Day 4
Nancy
"We're going to leave first thing in the morning, so I want you all packed up and ready to go," her mom was saying. She was helping Holly scoop a few toys into an open suitcase—the only suitcase left to load into the station wagon.
"It's already done," Nancy replied. She scratched her head and frowned when the hair she touched moved in oily clumps. "I need a shower," she moaned. With a quick sweep of her hands, she pulled her hair into a tight pony tail.
"We all do," he mom replied, patting Holly on the head. Red rings circled her mom's eyes and dark, heavy creases had formed along her concerned brow. The corners of her mouth hung low and her hair was limp and tangled. Nancy felt a sudden pang of guilt. The evacuation was hard enough on her mom, but the continued absence of Nancy's dad was wearing her nerves raw. Nancy moved forward and caught her mom in an unexpected hug. After a moment's surprise, Karen leaned in and embraced Nancy, letting out a heavy, shuddering sigh.
"You okay?" Nancy asked. Her mom's muffled laugh was the only answer she could muster. Holly, watching curiously, walked around the suitcase and silently wrapped her arms around their legs, her little fingers squeezing Nancy's thigh. They stayed like that until a tap at the cabin's door broke them apart.
Karen hastily wiped her eyes as Nancy opened the door. On the front steps Jonathan stood holding an empty five-gallon water jug. It was the same container he'd filled a couple days earlier. He held it up in his right hand—his left wrapped in white gauze and medical tape. "I'm going for a refill," he explained. His eyes flitted over her shoulder to where her mom and Holly were back to packing. "Thought you might like to go for a walk?" he asked.
Nancy looked back and caught the simple smile on her mom's lips. "Go ahead," she said. "We've got things under control here." Holly nodded.
"We won't be long," Nancy said as she stepped outside and quietly shut the door behind her.
They began weaving through the campsite, dodging tents and groups of people crowded around newspapers or maps. Most newcomers seemed to be trying to plan living arrangements with friends and family outside of Indiana. But so far, no one else had left.
"How are your mom and sister doing?" Jonathan asked. They turned toward the path entrance and Nancy glanced over her shoulder before they entered the woods. Near the pavilion, she saw Steve watching them with a pained look on his face. She had a suspicion he'd been watching since Jonathan knocked on the cabin's door.
"They're in shock, I think," Nancy replied, turning away from Steve and following Jonathan into the woods. "But they'll be okay."
"They're looking forward to leaving tomorrow, aren't they?" Jonathan asked. He looked over at Nancy and led her in between a couple cars parked along the path.
"Yeah," Nancy replied. Her voice sounded hollow. "They are." She stepped off the main path and continued alongside Jonathan up the narrow walkway that led to the water pipe.
Jonathan must have detected the emptiness in her voice, because he stated, rather than asked, "But not you."
Nancy let out a low sigh and looked at the ground. After a few steps she replied, "I don't know what to think." She didn't look up from the ground, preferring to stare at the half-buried rocks and yellow leaves that marked their path, until Jonathan spoke up again.
"It's good, you know?" he said. Nancy looked at him, confused. "Just, I mean…" he tripped over his words. "It's safer, I think, for you to get away from Indiana. After what we saw in Hawkins." He turned to her with a sincere expression and arresting dark eyes.
Something about the exchange left Nancy feeling defeated and hopeless. It didn't take long for her to place the sadness. "What about you?" she asked, then added quickly, "Your family?" They'd arrived at the water pipe and Jonathan was silently unscrewing the top of the jug. "Will you go to Indianapolis?" Nancy asked him. "That's where your dad is, right?"
Jonathan didn't reply. The only sound was the echoing slosh of the water as it slowly filled the plastic jug. Nancy stopped expecting a response and closed her eyes, lulled by the stream's steady note, and tried to keep her mind from wandering to Hawkins and the Vale. When the splashing stopped, she opened her eyes to see Jonathan screwing the lid back on. He knelt next to the jug for a minute, staring straight ahead as if considering something. Finally, he turned to Nancy, "Can I show you something?" Nancy looked back at him without responding. She narrowed her eyes curiously. Jonathan nodded up the path. "It's a couple miles further. It'll take another hour," he said, turning back to Nancy, "at least."
Nancy's curiosity was piqued. She remembered how Jonathan had batted away Steve's question last time they were here, when Jonathan kept looking up the path at some mystery deeper in the woods. She nodded. "Okay," she agreed.
Twenty minutes later, Jonathan still didn't seem willing to let on where exactly they were going, but the melancholy look he got whenever Nancy asked him left her certain it wasn't something pleasant. She stopped pestering him then and treated the trek like a much-needed break. Though, it might not be incredibly relaxing if the weather got much worse. Dark thunderheads head been threatening all morning and now the clouds were gradually rolling overhead, darkening their already shaded path.
"How's your hand?" she asked.
Jonathan held up his palm and wriggled his fingers. "On the mend," he said with a smile. The white gauze wrapped around the cut was spotless, so at least he wasn't bleeding anymore. Jonathan dropped his hand, but kept his eyes on Nancy. "I'm sorry about that," he said. "Going back to Hawkins—it was stupid." Nancy smiled to herself and Jonathan added, "And dangerous."
At that Nancy laughed out loud. "It's not the first time," she said, grinning mischievously. "We get into trouble when we're together."
"Yes," Jonathan agreed, smiling broadly. "Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers: the dangerous duo."
They laughed lightly for a minute and as the laughter died, the first few raindrops began to fall. "So, are we headed for trouble now?" Nancy asked, ignoring the droplets that occasionally dotted her shoulders and the top of her head.
Jonathan caught her in a deep gaze that made her falter. She brushed the raindrops from her forehead and wished her cheeks would stop suddenly burning. "It's not trouble, really," Jonathan replied. He was looking straight ahead now and Nancy followed his eyes to a dark structure hidden behind a copse of maple saplings. He stopped in the path, letting the rain run from his hairline down his neck and blot the neck of his shirt. "It's just my past," he said before continuing forward.
They moved in silence, following the path along its slow curve and the structure's outline became clearer as they approached. It was another cabin, smaller than the ones at the campsite, and cruder. The roof was sloped and covered in mounds of pine needles and pillowy moss. Patches of shingles were missing in some spots, exposing moldy plywood. The walls of the cabin were great logs painted a rusty red and in between each, like organic mortar, neon green and yellow moss grew. Hanging above the front door, like a macabre welcome sign, was a bleached deer skull.
Nancy stopped in her tracks when she spotted it. Jonathan groaned under his breath and walked up to the threshold, glaring at the skull. He jumped and smacked at it, knocking it off of the rusted nail that held it in place. Giving Nancy an apologetic glance, Jonathan grabbed the skull and tossed it into the woods.
"What is this?" she asked. A thin rivulet of rainwater was trickling over her temple and down her jaw. She shivered—whether because of the rain or because of the skull, she wasn't sure.
"This," Jonathan said, standing back and looking at the cabin wearily, "is my dad's camp." He smiled ruefully at her and explained, "My dad brought me here a few times, back when he wanted to be more… involved." Jonathan walked over to the front door and kicked at the leaves and pine needles plastered to the cement porch. After shuffling his shoe back and forth a few times, a deteriorating jute welcome mat flipped up with the layers of compost. Jonathan bent down and picked up a house key from under a corner of the mat.
The inside of the cabin wasn't much more impressive, but at least it was dry. And, as Nancy scanned the room, there were no more skeletons. In fact, there wasn't much of anything, really. At the back of the main room, there was a fireplace and, through an open doorway, Nancy spotted a bunkbed in the only other room. Aside from a tall, rusted metal cabinet in the corner, the bunkbed appeared to be the only furniture in the entire cabin.
"I guess he hasn't been here in a while," Jonathan said from the doorway. His voice echoed off of the bare walls. A sudden gust of wind lashed rain against the windows, washing away a layer of grime from the glass.
Nancy approached the closest window and wiped a circle of dust off of the pane with her palm. Outside, the sky was low and heavy, and the woods were dark with the storm's onslaught. They'd just missed getting caught in the deluge. "What did you do when he brought you here?" she asked. In the little circle she'd rubbed clean, she could barely make out Jonathan's reflection behind her.
"Fished… Hunted…" Jonathan said. "Well, he did most of it. And he drank a lot." He closed the door and in the sudden darkness, his reflection disappeared from the window. Nancy turned to face him. "He taught me how to shoot a gun, too," Jonathan added. He walked over to the metal cabinet and pulled the rusted door open. In the low light, Nancy saw his shoulders drop. She followed him and peered over his shoulder. The cabinet was empty.
"He used to keep a shotgun in here," he said. "Not that I should be surprised," he continued, turning away from the cabinet and surveying the room. "Obviously he cleared this place out." Still, he couldn't hide his disappointment.
Nancy placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay," she reassured him. "I actually prefer you with a baseball bat." She smiled, biting back a laugh.
Jonathan's disappointment was quickly replaced with a wide grin. "Afraid I'm all out of bats at the moment, too," he joked.
Outside the storm continued and a clap of thunder rolled overhead. Nancy's smile faded as she considered Jonathan's bat—the broken handle he'd tossed on the side of the road after rescuing her from the monster. Her heart leapt as she remembered him charging through the forest, wielding that bat. At the time, she'd thought he was a hallucination.
"Jonathan?" she asked. She suddenly realized that her hand was still resting on his shoulder. Beneath her fingers, his shirt was damp from the rain. "How did you find me in the woods? When we were in Hawkins and that thing was chasing me…"
Jonathan shook his head, but didn't look away. "I didn't, at first," he whispered.
"You saved my life," Nancy said.
"I took too long," he replied shakily. She knew he was referring to her scar. "I'm sorry." In that moment, he sounded so wounded, it left Nancy feeling weak. She squeezed his shoulder and with her other hand, held his face as she pressed her lips against his.
