Outfitting the Byers' shed took a lot of time and effort. Initially, Christine thought it would be a breeze with ten of them working on it as fast as they could, but the shed was so small that it could only hold a few of them at a time. They ended up having to break into teams to get anything done. Hopper was purging the interior and throwing everything carelessly onto the lawn. The boys scoured the house from top to bottom for tarps, cardboard, sheets—anything that could be used to cover the walls—while Steve and Nancy focused on putting them up. Jonathan and his mom were focused on Will: how they were going to wake him up, and then how they could safely restrain him.

"Do you think it's gonna work?" Max asked Christine.

The two of them were stationed in the kitchen, building makeshift covers for two of the kitchen chairs. Christine was cutting and folding the cardboard to fit while Max supplied her with strips of duct tape.

"I hope so," Christine answered, balancing honestly with optimism as best she could.

"I mean, I get it in theory," Max went on, "and I know they're gonna have big lights and whatever, but…I just don't see how he's not gonna realize where he is. Even if you covered up everything in my room, I'd still know where I was."

"But you're you," Christine pointed out. "Right now, Will's not really Will. He could barely recognize his mom, so…hopefully this is enough. He won't really have time to look anyway, once they start talking to him."

Max nodded, picking feebly at the edge of the tape, clearly not particularly comforted by that thought. Christine knew the feeling; she didn't want to think about what was going to happen in the shed either. Just the idea that Will was going to be restrained—tiny little Will, who loved art and coloring, who didn't even like hurting pretend people in pretend games—the whole thing was horrifying. They were calling it "a talk," but everyone knew the reality: it was an interrogation.

Both girls looked up when the back door opened. Mike didn't acknowledge them, just made a beeline for the cabinet under the sink and began rummaging around. Christine raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. She couldn't blame him for being in a bad mood, considering he'd spent the last twenty-four hours locked up in Hawkins Lab, watching evil scientists experiment on his best friend, only to bring Will home and realize he needed to run more experiments on his best friend so the world didn't end. She was surprised things weren't worse.

Christine wanted to ask if he was okay, but she knew it was a stupid question. He wasn't okay, and he didn't want to talk about it. Mike was testy at the best of times, and she'd learned to recognize the warning signs.

Max hadn't.

"I get why El was your mage, now."

Mike and Christine both froze. It felt like she'd missed a step on the stair, or gotten all the wind knocked out of her chest. For one terrible moment, she was back in the middle school parking lot, her leg in a makeshift cast, holding back tears as she choked on the word goodbye.

Mike slowly looked over his shoulder, his face dark. "What?"

"Lucas," Max explained with a small smile. "He told me all about her."

"Yeah, well he shouldn't have. And just because you know the truth, it doesn't mean you're in our party. You do know that, right?"

"Mike," Christine said sharply, which only made him roll his eyes.

Max had gone still. Christine expected her to snap back with some witty comment and storm off the way she had back on the bus. Instead, Max folded in on herself.

"Yeah, I—I know." She fiddled with the last piece of duct tape she'd ripped off. "I mean, why would you want a stupid zoomer in your party anyway?"

"Zoomer?" Christine repeated with a smile. "What kind of stats come with that?"

"It's just because she skateboards," Mike snapped before Max had the chance to answer. "It's not a real class, and it's not that cool."

Christine glowered at his back. She was about ready to smack him, bad mood be damned, but Max still mustered a smile.

"I'm just saying," she offered softly. "El? It sounds like she was really awesome."

Christine's heart clenched. She thought she'd already cried herself dry talking to Joyce, but the unexpected mention of Eleven had her ready to tear up again.

"She was really sweet," Christine whispered, staring down at the chair in her lap. "She was powerful, and brave and…she really was amazing."

"Yeah, she was," Mike agreed. "Until that thing took her. Just like it took Bob."

He slammed the cabinet closed, his arms full of tin foil and cleaning fluid. With one last glare at Max, he stormed out of the house and let the door slam closed behind him. Max's gaze sunk to the floor.

"Ignore him," Christine told her. "Mike's always an asshole when he's stressed. He's just worried about Will."

"Yeah, but he's not." Max ripped off another piece of duct tape, but it didn't fully hide the shake in her voice. "Even before this, he hated me. He didn't want me to come trick-or-treating. He didn't want me in their stupid radio club. I get that he's pissed, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it."

"There's nothing you can do about it. Nothing logical, anyway."

"Great. So he'll hate me forever."

"No, it's not that. It's just…"

Christine placed the last piece of cardboard onto the chair. She straightened it absently, twirling the tape in her hands and weighing her words.

"Losing Eleven…it was hard on all of us, but especially Mike. She changed things around here and…he really misses her. I think on some level, he sees Lucas and Dustin trying new things, making new friends, and he's scared because…he thinks he's the only one that cares that she's gone. Only, he'll never admit that because boys are dumb and they think it's stupid to admit you care about things."

She huffed and slapped the last piece of duct tape on with finality. Max raised her eyebrows.

"Okay…?"

"I mean, seriously," Christine scoffed, starting to ramble, "he's being a total hypocrite. Last year, Lucas was furious that Mike liked Eleven, because she was new, Lucas didn't trust her, and he didn't like change. This year, Lucas and Dustin want to be friends with you, and Mike's got a bug up his ass because you're new, he doesn't trust you, and he doesn't like change. So you know what? Fuck what Mike thinks. You do whatever makes you happy, and forget about boys. They don't know how to express their emotions and they're annoying and dumb."

Max giggled. "All of them?"

"Yes. All of them."

"Well, that's hurts." Christine jumped, whirling around to find Steve leaning on the kitchen counter behind her. "I mean you're not wrong, but it does hurt."

Christine stared at him, then turned around to glare incredulously at Max, who had already hopped to her feet with a shit-eating grin.

"Looks like boys aren't the only ones who don't know how to express their feelings," she said slyly. Then she grabbed the finished chair and disappeared out the back door.

"Ouch," Steve chuckled as Christine gaped after her. "She got you there."

"Uh, no. I'm expressing myself perfectly. You're dumb and I hate you." She continued to grumble as she got to her feet, wiping her hands off on her jeans. "Is the shed done already?"

"Nah, I'm just taking a break," Steve answered. "I ran out of staples, and things with Nancy are…"

He pulled a face, unable to find the right word to end the sentence. Christine wasn't surprised; it was exactly why she'd chosen to stay inside and help Max. Steve and Nancy needed time and space to work out their issues, and Christine needed to be as far away from that conversation as physically possible.

Steve pushed off the counter and folded his arms over his chest. "Question for you. I'm pretty sure I know the answer, but figured I'd—"

"No."

"What?" He looked at her sharply. "You don't even know what I'm gonna ask."

"Yeah, I do," Christine said tersely, "and the answer is no."

"Fine. But you realize how colossally stupid that is, right?"

"Honestly, I think it's stupid you're even asking."

"Wow, okay!" He laughed bitterly and held up his hands. "Excuse me for trying to keep them safe, jeez…"

Christine paused, squinting at him. "…What?"

"The kids," he said in annoyance, "who definitely shouldn't be here when Will wakes up? If he realizes where he is, we're all fucked. Isn't it safer if we split up?"

"…Oh…" She grimaced and awkwardly tilted her head to the side. "Well…I'm sorry. That's actually…not what I thought you were gonna ask me."

"What did you think I was talking about?"

Christine gave him a pointed look, frowning until the realization dawned on his face.

"Oh. Well, yeah, that would've been stupid, but…no, I wouldn't ask you to talk about Nancy. I uh…I got a pretty good idea anyway, so…"

He nodded glumly and left it at that. Christine could've kicked herself. All her effort to avoid the situation, and she'd been the one to bring it up. Awesome.

"The answer's still no," she said meekly. "I mean, you're right. It would be smarter, but Mike already said that he's staying with Will, and if Mike is staying, then Dustin and Lucas are staying. The party has to stick together."

Steve's head tipped back as he groaned. "Of course, the party. What was I thinking?"

She grinned, then bit her bottom lip as she hesitated.

"There's still time to be smart, you know," she offered. "If you wanted to go."

"Ah, where's the fun in that?" he asked, waving her off. "Besides, I'm a boy. I'm naturally annoying and dumb."

He smiled proudly and Christine shoved him, breaking out into giggles. It was a relief to laugh, to be carefree for just a moment despite the catastrophic shitstorm waiting for them outside. Until the back door opened again.

Jonathan made it three steps into the room before he stopped dead. His eyes bounced back and forth between them in a nervous panic as the laughter in the room died out.

"Uh…hey…"

"Hey, man," Steve said coolly. "What's up?"

"Nancy said—um—you—staples, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that'd be great."

"And a surge protector," Christine added. "I've gotta run a line out to the shed for the lights."

"Yeah, of course," Jonathan said at once. "I'll—yeah, I can grab that."

He nodded and scurried out of the room with his head down. Steve watched him go, his jaw tight with displeasure, his hands restless at his sides. Christine wished she could comfort him, but really, what was there to say?

The moment of relief was over. It was time to get back to the shitstorm.

An hour later, the shed's makeover was finally complete. All of the windows had been blacked out, the walls covered so that not an inch of wood peeked through, the singular light bulb removed in favor of two large construction lamps that would point directly at Will's face. The place was unrecognizable, exactly as they'd hoped, but it seemed like everyone was reluctant to take the next step. They loitered in the kitchen, exchanging nervous looks until Joyce stepped up.

"Okay," she said, her voice quiet but commanding. "Let's go."

Hopper gave her a lingering look. "You sure about this?"

"No. But I want my son back. Jonathan, get your brother."

Joyce nodded as firmly as she could before marching outside. Jonathan was next, Will slung over his shoulder like a heavy sack of flour. Nancy reached out to pat Jonathan on the arm, but pulled back at the last second. Instead, she gave him a bracing smile and shuffled to the opposite corner of the kitchen. Lucas and Dustin each hugged Mike before he walked out too, leaving just Hopper behind.

"You stay here, and you stay quiet," he ordered, looking at each of them in turn. "Don't open a window, don't open a door, don't push any buttons. We can't give him a single clue where he is."

"We got it, Chief," Lucas assured him.

Hopper pursed his lips and turned to Christine. "You still got that shotgun?"

She nodded wordlessly and jerked her head toward the front room, where the gun was propped up by the door.

"Good. Stay close and keep it ready. If things go south, we're not gonna get a lot of warning."

He looked around the room once more, nodded to Christine, and then followed the others out back, closing the door behind him.

For a while, everyone stayed in the kitchen, too scared to break the silence. Steve was the first to go, muttering something about his bat before he retreated into the living room. Max and Lucas strayed down the hallway together while Dustin moved toward the sink. He pushed the curtains apart as quietly as he could, making just enough space to watch the shed through the glass. Christine patted him on the shoulder before reluctantly leaving to grab the shotgun.

She would have felt a lot better if she could load it, but in the quiet house, even clicking the safety on and off seemed too loud. She settled for slinging it on her shoulder, the butt of the gun tapping reassuringly against her hip as she wandered from room to room.

She'd only visited the Byers house a few times since last November, but it had been nice to see the subtle changes as the year went on. The gaping hole in the wall had been patched up, and the carpeting had to be replaced to get rid of the giant burn mark they'd left in the hallway. The furniture was new too; just about everything in the living room had been destroyed last year, either smashed by the Demogorgon, singed by fire, or stained with blood. The floral wallpaper had been stripped too, the handwritten alphabet over the couch traded for an even coat of yellow paint. Of course, it was nearly impossible to see that under all the drawing paper taped on the walls.

Christine gently traced the crayon path with the tips of her fingers. Last year, the whole house had been done up with Christmas lights to keep them safe. This year the house had been turned into a skewed map of Hawkins. Hopefully, they could make it through the next year without completely destroying Joyce's house again.

The lights overhead flickered, stopping her in her tracks. Christine felt her throat starting to close, her brain shutting down, but she forced the feeling away. She didn't need to breathe; she needed to shoot.

The next instant, she was sliding the shotgun off her shoulder and marching for the backdoor. She almost made it, but just before she reached for the handle, Nancy's arm shot out to hold her back.

"Wait, wait, wait! Hopper said no doors."

"Yeah, he also said there's be no warning," Christine said incredulously. "Flickering lights equals monsters, remember?"

"Just hang on, Chris—"

"It's happening in the shed too." Dustin had rushed back to the window, nearly climbing into the sink to get a better look. "The whole place is lit up."

Steve shot an apprehensive look at the overhead light, which was rattling dangerously. "Guess that means he's up…"

Christine made another move for the backdoor, but Nancy ushered her back again. They waited, hearts pounding, as the lights continued to waver. Christine held her breath and, after a few more seconds, the lights returned to normal. Steve and Nancy both relaxed, but Christine was so wound up she felt like she was about to snap.

"I can't fucking do this," she groaned, storming into the dining room.

She dropped the shotgun on the table and sank into one of the chairs, then folded her arms on the table and buried her face in the crook of her elbow. If she wasn't allowed to do anything, then she didn't want to see anything either.

Her hearing worked just fine though. She wasn't entirely surprised when she heard footsteps walking up to her side. The chair next to her dragged across the floor and creaked as someone sat down.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dust," Christine lied into her sleeve. "Just…stressed."

"Yeah. Me too."

She was thankful that he left it at that. Normally Dustin rambled to fill the science, talking and cracking jokes until he got Christine to smile or loosen up. Now, even he seemed too tired to put up a front. When he finally spoke up a few minutes later, it wasn't with a joke at all.

"Hey, if…would—would you still be friends with me if I wasn't in the party?"

"What?"

Christine lifted her head at once, looking at him alarm. Dustin was folding his hat in his hands, his curls covering half of his face. What she could see of his expression was sullen and, when he continued, his voice was thick.

"Well, I—I broke the rule of law, and that means the party has to vote about whether or not I can stay, and now that Lucas has Max—"

"Hey, hey, stop," Christine said, turning to face him fully. "You're not going anywhere, okay? Besides, Lucas broke the rule of law too."

"Yeah, but I broke it first, and I broke the most important one: friends don't lie. And—and I told them I didn't know where Dart was, but I did know, and I just took him home because I didn't want him to get hurt. And now the party's in trouble, and Lucas is still mad, and Max likes him and not me, and—"

"Hey, no. Listen to me, okay? This is not your fault, Dusty. There is an army of those Demodogs and you only knew about one. What's happening to Will is not your fault, and what happened at the lab has nothing to do with you. You made a mistake. They'll forgive you."

"But…what if they don't?"

Christine sighed and ran a hand through Dustin's curls. It was a sign of just how sad he was that he didn't slap her hand back. She ducked her head so she could look him in the eyes before she went on, changing tactics.

"El's part of the party, right?"

"What?" Dustin frowned at her. "Of course."

"Even though she lied about knowing where the gate was? Even though she hurt Lucas?"

"That's different," he grumbled. "El has superpowers. She saved us."

"And you have powers too. You built that whole sensory deprivation pool last year, and realized what was wrong with the compasses. And maybe you made a mistake with Dart, but you were smart enough to trap him twice. No one else did that."

She pulled his hat out of his hands, positioning it back on his head. It was a struggle with all his hair, and this time he did swat her away so he could do it himself. When he was situated, Christine gave him a bracing smile.

"Look, if you want an answer, then yes. I'd still be friends with you, no matter what. But the guys will too. It's gonna take more than one Demodog to break up the party. You guys are like…The Fellowship of the Ring."

Dustin swung his legs back and forth, his face slowly breaking into a smile. "Yeah. I guess we are."

"I know you are. I mean, there's four of you, there's four hobbits—"

"Can I be Samwise?"

"Uh, no. You're definitely Pippin."

Christine grinned and slapped the bill of Dustin's hat. He hit her again as he continued.

"I guess that makes sense. El would be Gandalf and…who would you be?"

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "You tell me."

Dustin gave her an appraising look, thinking over his answer carefully. Finally, he decided, "Aragorn."

"Seriously?" Christine raised her eyebrows. "That's…not what I was expecting."

"Yeah, you'd definitely be Aragorn," Dustin confirmed. "You're really smart, and you know a lot, but you don't like being the center of attention. Also you're a badass who always looks out for us. And Steve can be Legolas, 'cuz he can fight, but most of the time he just stands around looking pretty."

Christine nearly choked herself trying to hold in her laughter and buried her face in her sleeve again to control her giggles. Dustin grinned with pride, the same way Steve had earlier.

"You know, Steve's not that bad," Dustin mused. "He's still kinda an asshole, but he's cool too. We talked a lot on the way to the junkyard. And he thinks you're cute."

Christine's laughter evaporated at once. She slowly raised her head to stare at Dustin, eyes narrowed into slits. "…Excuse me?"

"He thinks you're cute," Dustin repeated. "We were talking about—well, I can't actually tell you, 'cuz I promised I wouldn't say anything—but I asked if he thought you were hot, and he said you were cute, and then he got really quiet, so. That's good, right?"

He smiled obliviously as she continued to stare at him. It was a few seconds before she found her voice.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you."

Before she could act, the backdoor slammed open again. Christine and Dustin both jumped up, hurrying into the kitchen as Hopper marched inside. He grabbed a stray envelope from the mail rack and sat down at the kitchen table without explanation.

"What happened?" Dustin demanded as everyone else began pouring into the kitchen.

"I think he's talking—just not with words."

Hopper pulled a pen out of his pocket and began scrawling. Dot dot dot dot, space, dot…

"What's that?" asked Steve.

"Morse code," everyone answered in unison.

Steve wrinkled his nose, but Hopper was already finished decoding the message.

"H-E-R-E—"

"Here," the boys read at once.

Hopper sighed, but for once it wasn't in annoyance; it was vindication.

"Will's still in there," he announced. "He's talking to us."

"Wait, why is he talking in Morse code?" asked Max. "If he's himself again, can't he just say something?"

"Because he's still a spy," Mike explained. "If he said anything out loud, the Mind Flayer would hear him, so instead he's using his hands. I guess this way he can't notice."

"W-well okay," Joyce said frantically. "So what do we do? What do we need to do?"

"You don't need to do anything," Hopper said firmly. "The three of you are gonna do exactly what you were already doing. Talk to Will, keep reminding him who he is, buy us time."

Joyce, Mike, and Jonathan all nodded dutifully.

"I'm gonna grab my radio," said Jonathan before running down the hall to his room.

"You"—Hopper shoved his car keys into Steve's bewildered hands—"in the truck, between the front seats, there's a red piece of cardboard with a Morse code key."

Steve took off without question.

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do." Hopper pushed the paper and pen at Christine. "I'm gonna radio you the code, and you're gonna stay here and translate. Got it?"

"Yeah, I can do that," Christine said at once, pulling out a chair so she could sit down.

"Good. Okay, uh—kid, gimme your walkie."

"What?" Dustin wrinkled his nose and stepped back as Hopper pointed at him. "No. This is bard-use only."

Hopped stared at him flatly. "You're kidding me, right?"

He turned to Christine in frustration, gesturing for her to deal with the issue. Christine rolled her eyes.

"Lucas, give him yours."

"No!" Lucas objected. "Why do I have to do it?"

"Ranger's a warrior class. He's a cop, it's as close as we're gonna get, so suck it up."

Lucas glared at her, but trudged into the living room to retrieve his supercomm. Hopper looked about ready to start pinching the bridge of his nose again. Christine smiled brightly; she was glad that they had a plan, but she'd never pass up the chance to annoy Hopper.

As much as she disliked him, Christine had to admit that Hopper's plan ran smooth. He ducked back into the shed with Mike and the Byers, and while the others talked to Will, Hopper tapped the button on Lucas's walkie so Christine, who had years of practice with her hamshack radio in the garage, could write down the code. The boys turned the dots and dashes into letters with the key, and Nancy wrote down the final answer on a spare piece of cardboard on the other side of the table. The only downside was the wait time between Hopper's transmissions—and Steve's complaining.

"This is taking too long," Steve said for the fourth time as he paced around the kitchen. "There's gotta be some way we can speed this up."

"He's possessed, Steve," Christine snapped. "I'm sure Will's going as fast as he can."

"I'm just saying—"

"Well, stop saying!"

Steve huffed and folded his arms over his chest. He walked around to her side of the table, leaning on the back of her chair so he could read over her shoulder. Across from her, Dustin caught her eye with a grin, and Christine resisted the urge to kick him.

Her radio buzzed to life once more, and Christine grabbed for her pen. There was one short burst of static, and though they waited for more, the radio was silence.

Steve huffed again. "That's it?"

"Dot," Christine announced. "That's an E."

Nancy copied it down, then pushed the cardboard to the center of the table. Dustin and Lucas scrambled over to read it, Max pushing her way through so she could be in front. They stared at the red crayon and read the words aloud together.

"Close Gate."

Christine sighed and slumped over the table. The solution was obvious, but it was also impossible. The scientists at Hawkins National Lab had been trying to close the gate for over a year, and no one had been able to do it. The party had gotten pretty lucky in the past, but how were four thirteen-year-olds, four teenagers, a grieving mother, and an annoying cop supposed to figure out what the top physicists in the country hadn't? But before she could voice any of her dismal thoughts, something worse happened.

The phone rang.

Everyone jumped out of their seats and Dustin broke into a sprint.

"Shit! Shit—"

He picked the phone up and slammed it back down on the hook. A few seconds later it rang again. Dustin went for the handset, but Nancy was already clawing at the base. She pulled the whole phone out of the wall and chucked it down the hallway, where it clattered and rolled to a stop.

"Do you think he heard that?" Max asked anxiously.

"It's just a phone," Steve said with a shrug. "It could be anywhere…right?"

Christine and Nancy shared one, dark look and leapt into action at the same time.

"Do you need—"

"In my backpack!"

"Got it!"

Christine ran to get her shotgun while Nancy bolted for the living room, rummaging through Christine's bag in search of the half-empty box of shells. Christine checked the barrel for the current load and locked the first round into place before getting into position by the front door.

"Okay, hold on," said Steve as the rest of the kids came piling into the room. "Can we take this one step at a time? We don't even know if—"

His argument was interrupted by a distant roar. It was too far away to pick out the telltale screeching, but judging by the way the sound dragged on and on, there was more than one monster headed their way.

Steve's bat was in his hand in an instant.

"Well, let's go, shitheads! Windows, doors, make sure everything's locked!"

He and the kids scattered to fortify the house, checking everything from the kitchen to the bathroom.

"Here you go," said Nancy, holding the box of ammo out to Christine.

"Thanks. Can you, uh—just hold onto it. I think this'll go faster if you can hand me the reloads."

"Sure." Nancy bobbed her head, rolling one of the shells in her hand. "Gotta say, I'm really missing that revolver right now."

"You didn't pack that for your road trip?"

"I couldn't risk the lab finding it, and I haven't had a chance to go home."

"God," Christine scoffed nervously. "At this rate we're gonna need an emergency armory in every corner of town."

The back door slammed open again, but Christine kept her sights on the front door. Most of the footsteps scrambled down the hallway toward the bedrooms, but Mike appeared between Nancy and Christine.

"He knows," he panted.

"We know," said Nancy.

"Hence gun," added Christine.

Mike nodded, his eyes scanning the room for anything useful. He ran across to the bookshelf and grabbed one of the science fair trophies from its perch. It didn't look particularly heavy, but it was enough for Mike. He climbed up on top of the couch and peered out the window, joined by the rest of the party as they returned to the room.

"Are you kids okay?" Joyce asked as she, Jonathan, and Steve rushed in.

"For now," Christine answered. "Will?"

"We knocked him out again," said Jonathan. "He's in his room."

"Hey!" Hopper joined the commotion, shouting at the kids. "Hey, get away from the windows!"

The party scrambled out of his way, huddling against the opposite wall as Hopper peeked outside. He had a gun in each hand: the semi-automatic he'd borrowed from the lab and an old hunting rifle. He held the latter out to Jonathan.

"Do you know how to use this?"

Jonathan looked at him in bewilderment. "W-what?"

"Can you use this?!"

"Um—"

"I can," Nancy said, stepping forward.

Hopper tossed her the gun, and with practiced hands, Nancy disarmed the safety. Mike stared at her in awe.

"Where did you learn how to use a rifle?"

Nancy shrugged. "Girls' night with Christine."

Christine might have laughed if she wasn't so terrified.

They lined up facing the front window, Hopper next to Steve, next to Nancy, next to Christine. She could feel her brain speeding up again, the tingling in her fingers as her body prepared to shut down, but she held the gun tighter and forced a breath into her chest. It was simple science, she reminded herself. Her ribs would expand, decreasing the pressure in her chest cavity, and the air would rush in to restore equilibrium. Her ribs would contract, and the air would go back out. She just needed to breathe.

The roaring was getting closer, different pitches of growls and screeching beginning to stick out. A loud gurgle took them all by surprise, and Joyce gasped as they all pivoted on a dime, aiming at the windows in the dining room. In the darkness outside, Christine could just see the branches of the bushes trembling.

"What are they doing?" Nancy whispered.

"Circling us?" Christine suggested weakly.

A few seconds later, the sound moved again, snarling outside the front window. Joyce let out a short scream, and Christine clutched the shotgun for all she was worth. Ribs expand, ribs contract. Air in, air out.

The noises were just getting louder: snarls and squeals and skin-crawling squelches going back and forth, left to right. The Demodogs were on the move, but they weren't circling the house; it almost sounded like they were fighting each other.

There was a loud crunch, a whimper, and everything outside stopped. All of them stared at the front window, breathing heavily, waiting...

The glass exploded as a dark shape came hurtling through the window frame. There was a collective scream as everyone scrambled toward the dining room, ducking away from the glass and running from whatever had landed on the floor. Christine felt like her whole body was on a swivel, her aim changing each second from the window to the floor and back again. She waited for the next creature to lunge through, for the door to break down, for the ceiling to give way.

But nothing happened.

Hopper crept forward, his gun aimed at the creature on the ground. It certainly looked like a Demodog, but its body was limp, the flaps that formed its face hanging at odd angles and exposing hundreds of sharp teeth. Hopper took another step forward, but the monster didn't move.

"Holy shit," Dustin whispered hoarsely.

"Is it dead?" asked Max.

Hopper closed the last few feet of the gap and, ever so carefully, nudged the creature with his toe. There was a slick sound as the Demodog's head fell back, its mouth flopping limply, its body completely motionless.

A chill went down Christine's spine. If the Demodog was dead, it meant that something even more deadly was lying in wait outside.

A creak cut through the air, and everyone whirled around to look at the front door. Christine steadied her aim, her finger twitching on the trigger. Her heart pounded as the deadbolt turned of its own accord, snapping into the unlocked position, followed by the door chain as it clattered out of the track.

Christine tried to keep breathing, but it was getting harder with every passing second.

The handle rattled and squeaked as it twisted and, finally, the door swung open.