The Upside Down didn't always feel like nighttime. It felt like dusk. Dusk in the middle of a terrible storm. The kind of storm that made it look like midnight, dark and terrible, trying to convince you that it was the end of the world. Actually, in this dimension, it truly might have been the end of the world indefinitely. On a never-ending loop, constantly being destroyed or teetering on the edge of destruction.

It played that part pretty well, too. Almost obnoxiously as the two unfortunate teenagers' hike wound toward its end. The odd mini earthquake would strike just when Chrissy started to feel like they were making progress. Like they were really starting to move, get closer to their destination. She hated to be interrupted when she exercised. It always made starting up again so much harder. The same was true of this treacherous journey to Skull Rock—every time the ground rattled or tossed them down, Chrissy found it more and more exhausting to struggle to her feet.

As if the Upside Down was laughing at them. As if Vecna himself were cross-legged somewhere out there, cracking his neck and causing the earth to tilt. Watching them clutch a tree or topple onto their sides. Giggling through his weird licorice lips. Why couldn't she just be dreaming?

The third quake, Chrissy thought she might not stand again. Her feet hurt. Her throat hurt. There was a little chest ache threatening to hit because her heart would not stop pounding, surrounded by danger and uncertainty. And she would pay handsomely for a hot shower. Being violently shaken every so often was starting to make her dizzy; she didn't want to walk any farther, she didn't want to keep being thrown around by this place.

Luckily, she wasn't suffering alone.

Eddie caught her as she stumbled. Well, she sort of fell on him, and he was unbalanced already, so he fell too. 'Caught' was a little generous.

He sat down heavily right next to an old stump, elbow knocking painfully into the wet wood. Chrissy smacked against his chest. Her whole body was chucked backward. Her little brother used to have a stuffed beagle doll named Rupert, and she imagined she must look just as floppy and plastic-pellet-filled. Slamming into Eddie was like hitting a really skinny oak tree. It probably would've hurt more if he weren't padded with leather and denim and a very ruined club tee.

"Sorry," she groaned, reaching back to feel the spot on her head that was now throbbing. Dustin's Walkman dug into her, sturdy as ever. A cough lodged itself in her throat and she scowled as the rumbling continued. When it finally settled, she added, "Okay, I really wish that would stop happening."

"Hey, no complaints here." Eddie sucked in through gritted teeth. The quakes weren't doing his bad ankle any favors, she knew. Tone louder, calmer, he started scrabbling with the stump to push himself to his feet again. "I'll take having a pretty girl sit on me over being eaten any day, man. No contest."

He put one hand on her shoulder and one under her arm, graciously tugging her up with him.

Chrissy gave him a closed half-smile. The compliment made her feel a little better about the dirt permanently wedged under her nails, or the way her hair was soaked through. It was sweet. His eyes were really almost unnaturally big, this close up. And he was watching her in that intense way, like she was going to start levitating any minute, deep in a Vecna trance. Her skin prickled. She wasn't about to get sucked into another vision, no, but she must look like a wreck anyway.

Her green scrunchie felt mercifully dry and soft as she wrenched it out of her pocket. She began pulling everything up into a tight ponytail. "How much farther?"

Eddie sniffed, yanking his cow eyes away to glance from tree to rock to a slightly-worn, barely-visible path in the muck. He led the way down that path. "'Bout…ten minutes? Barring any, uh. Unforeseen circumstances."

It seemed to Chrissy they'd had more than their fair share of unforeseen circumstances. Falling into this pit had been, in itself, an unforeseen circumstance. And it seemed like the vines were getting thinner, the deeper they walked into the woods. It was as if the further out they stretched in this not-Hawkins, the weaker they got. There were less of them, too. She hadn't realized how much tension had been riding on watching her every footstep until that tension eased up. Eddie, too, seemed a bit more relaxed now that they were in what Jason would've called the home stretch. His gait was easier; the lanky swing of his legs was looser. Even his bad ankle appeared to be bugging him less. Chrissy wondered absently if it itched.

There wasn't much to pin your eyes on in the Upside Down. Not when the monsters all seemed far away and the vines were depleting. The only thing that could pass as entertainment was the other person moving with her. She'd passed Eddie in the halls like eighty times every day—once she'd even seen him in the record store late at night downtown, surreally removed from Hawkins High—and she could have sworn he wasn't this tall before. Or that broad in the shoulders. Or that weird in the face-shape. Eddie never did anything conventionally, and he didn't look conventional either. Jason spent an extra twenty minutes on his hair every morning. Andy wore a truckload of cologne, even on game nights. And with a light pang somewhere in her chest, Chrissy remembered that Patrick used to pack his toothbrush to every event, including rowdy nights at Benny's.

Eddie clearly wasn't trying to look like a YM model or anything, the way their classmates always seemed to be, but she couldn't say he didn't care about his appearance either. He chose to wear that many chains. He never took off those rings. The hair alone was a wild, bold, obvious statement. Of course, knowing what she knew about the real Eddie now, she couldn't bring herself to believe he spent a lot of time on it. Maybe growing it, sure.

What was it like, she wondered, to wear stuff just because you enjoyed it? Not because you saw it in a magazine or in a commercial. Or because someone else wore it yesterday and everyone was talking about it today. Or because people said it was cool. No one Chrissy knew—at home or church or school or anywhere—would ever call Eddie's look, Eddie's style, cool. People laughed at it. Or whispered about it. She knew he knew. The kids at school were not discreet. But he never cared. He liked it, and that was all that mattered to him.

Must be nice.

He prowled around with so much confidence, though. How could he stand it? Chrissy thought she'd burrow directly into the classroom tiles the one time Sammie had pointed out her top was on backward. All day. And everyone was always looking at her, always noticing that kind of thing. They were always watching Eddie, too, but for very different reasons. How did he ignore the looks or the gossip or the slander? How did he shut off their opinions and only focus on his own and his friends'?

Even here, in the Upside Down, or home this past week, staking out Hawkins High—he probably wasn't worried about the dirt or how he smelled or what he was going to tell people when this was all over. What they'd say back, what they'd think. Now that they were coming close to safety, now that monsters weren't actively trying to kill her, Chrissy was drowning in those kinds of nerves.

Or maybe her brain just wanted something familiar to focus on.

Whatever. Eddie was different. Eddie was better. He was odd, yes, but he was good. A good guy. And he was loud, but he was kind. Wasn't conventionally anything, looks-wise, but not ugly either. He was wholly himself, right down to the way he dressed. Other peoples' preferences didn't get factored in. Chrissy was starstruck with the concept.

Then Eddie stopped suddenly as they were coming up to a mass of shrubs, and Chrissy almost barreled into his back. She'd been staring at him in silence this whole time, lost in thought. Now she looked around.

This definitely felt a little familiar. There were aged, dirty, ancient empty cans, glass bottles, and general litter lying here and there in the path. This part of the woods was more open, felt more lived-in. They'd made it. She saw the top edge of Skull Rock beyond the bushes, much blurrier and creepier here with the red lightning and the haunted vegetation. It was so black, in fact, you could hardly see any of its moss or make out that face-shape it was so famous for.

Eddie cursed, very quietly, under his breath. He was peering through the shrubs, and the line of his shoulders got tense.

"What is it?" Chrissy asked, voice low.

Apparently not low enough. Eddie flapped an almost-angry hand at her, frantic, the other hand pressing a finger to his lips. His elbow jostled one of the bushes' dripping boughs.

A high screech hit the air, much too close. Not up in the sky this time. Down on the ground, down the slope and the path and toward Skull Rock itself.

Bats. Again.

Chrissy dropped immediately into a crouch, trying to steady that spiders-up-her-legs sensation. Now her hands were shaking, and that was almost worse than the bat sounds; that was her body practically ordering her brain to send out the epinephrine. Maybe it was the fact that whenever something life-threatening had happened this week, her hands had gone berserk. And now she associated that feeling with gut-wringing fear and terrible experiences. Like losing control of her hands was a guarantee things were about to start happening. Bad things.

She could see the bats through the little dingy leaves and general mesh in front of them. There were about three of them, illuminated by a pulsing scarlet glow. The little creatures were huddled on the ground, oddly four-legged this close up, twitching and practically rattling.

"It's the gate," Chrissy whispered, mouth falling open. She swallowed hard. "They're at the gate."

Eddie didn't respond. He stood, half crouching too, glaring through the bushes for a moment longer. Then he bounced a little on his feet, turned on a heel, and led her away with a hand tugging at her arm briefly.

They moved as quickly and quietly as they could. If the leaves on the ground had been drier, it would've been suicide, but luckily everything here was soaked and the darkness hid them well. Eddie and Chrissy stopped at least forty-five yards away, confident the bats had neither smelled nor seen them.

Eddie put a single oak between them and the path to Skull Rock, eyeing the very tip of the boulder in the distance.

Chrissy, slightly behind him and leaning out farther to follow his gaze, bent with her hands on her knees, wanted to chew her nails clean off. Her heartbeat was making her throat close up, the corners of her eyes stinging. The urge to bolt had her restless; she wobbled in place. Why? Why did there have to be more problems? Wasn't this punishment enough? No—actually—hadn't Vecna breathing down her neck been punishment enough? And punishment for what, anyway, for existing? Not sticking the landing at the last cheer meet? Or for taking her pristine, powdered small-town princess life for granted? This was just her luck. This was just how things were going for her nowadays. She would get eaten by demon bats in an alternate dimension with the buzzcut boy from middle school. She would. And in her eulogy, her mom would blame it on angel Chrissy not eating enough fiber. All of it.

"'S'all a hive mind." Eddie's words came out between breaths that were way more labored than they should've been. After all, they'd only been sneaking here, not full-on running. He coughed hard, twice, and then shifted, fingers curling into tight fists. "Things're guarding it, holy sh—"

"Well, wh…what do we do?" Chrissy interrupted. "Can we…just—wait for them to leave?"

"No." Eddie shook his head hard, slow at first, then so much his hair was probably hitting him in the mouth. "No, they're not going anywhere, it's—they're—they're there on purpose. Alright? It's all a strategy."

"What?"

"Just—" Eddie held up a hand, standing up straight and leaning with his back against the tree, facing her. "Gimme a second, this. This blows, this blows—" His palms spread over his face, dragging up toward his hairline.

It's a strategy. Chrissy heard her breath coming faster. If the Upside Down ran on a hive mind, then Vecna was the source. He was the center, the one feeding signals into the bats. Did that mean he did know where she was? Or did it mean he sort of sensed they were in the Upside Down and just shot out a general Wanted Poster into the minds of the creepy monsters around here? Eddie was cussing over and over beside her, but Chrissy's own heartbeat drowned him out. She sucked in, too fast, coughed and choked on a white flake. Wrapped her arms around her middle and inhaled again. Again. Again.

Vecna was going to have her after all. Not like Patrick. Not in some red-rimmed trance. He'd just sic one of these awful beasts on her and she'd be ripped apart, maybe conscious for it. Or trapped here, in this nowhere, slowly dying from exposure. Making sure she and poor Eddie never went home. Bad enough that she had to die—at least sacrificing herself in Max's place would've been right, would've given her some relief, just not like this—but now her friend was going to die too. And all he'd been trying to do was save Dustin.

They were never going to get out of here.

"Chrissy?" Eddie's hand was joggling her shoulder—no, tapping it, really fast. His hand was huge, what on earth. It practically dwarfed her whole shoulder. Chrissy focused on his silver rings, not sure if she was breathing now. All she could feel were the imaginary spiders. "Hey—Cunningham—"

She turned and looked at him. Her bangs were sticky; she could see it on the top edges of her vision.

Eddie's eyebrows came down. There was something flinty in his expression now. Some of his panic seemed to suck right out of him in the face of hers. "Okay," he said, "okay, look. You and me—" he dropped into a squat, pulling her down with him, finger and thumb pinching the sleeve of her blouse, "—we gotta clear 'em out."

Chrissy forced out the breath she'd gulped in, impatient. Sick of her body controlling her mind. He looked sharp and adult, full of determination, and here she was shivering on the ground like a little kid. Sure, it was easy to go into survival mode when a demodog was chasing you. That didn't give you time to think about your odds, or the options. These stupid bats were giving her tons of overthinking time.

Eddie had a twig in his hand. He slapped it hard against thin air, relieving it of some of the goo that had been stuck to it. He started drawing a diagram in the dirt. A circle. The clearing, he told her. A smaller circle—with eyes—oh, that was Skull Rock. A scraggly oval, which he then explained to be the gate.

"Now, I don't know about you," Eddie was saying, "but I am not gonna risk life and limb in this toilet unless I absolutely have to. Agreed?"

"U-Um. Yeah. Yeah." Chrissy muttered. It was like talking through lips made of cotton puffs. Her heart would not slow down.

"So, uh." Eddie reached to his left, ripping up a leaf into three small pieces and placing them around the little diagram gate. The bats. "I say we get something that'll draw their fire, y'know. A distraction? No fighting."

This was too much. She stared down at his little dirt drawing, bruised clouds churning overhead, the whole idea of plotting this out just—absurd. She was too on-edge. Her mind was a lightning rod of negativity for those few seconds, wound tight with fear and adrenaline. This would never work.

But she didn't want to shoot him down. He was licking his lips, waiting for her two cents, knees pulled up to his chest. One arm was tucked in between his legs and torso, the other hanging limply off to the side, still brandishing the twig. The leather of his jacket was dotted with clumps of mud.

"We still have the gate at the school," Chrissy tried, avoiding consent. "Don't we? I—I mean—"

"Nope," Eddie cut her off. He seemed just fine to shoot her down. "Nope. Not going back there, no way." He exposed his demodog scratches, yanking the tied-up hoodie sleeve down, disregarding the pain it obviously gave him to cause friction against his injuries that fast. "Not after we gave 'em a taste for meat, Chrissy."

"It's not like it bit you, it—could be gone by now, we…wait." Something slid into place in Chrissy's brain. She almost heard it click. "Meat," she said dumbly, eyes drifting.

Eddie stilled, squinting at her. Totally confused.

"They're, like, predators, right?" Chrissy explained. "Like the…dog-thing? I mean—everything here is kind of—evil, right, so they probably eat meat?"

"Hey, we are not prostituting our flesh for those things."

"No," Chrissy huffed, plowing on. "I-I meant like, if we find something—something they can eat, or…"

"I'm not betting on any signs of real, fresh, non-monster life out here," said Eddie, pursing his lips and glancing vaguely around them. When Chrissy trailed off, he added half-heartedly, "I dunno, maybe we can uh—make a…ruckus or something, rig a trap to go off over here. Lead them away."

"I could—"

"No, okay, I don't know why you get off on being bait, Cunningham, but I would be waaaay too ashamed to be the last biped left standing on the right side of that gate." Eddie jabbed a finger from her to the direction of Skull Rock, eyes round and stern. It was very Tom Cruise, which should have looked funny on the face of a metalhead, but in that moment any comparison to the real world was an instantly-endearing one. "You are not goin' out there."

She was so sick of him telling her not to be bait. It was okay for a freshman girl to do it, but not her? Everyone else was planning on making their mark; why couldn't she do something to help in this whole mess? After all, she'd been targeted by the mastermind himself.

"It—I'm just saying, it might be our only—"

"No—"

"Well—we have to do something; we can't just sit here!"

Maybe it was because her voice had gotten louder. Or because monsters really could smell fear in the Upside Down.

In the time it took to blink, a leathery mass slammed itself into her from behind. It was light, small-ish, flapping a lot, so totally another bat. Chrissy felt it grappling for purchase on her blouse with its freaky little feet, its unnaturally-long tail slapping down on the dirt floor. Whipping up debris.

A strangled scream went ripping out of her at the feeling of it, of it trying to find a secure bit of human to take hold of. It was flying weird up against her spine, tipping unevenly sideways.

Eddie cursed, and in another second, she felt the bat jerked away from her.

Chrissy whirled around, the back of her right shoulder stinging very slightly, just in time to see Eddie holding a really big tree branch and swatting hard at the creature. The bat made a small almost-roar, still bobbing and tilting in midair. It looked like it was drunk, darting clumsily and furiously in toward Eddie and out again.

The branch made contact with the bat, a shhhlllt sounding as it was driven against the ground. Immediately, the bat's wings went crazy as it tried to take off again, tried to get back up for round two. Eddie stumbled forward a few more steps. Then he slammed the branch down repeatedly, whacking and whacking the bat. Over and over. With ridiculously big swings. She was put in mind of a broom and a spider in the kitchen.

In about half a minute, the bat was a mass of blood, lying still on the ground. Eddie was still hitting it.

"Eddie—Eddie, stop it!"

The branch stopped mid-arch, and Eddie brought it down to hang at his side, glancing over at her with mostly just the whites of his eyes. His arms were shaking.

"I think…" Chrissy swallowed back a little bit of bile, trying not to look at the body. "I think it's dead." Her tone was wobbly and dry, almost comical. Of course it was dead.

Eddie's tongue came out, nervous, looking back down at the creature. "Yeah. Yeah, good." He cursed. He was breathing hard, hair swishing as he faced her again. "Um. So—it, it get you, or…?"

Chrissy shook her head. The back of her shoulder stung, but it was exactly like Mandy's kitten scratching her when she stooped to tickle its tummy. The bat had never actually landed on her. She forced herself to stare down at it, and her head reared in surprise.

"It was hurt."

Eddie followed her gaze, nose scrunched in bewilderment.

The bat's wing, the right one, was torn open. Chrissy didn't expect the swell of sympathy pressing in on her lungs as she examined the hole, leaning unconsciously backward. Her stomach churned, empty, swirling, and she pressed a hand to it to make it shut up. The bat had tried to kill her. She shouldn't feel sorry for it. But it had clearly been itching for a meal or something, or just wild with pain and driven by aggression.

"What if—" Chrissy coughed, shuffling closer to the dead bat. "What if this is the one from before? That got stuck in that tree?"

Eddie whistled low. "Well. Then. Karma, I guess." He held up the branch, letting the middle of it thud against his empty palm. Then he looked at her, mouth twitching. "You know what this means, right?"

Chrissy felt her eyebrows pinch together.

His mouth twitching turned into a small, wry grin. "Think we found our bait."

Chrissy's elbows scraped against the stone as she dragged herself upward, slower, slower. Quieter. They'd gone around to the east side of Skull Rock, making the widest of wide berths before heading straight for it. They had to be sure the bats around the gate wouldn't hear or see them. And just in case, Eddie had been adamant about carrying his big tree branch with him up until they'd reached the clearing. Now they were ascending the rock itself from behind.

It was nerve-wracking, not being able to see their adversaries. Skull Rock filled their vision as they scrambled up. It was wet and slick and freezing cold to the touch. Chrissy knew her blouse was totally, completely ruined. Soaked through and maybe black all over. Eddie had zipped up his leather jacket—rescuing his precious Hellfire tee from further damage—and was having a much easier time climbing than she was. Even with his bum ankle. Embarrassing.

Not like they had far to go. Skull Rock seemed massive when you were under it, she'd heard, but actually making it to the top proved to be quick work. It was like climbing to the roof of a tower on the wooden playground in the park. Off-limits and impossibly tall as a kid, but as a teenager, it was all too accessible. A shorter distance, a nice view. Except this wasn't a playground, and the view was a trio of bloodthirsty pests guarding their one ticket back to the real Hawkins. What Chrissy wouldn't give to be scaling a playground tower right about now, her little brother at her side. She could almost see him shaking his bangs out of his eyes, sunscreen still dormant on the bridge of his nose. She wanted to go home.

When they reached the top, Eddie peered over the edge first. She watched his eyes flick from the bats to the red light pulsing from the gate. Then he lifted his arm, impossibly gentle, and reached for one of the little stones he'd stashed in his back pocket minutes beforehand.

Eddie turned to look at her, to Chrissy's surprise, bouncing his eyebrows. It was like he was waiting for her to give him a green light or something. Or to confirm that she was ready. Or just checking to make sure she was still next to him, that he wasn't about to try this alone. His tongue was poking between his teeth again, just barely. It was boyish. It calmed her, made her feel something kind of like that playground simplicity. And his eyes were twinkling, like this was kind of fun to him. Maybe it was like his Dragons game. Maybe he got to escape, convince himself this wasn't real, just for a minute. Lucky. Big brown eyes.

Chrissy nodded very slightly, mouth slack.

He threw the rock. It was a hard, sure throw from a full-grown arm; she half expected him to grunt when he did it. To his credit, he hardly made a sound save the creak of leather. And it was great aim, too, she realized admiringly. Right in the direction they'd left their fresh meat.

The bats heard it right away. It was close enough to emulate someone—or something—approaching, but far enough to get them out of Eddie and Chrissy's path. Each little convulsing, thumb-shaped head swiveled toward the noise. One or two of the bats shifted, but they didn't take off.

Eddie was prepared for that. Another stone went sailing into the same area of trees, dead-on. Chrissy wondered if he could see further than she could, being a head or so taller. Then another rock.

Definitely convincing. The bats seemed fully trained on that spot, all their spiny legs shuffling to face the trees. Chrissy held her breath.

They might have smelled the dead thing, even from here. Maybe the wind was on their side. Whatever the reason, it was almost too good to be true. The leftmost bat let out a screech, lifting into the air and flying straight toward the ravine where they'd placed the carcass. One by one, the other bats followed suit.

You could hear their awful teeth clattering and tearing when they reached the body, and Chrissy gagged aloud, soft as she could. Of course these things were cannibals. It was like a rhyme in a mildewy, Satanic poem. It just fit.

"C'mon," Eddie hissed unnecessarily, picking his way down the front of the rock to the smaller outcroppings.

Chrissy only slipped once during her descent, and Eddie was there, steady and skinny, hands out to make sure she didn't hit the ground headfirst. Again, it wasn't a long fall—but it was nice having someone waiting at the bottom.

She couldn't believe this was working.

They moved in determined silence, stealthy as possible, toward the gate. It wasn't right below Skull Rock; Patrick had wandered several feet away in his Vecna trance. Chrissy was careful not to jostle any old beer cans or rancid McDonald's cartons as they approached the slope where light, warmth, escape waited for them.

Eddie was a little ahead of her, chain and bandana swinging, so there was nothing to grab on to when the next earthquake struck.

BOOM!

Every tree around them shook. It felt like they were in one of those maze tilt games, and they were the beads. Chrissy's feet skidded underneath her, way too much to the left, and she toppled to the ground. Skull Rock was sturdy and stately behind them, above them somewhere, but Chrissy saw a bit of dust rise or fall or something around it on her way to the mud.

Eddie was on his back in front of her, struggling to sit up as the quake rocked to an end. He didn't look hurt. She saw his arms wobble as he pushed himself into a sitting position, his cheeks ballooning, catching his breath. Her own hands stung and itched where she'd fallen and tried to stop herself.

Then, almost as soon as the earthquake let up, the bats came back.

They went straight for Eddie. It was a vivid nightmare scene playing out a few yards from her, two of the bats arcing in the air and swooping down on him, all tails and wide, pointed wings. Eddie rolled and writhed on the ground, trying to stand up and give them less to attack. He was a confusing mass of limbs and dirt, twisting and kicking out as they dive-bombed him.

Chrissy's stomach started swirling again. A choking sense of horror had her face tingling as the blood drained out of it. Before she was fully aware of it, she was on her feet again, scrambling for the edge of the clearing. She didn't register what exactly she was looking for until her hands were firmly wrapped around Eddie's tree branch.

She raced back to the scene of the crime, shoes slapping against the mud.

They were biting him. Eddie let out an awful yell, pure pain, that went straight to Chrissy's heart.

One of them had its teeth in his actual shoulder. Chrissy went for that one first, punting the bat with the jagged, wet edge of the tree, its many twigs acting as claws and raking at the monster. The bat was bundled to the side, relinquishing its hold on Eddie's shoulder.

Maybe this was what Dad had meant when he'd said Chrissy would make a good golfer.

A high-pitched screech nearly split her ears down the middle, coming from behind. The second bat left Eddie, focusing on her instead. She felt a slimy, impossibly-cold tendril of some sort whip around her throat and try to yank her bodily to the ground. She didn't go down right away; one bat wasn't enough. The third bat entered the fray, then, and she twirled, trying to dodge it. The hold on her neck was too strong. The third bat was now wrapping its tail around her calf, and together the two creatures hoisted her a few inches off the ground, gasping for breath, and slammed her down into the detritus. The branch was promptly released.

Maybe this was what Mom had meant when she'd said Chrissy would make a bad ballerina.

The tail on her throat tightened as that bat flapped, pulling intentionally out and away from her, constricting any air flow. She felt her eyes popping. Felt the bat taking hold of her leg tugging too, so that her leg was stretched as far as it would go. Chrissy tried in vain to get out of their collective grip, squirming and attempting to roll or kick or anything, really, but she couldn't get any air, so—

She tried to scream but there was nothing she could gulp in to scream with. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt.

The tail on her neck was making her panic, heart threatening to pound so hard it burst right out of her very tight, very locked-up chest. She couldn't hear anything anymore; everything was white noise or gone completely. The only coherent thought she really had had to do with oxygen—or the lack of it. Vaguely, she knew the tail on her leg was hurting her too, but that was definitely less pressing. And even vaguer, almost primal, she knew the only bat that wasn't tied to her was going to start eating her any second now.

"Chrissy!"

Eddie.

Suddenly she could breathe. There was a big loud splintering, wood-on-leathery-flesh noise, and she could breathe.

The tension against her throat was totally gone, and Chrissy greedily gasped in as much air as she could. Coughed, coughed again, coughed some more. Then, more desperately, still valiantly inhaling and inhaling like the Tigers with their cheeseburgers after a game.

At last, she could focus on the bat that was flapping angrily near her foot, tail wrapped even tighter around her leg. Chrissy gave a vicious, desperate kick at it, and missed. It started to lift off, but she wasn't going to risk that. She didn't miss the second time. She kicked it square in the head with every backflipping muscle she possessed, and the bat let go of her, retreating.

Now she could stand up.

She needed the branch. She couldn't find it. It was nowhere. Or maybe she was moving too quickly? Or the bats had dragged her too far away from it? The ground seemed to be full of dead leaves, filth, and various copies of human litter. A copper-colored old bottle, broken, winked at her as red lightning lit up the clearing. She decided that was better than nothing, and scooped it up, grabbing it neck-first.

Chrissy spun around to see the other two bats simultaneously zooming around and treading the air, evading the tree branch that was being brandished at them like a spiky, multi-edged sword. Both bats were snarling down at Eddie, and Eddie was all but snarling back.

One of them flew up, higher than the branch, and went shooting back down toward the headbanger's back.

"Behind you!" Chrissy screamed.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter that she was screaming. She was already running the few steps it took to get to his side, and the bat he was actually facing had now attached itself to the branch, clawing on its end for purchase and roaring in Eddie's direction. They were both yelling now, and the bats were screeching, and everybody was making so much noise. Too much. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Chrissy thought all this commotion would surely attract every other monster in this place. But none came.

Good enough for her.

Chrissy swatted crazily at the bat that was diving for them, broken shards of the bottle pointing skyward, and the creature pulled up, mouth open in a frenzied, angry growl. It hung there in the air, feet from her, clearly preparing to aim right for her face this time.

Then Eddie shouted, almost too quickly to catch, all scratchiness, "Duck!" and swung his entire upper body, branch and bat and all, completely around.

Chrissy ducked just in time. The branch and its assailant smacked into the remaining bat with a crack. It was just like baseball games in cartoons, she thought wildly. Cartoons. Please let this all be a bad dream.

One of the bats went hurtling to the forest floor with a crunching, squishy sound, and didn't move again, thank the Lord. The other one remained tangled in the twigs of the tree branch Eddie held, trying to force its way down the branch to take a bite out of the man's face.

Eddie was saying something between his teeth, maybe "come on" or calling the bat some foul name or something. All still kind of white noise to her. Without even blinking, he pressed the monster down hard against the dirt with the bough. Harder. Harder.

Chrissy watched a twig or two pierce the bat's thin wing-flesh, and an awful smell came when its spit flew, screaming in agony and rage up at them.

Its tail caught her eye, whipping and slapping around the dead leaves near her feet. She stepped on its tail in a huge stomp, the way you would an earwig skittering around your laundry room, determined to make sure it couldn't get away. But it was still wriggling around. It would've been pitiful if two of them hadn't tried to choke her out a moment ago. Seconds ago. No, shorter than that.

This was all happening so fast. And somehow—taking too long.

She took two steps forward, clutched the broken bottle tightly in both hands, and drove it down into the bat's nasty, gray, eyeless face.

Both human beings staggered a foot or two away from the carnage as the last of the bats died. Chrissy thought she'd never breathe normally again. On principle. She thought that from now on, she might inhale like someone coming out of the ocean every time she inhaled. Just because she could. Just because the air was there, and she had the time. Because in the Upside Down, apparently that was a luxury.

She stood there, hands on her thighs, bent double. Head spinning. Stomach spinning more. Her leg felt like it was on fire. Her neck was throbbing. Her lungs might not ever speak to her again.

Then she looked up and saw Eddie.

He was standing across from her, the dead bats between them. His hair was crazy, his mouth was open. The shoulder of his black leather jacket was torn, the wrapping had come off of his injured hand, and his chest was heaving. The massive freaking tree branch was gripped with white knuckles. As if it were the railing keeping him from falling off a skyscraper in the big city. Simmering, scarlet lightning turned the clearing half-pink.

And right then, all of a sudden, he was amazing.

Eddie spent a lot of his time sitting behind his desk with his feet up, making teachers glare. Or standing on tables like a human megaphone. He was always a big presence. But Chrissy could swear he had never looked like this before. Maybe he had. Maybe it was just that he had never taken up this much space to her before. He seemed taller. Realer. Not so gangly, not so unsteady. This one wasn't a show he was putting on; he looked formidable for real.

And, no duh, he'd just taken on a snack-sized swarm of demonic mammals with a piece of a tree and saved her life. He was way more, just more, right now than he'd ever seemed when he was shouting down the whole cafeteria.

Eddie cursed, spitting it out between huge breaths, and said: "You okay?"

He was staring back at her. Actually, his eyes were fully locked on her, dark and big. Really dark, really big. There was so much raw exhaustion and concern riding on his words. It made her heartbeat get its second wind. When was the last time someone had asked 'are you okay' like that? Or dug into her with their gaze like that, like the only thing on their minds was the answer to the question? Had it been Eddie? She realized he was always asking her that, now that they'd been reacquainted during the week from Hell. Like it mattered. Like it wasn't the same as asking people 'how are you' and never expecting anything more than 'good'.

Maybe humanity should stop going to therapy and get attacked by monsters instead. Maybe they'd see each other better.

Chrissy exhaled again, slower now. It took her a second to find her response, fixating on the rasp in his voice. "Yeah." Was she okay? She'd almost been eaten.

He'd almost been eaten. Chrissy gave herself a mental heave-ho and stepped gingerly over the bats, coming a little closer to Eddie and dropping the broken bottle. There might have been blood under his jacket where his shoulder had been bitten, but it was too dark to tell. And the piece of Jason's hoodie wasn't covering his hand anymore.

Chrissy's hand shook as she gestured to his cheek. "Sorry, I—the branch—"

Eddie didn't look away, making a pretzeled, baffled expression. He reached up and felt the trickle of blood on his face with the heel of a hand. She was positive it had happened when she'd golfed away the bat.

"I think that one's my fault," she explained, hiding a cough in her shoulder.

He cussed again, quieter, under his breath this time. "Chrissy," he said, snorting out a laugh that shook his chest. He took a moment to go on looking at her, and then added, deliberately and slowly, "You just eighty-sixed a bat with a freaking soda bottle, and you think I care about a little scratch on the money-maker? Gimme some credit here—"

Chrissy shuffled, still trying to catch her breath. Chortling.

"That right there," he went on, dropping the tree branch with a resounding thwukk, pointing shakily to the clearing behind her in general, "was the most metal thing I have ever seen you do. And I've seen you do that triple-backflip stuff, like, a hundred times. Alright? That was—that was—"

He swallowed, suddenly going really still. Staring down at her and seemingly caught in some slow-motion sensation. Something in his tone was flecked with nerves, deadly serious. Low. Actually, he was watching her with an expression that kind of summed up everything her brain had been screaming at her about him, seconds ago, right after the bats. It wasn't like he was seeing her with new eyes or anything. It was familiar. There was just more of it. Whatever it was. Something nice.

"—that was uh, somethin' else," he finished lamely, huffing out more laughter, hand rifling through his hair.

"Yeah?" Chrissy said, enjoying the compliment, basking in it, smiling up at him. "You too."

Eddie smiled back, mouth still open from the laugh. It gave him dimples. Why was she just now noticing the dimples? He was younger with them in the face, smoother, wilder. Then he added, leg bouncing, "I think that tab of mine's getting kinda long, actually."

"Well—hey, so's mine!" She let herself laugh too, release some of the tension.

It felt weird. It sounded weird. They'd had a life-threatening episode not five minutes ago. But Eddie had a knack for making people laugh; she saw him do it for his club, back in the safe days, the normal days. All the time. Regardless of the circumstances. And it didn't matter how surreal it was to let loose—if ever she needed it, it would be right now, wouldn't it? Instead of crying.

Or throwing up, which she was starting to think she might have to do anyway.

Thunder snapped them out of their little congratulatory party. The woods around them were no less dark, no less stuffed with more unforeseen circumstances. And the road home was so, so close.

Eddie glanced around, quick and agitated. Then he jerked his head toward the gate. "Let's get out of here."