A/N: First, I want to thank everyone again for the follows, faves and feedback! I also want to apologize as this is the longest chapter yet. But it does pack a lot into the story so far and makes a big mark in the plot. So I hope you enjoy it!
Nancy
Her watch read five-thirty. She tried to gauge how soon she could leave without drawing too much attention, but Nancy's voice of reason chided these thoughts. It was bad enough that she wasn't socializing, tucked in the corner like she was, still hiding behind Steve's giggly aunts. But every time she tried to motivate herself to get up and join one of the clusters of graduates milling around the celebration, her legs felt weak.
To distract herself, she snatched the photo album that was propped on the table in front of her and began flipping through. Steve throughout the years. Little league baseball; Christmases and Easters; summers in a vacation home that was somehow nicer than their house in Hawkins; fishing and ice skating; a BMW for a birthday present. Nancy let out a little exhausted chuckle under her breath and dropped the album back on the table.
A squeal of delight rang out as a young girl bounced clumsily into the pool, held afloat by an inflated orange ring. Following the sound, Nancy's eyes locked onto the diving board and a wave of shame overcame her as she remembered Barb, sitting on the edge of the board while she and Steve…
Nancy frowned at the white tablecloth and the memory of that night. How she'd told Barb to go home. But ditching her best friend wasn't in Barb's nature. So she'd stayed. And the only person who knew Barb didn't leave was Jonathan.
Nancy lifted her head and scanned the tree line where he'd stood that evening, silently documenting the whole regrettable night. The same forest edge where she'd first seen the monster. And so close to the tree where she'd entered the Upside Down. The tree where she'd kissed Jonathan.
Nancy stood up abruptly. All around, people were laughing; family members were reliving memories of Steve and classmates were planning summer vacation and college. She grabbed her bag and cardigan. It was a mistake coming to the party.
As nonchalantly as possible, she began edging closer to the woods. But her discretion was wasted. No one was paying attention to the girl slipping into the underbrush. Music was playing, drinks were clinking, the grill was sizzling, water was splashing. From somewhere inside, the phone was ringing. And as she disappeared, a voice, clearer than any other, spoke from the edge of the pool, "Hey, Steve, you're not going to believe what's going on in town…"
The rest of the conversation was swallowed by the din of the party and fading into the background as Nancy vanished into the forest.
A bed of last year's fallen leaves muffled her steps as Nancy picked her way through the woods, stepping over rotten logs and trying to discern any familiar landmarks amidst an eternity of identical trees. High up in the canopy, a gust of wind yanked the lighter branches, sending a moaning creak through the trunks below. When the breeze settled, a ghostly whistle hung in the air, like a distant siren. Nancy ignored it and forged on, determined to find the tree before nightfall.
It was nearing six-thirty when she finally crossed a peculiar cluster of paper birch trees, thin sheets of white bark peeling away in delicate layers. She recognized the spot and the crumbled boulder nearby, except she'd come from a different direction last time. Looking up, Nancy turned ninety degrees and reoriented herself. She scanned the woods in front of her and fell upon the gateway tree, twenty yards ahead and something – she squinted her eyes – something was lying at the base of the tree.
Nancy bolted forward. "Jonathan?" she yelled. The mass at the tree's roots didn't move. As she ran, the air stilled and the forest noises hushed. "Jonathan!" she screamed again. Each step she took, a surreal silence enveloped her deeper. Fifteen feet away, she slowed to a walk and the mass took shape. It was a red and black checkered flannel jacket and lying next to it was an axe. She drew closer, taking careful steps. Her eyes alighted on the wedge hacked out of the trunk and she reached forward, brushing her fingers along the splintered wood.
She let her hand fall and stared at the cut, gradually realizing what Jonathan had done. Below, the axe lay forgotten. No, not what he'd done – what he'd tried to do. So what had happened? She crouched and gathered the flannel in her arms. The fabric was cold and leaves clung to the underside. She traced her fingers along the shaft of the axe and noticed two identical imprints in the forest floor near the blade. The indents were side by side, a few inches wide and rounded. Footprints? No, there would be a pattern from the tread on his boots. Handprints? No, that wasn't right either. She dropped her knees into a mound of leaves and hugged the flannel against her chest. Her eyes fell to her own lap and the answer dawned on her. The prints were left by his knees. Jonathan had knelt here.
He'd been in this exact spot. Then he disappeared, leaving behind his coat and axe. Nancy squeezed her eyes shut, deep furrows building between her pinched eyebrows. What happened?
In the moments following that question, finally she noticed the uncanny silence of the woods that surrounded her. The wind had vanished; the birds were gone. The humming of life came to an abrupt stop. An early darkness was falling and bringing with it a deep, biting cold. Nancy's skin prickled. The blood drained from her face and a slow exhale rattled from her lips.
Knees still cradled by the earth, Nancy carefully lifted her head, scanning the forest for any sign of movement. The world was motionless, cast into a blue darkness by the trees' shadows and clouded horizon. Her heart was crashing in her chest, each beat like a deafening wave crushing the silence. A surge of panic threatened to overwhelm her and as she deliberately rocked back on her feet, standing upright, she saw in the distance, with a thrill of terror, a dark, lanky figure unfolding from the forest floor, like a sinister mirrored image of herself.
Nancy froze, her breath caught in her chest, as she heard a distinct, rhythmic clicking. The shadowy figure stood erect and still, facing her. Nancy prayed it hadn't seen her. She held her breath, motionless, eyes wide and stinging, willing the monster to turn away. The clicking stopped. The silhouette shuddered and, like a grotesque flower, its head unfurled to expose five, muscular fanged jaws.
A hawk-like shriek shattered the earth and Nancy spun around, launching herself forward. She thrust her bag and cardigan to the ground, pumping her fists through the air, willing her legs to move faster as she drove blindly into the forest. A second deafening screech split the air behind her, followed by the crushing footfalls of her pursuer.
Trees flashed past, thorns tore at her socks and exposed roots were a death sentence. Nancy flew. The pain in her legs pumped through her veins and was agony to breathe, but she flew. Her gasps were feeble shrieks of terror, clouding her mind to anything but the next step that launched her forward. She tore through fine nets of pine branches that left needles in her hair and cuts on her face and neck until pinpricks of blood mixed with the sweat that trickled to the collar of her shirt. She drove into the wind, icy cold against her skin, and tears forked across her cheekbones into her hairline and under her jaw as the footfalls came faster and stronger from behind.
Planting her foot on the mossy ridge of a fallen tree, Nancy leapt through the air and turned, mid-jump to see the Demogorgon's sinewy body arcing after her, its long fingers, curled into hooks, ripping fiercely at the air, feet from her face.
She turned forward as her feet hit the ground, lunging ahead even knowing she'd already lost. But before she'd taken two steps, a form appeared ahead, materializing out of thin air, hurtling toward her. A voice was yelling and the figure was motioning frantically as the gap between them closed. Nancy kept rushing forward, unable to make sense of anything, when the monster struck out and a flash of pain streaked across her back.
In a sudden moment of clarity, Jonathan's voice rang out, "Get down!" and Nancy obediently dropped, exhaustion and pain toppling her to the ground. Jonathan's nail-studded bat narrowly missed her shoulder, but landed squarely in the creature's torso with a sickening crunch.
Nancy scrambled forward, kicking her feet out and gasping as she crawled away from the monster. Her left hand shuffled through brittle leaves and twigs while her right was a fist, wrapped around something soft. Above her, Jonathan stood, squaring his feet and drawing back to land a second blow, sending the creature reeling as his bat made contact with one of the five fanged jaws. "Run!" he yelled hoarsely, not taking his eyes off of his target.
Nancy didn't move. Her breath came in rapid pants and she couldn't force herself to comprehend Jonathan's sudden appearance. But there he was, standing guard over her, steeling himself again for the creature's assault. He turned and looked down at her, dark eyes narrowing as he cried, "Run, Nancy!" His voice broke when he said her name. And it was that tiny detail that brought Nancy back to reality. She rose to her feet, ready to take off again, when she noticed what was clutched in her right hand. She was still holding his flannel jacket.
"I'm not leaving you," she replied. There were no weapons for her, no way she could help, but she wouldn't abandon him.
The Demogorgon was returning. It lifted its head and issued a deep, rattling growl. Jonathan tightened his grip on the bat and repeated urgently, "Run. I'll be right behind you." He didn't take his eyes off of the creature as it slowly stalked toward them. "Get to my car. I'll meet you there." His voice was even, but when the monster crouched, coiling itself for an attack, he shouted, "Run!"
And Nancy ran.
She ran until her entire body screamed and her breath came in weak cries. She pushed forward in agony until the trees cleared, the soft light of a low-hanging sun filtered through and, as promised, Jonathan's old Ford sedan waited by the side of the road. Loose gravel slid down the berm as Nancy scrabbled up to the shoulder and collapsed on the hood of the car.
For almost a minute, she lay against the metal, inert, but for her heaving chest, which slowly subdued in the ubiquitous calm of the roadside. Beneath her, the Ford's engine ticked and hissed, radiating heat from a long drive. The warmth soaked into Nancy's skin; her trembling diminished and her eyes fluttered open. Pressed into the gap between the windshield and hood was her fist, still wrapped stubbornly around Jonathan's coat.
She pushed herself off of the hood and cringed at the sharp bolt of pain that traveled down her back. Gingerly, her left fingers brushed along the exposed flesh from shoulder blade to hip, where the creature had slashed at her. The cut wasn't deep, but her fingertips were left bloody. An echoing crack in the woods made her forget the pain for a moment and her thoughts returned to Jonathan.
Her feet easily slid down the bank to the edge of the woods. She peered in, willing Jonathan to appear again, out of thin air. But there was no movement. "Jonathan!" she screamed. She cupped her hand to her mouth and cried out again louder. Nothing. Her first few steps were hesitant, but then she was jogging back to the danger.
The car was still in view when he appeared, racing toward her. "Go, go, go!" he yelled, waving his hand, ushering her back.
"Where is it?" she asked, spinning to match his pace as he caught up with her. "What happened?"
Still running, he replied between broken gasps, "Don't know… I hit it. Broke my—" He stopped talking to catch his breath as they cleared the forest. Nancy saw him look down at his hand which held the splintered handle of his bat. As if just noticing the broken weapon, he dropped it on the ground and motioned for her to get in the car.
Before the door shut, an emergency siren began wailing nearby. Nancy had never heard anything like it in Hawkins before, but something about it made her think of the term air raid.
