Day 2
Joyce
Groups filtered out in twos and threes. They packed up the few necessities they'd brought, stuffed them hastily into their cars and sped off. In their wake they left chip bags and plastic bottles, wadded napkins and, under a picnic table, Joyce found a girl's hairbrush.
The last family to leave was late that second morning. Mr. and Mrs. Williams, holding their young children's hands, excused themselves, thanking Scott over and over for his hospitality. "We have a timeshare near Myrtle Beach," Mr. Williams was hastily explaining to Scott as they backed out of the cabin, suitcases in tow. "We can stay there till the end of the month."
Scott followed them to the porch, waving goodbye. "Hopefully you'll be back in Hawkins before then," he called as they crossed the lawn.
Joyce watched them pass from inside Hopper's cabin. She crossed her arms and turned to the chief. "What am I supposed to do with the boys, Hop?" she asked. Ever since he'd returned last night and reported to the park's inhabitants that Hawkins was still unsafe for residents to return, they'd begun a mass exodus, leaving the camp behind to stay with friends or family or, like the Williams, staying in vacation homes. Each one took a stark white business card from Hopper with the name and number of a government liaison that would provide them with resettlement status for Hawkins. "I don't have anyone to stay with and I can't afford to put us up in a hotel," she complained.
She tried to run a hand through her hair, but stopped when her fingers tangled halfway. It had been two days since she'd showered and she felt like a grimy mess. Her hair was clumping into stringy bunches and her skin was oily. Hopper considered her from across the table. "Stay here," he said shortly.
Joyce cocked her head and he continued, "I'm serious. It's not fancy, but it's free."
Joyce chewed on her lip while she thought about the offer. Outside, Jonathan, Nancy and Steve were sitting beneath the pavilion. The three of them were becoming as inseparable as Will, Dustin and Mike. Pulling up a chair across from Hopper, Joyce asked him, "The officials blocking Hawkins – were they from the Department of Energy?"
Hopper shrugged. "No idea," he replied. "They didn't give me their credentials. Like I said, they had the whole ramp closed off. There were four, maybe five unmarked sedans and a whole crew of suits." He fished the remaining business cards out of his pocket and dropped the stack neatly in the middle of the table. "I got a rehearsed script from one of the guys about containing the radiation leak and they gave me the cards. Said to call for an update in a few days and to stay away from Hawkins."
Joyce looked dubious. "You didn't tell him you made up the radiation leak?"
Hopper looked out at the pavilion and frowned. "The less they think we know, the better."
There was a certain finality in his tone that told her their conversation was over. It also reminded her that there were still over twenty individuals at the campsite who didn't know what kind of danger was really waiting for them in Hawkins.
"You're right," Joyce said, changing the topic. "This place isn't fancy. But if we're going to stay we need to start a fire so I can heat up some water." She met Hopper's gaze. "Because I need to wash my hair. Badly."
