Dustin
"So today was pretty much a huge waste of time," Dustin complained.
He and Lucas were coasting along a sloping dirt hill that led away from the scrapyard. They hit the bottom, mounting the curb simultaneously and veered onto the pavement, heading home before light fell. Behind them, Mike was pedaling in the opposite direction, disappearing into a maze of subdivisions and cookie-cutter houses.
"No it wasn't," Lucas replied, ever combative. "We had fun, didn't we?"
Dustin brought his bike to a halt. He straddled the crossbar, planting his feet wide and stared at Lucas incredulously. "We didn't get to finish the campaign!" he yelled. "That was the whole point of today!"
Lucas had stopped his bike a few feet ahead, parking it sideways so he could face Dustin's animated outrage. "Yeah, so what? We can finish it tomorrow," he explained. "I'm just saying, today wasn't that bad."
Dustin shook his head dismissively. He dropped his foot on the bike's pedal and, before taking off, asked, "What about Will?"
"I don't know," Lucas said. He shrugged, then pushed off, biking ahead. "Maybe you should stop by his house."
Dustin scoffed at the suggestion, pedaling to catch up. "Why me? Why not you?"
"Duh! Because I live that way!" Lucas replied, stretching his arm to point out the intersection ahead. "You live closest to Will."
At the intersection Dustin turned left and began the arduous uphill that he dreaded every ride home. "I'll call him when I get in!" he yelled back to Lucas over his shoulder.
Lucas waved, riding away.
Those last ten yards were murder and Dustin was too exhausted for the final push. He dismounted and walked his bike to the top. The climb was rough, true, but the view never ceased to be breathtaking. It was later in the day and the sun was inching closer to the horizon, but Dustin could still make out fine details in the town below. The stretch of brick storefronts and potted flowers out front, like vibrant puddles set against the slate gray of concrete. The towering library and church steeple. The police department.
As he watched, a cruiser pulled out and the lights flicked on, sending red and blue spotlights spinning across the buildings. He expected to hear the siren, delayed over the distance it traveled to reach him, but piercing nonetheless. It didn't come. The cruiser didn't peel out, like there was an emergency. On the contrary; it slowly began crawling up the main stretch. Behind him, Dustin heard a vehicle climbing the hill and immediately after he registered this, a second sound finally reached him from below. It was a voice, amplified through a loud speaker. The words were jumbled, echoing through the town and bouncing off of the buildings. But Dustin understood most of it: … order of the police department, all residents … evacuate Hawkins … toxic radiation leak has been confirmed. Failure to evacuate immediately … dangerous exposure.
Dustin's mouth was hanging open when the roar of the truck idling next to him stopped. "Hey, kid!" a voice yelled, puncturing Dustin's focus.
Reluctantly pulling himself from the fresh drama below, Dustin was faced with the broad side of a taupe and beige Blazer, and the anxious face of the police chief hanging out the window. "Dustin, right?" he asked. Dustin nodded, mouth still slack. "Get in, now." Chief Hopper ordered. His expression commanded immediate obedience.
Swinging his handlebars around, Dustin called over the passenger seat, "O-Okay, just help me get my bike in the back –"
"Leave the bike, kid!" the chief yelled impatiently. "Get in the truck, now!"
As he climbed in, the voice echoed from below: Directions for refuge … provided at highway stops outside of the city limits…all residents are to evacuate…
Dustin didn't bother buckling his seatbelt. "This is bullshit," he said. "There's no radiation leak. What's going on? Are we at war?"
Hopper turned the ignition. The truck roared back to life and he turned to his young passenger. "Where do you live?" he asked. Dustin scrunched his eyebrows, bewildered. He didn't need a ride. He was almost home. Still, the chief was not a man whose limits he wanted to test. Dustin pointed ahead. He expected the truck to lurch forward, but Hopper was still leaning his forearm into the steering wheel, watching Dustin. "Where is your friend Lucas?"
That piece in the puzzle solved it for Dustin. His shoulders drooped as he spoke. "It's the Demogorgon, isn't it?"
