Making Plans

Tacoma, WA

June 23, 1986

The remainder of the flight passed peacefully for Mike and Eleven. After the plane leveled off at its cruising altitude, and having enjoyed a passable airline lunch, Eleven nodded off for a nap. She did her best to make it look like a complete accident when she curled up against Mike's side to sleep, trying her best to still act like Mike's sister.

Mike tried flipping through the magazine in his seat-back, but mostly he spent the flight lost in thought over what they were flying toward. They were all in agreement that Brenner was likely setting some kind of trap and were relying on the hope that they could avoid his carefully laid plans, free Kali and make their escape. He had every confidence in Eleven's ability to fend off any attack her Papa might send her way, but that didn't alleviate the fear that there was something serious they were overlooking. Somewhere in the skies over Montana, Mike finally succumbed to sleep as well, curling back into Eleven, completely by accident of course.

Sitting quietly in his aisle seat, Hopper was lost in thoughts of his own for most of the flight. He too couldn't shake the feeling they were rushing headlong into the jaws of a shark waiting to tear them apart. His unease was deepened by ghosts of his past that he couldn't force back any longer. He had been to McChord Air Force Base once before, and that trip had ended in disaster. More than twenty years before, fresh out of high school, he had been drafted into the army along with most of the other guys from his class. His unit had passed through McChord as their last stop on American soil before shipping off to the fight in Vietnam. By his side that trip were his best friends, Preston and Hank. The three of them had been inseparable since their Little League baseball days. They had shipped off as fearless kids ready to fight for their country and stamp out the communists. A year later, Hopper had returned to Hawkins with a shoulder torn to shreds by bullet fragments, while Preston and Hank returned home in flag-draped coffins. Now here he was, flying off to McChord again, heading straight into danger with the two people that meant more to him than life itself. If history decided to repeat itself, he swore to himself it would be her that made it out of this alive, and he was certain Mike would agree with that sentiment.

The final descent into Seattle was uneventful. As they started down, Mike had explained what to expect at every step along the way, and Eleven felt much more prepared for the bumps and noises the accompanied a routine landing. Soon enough, the plane's wheels touched down on solid ground and the aircraft slowed to a stop at their gate. As the other passengers rushed to gather their belongings and exit the plane, Hopper held the pair back, opting to be the last off the plane. Hopper led the way, with Mike taking up the rear as they walked up the taxiway and into the terminal. Mercifully, neither Brenner nor his agents were waiting for them among the eager families greeting newly arrived passengers.

After retrieving the two black duffles from baggage claim, they made their way over to the rental car desk. Hopper selected the cheapest car that would still fit the three of them, nervously laid down the Jack Roberts credit card and held his breath while the clerk scanned it. After an agonizing minute in which he plotted several escape routes, should the card not be accepted, the clerk happily passed over the set of keys.

"Enjoy your visit to Seattle," she said, far to perky for Hopper's taste.

"Thanks," he grumbled, taking the keys and picking up the bag at his feet.

Mike and Eleven followed behind, nervously scanning the crowd for a face they recognized, or someone who appeared to recognize them. They made a lengthy walk through the parking lot and finally located the red two-door Ford they had rented. Despite being the taller of the two, Mike offered to take the back seat so Eleven didn't have fold and scrunch herself passed the passenger seat. As the pair settled themselves into the car, Hopper tossed the bags into the trunk. He took a quick glance around, ensuring they were alone, slipped the revolver out of his bag and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans before slamming the trunk shut and climbing into the driver's seat.

Only once they had left confines of the airport and merged onto the highway headed south did the trio finally breathe a sigh of relief. Hopper had been certain, at every step of their journey, that Brenner's men would be waiting to ambush them and bring the fight to a head once and for all. Each time they didn't appear, he couldn't decide if it left him feeling relieved or even more apprehensive. Whatever the feelings, they pushed onward, each mile drawing them closer to the spider's web.

Hopper counted themselves lucky that Brenner had not chosen - or had chosen for him - a remote base, distantly removed from civilian populations. Instead, located about 45 minutes south of Seattle, McChord Air Force Base was surrounded on three sides by the city of Tacoma, with businesses and residential neighborhoods built right up to the edges of the base. This gave them the advantage of setting up camp in a motel practically on Brenner's doorstep and hopefully blending enough into the local population to observe with relative safety while they planned their next move.

In a repeat of Chicago, Hopper pulled up to the motel office and went inside to register, though not before passing the gun off to Mike. It had already become routine, and the expectations were communicated with the simplest of glances. Returning moments later, he carried with him a room key and a folded map of the city. Parking in front of the room, Mike and Hopper each grabbed a bag from the trunk and they all walked in to assess what was to be their home for the foreseeable future. Once again, it appeared clean enough to suit their purpose. The room still fell one bed short of Hopper's preference, but he had already made his peace with that. His eyes then fell gratefully on the in-room coffee maker, which he resolved to put to good use during their stay.

After taking a few minutes to use the bathroom and unpack a few things from the bags into the room's dresser and closet, they found themselves sitting around with nervous energy, unsure quiet what to do next. It was hard to believe that only a little more than 24 hours had passed since they checked Eleven out of the hospital, with every intention of settling her quietly at home to continue recovering. Instead, they found themselves almost 2000 miles away, hiding in a motel and preparing to sneak their way onto a secure Air Force base.

As Mike and Eleven set on the end of one bed, his arm around her tired shoulders, Hopper reached into his bag, retrieved a notepad and pen, and began jotting down a list. They watched in silence as he wrote, unsure just what he was planning. Finally, he broke the silence, turning to Mike.

"How much do you have in your wallet right now?" Hopper asked.

Mike quickly pulled the wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open, taking quick stock of the bills inside. "Looks like I have $30 on me." he answered.

"Okay," Hopper nodded, getting out his own wallet. Pulling out a $20 bill, he passed it, and the list, over to Mike before continuing. "I saw there was a little grocery store about a block up the road. You alright walking up there to get a few things we need?"

Mike glanced down at the list and nodded. "Yeah, of course." He could feel Eleven tense at his side, realizing he would be going out alone and not wanting to be far from his side for even a minute. "Hey," he said, turning to her, "I'll be alright. It's just a short walk up there and then I'll be right back."

"Yes," she nodded, he voice finally feeling like it was returning to normal.

After pulling his shoes back on, Mike stood and Hopper stopped him. "When you get back, give the old knock from the cabin. Do you remember how it goes?" he asked.

Mike had only been fortunate enough to visit the cabin a handful of times, but the knock that granted him the access to see Eleven was forever burned in his mind. In answer, Mike tapped out the familiar code on the top of the dresser; two knocks, one, three.

"Good," he went on. "Now, I don't think you're going to have any problems, but you need to keep your eyes open, alright? Watch out for anyone taking too close an interest in you. If you feel like someone's following you, don't lead them back here." He paused, then added. "If you get back to the door and someone is with you, reverse the knock: three, one, two. That'll at least give us some kind of warning. Got it?"

"Yeah, I've got it," Mike confirmed, glad that Hopper had thought so much of this out already. Turning to Eleven, he pulled her into a hug and planted a quick kiss to her soft, rosy lips. "I'll be right back," he reassured her.

"Be safe," she ordered, the unease flowing through her words.

With the list in hand, he headed out the door and down the street to gather what they would need to survive for a few days. Without a refrigerator in the room, the fare was going to be sparse, with a lot of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and coffee in their future. As he walked the aisles with a basket in hand, he added a box of ritz crackers and a can of easy cheese in hopes of picking up Eleven's spirits a little. She had loved it the first time he made her a plate of "smiley face crackers" and he hoped that little callback to happier moments would ease the tension of what was to come. As he scanned down the list, Mike was surprised by some of the non-food items Hopper had included: sticky notes, pens, tape and more notepads. It almost felt as if he were setting up an office in their little motel room, though in a way, it made sense. There was a lot to plan before they made their move and they needed some way to get it all organized.

After paying for their supplies, and walking back up the block toward the motel, Mike was relieved to find that no-one in the vicinity was taking any notice of him at all. Stopping at the door to the room, Mike set down one bag and knocked out the code with his free hand: two, one, three. Hopper pulled back a corner of the curtain to confirm Mike was alone and then unlocked the door, securing it quickly behind Mike as he stepped inside. The room had taken on an air of preparation in his absence. Eleven sat quietly on one bed, a black bandana-turned-blindfold over her eyes. The alarm-clock radio sat tuned to static and it was obvious her mind was in that other place she went to find things. Spread out on the other bed was the city map, which included an outline of the base and several of the major roads within.

"Any problems?" Hopper asked as Mike began to unload the bags, arranging the consumables on the dresser and passing the planning supplies over to Hopper.

Mike shook his head. "All quiet out there," he said, then added, "too quiet. It's got me nervous."

"Yeah, me too." Hopper agreed. "Would you mind throwing together a few sandwiches? After following you for the whole walk to the store, she decided she wanted to get down to business, figuring out what to do next."

As if on cue, Eleven lifted the blindfold from her eyes and walked over to the map, studying the streets until she found what she was looking for.

"Here," she said, pointing to an area well within the boundaries of the base. "Papa's house."

Jotting on a sticky note, Hopper labeled the location where she was holding her finger. Seeing the sticky note, she turned and realized Mike had returned.

"You're back," she squealed as she nearly tackled him in a hug, burying her face in his neck.

"I'm back," he agreed, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm okay."

After reassuring her he was, indeed, back safely, Mike returned to the task of fixing sandwiches and brewing up a pot of coffee. As he plated up the simple meal, he passed Eleven a chocolate milk he had bought special for her, knowing she had no interest in the harsh black liquid that had become Mike's lifeblood over the past week. She gave him a grateful smile as she took a sip of the creamy treat, marveling at how even as he was watching for danger and trying to get back as quickly as possible, he had thought to pick out something special just for her.

Settled on the beds, the three ate sandwiches in relative silence. Their motel was located less than a mile north of the base's runway and almost directly under the path of aircraft on their final approach. Every few minutes, the silence of the room was broken as pilots in training brought their four-engine heavy-cargo jets in for a practice landing before powering up, taking off and circling around to repeat the cycle. While the deep whine of the engines was an annoyance for the first few passes, it quickly faded into the background of the room as they finished eating and got to work in earnest.

Hopper started by taping the map up to the wall so they could all get a better idea of the area they were working with. The base was bordered along the north by a highway, cutting across just above the end of the runway. The west side was similarly bordered by a second highway. To the east, civilian neighborhoods nestled right up to the gates, running the full length of the base. Finally, along the bottom, just beyond the southern end of the runway, a public road formed the dividing line between the Air Force base to the north, and Army Base Fort Lewis to the south.

For the next few hours, Eleven alternated between journeys into the In-Between and detailing everything she found to Hopper when she came back out. Each time in, she went after a specific target Hopper was interested in, trying to plan their attack. He was careful in how he asked, generally allowing her to take the lead on which things she wanted to go after and always reassuring her she could stop any time she wanted. The last thing he wanted was to drag her mind back to memories of the lab, sent out on missions against her will under threat of punishment if she refused. He had little cause to worry, though; every time she came out, she was eager to dive right back in, ready to dig out every detail she thought could help. Papa had trained her well and she intended to use every ounce of her skill to stop him once and for all.

By alternating between Twelve and Brenner, Eleven managed to pin down a number of key locations on the map. Among a quiet street of identical homes was the little white house the two of them shared. Near the middle of the base, Brenner's office. Along much of the south and east fence-line was a rutted dirt road for base security to keep an eye on things. It was here that Twelve took a lengthy afternoon run before heading back to the house for dinner. Near the south border of the base, not far from the end of the runway, the small warehouse where Kali was being held; still bound to the same chair where she had been during Eleven's visit early that morning.

When Twelve left the warehouse for her run, Eleven kept her focus for a short time on the two guards watching over the entrance. Once the girl in the red tracksuit was off into the woods and out of sight, they relaxed a little and grumbled about how much they despised being assigned this particular security detail.

"That girl scares the shit out of me," one of them admitted.

"Doesn't help that she can snap your neck if you look at her wrong," the other added. "The worst is how fast she snaps back to little miss sweetheart as soon as the old man is around."

"All I know is, I'm down to 18 more days before I get rotated out to a new detail and she's someone else's problem," the first guard concluded.

Hopper was thrilled to hear this, as it meant Brenner and the girl weren't surrounded by hand-picked loyalists like they had been back in Hawkins. Instead, his work was begrudgingly guarded by soldiers who felt he had no business carrying out his work on their base. "That might make our job a lot easier," he thought to himself with no small sense of satisfaction.

As the afternoon wore on, Mike found himself feeling like the third wheel of the operation, relegated to a world of sandwiches, crackers and coffee as Eleven made her observations and Hopper took his detailed notes. Still, he did his best to remind himself that he was fortunate to have been included at all; at any of a dozen points in the last day, Hopper could have booted him from the car, or stranded him at the airport, and he would have been out of things entirely. He also realized that, aside from taking detailed notes every time she came back from her scouting, Hopper wasn't doing a tremendous amount either. This was really Eleven's moment to shine, so Mike contented himself with being there for her, snacks at the ready and a shoulder to rest on each time she came back. He hoped he would prove more useful when the time came to actually devise a plan; his years of D&D campaign planning couldn't have been all for nothing.

Mike also couldn't shake the feeling Hopper had another, unspoken, reason for including him in his escape plans. Hopper loved his daughter with all his heart and would gladly lay down his life to protect her. If that happened, he needed someone he could trust to get her to safety and someone strong enough to be there for her. Mike was fairly certain he had proven himself worthy of the responsibility, though he hoped it would never come to that.

Eleven finally decided it was time for a break when Papa and Twelve sat down to dinner, realizing she was getting rather hungry herself. She briefed Hopper on Brenner's pre-dinner activities in his office at home while Mike fixed her another sandwich.

"He was going through a stack of folders about new kids. I think he is trying to start over." She was sickened at the thought of a whole new round of children facing the horrors of his twisted experiments. "He seemed frustrated at the information, though. I don't think he has found any promising leads yet." she added.

"Thanks," Hopper said, gratefully. "You've found a lot this afternoon. I think we're in a good spot to start figuring out a plan. Anything else?"

"Yeah," she added with a grin, accepting the sandwich from Mike. "They're having pork chops and wild rice for dinner. Apparently my sister can cook, too."

"Are you saying my sandwiches leave something to be desired?" Mike asked teasingly, as he sat down next to her. He put an arm around her back and pulled her in close.

"Never," she answered with a giggle, taking a big bite to prove her point.

After dinner, they took a break from intelligence gathering and watched the evening news and a gameshow on the room's finicky black and white TV. As they watched, settled back on the beds, Eleven couldn't help but recall her day following Papa and Twelve around the desert. In particular, she worried over the chastisement he aimed at her at the end of the day. She still couldn't decide if he had truly known she was there or not. All afternoon today, she had been watching him closely for signs he knew she was there, but found none. If he had sensed her presence, he hid it well.

A little before nine o'clock, as Mike and Hopper started getting ready for bed, she grabbed the blindfold for one more look. Before either of them could object, she pushed her mind out, locking easily onto Twelve, right where she expected she would be. Settled into bed, Twelve sat waiting for Papa to come tuck her in. Eleven puzzled over the two sides of the girl that seemed to exist. Whenever she was close to Papa, though not even in the same room, she seemed like a sweet, innocent child much younger than her 14 years. Apart from him, however, she was apparently angry and terrifying enough than trained soldiers are afraid of her. Eleven couldn't help but worry that even by Papa's side, if he were threatened, the fierce warrior would emerge and make getting to him that much more dangerous.

As if on cue, Papa entered her room, and they began the nightly routine she had witnessed on her last bedtime visit. Once more, words of praise and a kiss on the head. Once more, the playful game with the light switch. Once more, he told her he loved her. Eleven could feel her hands - her real ones back in the motel - clenching into tight fists. It didn't matter how many times she reminded herself it was just lies to get better performance from the girl, it still sent stabbing pains through her heart to hear her Papa say those three words. As bitterly as she hated the man, some part of her could not help still feeling love for the silver-haired monster standing in her sister's doorway.

She ripped the blindfold from her eyes and brought herself back to the reality of the motel room. She looked around quickly as she tried to compose herself again, not wanting to explain being upset by what she saw. Mike was still in the bathroom brushing his teeth and getting changed, and Hopper was sitting in a chair, alternating between reviewing the notes he had taken during the afternoon and looking at the corresponding locations on the map. By the time she reached over to switch off the radio static, she had settled her breathing enough to not raise suspicions as Hopper turned to look at her.

"Find anything interesting?" he asked.

"Not really," she answered, as nonchalantly as she could. "He's just tucking her into bed."

"Hmm," Hopper muttered, turning back to his notes.

Minutes later, with the lights out in the silent motel room, Eleven nestled herself deep in Mike's warm embrace. She was rapidly coming to the decision that they couldn't just go in and rescue Kali; they were going to have to deal with Papa once and for all as well. The complication to that, which kept her mind active long into the night, was what do with her sister. She was extremely dangerous, particularly away from Papa, but at the same time, she was an innocent victim of his brainwashing. She finally decided she had to talk about it with Mike; he always knew how to help her sort out her feelings. That would be a matter for tomorrow, she thought, reveling in his comforting presence by her side. She realized, with a smile, this escape mission they were on was the longest time she had been able to be with him since that very first week he found her. Leaning up to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, she nestled deeper in his arms and finally succumbed to sleep.