"Water?"
"Got it."
"Flashlight."
"Jonathan, we've been over the supplies at least half a dozen times. We're good to go," I groan, throwing my hair into a haphazard ponytail, and snagging a baseball cap hanging from the back of his bedroom door to cram down over the locks not long after, earning myself a skeptical look in response, "What?"
"You look ridiculous, you know that?"
"Better ridiculous than bald because a spider got in my hair."
"Okay, that happened one time, Cami. And you were hardly bald," Jonathan protests, a small laugh escaping as I stick my tongue out in protest, before dodging out of the way as he moves to try and take the hat from my head, "Come on, seriously–one time."
"And once was more than enough, thank you very much," I quip, swatting Jonathan's hands away, and grinning a bit myself at the amusement that still lingers in his expression, despite the circumstances warranting our current actions to begin with, "Thanks again for laughing at me, instead of helping me when that happened, by the way."
"Well when you started shrieking and flailing around when the little guy–"
"That was not a little spider, Jonathan Byers!"
"Yeah. Yeah, Cami, it really was."
I remember the exact incident, of course. Jonathan, Will and I had been meandering through the woods at the back of their property, Will's enthusiastic retelling of a recent campaign with Mike, Dustin and Lucas echoing around the trees as we walked. I had been so intent on listening to the tale that I wasn't exactly paying attention to where I was walking, and one thing led to another until I walked directly into a spider web hanging between two overhanging branches…
I was screaming seconds later, Jonathan was nearly flat on the ground from laughing so hard, and the one to come to my rescue after all of that had been Will.
Will, who was now somewhere in Hawkins, alone. Probably scared out of his mind, and wanting to come home.
"Okay. Okay, let's go," I bite out, ignoring Jonathan's knowing look and pushing past him to slip out into the hall, and head to the door at the back of his home to make a beeline for the woods.
"Cami–"
"Let's go. We've messed around for long enough, don't you think?"
Jonathan remains silent behind me as I wrench the back door open with perhaps more force than is truly necessary, the sound of it thwacking against the paneling causing me to flinch though it does not stop my rapid footfalls into the yard. I am aware of Jonathan jogging to catch up with me, but I keep my gaze trained on the treeline up ahead, regardless.
My sole focus is on getting into those woods. Combing every last inch of them, if I have to, to find Will.
I know exactly what it is like to lose a sibling. To know that you failed to protect them, and there's nothing you can do about it other than try to scrape yourself off of the floor and move on.
If there is even the slightest chance that I can prevent Jonathan from going through that pain, there is no doubt in my mind that I will do whatever it takes.
"Where do you think we should start?" Jonathan asks, clearly sensing my line of thought and trying to reel me back as best he can, something for which I am eternally grateful for, whether I will ever be able to find the words to say so or not.
"Castle Byers. Definitely Castle Byers," I reply, seizing on the distraction as best I can, and risking a look at Jonathan to send him a tremulous smile before going on, "We can branch out if we have to from there."
"Yeah. Sounds–sounds good."
"We're gonna find him, Jonathan."
"You don't know that, Cami," My friend sighs, the dejection that is so apparent in his tone coming very close to bringing me to tears, at least until I force myself to turn my attention to the path ahead, focusing on the snapping twigs and crunching leaves beneath my feet as a distraction, "You–you just–don't."
"No. I don't. But I swear to God, Jonathan, if I have to come out here every day to look until I have no other choice, then that is precisely what I am going to do. So I guess false hope or not, you're just gonna have to deal with that."
My vehemence seems to startle us both into silence, then, and for a moment, I even wonder if I may have gone too far, a myriad of emotions flickering across Jonathan's face as I peek at him from the corner of my eye. But as soon as I am prepared to open my mouth to apologize, I am startled back into silence as Jonathan momentarily drops his bag of supplies on the forest floor with a sharp crunch and yanks me into an almost bone-crushing hug in next to no time at all.
"What the hell would I do without you, Cami?"
"I don't know," I mumble, my face practically squashed against his chest while my arms wind tightly around his waist, "Probably die of old age, alone in your room listening to The Clash."
"As opposed to now, where you'll be dead right alongside me."
"Precisely."
"Guess that means I'm going to take my chances and keep you around, then," Jonathan decides, giving me one final squeeze before releasing me and turning back to grab the bag he dropped mere moments before, "At least until you answer one question for me."
"What's that?"
"Why the hell was Steve Harrington dropping you off at my house earlier?"
"I um–can we–talk about something else?"
"Cami–"
"Seriously. Something else. Please," I beg, grateful for the darkness of the woods around us, as it gives me reason enough to believe that maybe Jonathan will not be able to see the blush forming on my cheeks, "It's not even important."
"He just seems to be giving you a lot of attention."
"Yeah. Not without my efforts to stop it."
"Maybe that means something," Jonathan persists, clearly skeptical of the idea, though I can see with another look at him that he is really trying to give it some legitimate thought…
Which of course, is something I know I cannot have.
"Trust me, Jonathan. It doesn't mean a thing," I state, sending my friend a look that he seems to understand if the sharp nod he gives is any indication, whatever lingering doubts he has apparently not urgent enough for him to continue to press the matter, at least for right now. I know my standoffishness is probably a bit overdone, especially when I also know that, of anyone, Jonathan Byers is the one person I know for a fact can be trusted with my secrets. But if I can't even understand my conflicted feelings as they pertain to Steve, how the hell can I expect anyone else to do the same?
I have absolutely no business even trying to think about that, when the most important thing right now is finding Will. Bringing him home.
And I remind myself of that over and over again as Jonathan and I resume our trek through the woods, praying as fiercely as I can that we will find him, and this can all be over as quickly as it began.
…
After reaching Castle Byers and finding it empty, Jonathan and I agree to split off, the western portion of the woods his responsibility while I handle the undergrowth and trees to the east. We know splitting up is foolish, of course, and to be fair, it was more my idea than Jonathan's, his protests still ringing in my ears even now as I trudge along with nothing but the crunch of undergrowth and my own ragged breathing to accompany me. But it is getting darker now. And as much as I know neither one of us want to give up the search, we are both painfully aware of the fact that if Jonathan isn't back indoors soon, Joyce will be panicked about both of her children, instead of just one.
Not to mention the fact that if I don't find a way to call my dad and let him know where I am, I may never see the outside world ever again.
Shaking my head, I continue plowing forward, the beam from my flashlight swinging in an arc in front of me as I try to keep a close eye on my surroundings. I'm not a hunter. Not a tracker, and certainly not exactly sure how to go about finding a missing child. But I know enough to be on the lookout for signs that something other than whatever animals inhabit the woods has been through here. Footprints or paths in the undergrowth. Snapped twigs. Maybe even signs of a fire built for warmth.
I know some of what to look for, but even then I find nothing, my lips clamping down to restrain an exasperated groan as I turn in a half-circle and try to decide whether or not to go on, or turn back to find Jonathan and call it a night.
"Will!"
Nothing. Nothing comes in response to my call, and although I have come to expect that by now, it still doesn't assuage the pang of disappointment that knifes its way through my chest, regardless, another low sigh escaping as I decide to continue moving forward, only to stop dead in my tracks as a sharp snap of a twig echoes nearby, and my hand tightens around the flashlight while my heart clatters to a stop within my chest.
"W–Will?"
Once again I am met with nothing but silence, though this time I am aware of how something about that silence has changed. It's hard to put a finger on it, given that it isn't exactly like the woods were teeming with noise five seconds ago. But now, it is almost as though all of the air has been sucked out, or thickened in some way, my lungs starting to constrict as I turn in yet another slow circle, and the beam of my flashlight moves along with me.
The second the beam lands on the–thing–standing only a few short feet away, I am jumping backwards, the flashlight toppling to the forest floor as a scream erupts before I can stop it.
Whatever this is, I know that it is not human. Not even close. And although I know it is remarkably foolish, I suddenly do not even have the patience to stoop to grab the fallen flashlight, my heart jackhammering away in my ears as I turn and run in the opposite direction as quickly as I can.
Or at least I move as quickly as I can until my foot catches on a fallen branch, and I go tumbling to the ground, my head connecting with something solid so quickly that the yelp that escapes my lips cuts off in seconds while all the air I have managed to drag into my lungs is forced out in a rush.
I spend a moment in a sort of motionless haze after that, my fingers digging into the debris on the ground beneath me as I shake my head to try and clear my vision. I cannot seem to do that, though, my sluggish mind finally catching up to the reality of the situation in time for me to realize something sticky is rolling from my hairline, down the side of my face…
One swipe with a trembling hand later, and I can tell, even in the dim lighting, that my fingers have come away from my temple coated in blood.
"Shit," I hiss, shaking my head again, and scrambling to my feet as another snapping twig behind me spurs my sluggish body into action once more. My vision is still blurry off and on, and as I move forward, I find that I am leaning on the trees nearby for the will to remain upright more than I care to admit. But I need to get to Jonathan.
Jonathan.
God, what if whatever is chasing me is not alone? What if one of them is after my best friend, too?
What if one of them got Will?
Panic claws at my throat in response to the thought, making it harder than it already is to breathe, black spots appearing in my already muddied line of sight while my ears begin to ring in tandem. I'm dimly aware of the fact that I am still moving, though my legs feel like they're slogging through a thick vat of cement, rather than moving through relatively innocuous air.
I cannot hear the creature that I saw moving along after me anymore, but that might only be because of the blood rushing against my eardrums as it joins in with the pre-existing ringing, and the next thing I know I am sagging down to land with a jarring thud on my knees.
"J–Jonathan!"
My voice sounds muffled–almost like a whisper as my hands fumble on the ground trying to find the leverage to push myself back up to standing, but it does not take long for me to realize that my arms are trembling entirely too much for that attempt to be successful, another flare of panic igniting in my chest as I topple sideways onto the foliage, bits of leaf getting caught in my hair while my eyes slide closed whether I want them to or not.
The last thing I think of before I lose consciousness entirely is the dull roar I hear coming from somewhere up above my head, my fingers curling in the dirt beneath them until they go limp in next to no time at all.
Dad…I'm sorry.
…
I wake with a ragged gasp some unknown amount of time later, somehow already aware of the fact that I am not alone despite the fact that I have yet to gain any direct proof of that with my own two eyes. I am still flat on my back, the rustle of the leaves in the trees overhead almost calming. But as soon as I feel something fluttering against my temple, where I vaguely remember the blood had been, I am wrenching away, scrambling backwards until a tree trunk slamming against my back stops me cold, and I finally get a glimpse of just what may have been the source of the fluttering that startled me so much to begin with.
A small child is hunched over, frozen in the spot beside where I had been resting just a few moments prior, with short cropped hair, and what appears to be a hospital gown covering an obviously thin frame. And though wide, frightened brown eyes are staring back at me, while we both remain frozen, something at the back of my mind tells me I do not have to be afraid. Not now.
Whatever had been chasing me before I fell is long gone, and as much as I doubt it would have left me so easily, given my former vulnerability, I am equally as skeptical of the idea that this child was the one who drove it away.
"What are–what are you doing out here?" I manage, my legs bending until I can loop my arms around my knees, suddenly aware that if I make any movements to actually stand, or move more drastically that the child before me will probably bolt in seconds, flat. For a moment, I wonder if my inquiry had been too soft, the silence that persists nearly deafening as I bite down on my lower lip and try to consider what to do next. Before I am able to come to any sort of decision, though, I realize the child is shifting to sit cross-legged on the ground, head cocked to the side for only a moment before the reply I hoped for finally comes.
"Running."
"Running? You're–you're running in the woods at night?"
"Bad men," The child murmurs, hunching over as though trying to become smaller, to hide from whoever these bad men are that seem to be so frightening, "Escaped."
"You–you escaped? Do–do your parents know where you–"
"No parents. Only–only Papa."
My brow furrows in response to the remark, confusion over how this 'Papa' does not qualify as a parent at odds with a growing sense of concern over what would have someone so young wandering the woods alone at night in the first place. I want to ask more about the bad men. Papa. Where the thing that had been chasing me went, and how it was forced to leave me alone. But regardless of all that, I soon find myself consumed by another thought, entirely, my voice crackling a bit as I try to fight against my confusion and panic to speak coherently, for Will's sake, if nothing else.
"Have you–have you seen a boy? He'd be small, like–like you–"
"No boy."
"You're–you're sure?" I press, a cold sense of dread sparking to life as a result of the vehement shake of the head that I receive in response, "His–his name is Will–"
"No boy."
I can feel frustrated tears burning at the corners of my eyes in response to the declaration, but I do not entirely have the strength to keep them in check, a shiver passing through me as a cool gust of wind lashes against my face, leaving a chill in place of the tear-track that has started to snake its way down my cheek. And although I want to press the child for more information–although questions about the thing that I saw are practically tumbling over one another in my mind–I remain silent, my eyes locked with the child's until a familiar voice echoes through the trees coming from somewhere off to the left.
"Cami! Cami!"
"Jonathan!"
"Cami?"
I stand without thinking, then, my hand darting out to catch my balance as I wobble on my feet, only belatedly realizing that the sudden movement has likely startled the child sitting nearby. Turning in hopes of offering a reassurance, I find myself surprised to see that the kid is already gone, nothing but a shallow indentation in the leaves beside where I had collapsed proving that I had ever been anything but alone…
I am torn between trying to follow after the child, and the instinctive pull to wait for Jonathan to find me, my indecision keeping me rooted to the spot until my best friend comes crashing through the foliage just a few feet away. Terror is etched plain as day in every last facet of his expression as he looks from my bloodied temple, to my hands, shaking at my sides, and moves to close the distance between us in next to no time at all.
"Jesus Christ, I thought I'd lost you. When I heard that scream–"
"You–you heard that?"
"What the hell happened, huh? Did you–did you see–was it–"
"It wasn't Will," I cut in, another tear escaping as Jonathan's face falls, whatever momentary hope that had been in his eyes dying out in seconds, flat, "I don't–I'm sorry, I don't–it was–"
"It was what?"
"I can't–"
"Cami, what did you see?" Jonathan asks, his hands resting on my shoulders, squeezing gently as I shake my head, my heart seizing within my chest at the thought of having to explain anything of what I had seen since our separation at all. I hardly had a chance to see enough of the thing that had been chasing me to make a full description, save for the instinctive fear that had seeped into every last muscle and nerve ending I possess. And if I say anything about the child? The child that vanished before Jonathan arrived?
I would be lying if I said I was not half-terrified that my best friend would finally think I had gone insane.
"I just–I want to go home. Can–can you take me home?"
"Yeah. Yeah, of course," Jonathan assures, his expression indicating that I am not exactly out of the woods as far as answering questions goes, though I appear to have earned a momentary reprieve. I am poignantly aware of his arm winding around my waist, supporting my still trembling limbs as we turn to head back towards his home. And in spite of the labyrinth of thoughts–questions–fears–tumbling around in my mind, I force myself to focus on nothing more than the solidity of his presence at my side, my lips thinning into a line as I try to decide whether to tell anyone the truth of what I had just seen, or if I would be better off coming up with a really good lie.
Something tells me I might end up leaning toward the lie.
…
So it would seem that my Stranger Things binge week continues! I guess that's what happens when you are obsessed with season four (except for certain parts where I shall continue to persist in my denial until someone convinces me otherwise, lol). That said, I hope no one particularly minds this little muse invasion of mine. I promise, I haven't forgotten about any of my other stories, so I hope you are all willing to bear with me if Cami (and Sadie) tend to steal the limelight for the next little bit ;).
As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story thus far! Special thanks to those who took the time to leave such encouraging feedback the last time around (ThimbleKisses, MyRandomThoughts, and mostly a reader fangirl99, this means you!) I am so very appreciative of your support, and I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as the last!
Until next time, darlings…
MOMM
