TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains more than average angst and grief, as well as character death as displayed in Stranger Things 1.03. Please proceed with caution.
At ten after three, Christine and Eleven headed out into the backyard. Christine walked her bike around from the front of the house, and returned to find Eleven pacing the tree line. She stared down at the watch that Mike had given her, chanting under her breath.
"Three-one-five. Three-one-five. Three-one-five."
"El, it's okay," Christine assured her, taking a seat on the stoop. "School lets out at three-zero-five, so it's gonna take a few minutes to get here. They'll come."
Eleven nodded, and ceased her chanting. Still, she continued to pace.
As Christine had predicted, the boys were a few minutes late. She wasn't surprised to find Mike at the head of the group, pedaling so fast his feet were in danger of slipping off. He might have run Eleven over if he'd been going any faster.
"El! You're okay!"
"Yes, she's fine," said Christine. "We sat inside all day, listened to music, and she's still in one piece. As promised."
Mike did not acknowledge Christine, or her smirk. She suspected it had something to do with the relieved smile Eleven was now sporting since he'd pulled up.
"God, Mike would ya wait up?" Dustin panted as he and Lucas careened into the backyard. "I'm gonna have a heart attack. Hey, Chrissy. Hey, Eleven."
"Can we just do this?" asked Lucas. "We're losing light, people!"
"Alright, geez." Mike waved a hand, gesturing for the other boys to get a head start. Then he patted the seat of his bike, turning back to Eleven. "Come on. We only have a few hours."
Eleven climbed onto the bike with trepidation. Her legs dangled aimlessly on either side, and she had to cling to Mike as he pushed off of the grass. They teetered, and then shot off after Dustin and Lucas.
Christine climbed on her own bike, already shaking her head. She had a bad feeling about this.
The boys led the way down the streets. They seemed to know where they were going, which was more than Christine could say. The houses began to thin out, giving way to bushes and trees. They must have been traveling toward the town border.
They coasted to a stop on the side of the road, along a dark patch of forest. The crime scene tape hanging between the trees did nothing to help her nerves.
"Okay," said Mike. "So this is where they found Will's bike."
"What was Will doing all the way out here?" asked Christine.
"He lives around here," said Dustin. "He always takes Mirkwood home."
"Mirkwood?"
"Yeah, it's from Lord of the Rings," Lucas explained.
"Lucas, it's from The Hobbit. How many times do I have to tell you? It's The Hobbit!"
"How many times do I have to tell you that it doesn't matter?"
"Enough," Christine groaned. "Why do we call it Mirkwood?"
"Because," Dustin said brightly, "if there's any place in Hawkins that looks like it's plagued with dark magic and giant spiders, this is it."
She turned to look at the tree line—twisted trunks and shadows and darkness.
"Okay. I officially hate this."
"Then don't come," snapped Mike. He helped Eleven off the back of his bike, and turned to face them all defiantly. "You may be scared, but we're not. We're going in there, and we're going to find Will."
He turned on his heel, marching into the woods. It would have made a grand exit, if he didn't have to pick his way through brambles and steer his bike around roots and twigs. Eleven followed him dutifully.
"Don't worry, Chrissy," said Lucas, wheeling his bike past her. "We got this."
"Yeah," added Dustin. He patted her on the arm. "We've got your back."
They filed into the forest, following the path that Mike was forging, and leaving Christine to deliberate on the side of the road. But as much as she disliked the idea of wandering in the woods, she disliked the idea of the kids wandering alone more. So she kept her grumbling to herself, and forced her bike into the dying foliage.
It was not an easy trek. Early November meant the ground was already covered by a blanket of dead leaves a few inches thick. Their sneakers slipped and sank between them, right down into the mud. The rain from the past few days only made it worse. As if it wasn't bad enough, they weren't exactly on even ground. There was no path in sight. Rocks and wandering tree roots blocked their way, and more than once, their bikes got tangled in twigs and ivy. Each time, Christine forced everyone to stop so she could unstick the wheels. Mike was vocally unhappy about this delay, but Christine was adamant. If they thought they'd be allowed to flounce out of her sight while they were wandering illegally through a crime scene, they had more than one other thing coming.
It felt like miles before they stopped.
"Alright," said Mike, looking around the clearing. "I think this is where we found Eleven."
"Is it?" asked Dustin.
"Yeah. I think I recognize that tree."
Lucas rolled his eyes. "Dude, they all look the same. They're trees."
"Shut up, Lucas. There's more space here. The trees are farther apart. Right, Dustin?"
"I don't know, man. It was pretty dark that night. And it was raining."
"Exactly. Besides, what does it matter where we found her?"
"Because! This is where she saw Will!"
"Nuh-uh. She never said she saw Will."
"She knows where he is. It's the same thing."
"That's not the same thing."
"How is that not the same thing?"
"If she knew where he was, she could have just taken us straight to him! We wouldn't have to hike all the way out here first!"
They continued to bicker, Dustin stepping in every now and then to mediate. Christine simply waited, hands on her hips. They had a long way to go, and playing referee would just be a waste of her precious energy.
She scanned the surrounding trees. Mike was right; there was more space between them now. But it didn't make the forest seem any less foreboding. It felt like the shadows were closing in on all sides, a solid wall encroaching with the setting sun. A prickly feeling was rising on the back of her neck. As she looked around, she realized she wasn't the only one.
Eleven had stepped away from Mike. She was staring at the trees too, her hands in fists at her sides. The look of terror was back, the deer in the headlights.
Christine crossed over to her, ready to ask what was wrong. Before she could, she heard it.
"Guys, stop," she ordered, and again when Mike tried to argue. "I'm serious. Stop."
By some miracle, they relented. Even Mike's pissy expression faded in the silence that followed. Together they listened, scrutinizing the trees.
A twig snapped.
Eleven seized Christine's hand, and the boys collectively gasped. Lucas slid off his backpack, the zipper loud as a chainsaw.
"Stop!" Christine hissed, waving him off. "Lucas, stop moving!"
"I need my wrist rocket! What if it's the Demogorgon?"
"Oh shit," Dustin whispered. "We are so screwed if it's the Demogorgon."
"Whatever it is, we are not taking any chances," said Christine. She squeezed Eleven's hand, trying to look down at her without taking her eyes off the trees. "Do you know where we need to go?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eleven nod.
"Alright, go. Quietly. Boys, go."
Christine stared down the darkness, listening to the kids shuffle behind her. She waited until they were a safe distance away before she moved, slowly backing up to her bike. The sound was gone, but the prickle on her neck was not. She knew she was being ridiculous. But with all the talk of monsters and superpowers, she had a right to be on edge.
She followed the kids out of the clearing, and onto a path they'd found on the other side of the trees. That was a relief. Not only was it easier to walk, but it was easier to keep an eye on everyone. The noise in the trees might have been nothing, but she wasn't planning on letting any of the kids out of her sight—especially Eleven.
Christine stayed in the very middle of the party as the sun began to set. She counted her charges compulsively—Dustin and Lucas in the back, Mike and Eleven up front. They'd been talking in low voices for miles. It was mostly Mike, but Eleven seemed to be getting the hand of conversation, her words getting longer and steadier. Not that Christine was eavesdropping. It was just easy to hear them when no one was speaking in a good five-mile radius.
She noticed that Mike was sporting a new cut on his chin. She wished she could say it was a mystery. Dustin often came home with scrapes and bruises he wouldn't explain. That was different from the ones he couldn't explain. She knew boys played rough, but she also knew that most of the party had a tough time at school. They were too proud or scared to talk about it, though, so she wasn't sure what she could do. It was frustrating, to say the least.
She watched as Eleven pointed to the wound, and Mike brushed her off. Whatever she said next surprised him, and made him smile all too happily.
Christine didn't realize how closely she'd been following them until her bike collided with Mike's.
"Hey!" He squawked in protest, grappling with his handlebars as they veered off course. "Watch it!"
"Sorry! Sorry, I didn't…I'll just…"
Reluctantly, she fell back. Mike rolled his eyes at her, and Eleven giggled next to him. It made his irritation vanish.
Christine tried to keep her pace slow after that, putting some distance between them. She didn't like that she couldn't hear their conversation anymore. She couldn't even see Eleven's face.
Dustin and Lucas appeared on either side of her.
"You okay, Chrissy?" asked Lucas on her right.
"Yeah, I'm good. Thanks, Lucas."
"You sure? You look kinda…iffy."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"N-Nothing! I mean, nothing bad. I just thought you seemed, you know—that you might be kinda, um…"
Dustin sniggered on her left. "He means you're making your giraffe face."
Christine gaped. "Excuse me?"
"Your giraffe face. You know?"
He puckered his lips, looking more like a sea bass than a giraffe. His eyes bulged, and he craned his neck up as far as it would go, peering down his nose at Mike and Eleven in front of them.
"I do not look like that."
"Nah, it's more like this," laughed Lucas. He stretched his neck and squinted. His giraffe had more eyebrow wiggling, but less lips. "It's what you look like whenever you drop Dustin off for school."
"I do not!"
"Not always. Just when you're worried. Which is a lot."
She frowned. She didn't think she worried a lot. Sure, she worried about Dustin sometimes. He had a hard time with bullies at school, and she was sure things were only worse with Will missing. And now she had to watch out for monsters and kidnappers and whatever else was creeping around Hawkins.
So she wanted to make sure Dustin got to school okay. That didn't make her a giraffe.
"Hey, it's okay," said Dustin, with another pat on her arm. "It's cute that you worry about me."
"I'll give you something to worry about," she grumbled, but she wasn't sure that he'd heard her.
"We just noticed you seem pretty protective of Eleven now."
"Of course I am? She's like, twelve with no hair, no clothes, no basic vocabulary. And apparently she's got a bunch of people after her trying to hunt her down like an animal."
"Supervillains," Dustin blurted.
Lucas groaned. "Dude, they're not supervillains."
"Fine. Mad scientists. I bet she's some kind of test subject. That's why she has that tattoo."
"Hold up, tattoo?" Both boys shushed her, and Christine lowered her voice. "What tattoo?"
"It's on her wrist," Lucas explained. "Zero-one-one. That's why Mike calls her Eleven."
"God. Who would do something like that?"
"I'm telling you, she's a science experiment! Like Wolverine! That's probably how she got her powers in the first place!"
"Makes sense," Christine sighed.
Her gaze drifted back to Eleven—the shaved head, the skinny arms, the delicate, hunched shoulders. She was calm now, even smiling as she talked to Mike. But Christine couldn't forget the way fear looked in her eyes, or her hollow voice when asked about her family. Had her real family been taken from her? Had she been abducted? Or worse, what if she hadn't been? What kind of father would do something like this to his kid?
It was a few seconds before Christine noticed the boys were staring at her.
"What?"
"You agreed with him," said Lucas.
"What? No, I didn't."
"Uh, yeah you did," said Dustin. "I said she had powers, and you said 'makes sense.'"
"Dustin, I'm humoring you. None of this makes sense."
But he did not seem to believe her excuse. His surprise morphed into a shit-eating grin. "You saw them, didn't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, come on! You saw her powers, right? You saw her move stuff with her mind?"
"I definitely did not," Christine said resolutely. "She's a fugitive, not Jean Gray."
"Nice one."
"Thanks."
"But I know you saw something."
Christine kept her eyes straight ahead, trying to ignore Dustin's curls as he bounced along in her peripheral vision. He would not go away.
"I…I don't know what I saw."
"I KNEW IT!"
Christine and Lucas shushed him, which made Dustin duck down for some reason. After nearly tripping himself off the path, he turned to Christine with rapt excitement.
"So? What did she do?"
"She didn't do anything, okay?"
"But what did you see?" asked Lucas.
"Nothing! Look, my—my TV was just having issues. All the electronics have been weird this week. The brown out, remember?"
She'd intended this statement to raze their excitement, but Dustin and Lucas turned to each other with intent looks.
"Do you think she can control radio waves?" asked Dustin.
"No way," said Lucas. "And anyway, how would that help her close a door?"
"It wouldn't! Which means she has more than one superpower! How sick is that?!"
"They're not superpowers! She's just weird!"
"In more than one way! Damn. She's like a real life Scarlet Witch!"
"Scarlet Witch doesn't have telekinesis, dummy."
"Hey, Wanda can move things! And we don't know how Eleven's doing it, so it could be chaos magic! Or it could be the Force!"
"Nobody's using the Force," Christine insisted before they could get into another argument. "Look, I don't know how much of your story I believe. This whole superpower, special sense, monster thing—it's crazy. But I do think that something weird is going on. Now if Eleven can help us find Will, great. But right now I'm just trying to make sure she stays safe. That all of you do. Got it?"
The boys nodded solemnly. Then Dustin leaned forward to smirk at Lucas.
"Told ya she'd believe me."
Christine slapped his hat off into the brush.
Dustin scrambled, but was unable to recover it. He cursed as he smacked down his kickstand, going to look in the bushes while Lucas and Christine cackled behind him.
She turned to Lucas as his laughter died away. "Hey. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I guess." He stared ahead, his jaw taut. "I don't care about any of this mad scientist stuff either. I just wanna find Will. That's the most important thing to me."
"I know, bud."
"We…We are gonna find him, right?"
Christine wished she'd never seen Lucas so hopeless. He'd put his faith in Mike and Eleven, followed them out into the woods on their word so they could find their friend. But there was no confidence. And Christine didn't want to lie.
"I hope so," she said, with a supportive smile. "And if we don't find him today, maybe we'll find him tomorrow. Will's always seemed quiet, but he's smart. And he's got some pretty cool friends looking for him. He's got that in his favor."
Lucas gave her a half-hearted smile, but did not respond. Dustin was already catching up to them, still cursing under his breath.
"I know!" he said as he leveled with them. "I know, watch my language. Sorry, Christine."
"Hey, I'm not your mother," she said with a shrug. "We're in the middle of the woods with a potentially psychic runaway, looking for your friend who's being hunted by a Dungeons and Dragons monster. You can curse all you want."
"Shit," he said experimentally. Then, when she didn't stop him, "God damn it. Son of a bitch. Motherf—…"
"Alright, that's enough of that."
The forest was getting darker. Shadows around them subsided into blackness, making it difficult to see. The boys flicked on the headlights on their bikes, but it didn't help much. Despite Christine's reservations, the group spread out naturally. Eleven was forging ahead, faster now that she felt they were getting close. Mike stayed by her side, but they were well ahead of everyone else. Dustin was losing stamina fast, and Christine and Lucas hung back to ensure that he wasn't left behind. Lucas didn't have the energy to give him shit for slowing down. Christine couldn't blame them. Even her feet were starting to hurt.
Finally, the trees started to thin out. The canopy of branches overhead gave way to navy blue sky. Brambles turned into tall grass, which eventually bled into a flat lawn where the path ended. And up ahead, Mike and Eleven finally stopped.
"Oh thank God," Dustin panted. "I think I'm gonna die."
"Just hurry up, man," complained Lucas.
They hurried ahead, and Christine brought up the rear. They were definitely on someone's lawn. A gravel driveway stretched between a lonely length of road and a single story house on their left. None of the lights were on, but it was clearly lived in. There were boxes out on the porch, and sheets hanging in the yard to dry. Christine wasn't sure where the trail had spat them out, but everyone else seemed to know where they were.
Dustin and Lucas dropped their bikes dejectedly.
"What are we doing here?" Lucas demanded.
"She said he's hiding here," said Mike.
"Um…no!"
"I swear," Dustin wheezed, "if we walked all the way out here for nothing…"
"That's exactly what we did!"
"Okay, hold on," Christine interjected. "Can somewhere tell me where we are?"
"That's Will's house," Lucas said angrily, jabbing a finger at the property. "You know, where he lives? Where he would be if he wasn't—oh, I don't know—missing?!"
Christine's heart sank. She looked up at the dark house, surprised to find herself a little bit heartbroken. Just for a couple hours, she'd managed to fall under the spell of the boys' story. But superpowers, government conspiracies, mad scientists…none of it was going to help find Will. That was a real problem. A very real lost boy who they had no way of finding.
Eleven was standing at the head of the group, her wide eyes looking crestfallen as Lucas began yelling.
"I told you she didn't know what the hell she was talking about!"
Mike rolled his eyes, but even he seemed disappointed. He turned to El, sounding very tired. "Why did you bring us here?"
"Mike," Lucas barked over El's stammering. "Don't waste your time with her."
"Hey," said Christine, holding up a hand. "Come on, Lucas…"
"What do you want to do then?" Mike demanded of him.
"Call the cops, like we should've done yesterday!"
"We are not calling the cops!"
"Hey, guys?"
"What other choice do we have?"
"I don't know!"
"Guys!"
Dustin was standing a few feet into the yard, staring out at the main road. It was empty at first. Then Christine saw the lights of two police cruisers and an ambulance speed by.
Christine's heart sank a little further.
"Will," Mike breathed into the night air.
Exhaustion forgotten, everyone ran back to their bikes. They were a scrambling mess of tripping and squeaking and false started pedaling. By the time they hit the street, Christine could have sworn the boys were moving just as fast as the cruisers. They flew across the pavement, following the sound of the sirens through the night. Then the sirens stopped. They followed the lights instead, close enough to hear the commotion of a crowd. And then they spat out into another clearing.
It was a quarry. Christine couldn't help but look up in awe at the cliffs that stretched up over their heads. She'd never been to this part of town before. The rocky walls created a natural basin, a huge dark lake that bled out from the shore. Christine wondered if teens came here to swim at all, or if it always felt this dark and creepy.
"Pst!" Dustin was hissing at her from behind a fire engine. "Move it!"
She hurriedly wheeled her bike over, ducking behind the vehicle and peering around the side with the kids.
There were upwards of twenty people standing near the water. Policemen, state troopers, EMTs, firemen. They created a wall around the shore, blocking view of whatever they were staring at. But she could hear the water sloshing, her the worried whispers of all those bystanders. Only one thing in Hawkins had earned enough attention to cause this.
"It's not Will," Mike said, shaking his head. "It can't be."
A few policemen exchanged looks at the edge of the lake, then forlornly drifted away. It left a gap in the wall of first responders, a window to the water, where two rangers were pulling something out of the water.
If there was room in the human body for her heart to sink more, it did.
It was a corpse, laid out on a stretcher. Judging by the size, it was a child. And there was only one child in Hawkins that was unaccounted for.
"It's Will." Lucas's voice broke. "It's really Will."
"It's—It's not," said Dustin, shaking his head. "It's not, Chrissy. Right?"
He looked up with her, begging her to agree. But Dustin's eyes were already shining with tears.
Christine bit her lip, and tugged Dustin to her chest. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as they began to shake. He sobbed into her chest, his arms squeezing the life out of her waist. She knew there was nothing she could say. So she just patted his head, and tried to hold back her own tears for his sake.
Mike backed away from the crime scene, and Eleven trailed after him. Even she looked like she was on the verge of crying.
"Mike…" she said brokenly, reaching out for him.
But Mike smacked her hand away.
"Mike?" he repeated angrily. "Mike what? You were supposed to help us find him alive! You said he was alive!"
"Mike, stop," Christine scolded weakly.
"No!" He rounded on her, his voice shaky. "She lied to us! Why did you lie to us? What's—What's wrong with you? What is wrong with you?!"
Eleven shook her head. "Mike…"
"What?!" he snapped, and Eleven took a tiny step back.
Christine pulled away from Dustin. "Mike, stop. You're scaring her."
"Good! She should be scared! Will was!"
"Mike!"
But he was already moving. He ran back to his bike, wiping his face as he went. It took him a few tries to get the thing upright because his hands were shaking so badly.
"Mike, come on," Lucas said through tears. "Don't do this, man. Mike!"
"Mike, where are you going?" asked Dustin. "Mike!"
They called after him as he got a running start and took off into the darkness. Dustin made a move to run after him, but Christine managed to grab him by the sleeve.
"No, no. Let him go. He wants to be alone."
"But Will…"
"I know, Dust. I'll call his mom to make sure he got home okay. Right now…I think I should take you guys home."
It was a sign of how broken they were that no one argued with her.
Christine kneeled down in front of Eleven, who was still staring after Mike. She pried the girl's hands from her head, and held them as gently as she could.
"Hey, it's okay, El. It's okay. You were just trying to help."
"Mike," she sobbed again. "But Mike…"
"I know. But he's just really scared, okay? He's gonna come back. But right now he's scared and sad, and he just needs to be alone."
"Alone…is bad."
"Sometimes, yeah. But sometimes alone just lets you think. It lets you feel things without worrying about everyone else." Eleven still didn't look convinced, so Christine rubbed a hand along her arm. "Hey. You are not going to be alone. You can stay at my house tonight, and we can have more waffles tomorrow. You do not have to be alone."
Eleven blinked back her tears, looking up at Christine. "Promise?"
"Yes," Christine said immediately. "Promise. I promise."
She braved a smile and squeezed El's shoulder. She still looked shaken, but she nodded all the same.
"Dustin…?" Christine asked, but he was two steps ahead of her.
"Come on, El." He'd wiped his face, and already mounted his bike. His cheeks still shining with tears, he still mustered a smile. "My bike is way cooler than Christine's. You see these things on the wheels? You can stand on them, and then just hold onto my shoulders. It's kind of scary at first, but it's really cool."
He helped Eleven on his bike, and Christine patted Lucas on the arm. He barely responded, only managing a sniffle.
"Come on, Lucas. Let's get you home."
They took off together, Dustin and Lucas having to take the lead back into town. Christine rode between them, her eyes bouncing back and forth like a pinball machine. Dustin, Eleven, Lucas. Dustin, Eleven, and Lucas. They were all still there. Dustin, Eleven, and Lucas…
They stopped in front of the Sinclair house, where the lights were still on inside.
"Do you want me to go in with you?" Christine asked.
Lucas only shook his head. She nodded, not expecting much else. Still, she fumbled with her words. What was there to say?
"Okay. Just…be careful, alright? Get some sleep, and…we'll check in with you tomorrow."
Dustin and Lucas nodded to each other, words failing even them. And then Lucas walked up the driveway alone. They waited until he had parked his bike, until he'd gone through the door, until the shadows of his parents greeted him in the living room. Only then did Christine flip her kickstand up, and they headed back to their own houses.
"Are you gonna be okay?" Christine asked him as they pulled onto their own street.
Dustin just shrugged. There was no real answer to a question like that.
"You can stay at my place too, if you want."
"Are you kidding?" asked Dustin. "I'm not gonna be allowed to leave the house until…ever."
Christine smiled feebly at the joke. "Still. I can try and persuade your mom."
"Nah. I think I…I kinda just want…"
"It's okay, Dust. I know."
They rode into her backyard. Eleven climbed shakily off the back of Dustin's bike, and walked with Christine to the backdoor. Christine held it open for her, then hesitated.
"I need to walk Dustin home, okay?" she asked. "You can lock the door, and you can watch me from the window. I'm only gonna be like twenty feet away. And when I come back, I'll knock like this, so you know to let me in."
Christine knocked against the open door, two slow, and three quick. Eleven's eyes widened, ready to argue. But then she looked at Dustin. He was hovering behind Christine, his eyes sunk to the pavement, scuffing his shoe against the stoop. Slowly, Eleven nodded.
"Thank you," Christine said earnestly.
Eleven closed the door, peeking out through the back panel so she could see them. Christine gestured to the side of the house, showing Eleven which way to walk. Then she wrapped an arm around Dustin's shoulder and headed next door.
The Hendersons' front door wrenched open after a single knock.
"Dusty!" Mrs. Henderson exclaimed. "Where on earth have you been? I've been worried sick! I know you said you had AV club, but it's past dinner! It's nearly…Dusty?"
Dustin had not responded. He stepped forward, and hugged his mother tightly. Mrs. Henderson looked down in surprise, then looked up to Christine for answers. All Christine had to do was shake her head.
"Oh…oh no." Mrs. Henderson clapped a hand over her mouth. She sunk down to her knees, pulling Dustin fiercely to her chest. "Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, sweetheart."
Both of them began to cry. It took everything Christine had to make sure that she didn't start too. She had to keep it together. Just a little longer.
After several minutes, Mrs. Henderson ushered Dustin into the house. She attempted to do the same to Christine, who took a step back.
"I'm fine, Claudia…"
"No," Mrs. Henderson said fiercely. "No, no, no. I am not letting you stay in that house alone tonight. You can stay here."
"Really, Mrs. Henderson." Christine glanced over at her own house, where she could just make out the shape of Eleven in her father's bedroom window. "I think we all just need to be alone for a little while. To…To process…things..."
She wrapped her arms around her chest, making herself seem smaller until Mrs. Henderson sighed.
"What on earth happened, Christine?"
"We…We don't know. The boys had AV club, and after that they were still really down. So I said I'd take them on a bike ride around town, so long as we stuck together. They just wanted to do something, you know? And then we saw the cruisers and we followed them down to the quarry, and…"
She trailed off again, trying not to look at the way Mrs. Henderson covered her mouth.
"And did—did they find…?"
"Yeah. Looks like it."
Mrs. Henderson shuddered a gasp. "Oh, that poor boy. His family, and—and for you to see that!"
"I got them out of there as soon as I could," Christine promised. "We took Lucas all the way home first, and…and Mike took off on his own, so I have to go call his mom now. I just wanted to make sure that Dustin…was safe first, I guess."
"Thank you, Christine," Mrs. Henderson said breathlessly. "I cannot thank you enough. I…oh, come here, sweetheart."
She pulled Christine into a bone crushing hug. It felt nice to have her hair stroked, to have someone pat her back. Christine felt her own tears welling in her eyes, and had to pull away before they could break free.
"I'm—I'm gonna call the Wheelers," she managed, taking a few steps back. "But I'll come back in the morning. Just to be sure."
"Alright, dear. And if anything happens, anything at all! You don't hesitate to come over here! I don't care if it's three o'clock in the morning. You bang on this door until Dusty or I let you in."
"Thanks, Mrs. Henderson."
She turned away before the woman could call her back.
Back at her own house, Christine knocked carefully on the door. It opened a crack, Eleven's big brown eyes peering through before she opened it the rest of the way. Christine slipped inside, and locked every lock on the door. She leaned her back against it, and closed her eyes for a moment.
"Okay?"
Eleven was peering up at her in the dark, face full of concern. Christine used her dwindling energy to summon a smile.
"Yeah. I'm okay. How about we get some lights on, hm? Maybe some music."
Together they walked around the room, turning on the lamps and all the lights in the house. After such a long day in the woods, it was nice to have something to chase the shadows away. Back in the living room, Christine talked Eleven through turning on the stereo. She let her pick her own tape this time, ending up with some of her dad's James Taylor. As soon as she heard the gentle chords of "Fire and Rain," Christine felt the last of her energy drain away.
"Hey," she said softly to Eleven. "I'll be right back, okay? Bathroom. You know, privacy."
Eleven nodded solemnly, and turned back to the stereo.
Christine walked down the hall, shutting herself in the bathroom and leaning heavily on the door. It felt stupid to be so upset. She didn't even know Will all that well. She had to keep it together for Eleven. It felt stupid not to be upset. He was just a kid, and she'd just seen his damn body fished out of the lake…
She had to bite hard on her lip to keep her crying silent. She turned off the light again, and sunk down onto the floor.