(November 2nd, 1984)
Cami stands in the doorway of the cabin in the woods, her eyes locked onto the small strip of paper clutched tightly in her right hand. She's read it at least half a dozen times, and still she cannot quite bring herself to believe it. Eleven is gone. Again. This time, apparently headed off in search of her mother. A mother named Terry Ives, who lives in Bloomington, Indiana.
There is absolutely no indication of when she actually left, but once again, Cami cannot help but feel that, if she had arrived home just a little faster, maybe she could've stopped El. Or at the very least, she could've gone with her.
But she had been late coming home. Late because of her own distraction, and—whatever the hell that had been after school, with Steve. Once again she's failed El, and Cami isn't fully aware of her hand moving to crumple the note in her fist until she feels its edges digging into her skin.
"Kid, when you get back, we're gonna need to have a serious talk about you running off on your own."
In response to the words, Cami's lips twist in a wry attempt at a grin, though she is fairly certain it comes off as more of a grimace, because she knows that she is likely the very last person that has a leg to stand on when it comes to advising someone else against reckless decisions. But this is Eleven. There is more on the line than just a stern lecture from her dad, and being grounded for a while, now.
If anyone at Hawkins Lab even gets a hint that El is still out there—if they come close to figuring out where she might be going—it's over. They'll find her. They'll take her back to the lab, and Cami will never see her again.
Panic flares through her veins. It constricts around Cami's lungs, nearly choking her. And before she can fully realize what it is she is doing, her feet are carrying her towards the sink. Her fingers scrabble for the lighter her father keeps on a shelf nearby so that he doesn't have to hunt for it if he wants a cigarette after a meal.
In seconds, Cami is holding the flame to the corner of Eleven's note. She drops it into the sink before it can fully catch, and burn her fingertips.
She watches as it burns. As it turns into nothing. Because if Hawkins Lab finds anything pertaining to Eleven, it sure as hell isn't going to be because of her.
And with the letter disposed of, Cami rinses the ashes down the sink, her attention turning to the phone pegged to the wall nearby as her fingers reach out to dial the familiar number of the precinct.
She knows she's going to be in even more trouble than she's in already, letting her dad know about Eleven's second disappearance. But this time, Cami isn't so bold as to think she can catch up to the younger girl on her own. She isn't foolish enough to think she doesn't need anyone's help.
Cami remains silent, albeit impatiently, through the ringing, waiting for someone on the other end to answer the call, and the fingers of her free hand drum an idle pattern against the countertop without her being fully aware of the movement at all. And even though she feels as though she is about to vibrate out of her skin, Cami forces herself to remain calm, her teeth digging into her lower lip for a moment before a familiar voice picks up the call.
"Hawkins Police, this is Flo. How may I direct your call?"
"Flo! Flo, it's—it's Cami Hopper. Is my dad around?"
"No. No, he left a little over an hour ago," Flo sighs, the words sending a bucket of ice water through Cami's veins as she forces herself to swallow past the sudden dread coiling around her throat so that she can attempt a reply.
"Are—are you sure?"
"Pretty darned. Said he was goin' to look at the fields on Wright's farm."
"Did he—did he give you any indication on when he'd be back?"
"No. I'm afraid he didn't. If you'd like, I can pass on a message when I see him."
"No. No, I—I'll just talk to him when he gets home," Cami sighs, running a hand across her face, and fighting against the dejection and worry that are threatening to drag her under, "Thanks, Flo."
Cami doesn't bother to stay on the line long enough for anything Flo might say in response, the phone settling back into the cradle with a soft click so that she can lean forward with her head held down, and her fingers gripping the edge of the sink so tightly that they whiten just a bit in response. She doesn't know what she had been expecting, but this hadn't been it.
For a moment, Cami simply remains hunched over the sink, her arms trembling. Teeth chewing at the inside of her cheek. Heart pounding. Because although it is not that uncommon for her father to be out of the office, something about this particular time seems—off.
He'd already been out to many of the farms on the outskirts of town. She doesn't understand why he'd need to go out again. She doesn't see a reason for it. None that she can think of, anyway. But Flo had absolutely no reason to lie.
A low groan escapes, and she pushes herself away from the sink while her hands move to cover her face. And she knows she doesn't have time for this. That she can't afford to fall apart.
She needs a plan. She can't just go charging off after Eleven without one. And even though Cami knows that the sudden idea springing to life in her mind is hardly one her dad would want, she seizes on it like it is the only thing left that can keep her afloat.
As she picks up the phone again, and dials another familiar number, Cami reminds herself that he isn't exactly giving her any other choice, if he's going to be incommunicado for the day. And by the time Eddie answers the call, all thoughts of regret or guilt are far from her mind.
"Hey, Eddie, it's—it's Cami. How would you feel about a road trip to Bloomington?"
If her father couldn't get her to where Eleven had gone to find her mother, maybe Eddie could.
…
"So—you can't tell me why we're going to Bloomington."
"Nope."
"And you can't tell me what we're gonna find when we get there?"
"Not yet, no."
"Can you at least tell me if your dad is gonna send out a search party for you, and a firing squad for me when he finds out about this?" Eddie inquires, taking some small manner of relief in Cami's sudden laugh, even if the amusement doesn't quite reach her eyes, "I mean, I'm all for a weekend getaway, but—"
"That's not what this is."
"No, I know. Since that's like—all you've told me about it since you threw yourself in my van."
"Look, you seriously don't have to do this if you had other plans," Cami begins, nothing but a strange sort of understanding in her tone even in spite of the weariness Eddie can so clearly see in her expression before he interrupts.
"I don't have other plans. And I want to do this. But only if we—"
"Stop at the Big Buy for snacks. I'm buying."
"Exactly."
"Okay then. But if you make me spend all of my money on beef jerky and energy drinks, I swear to God—"
"You'll kill me, cut me up into tiny little pieces, and bury my body in the woods," Eddie concludes, unable to suppress his own grin that comes about in response to Cami's astonished expression and comically widening eyes, "What?"
"That's—creative."
"You're the chief's daughter, Hopper. I figure that means you know how to dispose of a body."
"Um, no. It doesn't."
"Seriously? That's a skill I'd definitely wanna know if—"
"If you were the chief's daughter?" Cami finishes, anticipating Eddie's retaliatory swipe at her arm, and dodging to the side as much as she can given the constriction of her seatbelt in order to avoid it, "I'll see what I can do about getting you that information."
"From your father?"
"He does have other people working for him, you know."
"Yeah. And they would probably go right back to him if his kid was asking around about hiding bodies."
"You say that like you think I have no ability to be subtle at all."
"Well—"
"Okay, you can stop talking now!"
Eddie grins at that, reaching over and nudging Cami in the arm again, this time before she can manage to pull away. And as he navigates the van into the parking lot of the Big Buy, and selects a spot near the back, he thinks he may have succeeded in getting her to ease up, even if only a little.
She'd been so tense when he picked her up at their usual spot just on the outskirts of the forest at the edge of town. It had taken far longer for her to be drawn into their usual conversation. Far longer than usual, at any rate. And even though he had tried not to let it show, Eddie had been worried that something was wrong. Something far more serious than her usual disagreements with her dad, or troubles with Steve.
He'd tried to ask her about it. To nudge her into any sort of disclosure at all. But Cami had remained resolute, stating an absolute need to get to Bloomington, Indiana as quickly as possible. And something in the urgency behind her demeanor made it nearly impossible for him to refuse.
Eddie would be a liar to pretend he isn't more than a little curious about what on earth they are doing and why they are doing it, but regardless of whether that is ever something he gets to know or not, he isn't going to let Cami do—whatever this is—on her own.
Hopping out of the driver's seat and shutting the door behind him, Eddie jogs to catch up with Cami, who is already a few steps closer to the sliding glass doors of Big Buy. And as he watches her observing him from the corner of his eye, as though a part of her still expects him to change his mind and leave her here at any second, Eddie sends her a smirk and another nudge with his elbow, her exasperated roll of the eyes only making him that much more determined to stick by her side.
"Hey, Hopper, you didn't happen to bring a fake ID with you, did you?"
"Why?"
"Because if we're doing this whole road trip thing, and you'll be mad at me if we get nothing but beef jerky, I kinda thought adding a six-pack to the mix wouldn't be all that bad."
"Eddie?"
"Yeah?"
"You are going to be the death of me," Cami gripes, the complaint only about halfway sincere, even in spite of her attempts to make it seem otherwise. Something Eddie seems to realize almost immediately, if his answering grin is any indication at all.
"Well yeah, obviously. But at least it'll be a fun way to go out, right?"
Cami cannot help but laugh at that, allowing Eddie to hover at her side while she snags a cart and heads into the store in search of supplies. And for a moment, she allows herself to pretend that this is just a normal trip with a friend. That she isn't still half scared out of her mind that by the time they make it to Terry Ives' house, Eleven will no longer be there.
She forces herself to cling to Eddie's presence like a lifeline, even in spite of the guilt she feels over keeping him in the dark. And together the two of them blow past the produce section in favor of finding snacks, only stopping when a sharp turn down one of the store aisles has them colliding with the very last person Cami expects to see.
"Dustin?"
Packets of bologna tumble down from the kid's arms, but Dustin hardly seems to notice, his eyes darting to Eddie for only a moment, before he looks back to Cami, instead.
"Cami! Thank God! We've got a code red—"
…
Standing in a dark tunnel, surrounded by swirling particles that look deceptively like dust, Jim Hopper stifles the urge to curse, and tries as best he can to ignore the sickening lurch in his gut.
It isn't exactly like a part of him hadn't known this was coming. He'd traced the concentric circles in the fields of many of Hawkins' farming families. Located the damned lab at the exact center.
He had been the one to make the decision to come back to one of the fields. To dig into the dirt until he found rotting soil, and a smell like decaying things that turned his stomach. And as much as he didn't want to admit it, he recognized that smell. Even when he had finally managed to move past what it had been like, finding Will Byers in that other world, for Cami's sake, and Eleven's, he could never have forgotten the overpowering scent of death.
It settles back into his nostrils like an unwelcome guest, and Jim clenches his jaw as he turns this way and that, casting his eyes out across the darkness while the steady beam of his flashlight illuminates it bit by bit.
The tunnels are massive. They extend farther than he can see, even with the aid of the flashlight, and Jim cannot help but acknowledge the dread that springs to life the longer he looks. Twisting vines line the walls, obscuring the dirt from view. And the vines seem to take on a life of their own, twisting—pulsating—as if in time to the beating of some invisible heart.
It's almost exactly like the place where he and Joyce found Will, last year. Almost exactly.
Jaw protesting with a muted pop as he clenches it still further, Hopper starts to navigate the way through the tunnel leading away from the hole he made in the ground above. The dim light from the sun streaming through that hole begins to fade, until there is nothing left to illuminate the path ahead aside from his flashlight.
The beam lands on the twisting, writhing vines. He steps carefully over those that litter the dirt floor of the tunnel, every muscle on high alert. Waiting for something to strike.
Hopper knows that he needs to trace this tunnel back to its source. To find some way of proving that it comes from the lab, because clearly the eggheads inhabiting the space now weren't going to believe him without it. They weren't going to believe Joyce, or Will, without it.
Remembering how scared Will had looked when he stopped by the house at the start of the day only intensifies the need to get someone to open their damn eyes. And even if Jim still doesn't understand Will's drawings, he knows they are significant. Far more significant than he truly wants to admit.
He and Joyce had spent the better part of the morning and afternoon piecing them together. Connecting them like some sort of larger than life puzzle. It had taken a minute, but the truth finally hit him, staring at the twists and turns of Will's pictures as though his life depended on it.
They were vines. Vines, snaking through the ground, killing. Destroying. Vines like the ones in the Upside Down. Vines like the ones surrounding him right now.
Hopper hadn't wanted to think of the possibility of those vines lurking beneath the fields. Killing crops. Trees. Grass. But as soon as he had hopped through the hole in the field, and entered the tunnel, he knew. The truth had been right here in front of him all along.
Somehow, the Upside Down had been spreading again. Infiltrating Hawkins, despite repeated assurances from Dr. Owens and several others at the lab that such a thing was impossible. So far, there had been no mysterious disappearances like the last time. But Hopper knew that it was probably only a matter of time…
And he isn't about to let what happened to Barb—what almost happened to Will—happen to anyone else in Hawkins, ever again.
As if summoned by the thought, a familiar chittering sound echoes towards him from somewhere at his back, and Hopper whirls on instinct, gun already out and aiming at—open air. The flashlight wavers, illuminating the area, and showing him absolutely nothing, and for a moment Jim starts to wonder if he'd imagined the entire thing.
Still tense, he starts to lower the gun, but then the sound repeats, this time coming from somewhere off to the left, and Hopper spins again, alert for even the slightest hint of movement. A hint that never comes.
He lets out a slow breath, his fingers still clamped tightly around the flashlight and gun, but then another sound reaches him, unfamiliar, by comparison to the chittering of before. Moving towards the likely source, Hopper keeps the flashlight pointed straight ahead, the gun mimicking that aim, ready to fire. And then he sees it. A strange, bulbous shape poised in the roof of the tunnel. Pulsing in time with the same unseen heartbeat used by the vines.
Eyes narrowing, Jim steps closer, still ready to attack, if needed, but the closer he gets, the more he seems to lose track of anything except that steady pulse of movement, drawing him in. He gets still closer, peering up at the thing while his grip slackens on the gun in his hand, and then?
Then, the bulbous growth moves, lightning fast, expelling some sort of strange, sticky substance, right in Hopper's face.
With a yell, he staggers backward, tripping over some of the vines on the floor, and bumping into the opposite edge of the tunnel while his hands lift to try scraping the gunk away from his eyes. Once he can see again, he turns in a slow circle, his gaze catching on another, smaller version of the thing that had sprayed him mere moments ago.
For a moment, Jim considers shooting it, but then it unleashes more of that sticky goo, causing him to stumble away yet again. And despite his best efforts he feels his entire body going numb. Fingertips and toes first. Then legs. Arms. His torso.
The floor of the tunnel rises up to greet him with startling speed, and Hopper can do nothing to stop it, a low groan escaping as his eyelids flutter before everything goes dark.
…
They did it. They actually did it.
That thought circles on a loop in Nancy Wheeler's mind as she clutches the cassette player tightly in her hands while Jonathan drives them away from Hawkins Lab. They had them, now. With any luck, the recording on the cassette player would close down the lab for good.
Sam Owens said the words himself. He made specific mention of Barb. Of Will.
"—the men and women responsible for what happened to your brother, and Ms Holland's death—they're gone."
And she had it all on tape. There was no way they could take it back, now. No way for them to twist the words into something else.
A glance at Jonathan in the driver's seat shows the same steely determination in his own expression. The same tightness of his muscles, and hard lines of his jaw. Nancy knows that he is every bit as determined to make the lab pay as she is. That he is determined to expose their secrets so that what happened last year can never happen again.
But as Nancy turns again to look out at the road ahead of them, still more than a little curious about what exactly they will find when they reach Murray Bauman, she cannot help but realize that their victory still seems a little bit stale.
They have justice for Barb. Nancy is quite literally holding it in her hands, and she still remembers Murray's name, when the Hollands had told her about the investigative journalist that was already looking into Barb's whereabouts. Mr. and Mrs. Holland clearly trusted him. Trusted his methods. And that was why she and Jonathan decided to take what they found at the lab to him, rather than anyone else.
Even then, though—even with the surety that Murray would help them—that he would believe them—Nancy still can't shake the lingering unease that settles around her stomach like a vice.
She had lied to everyone, to do this. Lied to her parents. To Mike. By omission, she had also lied to Cami and Steve.
And she had dragged Jonathan into her lies as well, without a second thought, even with his reluctance over keeping Cami in the dark from the start.
"We made the right choice," She says, more so to reassure herself than anything else, her gaze once again swiveling to Jonathan's in time to note the slight nod he offers her in response, "The less people who know about this, the better."
"I know."
"Cami will—she'll understand. We're just—we're just trying to keep them all safe."
"Yeah," Jonathan nods, risking a glance at Nancy in time to note the obvious skepticism she seems to hold over his agreement, not that he had really tried to mask his doubts all that much in the first place. He knows Cami would've wanted to be a part of this. He knows that as well as he knows his own name. And the idea of not telling her anything about it still lingers like the weight of a stone settling in his gut.
"Jonathan?"
"Hmm?"
"We're doing the right thing."
"Then why doesn't it feel like we are?"
Nancy sighs, because she honestly doesn't know how to answer that, her teeth chewing at the inside of her cheek for a moment as she slumps back in the passenger seat and turns to look at the scenery passing them by. And she understands why Jonathan feels this way. Really, she does. She hates the lie every bit as much as he does.
Jonathan thinks that Cami will never forgive him. Forgive them, when she learns that they went off in search of justice for Barb without her. Without even giving her a chance to decide if she wants any part of it at all. And to be honest, Nancy is starting to believe the exact same thing. But she'd already told Jonathan the reasons why they had to do it this way. She'd told him that it was already dangerous enough for them to be doing this on their own. They'd seen ample proof of that when the men from the lab grabbed them at the park and dragged them to that interrogation room.
Nancy wasn't about to get Cami tangled up in something that could end up in them getting killed. Not when the very center of what they are doing flies in the face of the nondisclosure agreements they all signed last year.
"She's—Jonathan, she's already reckless enough. And I feel like that's partly my fault, because we haven't—we haven't fixed things from last year. It's like—every time I try to talk to her I can't think of anything to say except for shit that just pushes her further away, and I can't—"
"You can't risk losing her until you find a way to get things back to the way they were."
"Yes."
"I get it. I do," Jonathan admits, looking over at Nancy again, his brow furrowing as soon as he realizes she is watching him, blue eyes wide. Desperate, as though only he can relieve her of her doubt so that the certainty of what they are doing can remain unchecked, "I don't wanna lose anyone either."
"But you think keeping this from Cami will mean I lose her anyway."
"I don't—I don't know. Really, I don't. So I guess we're just gonna have to wait and find out."
"Wow. That's—so reassuring," Nancy teases, managing a faint smile, and feeling more than a little relieved when Jonathan responds with a soft laugh, "Any idea what the hell we're supposed to do in the meantime?"
"Find a motel? I don't think we're gonna make it to Murray before it's technically too late to just drop in."
"Yeah. Yeah, you're probably right."
Turning back to the passenger side window, Nancy settles to the task of keeping a lookout for a place for them to stay, trying and failing to ignore the funny little lurch her stomach gives at the thought of being alone in a room—potentially in a bed—with Jonathan Byers. She still hasn't managed to make any headway in her feelings for him. Even knowing that she's most likely not really in love with Steve hasn't helped.
But maybe this—this expedition, or whatever the hell it is—can give her some clarity. Maybe it can help her figure things out. Maybe it can help them both.
And as Jonathan pulls into the parking lot of a tiny little motel, while the fluorescent lights over the lot flicker to life, she reminds herself that nothing has to be decided right now, anyway.
They have more important things to think about than a possible relationship. Assuming Jonathan even wants one to begin with.
Once the car is in park, Nancy climbs out and moves to the back seat to grab her overnight bag, slinging the strap over her shoulder and shutting the door behind her with a sharp snap. She falls into step beside Jonathan, their arms brushing as they walk to the office area labeled by a flickering neon sign.
As the two of them step through the narrow doorway into that office, Nancy reminds herself that they have a job to do. They cannot afford any distractions.
If finishing this—getting the recording of Owens' confession to Murray Bauman and taking the lab down—requires her to forgo her own uncertainty over her feelings, then Nancy will do it.
She will do whatever it takes to get justice for Barb. To hopefully fix things with Cami along the way.
And no matter the end result—no matter how dangerous it is—Nancy Wheeler will not be turned away.
…
"A code red?"
"Yes. A code red," Dustin repeats, stooping to pick up the dropped packages of bologna and darting a curious glance at the long-haired guy standing next to Cami, looking lost, "Who's he?"
"Hmm? Oh, this is—um—this is Eddie."
"Eddie."
"Yeah. Eddie Munson," Cami says, risking a glance at Eddie, herself, and frowning as soon as she notices his skeptically raised eyebrow, "He's a—"
"I thought you liked Steve."
"Okay. That? We are not talking about that."
"But—"
"Eddie, this is Dustin. Dustin, this is Eddie. Moving on!"
"Okay. Okay, wait, Cami, just—wait!" Dustin exclaims, only pausing for long enough to dump the bologna packages in the cart Eddie is standing behind, before he darts off after Cami who is now just a couple steps ahead, "We need to talk."
"Then shop with me."
"Um—what about the unfriendly ears?"
"What?" Cami asks, stopping in her tracks, and causing Dustin's sneakers to squeak to a stop a few steps ahead of her, while Eddie narrowly avoids smacking the cart into her side, "Dustin what the hell are you—"
"Unfriendly. Ears."
"Yeah. Surprisingly that's not any clearer hearing it the second time around."
"Ix-nay on the unson-May."
"What?"
"I'm not saying a damn thing until he can't hear me."
Sighing, Cami resists the urge to emit a frustrated groan through sheer force of will alone, her body rigid for a moment until she turns to look Eddie in the eye. He looks as baffled as she feels, honestly, but she clearly doesn't even have the time to consider that right now, given Dustin's impatient fidgeting…
"Eddie, could—would you just—give us a minute?"
"Seriously?"
"Please?"
"Fine. Fine. But if you end up with nothing but beef jerky to snack on," He grumbles, turning with the cart, more than a little frustrated because this is hardly the first thing Cami has been secretive about that day. She tries to give him what she hopes will clearly be an apologetic smile but Eddie never sees it.
She frowns, and then turns back to Dustin with an unreadable expression painted on her face, but before she can even make an attempt at asking him what the hell is going on, he dives in, head-first.
"On Halloween, I found a slug thing in my garbage can, only it wasn't just a slug because it kept changing and growing, and I took it to school to show Mr. Clark only we never got to that point because Will had another episode, and now I think Dart's actually a baby demogorgon because he grew again and ate my cat."
Well…shit.
…
Hello again, angels! And welcome to another new chapter! We're slowly working our way back into the action! Yay! And I hope that the little tweaks I've made here don't seem too off-putting. Technically, on the wiki, it says Dustin lured Dart into the cellar the day after he found him eating poor Mews, but I thought it kind of odd that Dustin and his mom would just spend that night sleeping in the house with a baby demogorgon on the loose, so I moved that particular sequence of events to the same day. And now, Eddie is going to end up dragged along for the ride. Oops? Hopefully all of that makes sense, though, and meets with your approval? I promise there is a method to my madness, and I cannot wait to dive into the adventures of everyone in the gang, before they all meet up together again!
As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far! And special thanks to Boris Yeltsin and ThimbleKisses for leaving such kind reviews the last time around! I truly do appreciate the support and I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you enjoyed the last!
Until next time, darlings…
MOMM