The road leading up to the Byers property had gone from well cared for by the State, to turning into the vestige of a road chipping away in neglect as it passed through their property line. A sloping clothesline dulled by the relentless four seasons of Indiana clung to a metal pole one storm from being blown away.
Billy kicked the tip of his boot impatiently into the dirt. "You sure someone even lives here? This shithole's one debt collection away from being boarded up."
"Yes." She snapped at him, for the umpteenth time since he'd asked.
He'd tried to look in through the unwashed windows, but A4 papers strewn across the glass panes obscured his view. What little he could see was a chain of papers that flowed over mismatched furniture and crawled up the walls. It looked like a mix between a crack den and some poor attempt at contemporary art. The prison bars on their windows weren't helping. In any case, it didn't seem like anyone was home.
With a few sarcastic comments from him and scowls from her, Max had caught him up on everything she knew in the drive over here. Against the darkness of the Byers home, it gave him some time to contemplate the nights events. Usually he didn't care whatever ill-attempted lie she'd come up with. But tonight was different.
Tonight was different from every way he was used to. It made him acutely aware of how the less he knew what was going on, the more he hated it. While he always know his surroundings, he rarely acted on information unless he found it to his benefit. Now he was walking in blind to something he was still very much in the dark of the mystery that shadowed the dull life of Hawkins.
"So The Perverts little brother was targeted by a . . . Shadow Monster. And there's some girl who can throw things around, but only when her nose bleeds, who . . . saved everyone . . .with her mind. Now she's wandered off to get flapjacks, or something." Billy said, skepticism colouring his words. With every passing sentence Max supplemented him with, he was more convinced this entire town was drowning in fumes from the mines. Either that or everyone was passing time between pumpkin tournaments huffing paint. It turned out, Hawkins residents were really just Goths in hiding.
"Pervert?" She wrinkled her nose.
"Jonny's pretty sick, takes pictures of girls when they're not looking. Don't think I need to tell you to stay away from him." Disgust curdled his tone.
He'd heard all about Jonathan Byers from Tommy who'd spared no details. What kind of freak snuck around peoples houses and took photos of girls undressing? Just buy a magazine like everyone else. Probably got some sick thrill out of it. "He even looks your way, tell me."
Max's eyes widened in alarm. "He won't. Don't do anything, okay?"
"Chill out, I'll just have a little chat with him." Billy said. So far his fellow Senior didn't appear to be home, and he had bigger fish to fry. But the older Byers sure as hell wasn't going to even be throwing a glance Max's way. If someone like Nancy thought Jonny perving on her was attractive, well, that sordid little affair was wholly their own. But if Jonathan Byers tried anything while he was around, that would make it Billy's problem, and in turn, it'd become Jonathan's problem. Billy had a quick solution to that.
"All of this is crazy." Max said as her mind tried coming to terms with everything she'd learned tonight. Especially when everything Lucas had told her wasn't some weird, elaborate prank. Wills older brother who she'd never even met before was the last thing on her mind, even if it seemed to be the first thing on Billy's. "Crazier than last Memorial Day crazy."
Memorial Day last year had been an event Billy often tried to forget, but he was fairly sure that day had been branded like hot iron into his brain.
"I told you moving would suck, didn't I?" Billy said. "They're bumpkins involved in some weird shit."
Max's face morphed into something akin to vague innocence. "You don't seem to mind interacting with the girls here, like Diane."
"Give it a rest, Max." Billy said, though she was only bringing this up now. He knew she'd continue pestering him only because it'd get a rise out of him — like everything did.
"Deny it all you want but I think something there." Her eyes glint with mischief as the corners of her lip threatened to curve upwards. Max had a feeling he was dissembling his combative logic, but had lived long enough with him to only have speculation as her shaky lead. Billy wouldn't stick his neck out unless he felt he had a good reason.
The way she'd been staring at him in the hallway of their new house was the look of a younger sibling catching the eldest red-handed. Before she could go on a whole imaginative journey he'd slammed the door. Of course she wasn't letting this go. "Yeah did Cosmo tell you that?" He jeered. "The Lord won't be happy with you revering that chick magazine like it's the bible, Maxine. You should be busy repenting instead of looking into things that aren't there."
"Oh my God, me and Mom went to church one time."Max rolled her eyes, which was her default response when her older brother started acting like an ass. Which, really, was most of the time. "And that was for Thanksgiving."
Neil had been away attending some security conference in Hemet, so mother and daughter went alone. Neil had given Max a Barbie doll with a bright pink sequinned top as an apology for missing Thanksgiving. She'd phoned in how grateful she was, big-time. The Barbie was still shoved in a box somewhere beneath her bed.
Billy had refused to join, citing some clearly fabricated excuse, proceeding to make a show of chugging the rest of the beer in front of Susan. She hadn't pushed it. His old man would've given him an unforgettably stern talking to if he'd been there to see Billy's disrespect towards his newest wife. But Neil hadn't been there.
"And I'm sure it was about how thankful you were about joining our little family." He said sweetly.
Bringing up their disjointed family in the aftermath of Neil's reprimanding was like spark to flint, and it shot through him before he could quell it. Dust motes dancing in the soft hazy sunbeams in the cosy kitchen; steam rising from a cheerful yellow mug filled to the brim with black coffee; the ocean spray by the jetty with a surfboard that towered over him. He balled his hand into a fist and, glaring at the ground like he was trying to channel all the resurfacing memories into one oncoming well-aimed punch. That was what he hated most of all, the memories that pierced like shards through his subconsciousness.
He flexed his fingers, but didn't yet realise that it was nothing more than temporary tactics, as efficient as slapping on duct tape onto the ever-growing cracks of the dam where he kept all his emotions pent up. One day it would burst, but he wouldn't be swept away, helpless to do anything other than drown. Because another emotion still buried deep below the surface would be there, and he'd truly know what it meant to fight. He'd realise every brawl before was nothing more than a hollow victory, because he wasn't fighting for something.
For now? Well, he was willing to fight against anything that'd allow him control his emotions again.
"Our family, which is the reason I'm out here with you in the first place." He spat. They both knew he meant Hawkins, not the Byers. "I don't want to be out here and my care for whatever the fuck is happening ended right about yesterday."
Dismissing Diane left a bitter taste in his mouth in a way he didn't understand yet. They'd gotten thrown into something inexplicable together, that was all. Now he wasn't going to go the rest of his time in Hawkins with a book-smart townie lording it over his head that she'd saved Max — that was his job, whether he liked it or not. Him and Diane would call it even after tonight. And he'd get to pull one over the assholes at the lab who'd threatened him.
"If you don't give a crap just go home." Max burst out, the energy so great she shot up from her spot on the porch. "If I'm dead then you don't even have to deal with me anymore!"
He's ready to retaliate instantly, tongue sharp and trained to cut down anyone in his path. But one glance her way has his shoulders deflating just as quickly. Max being angry is something he can deal with easily. Anger was the one language he was fluent in. But the raw look in her wounded blue eyes has him turning his head away quickly, like her expression could risk spearing him, breaking something within.
"I don't want you dead." He mutters, and his quiet lamentation was lost in the wind.
The silence that lingers with unspoken pain between the two is thankfully cut short as the meeting point Max had been insistent of the entire time finally appears to be taking place.
They hear vehicles racing across the uneven terrain before they saw them. The headlights jumped up and down across the potholes and came to a jerking halt in front of the Byers house. Hawkins Police Dep. was front and centre, with the second car following close behind. Both the Ford and Chevy were crammed with people hopping out almost before the cars come to a standstill. He'd expected the kids to show up, but he hadn't expected the whole cavalry.
Joyce and Bob hurried to the backseat, helping to usher what must be Will with the help of Jonathan and Nancy.
Chief Hopper was still in his car, fiddling with something in the front. Lucas couldn't help but break out into a small smile seeing Max there, waiting. It wavered for a brief moment before it dropped off back into a frown. Everyone looked concerned, horrified, or a combination of the two. Except for Steve, who eyed Billy with a weary expression. Billy responded with a dazzling smile that served to sour Steve's expression further.
Jonathon is carrying a limp Will in his arms, steps determined and fast as he makes his way to the front door, Joyce striding next to him with purpose.
Hoppers authoritative voice was the first to break the silence as the rest noticed Billy and Max by the porch. "You need to go home—"
"We already know about everything." Max interrupted.
Dustin is wringing his wrists as he seems to be drowning in despair, interjecting like he can't hold it in any longer. "He took Diane."
"Who?" Billy demanded.
Joyce is jabbing the key into the lock with an impatient force, instantly accepting the two newcomers who know what's really happening in Hawkins. She turns to Hopper as if he has the answer, "Yeah who the hell was that?"
The shadows shifted as the demondog began crouching as if to peer through the crack beneath the doorway. Another muted gunshot echoed far away. The demondog screeched in response to the noise and bounded off. They responded to sound, then.
Only when the commotion outside seemed to have died down did she dare peak out into the hallway. With no signs of any demondog lurking around she crept into the hallway. Unsure of where to go she decided to take a left and go from there. Hurried footsteps starts up and Diane turns around just in time to see a female scientist with a stricken expression. With her lab coat billowing behind her, she shoves past Diane without regard.
No one cares she's an experiment now. As Diane turns into another endlessly long hallway she nearly slips on two manila envelopes that had spilled open, documents scattered across the linoleum floor. They had creased and teared as people had trampled straight through them. The camera lens that monitored the hallway had a bullet lodged in its centre, white cracks splintered outwards from the impact like a spiderweb.
She rounded the corner. The door to a conference room had been thrown off its hinges. Rob and Judith were there; they'd traded the blue electricians uniforms for suits. Judith is lying on the grey carpeted floor, face turned away from Diane. She's unmoving, and it only begins to dawn on her that Judith might be dead. The stranger from the Proud Stout with them.
Robs mouth opens as he's struck by a sudden realisation the moment his gaze locks with her. "You're — "
The stranger shoots Rob in the head without a moments hesitation and he crumbles to the ground. His arm hit the floor, and his sleeve is hoisted up a fraction, revealing a small black tattoo on his wrist as his palm faces the ceiling. There were five petals and two wavering lines that arced through the petals, looking like a distorted, colourless rainbow. Perhaps a curving stream of water. But these thoughts are only speculative flashes in the back of her mind.
As the stranger lowered his gun, his gaze lit up with an animalistic excitement that was a dangerous concoction of gleeful and contemptuous. With his free hand he raked a hand through his ash-blonde, and the strands fell down around his temple and brushed the nape of his neck.
She rounded the corner. The door to a conference room had been thrown off its hinges. Rob and Judith were there; they'd traded the blue electricians uniforms for suits. Judith is lying on the grey carpeted floor, face turned away from Diane. Rob laid near the door, eyes staring up at the ceiling, unseeing. His arm was slung across his hip, palm downwards. The stranger from the Proud Stout with them. Now he was standing with a small cardboard box tucked beneath one arm. She only knew he had a gun because he'd pulled it out earlier in the bar.
He seemed surprised to see her. "Be careful, someone's taking opportunity in this lockdown." He glanced down at the two employees and frowns. "Did you know them?"
Her focus on uncovering a conspiracy had made her lose sight of the details of the stranger in the dim lighting of the pub. Against the harsh glare of the laboratory lights, she took in man with the shrewd dark eyes looking down at her. His skin had a pallor like he hadn't seen the sun for years, the contrast even greater against his dark grey suit. It was ill-fitting like he couldn't be bothered to have it tailored.
She knew she'd only been here once, at this very moment. A headache was blooming at the base of her skull as she registers her surroundings. It felt like she'd taken a photo of two different landscapes on the same piece of film. The overlap created hazy confusion and she stood frozen in the doorway, trying to separate real from imagined.
The stranger was looking at her in an almost expectant manner. All she could do was stare back, blinking rapidly like it would help sharpen her mind. Finally she forces out a stuttering answer, "N-no, I barely knew th-them."
His gun peaked out beneath his jacket, but he seems at ease and make no move to grab it. But he still has an imposing demeanour that forced attention wherever he was. And if he was a spy, she didn't think he was a good one. In silence, he still commanded too much attention.
Then he rips out the gun, points it at her, and shoots before she has a chance to duck. She raises her arms up in instinctive defence and screws her eyes tightly shut. He's stride towards her and the gun goes off twice more.
There's a beat's pause and she cracks one eye open. The stranger is standing next to her, lowering the weapon again. She looks over her shoulder to see what he was shooting at.
A demondog drew a final, shuddered breath before it stilled.
She hadn't even heard it creeping up on her. Her focus had been so wholly on the stranger in front of her, she hadn't felt that odd pull towards them. As she pats her body to feel for wounds, he holsters his gun again. She was unscathed.
The corner of his lips ticks upwards. "Had I known you were one of the experiments, Diane, and Experiment Zero-Zero-Three no less, I wouldn't have had our first encounter going down like that." The stranger said, putting extra emphasis on her name. He must work for the National Laboratory because he knows her name like so many of the others seemed to. The information of her experimental nature had spread through the building like wildfire, but the only one getting burned was her.
"Thanks." She breathed.
"You must be scared." He noted, sliding the weapon back into its holster with practiced precision.
His assessment took her off guard, and she could only find herself answering truthfully. First he'd threatened her and now he'd saved her. Uncertainty in where he stood only served to disorient her further. "I don't know what's happening."
He hummed, "I'm sure you don't. To be truthful, I'm surprised too. Here I thought you were as average as the rest of them."
The hair on the back of neck rises and all she can think about is how they need to get out of here. The stranger is a unique brand of terrifying in his efficiency with his weapon and calculating stare. But she was ready to bandy together with him through this terror to escape. His experience was a safe bet.
"We should go — get out of here." She said.
He gives a slight shake of his head in rejection and a faint smile like he finds her words endearing.
"I need to get something done urgently. You're not strong enough to join," his eyes flickered around the room, "watch yourself out there, it's everywhere. If I were you, I'd just hide. Oh, and if you find Experiment Eleven, take good care of her will you? Her time isn't done yet. "
Her feet felt like they were being dragged through molasses as the stranger strode around a corner. "No wait — hold on."
The building hummed as energy races through the wires again. The stranger was already gone as white light blinded the hallway. At the end was an unmoving guard, propped against the wall. Blood had soaked his uniform from where he'd been hit by friendly fire. In the distance was the whispered shriek of a demondog.
Diane burst through the nearest door and spun around, shutting the door with her body. It was a dark supply closet lined with shelves nearly overflowing with cleaning supplies. As she backed up she hit the wall and a jug of industrial cleaner fell down with a thud.
Her breathing grew shallow as the walls seemed to close in around her. Everyone was dead or dying. It was blood and limp limbs and lifeless eyes in an expanding graveyard. Through the maze of hallways and stairwells she'd already lost her chance to escape. Without a weapon and wearing a flimsy gown her chances of survival are limited. She was nothing more than an overzealous student with no friends, now involved in an experiment that'd been ongoing her entire life.
She couldn't punch her way out and she couldn't outrun the creatures that lurked through the corridors. She's not sure how long she stays there as she tries and fails to come up with any plan to get out alive. Each plan becomes more desperate than the next. It felt like nothing more than futile attempts at pretending like she was going to live to see the suns first rays.
There's several raps on the door in quick succession and she jumps backwards. The knocking grows heavier before the door handle is shoved down. She scoops up the fallen jug in one hand, raising it above her shoulder right as the door swings open.
The man had his hands carefully in front him like he was surrendering as he caught sight of her the jug she was gripping in her hand, ready to bludgeon him. "Hey — woah, easy there, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm Bob— Bob Newby."
"I— okay?" She was bewildered at this stranger who'd appeared in the midst of chaos with a soft voice and kind eyes.
"Joyce spotted you on the surveillance screens. Apparently you're not supposed to be here." He wipes away the sweat that shines on his face with the back of his hand in vain.
That woman was an angel in the midst of despair. Diane gave a shaky laugh that starts to sound like a sob and lowers her makeshift weapon. "I don't think I am."
She didn't know Bob, but she did know Joyce. Before Will could safely bike the distance alone, Joyce would pick him up from Dustins house, and Joyce must've known how much she was on her own, because every time she'd invite Diane over for dinner. Every time she declined, citing schoolwork.
It wasn't homework, she just didn't want to spend an awkward dinner based on pity and trying to dredge up conversation with Jonathan that extended beyond small-talk. He'd made it clear to everyone years ago he was happier left to his own devices, so everyone left him alone, her included. Their draw to solitude allowed them mutual understanding in skipping painfully superficial conversation. It was the closest they'd gotten to friendship, and she was fairly certain he'd like to keep it that way. Diane trusted Joyce, and Joyce trusted Bob.
"I know there's a lot going on, but we're going to help each other get out of here," he said with a shake of the walkie-talkie. "We just need to get down a few floors and out the front door, then we all go home. Easy-peasy, right?"
A voice crackled through the staticky radio. "You guys need to move quickly now. Take a right, it'll lead you into the stairwell. It should be an easy out from there."
"Doctor Owens." Bob supplied. He must have seen the hesitation on her face and gave her a look of reassurance. "He's one of the good ones, promise."
She wasn't sure any of them were good, but the situation was dire enough that she'd need to stay stake her faith in Bobs words. She hoped he was right for both of their sakes.
They stay close together, nearly bumping into each as they make their way quickly and quietly to the stairwell. They pass a dead scientist sprawled down the steps, her face was lined with terror that seemed to petrify in death. The small relief she feels knowing that the next body isn't her mom is overpowered by the sickness at the way she's tallying victims off the list. She knows her parents aren't here. And yet, she's not sure she knows anything anymore.
Then she grips onto Bob, preventing him from taking another step as she glances up the stairs.
She can feel it.
One of those creatures is with them in the stairwell.
"Stop." Owens says a second later. They were stuck on a landing between floors. "You got company, four floors up, and it's moving fast. You'll have to shoot it."
Bob looks down at his hands, and his face sinks with dread as if the gun he thought he'd been holding had vanished from existence. A frustrated whine slithers down the stairwell like the creature is disappointed it once again finds no live prey. Bob quickly turns down the volume of the radio and presses it against his ear. His searches for the surveillance camera and waves his empty hands.
"We don't have a lot of options left. There's a free lab if you can get to the second floor, third door on the left." Owens said. "Hold on . . . it might be leaving the stairwell . . . "
Something whispered to her that it wasn't going to leave. It was going to explore each landing. They won't be able to outrun the demondog once it realised they were in close vicinity. For now, their silence was saving them, but it could only buy them so much time.
The jug weighs in her hand and she's surprised she was still carrying it. Warning signs litter the the base of the bottle. Inside one of the black boxes is a symbol representing fire.
She makes the motion of flicking a lighter. Although he looks befuddled as to her reasoning, he understands her request and begins patting himself down. They didn't have any weapons to defend themselves, but maybe they could make one.
Hopper, he mouths with relief as he finds a lighter in his pocket. He'd held on to it for a brief moment for the chain-smoking Chief, and promptly forgotten about it.
As she moves closer to the stairs, Bob shakes his head rapidly. They were going to get out, together, just like he'd said. She silently implores him to trust her, eyes widening in an earnest manner. If her plan didn't work, well, their situation couldn't get any worse. Lines of worry are etched into his face, but he knows they're running out of options and time.
Diane tiptoes up the staircase, staying away from the spiralling centre. She removes the cap and lowers the jug to the ground, pouring the pale green liquid across the landing. The stairwell becomes covered with intersecting streams and the acrid scent has her cupping her nose and mouth as she moves down the stairs. It runs down in uneven vertical lines along each step.
Every step she takes back to Bob Newby is treaded with exceeding caution until she's standing right next to him. Taking the lighter, she runs her thumb along the metal. A spark is produced, but no flame. She shakes the lighter in frustration and tries again. The demondog becomes alerted to their presence with a howl and bounds down the stairs.
The lighter sparks and over and over again as she demands fire. A door is slammed open as a demondog bursts through, the clash reverberating against the walls. The second joins it, flanking its left side. Flame leaps from the lighter, and she throws it onto the landing. Fire erupts and the demondogs jump back just as they reach the landing. They circle the steps, trying to find an opening in the flames to no avail.
Both of them let out the dreaded breath they'd been withholding. It was working for now, but the flames were inhaling the toxins with an enthusiastic greed. Diane and Bob jog down the stairwell against the frustrated cries of the creatures that hunt them. She nearly hits Bob in the back as he stops on the ground floor, listening intently to the radio.
"Nice job. Now stop lingering and get out." Owens says.
The corridor is empty and they pick up their pace. Bob shoves the door open and the lobby is deserted, save Joyce whose worried expression breaks into sheer relief at the sight of them. Joyce was standing by the door in turquoise scrubs looking disheveled, but otherwise fine. Outside, Hopper and Mike were kneeling next to Will who was resting against the brick wall.
Hope shone its first rays and Diane's heart fluttered in response. They could get out of here. In the morning, all of this would become nothing more than a distant nightmare. Joyce threw her arms around Bob, clinging to him tightly like she was scared he'd once again slip through her grasp.
Joyce's brows suddenly knit together in confusion and she looks past Diane. The doors swing open and the familiar overpowering cologne hits her like a break before she has time to turn around. In three strides Edgar has his arm hooked around her neck, dragging her back. She lets out a cry as her hands fly to his forearm, trying to pull it away from her throat. Edgar shoots two bullets into the wooden door adjacent to them and they duck in response to the deafening sound of gunshots. Hopper is already raising his shotgun, turning his back to Will and Mike. The Chief's calculated gaze flies over her as tries to find a vulnerable point in which to shoot Edgar.
But Edgar was moving fast and using Diane as a shield, it was too risky to shoot without harming her as well. The sound lures the demondogs back and as Edgar pulls her into the vacant hallway, three more burst forwards from the adjacent door, knocking it off its hinges and bounding towards the glass. Diane loses her footing against a stray pearl on the floor.
Bob pulls Joyce outside, shutting the door just as the creatures smack against the glass. Joyce's yelling is indistinguishable; she thinks it's her name. The doors swing shut just as she sees two more demondogs join the pack, cutting off her chance of escaping. Hot breath hits the side of her neck in short exerted pants. "Shut up or you'll attract those animals."
With a gun digging into her side and the threat of the demondogs surrounding them she bites her tongue. As he pulls her around a corner she knows she's hopelessly overpowered against the sheer strength he's exerting. It doesn't stop her from kicking her feet out, hoping the momentum will slow him down. But she may as well be weightless with the ease he's pulling her deeper into the building.
A/N:
Crzychigurl343: There's a lot of stories out there where completely-average-girl becomes the superpowerful-chosen-one, so I'm trying to veer away from this trope (not that I'm complaining, they're fun to read too). I think I'm going to keep El as the powerhouse and have Diane develop her abilities that complement her wit.
Billy's on a slower development path so I agree he doesn't deserve her yet. I'd originally just planned on around 100k and finishing this story, but his character ended up becoming so guarded and stubborn that I didn't find it realistic enough for him to have a change of heart immediately. Then more characters (which'll play a larger part later on) have been quietly moving around in the background and now this story is expanding into its own little universe.
Anoni Mos666: While I'm striving to do Tuesday/Friday updates, my uploading is still sporadic so I can't blame you for missing any chapter updates. Good catch with the pills plot line ;)
I don't want to spoil too much but I like your theories and will say her parents certainly play a part in her medication, and their absence will be explained later on. Right now it seems like finding out about her involvement in MK Ultra is only negative, but her ignorance might've set her up for a worse fate.
Runaway Fantasy Princess: El and Diane will both be distant with each other for different reasons. Diane who'll continue hearing about how destructive and dangerous El is (which ties into Edgar's anger), and El who's hindered by her guilt in leaving Kali. But they're both tied together through being experiments, so all's not lost yet :)
MulishaMaiden: Not only grudgingly teaming up with Max, but now grudgingly teaming up with the rest of the gang, including his best friend Steve. As for Diane, I don't think this night will make it into her top ten best memories. She's in full survival mode.
.2019, 1Demoness, thanks for the reviews!