other soldiers, red and black instead of green and yellow.
He led Hopper to a large, empty room, and Hopper felt the feeling of relief flood his body. He wasn't going to die. At least not today.
He was then told to sit in a wooden chair, and several young soldiers tied rough ropes around his hands and body. He struggled, but eventually he had to give up.
"I heard that you are in possession of a particularly unnatural girl."
Hopper thought of Eleven, and his heart sank. "She's not a thing! She's my daughter and you'll never get her!" He struggled again in the chair, with no results.
"Whatever. Would you like to tell us where she is?"
"NO! If you're going to try to use her for some weird experiment or something, you can't! She's already been through so much, you dirty bastards, I would NEVER let her go through that again!" He spat at the ground and the guard chuckled.
"Are you sure about that?" the general drawled maliciously. And as he spoke, the same man who had given him the cigarette plunged a syringe with green fluid into Hopper's arm.
Eleven had a restless night on her first day of living in Maine. It was 10:12 PM and Will was in Jonathan's room, listening to the seemingly magical radio with him, muffled, pulsating sounds coming through the walls. She tucked herself in but then realized she needed a glass of water so she went back to the kitchen. All the utensils and kitchen equipment was set out neatly. Joyce's work, probably, Eleven thought. She filled a mug with chickens on it up and sipped it in her room.
For the first time in a long time, Eleven felt relieved.
She was living with a lovely woman in a beautiful house with one of her friends. And she would meet her boyfriend and best friend at Christmas, which was only a few months away.
The night was very different though.
Will had come in at about 10:54 and fell asleep at 11:07. Eleven, however, was awake well past midnight and when she did fall asleep, sometime about 2 in the morning, nightmares haunted her. She had so many that night she couldn't even remember them all. Some were about the day they defeated the Mind Flayer, and some were about Papa, but there was one that she could remember as clear as day.
She was next to Hopper as Joyce was about to close the Gate (and kill him). Joyce was in the control box and she was crying. Hopper smiled at Joyce, blood dripping from his mouth, but he didn't seem to notice Eleven. It was like she had traveled back in time. Then, as the Key closed the Gate, Hopper fell through the floor. Eleven was alarmed, when she realized there was a trapdoor. She followed after him and found herself in a long, low network of tunnels. Hopper started crawling through them and after what felt like two hours, they reached daylight. The tunnels had been filthy, cramped and claustrophobic, and Eleven was glad to leave them. She tried to hug Hopper, but her arms fell right through his waist. She screamed but he didn't even hear. The two had appeared outside the Russian factory, and just as Hopper was about to escape the place, two Russian soldiers found him and one punched him in the face, rendering him unconscious. Eleven cried out and tried to kick the soldiers. But it was no use. Her legs went right through them. Then they carried Hopper away and Eleven sank down into the floor, sobbing heavily.
She recounted this story to Joyce the next morning.
Joyce, who was in the kitchen sipping a mug of black coffee, cried a little herself and they both hugged each other tightly. She wiped her eyes and gave a hopeful smile.
"So..was this a vision or just a bad dream?"
"What's a vision?"
"Well, a vision is when someone has sort of a, a moment, yeah, when they see something happen. It could be something that will happen in the future, or something that already has happened. And normally, a vision feels much more real than a dream, and you remember it distinctly. Like, like when you put a blindfold on your eyes and you go into the Upside Down. Yeah, that's right." Joyce spoke carefully and squeezed Eleven's shoulders tightly.
"I-I don't know, I do remember it clearly but how would I know where Hopper is or if he's dead or not?" Saying the words out loud made it all the more real and she shuddered slightly.
"Hmmm. Maybe you're telepathic as well as telekinetic," She chuckled and downed the rest of her coffee. "Wait. Maybe you are telepathic. Maybe, maybe the soldiers sent Hopper back home and he ummm...just hasn't been able to ring us yet!" She grabbed the telephone off its holder and dialed Jim Hopper's number. She waited anxiously, her fingers fidgeting with the house keys, her eyes worried.
The call was sent to voicemail.
Joyce slammed the phone back down. "Son of a-"
"Language, Mom! Why are you so angry anyway? Who was on the phone?" Standing in the doorway was Will, still in his pajamas, hair sticking up.
"You're right, sweetie, She slumped miserably into a chair, then pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "I'm going out for a w-walk. Make yourself some waffles, or cereal or something, I-I dunno." She sauntered out of the front door, casual and calm. Will glimpsed her watering eyes though.
"Wait, Mom! Come back! What-what's wrong? Mom!" he yelled. He ran after her but Joyce had locked the door from the outside and Will didn't have a key.
"What happened to her?"
"I had a dream about Hopper and she thought it was a vision…but I guess it wasn't."
Will put an arm around Eleven. "Hopper saved my life and sometimes...sometimes I wish I could have payed him back." He sniffed gently and reached for the cereal.
Eleven liked having Will's arm around her shoulders. It was soft and comforting.
Too comforting.