The End Part 2

Nancy

"How are you not tired?" Steve asked, pressing into Nancy and limping forward.

She pulled his arm tighter around her shoulder and nodded to Holly at her side. They were slowly making their way down the dirt road, Steve clinging to Nancy and Holly next to her. Droplets of blood dripped from the tip of Steve's sneaker with each unsteady step. Overhead, the sky was changing from a pale gray to golden blue as the sun's first rays cut over the tops of the trees.

"I don't know," she replied. She rolled her head forward, ungluing her neck from the stickiness of his arm. He was an inferno—almost unbearable to touch. "How are you feeling?" she asked. Ahead, Jonathan's Ford was parked along the path.

They hobbled toward it in jerking steps, like an awkward three-legged race. "I'm fine," Steve said. He tried to laugh and ended up coughing so hard they had to stop. When they moved on, his head sagged weakly to his chest.

"I'm going to get you to a hospital," she promised, leaning him against the Ford's hood and scooping up Holly in one arm. The car was unlocked and the keys were pinned beneath the visor. Nancy grabbed them, whispering a relieved thank you under her breath and put Holly in the back seat. "We're going for a drive, okay?" she asked her sister.

Holly stared at the floor where Jonathan's Pentax camera sat forgotten. "Where's Mom?" Holly asked. Nancy stared into her bright blue eyes, completely lost for words. She opened her mouth, but nothing came to her. Movement through the windshield brought her attention back to Steve who was slumping slowly to the ground. Nancy swallowed heavily and gave Holly a tight-lipped smile before shutting the door and circling the car to help Steve into the passenger seat. As soon as she'd closed the door, he leaned against the window listlessly.

Nancy had already turned the car around and was easing out into the main parking lot when she saw the torn sheet of paper on the dashboard. It reflected brightly in the dusty windshield, catching her eye. The handwriting wasn't familiar, but she knew what it meant and suspected Jonathan's mom had left it in their race to escape. Scrawled with black marker in messy writing, it said one word: Indianapolis.

Nancy looked in the rearview mirror and a pair of wide, blue eyes peered up from the back seat. "We're going to the city, Holly," Nancy said as cheerfully as possible. It was particularly difficult since the back of her throat still tasted like bile.

As she pulled out onto the narrow road that would lead them to the highway, she heard a soft thump and looked down to see Steve's gun had slipped from his limp hand and landed on the floorboard. "Steve?" she asked. She reached across and shook his shoulder.

He pulled himself from the window and brushed her away. "I'm just tired," he said groggily. She watched a bead of sweat drip from the tip of his nose to his bottom lip as he leaned his head back into the seat.

"Steve, I need you to stay awake," she said nervously. Her eyes darted from the road ahead to Steve's heavy-lidded gaze. "We're going to Indiana to find the others," she continued, hoping a dialogue would keep him focused and conscious. "But I'll find a hospital before that," she muttered under her breath.

The highway ramp led them north and as they approached the merge for I-65, Nancy saw a sign for Indianapolis—44 miles. Below the sign and halfway off the road was a truck hauling a small trailer. Its hazard lights were blinking, but as they passed, Nancy didn't see anyone inside. She turned back to the road and as they rose to meet the highway, her heart sank.

Bumper-to-bumper was an understatement. The lanes were crammed full of cars, vans, trucks and trailers. As far as she could see: blinking taillights and the cold glare of morning light reflecting on hundreds of metal roofs. Nancy stomped on the brake, screeching to a halt behind a faded blue Chevrolet sedan. "Damnit!" she swore as they stopped.

Breathing heavily through her nose and staring angrily at the blinking taillights of the Chevrolet, Nancy tried to rethink her plan. Obviously there must be another way to Indianapolis, but she didn't actually have her driver's license. She'd never spent any time driving around Indiana, so she didn't know what the side roads entailed this far north of Hawkins. Pinching her eyebrows thoughtfully, she leaned forward and reached across Steve to pop open the glovebox, hoping to find a road map. Halfway through rustling around the mess in the dashboard, Nancy stopped short. She pursed her lips curiously and sat upright in the silence of the highway traffic. Silence. Narrowing her eyes, Nancy scanned the line of cars in front of them and tilted the rearview mirror to peer at the procession behind. Suddenly it dawned on her how bizarre the silence was. No honking? No yelling? A second glance revealed the haunting reality—the cars were all empty. Open doors and empty seats accompanied the silence. The blinking lights were just a testament to the recent exodus, but the three of them were the only living souls on that road. Chills coursed through her body and the hair on her arms stood on end.

Nancy popped the car into reverse and backed at an angle. "We're getting out of here," she announced. She punched it back into gear and swerved around the mass of abandoned vehicles, driving cautiously along the shoulder. The right side of the car bumped along at a steep angle and in the rearview mirror, Nancy watched Holly grip her seatbelt to keep from tumbling to the passenger side. "You okay?" Nancy asked, raising her eyebrows. Holly peeked up and nodded, redoubling her grip on the belt.

They passed pickup trucks with furniture and suitcases piled in the bed, station wagons with their hatches bungeed shut over rolled tarps, cars with their trunks wide open and emptied. They passed an ambulance with its lights still flashing, but the siren muted. They passed a police car from Jackson county and a work van that had Peterson's Plumbing stenciled on the side. And, after almost three miles, they came to the first collision. A tractor-trailer had jackknifed, plunging the trailer into a stretch of metal guardrail in front of them, effectively blocking their path. Nancy inched as close as possible, hoping for enough room to squeeze back onto the road and weave around the accident, but a bus's front end was crushed against the corner of the trailer, pinning shut her only hope of getting through.

"Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!" Nancy swore, punching the steering wheel with each curse. She pressed her forehead into her fist and shut her eyes, trying to think of a plan. Behind her, she heard Holly shuffling quietly in her seat. To her right, Steve was silent. Slowly, she lifted her head and forced her eyes open. There was a solution here. There was a way out of this. She just had to figure out what it was.

In front of them was the white side of the trailer, mud and road dirt flecked along its side. To their left was the bus, a Greyhound painted blue and red with chrome paneling. To the right, woods. Nancy sighed and checked her rearview mirror again. She surveyed the never-ending line of cars, doors ajar and lights blinking, waiting for a solution to come to her.

She tilted her head curiously, still staring at the abandoned cars. Tens or hundreds of them. Surely some of them still had the keys in the ignition or tossed, forgotten on the seat. Nancy was already shutting off the Ford. They could find another car, drive until they had to stop again and just move to another car. They could bounce from car to car until they hit the next city with a hospital or until they found the owners of the cars. Nancy had a sudden image of a crowd of thousands, marching ahead along the car-strewn highway.

She pushed open her door with difficulty—they were parked at a steep angle—and jumped out, yanking open Holly's door. "Come on," she said, unclipping her seat belt and pulling the little girl up with one arm hooked around her waist. "We're going to find another car, okay?"

She let Holly down next to the bus. "Wait here a sec," she said, hurrying over the shoulder to the passenger side of the Ford. Worried that Steve might slide out of his seat at the sharp angle when Nancy opened the door, she rapped her knuckles on the window to wake him. He didn't respond. She knocked harder and called his name through the glass. Steve remained still with his temple pressed into the window and his shoulder jammed against the door. Nancy yanked open the rear passenger side door and climbed over the back seat. She straddled the front seat and pressed her hands against Steve's shoulder, shaking him forcefully. "Steve," she said loudly. She climbed over the seat and folded her legs beneath her. He didn't respond, but his breathing was regular. She cupped his cheek and pulled his face toward hers, peeling back his eyelids with her thumbs. "Steve!" she called, centering herself in front of him. "Wake up, come on!"

While she held him, his eyes rolled back so the whites stared at her and she let his eyelids relax. "Steve?" she asked, a quiver of concern in her voice. His body jerked beneath her and he began trembling lightly under her fingers. She tightened her grip and shook him again. "Steve?" she cried. The jerking continued, light and sporadic, with sudden violent spasms that subsided immediately into a full-body tremble. Nancy registered, with a twinge of panic, that he was having a seizure. Then she remembered Mike's account of her illness after she'd been attacked by the Demogorgon. He'd said she had a seizure. She hadn't actually believed him at the time, but… She let her eyes slip from Steve's barely trembling eyelids to the shredded denim of his pants and the cuts beneath. If this was just a symptom—a side effect of whatever had happened to her. The panic disappeared and a shimmer of hope overwhelmed her.

"Steve," she said, her heart leaping excitedly. "Steve, it's okay." She straddled him to hold his body still as the tremors came less and less frequently. She locked her hands on his shoulders and tried to roll his head to face hers. "It's going to be okay," she whispered. Vaguely she was aware of Holly, still standing outside, watching from next to the bus. "This happened to me, remember? This is supposed to happen. You're going to be okay." She actually laughed a little as the last tremor faded beneath her. "You're going to be better than okay. It's amazing, Steve. You can feel them and you'll be stronger and fast. You're going to be like me," she said, pressing her face against his and smiling her relief. "You're going to be like me."

In the silence of her last word, Steve's body became utterly still. No more trembles. No quaking tremors. The muscles relaxed beneath her. Nancy kept her face pressed, cheek-to-cheek with his, waiting for him to take a deep breath, for his eyes to flutter open. Instead, the chilling silence and stillness continued until Nancy realized that she'd been pressed against an unmoving chest for almost a minute. Her skin stuck to his and peeled away unpleasantly as she sat back. His head rolled to the side, lips parted slightly, already turning blue like his eyelids.

Nancy forced her fingers into the soft underside of his jaw, feeling for a pulse. She pressed her free hand into the other side of his neck, pushing his head to the side. The joy she'd felt moments earlier became a poisonous betrayal; it crushed her and she grew frantic, groping Steve's neck for the hint of a heartbeat. But his head just rolled limply with her movement and a little bead of sweat dropped from his chin onto her wrist.

"No," she said firmly—angrily. "No. No! Goddamnit, Steve Harrington, no!" She shook him violently, wrenching her body to pull him out of his stupor. "You can't leave me!" When he collapsed back into the seat, heartbreakingly lifeless, she slapped his face as hard as she could, sending a crack that shocked even her. She looked back at him and saw the truth, that he was gone. His blue lips were parted and dry. His eyelids were open a crack and the eyes beneath had developed a glassy film. Nancy brushed her fingers across them, closing his eyes to the anguish in her face and she buried herself in him, howling into the still-warm curve of his neck. "Don't leave me," she sobbed. "Don't leave me like everyone else."

The car grew warm as the sun broke the treetops and its rays shone golden beams into the passenger window. The light reflected on the microscopic teardrops that clung wetly to Nancy's eyelashes and the drying mist of sweat still masking Steve's face. He glimmered in its light, otherworldly, but beneath the shimmer, Nancy saw the draining color in his face as the blood pooled heavily in his lifeless body. She pressed her lips against his forehead and pulled herself off of him. Before climbing back over the seat, she reached to the floor and scooped up the pistol he'd dropped earlier.

Holly watched Nancy's movements keenly from next to the bus. The chrome finish gleamed blindingly in the early morning's rays and Nancy ducked her head to avoid the shine as she slammed the back door shut. She gripped the hood of the car, pressing the body of the handgun against its metal and closed her eyes, leaning helplessly against the doorframe. Her knees were weak, buckling into each other and her chest felt tight and constricted with every struggling breath. She tried to pull some semblance of thought together—what next? Call the police? The ambulance? She remembered the patrol car and the ambulance they'd passed along the highway. No one would come, even if she could find a phone.

She opened her eyes and forced herself to look at Steve's body, limply slouching in the passenger's seat. Would that be his burial? An old Ford was all she could offer her best friend? Then, unbidden, she was reminded of her other loved one's burials: a pond for her mother? A cliff for her lover? An abandoned town for her father? The Upside Down for Barb?

She clenched her teeth and made a deep, painful noise—something between a growl and a scream—then pounded her fists on the hood of the car, clacking the butt of the gun loudly. Holly jumped, her eyes opening even wider. She nervously worked her fingers through Barbie's hair. Nancy looked over the hood of the car to where Holly waited patiently, nervously. She only had Nancy. They only had each other. Nancy watched Holly and, gradually, her body relaxed. The gun fell back to its side. Her fists unfurled. That was her family—all that was left—and Holly, poor Holly, was entirely dependent on Nancy.

Tucking the gun into the back of her pants, Nancy circled the car. She marched up to Holly and knelt so she was just a few inches below Holly's scared blue eyes. She held her sister's tiny trembling hands and tried so hard to think of what to say, but all she could think of was their brother, their mother and father, Jonathan, Steve… She waited another minute before standing abruptly, breathing heavily through her nose.

Dwelling on the past—no matter how recent—would get them killed. Dwelling on the dead… she choked on the word, even as she thought of it. Then she looked back down at Holly—this single child and the one thing left in Nancy's world—and she steeled her resolve. They were the survivors and Nancy wasn't going to let herself crumble into despair. Nancy repeated the words to herself. She was a survivor. She was a fighter. She was Holly's guardian and she would protect her sister from now until the end.

Nancy marched over to the Ford and popped the trunk. She pushed a few things out of the way and lifted the mat that covered the spare tire. There, resting on top of the wheel was a tire iron. She wrapped her fist around it and, before closing the trunk again, pressed her forehead into the latch and concentrated. If she was going to focus solely on Holly, she had to first forget the past.

Forget Hawkins, she told herself. Forget your life, forget your friends and your family. Forget Mom and Dad. Forget Mike. Forget Steve. Forget Barb. Forget Jonathan. Live here and now only. Live for Holly and live for nothing else.

She rubbed her fist into her eyes and slammed the trunk shut. Holly still nervously wrapped her fingers around Barbie, never moving her feet an inch, but twirling the doll over and over in her hands. Nancy stood in front of her and hesitantly held out the tire iron. She watched her sister—innocent and confused in every moment since the evacuation, her eyes concerned, her movements dainty and trembling. Nancy dropped her hand, pulling the tire iron away, rethinking her plan. She knelt down, dropped the iron to the pavement and held Holly by her arms.

"Holly," she said shakily, slowly. "Listen to me. I need you to forget everyone, okay? It's just you and me now. Everyone else is gone. No more Mom and Dad. No more Mike." Holly's bottom lip pouted slightly as she raised her hand and pointed at the Ford. Nancy pushed her hand down. "No," she said. "He's gone. Everyone is gone." She used her thumbs to turn Holly's face and square it with her own. "It's just you and me now, okay?" She waited until Holly nodded. "Listen carefully. This is important. From now on, you stay next to me. Never leave my side," she said sternly, not breaking eye contact. "No matter what, it's just you and me. Never leave my side and never leave my sight. Understand?"

Holly's eyes flicked back and forth between Nancy's, then she nodded a single, solid nod.

"Good," Nancy replied. She stood up, grabbed Holly's hand and together they began the tedious march ahead. They curved around the semi and in moments the Ford was hidden from Nancy's sight, blocking Steve from crawling back into her mind. She shut the door on him and everyone in her past. She shut everything out. No more Hawkins. No more Nancy.

Live for Holly and live for nothing else.

In her hand curled the single thing left in the world that mattered to her anymore. And to Holly she pledged her allegiance and her life. She tightened her grip on the tire iron, felt the solid pressure of the gun in her waistband and continued resolutely forward, curling around cars and open doors, stepping over fallen motorcycles and spilled suitcases. They walked through the morning as the clear, heavy blue sky turned to a midday white and the sun filtered down overhead. The parade of stalled and abandoned cars continued nonstop.

When Holly grew tired, Nancy boosted her onto her back and carried her, piggy-back style, through the rows of dead cars. Her weight was nominal, but as the sun rose, its heat beat down on them and Nancy felt the drain of exhaustion slowly starting to kick in. She was about to suggest they take a break when Holly began poking her shoulder anxiously. "Nancy," she said. "Nancy,"

Twisting her head around, Nancy followed Holly's extended finger pointing directly behind them. She followed the curve of the road to the horizon where she spotted a movement on the crest of the road. It was a form, weaving left and right as it moved toward them. Nancy unlocked her fingers beneath Holly and let the little girl down to the asphalt. She peered around quickly and located a car two lanes away with a door ajar. Pulling Holly by the arm, she tucked her into the front seat of the abandoned Volvo. "Stay here," Nancy breathed. "No matter what. Stay here." She tightened her grip on the tire iron and slid her other hand around the butt of the gun. "I'll take care of this. Stay quiet and stay low until I come back for you." She waited for Holly's nod before shutting the door and walking quickly away from the Volvo.

The figure in the distance was moving faster, dipping right and left with its rapid movement. It was staggering. Or was it limping? Nancy narrowed her eyes as she withdrew the gun and spun the tire iron in her hand, getting used to its weight. She let the adrenaline in her veins surge and waited, anxiously, as the figure grew on the horizon. Her scar tingled with the excitement of the fight, but she didn't pay attention to the feeling that was missing—the pressure of an otherworldly presence. As she bounced on her toes in anticipation, anger and ferocity growing, the presence was utterly lacking. And in the final moments, as the figure on the horizon materialized, her anticipation melted away and suddenly she was aware that she wasn't facing off with a Demogorgon. Her hands dropped. The tire iron hung limply and the gun pointed to the ground as she identified a dog, a human and a… bicycle?

Nancy took a few steps forward and the person slowed as he registered Nancy, standing in his path. She dropped the tire iron and held her hand over her eyes, shielding them from the sun's glare. She saw the pink of the bike's tire guard, purple tassels fluttering in the breeze and… that face, scarred, but, that face. "Lucas?" she asked, disbelievingly.

He stopped, spreading his legs and propping himself up while he used his hands, cupped over his eyes to identify Nancy. Next to him, a familiar blond dog settled on his haunches and licked his muzzle. The gun fell out of Nancy's hand as she watched Lucas' face go slack with doubt. She was running before she realized it and he was too, the bike forgotten behind him. They met between two work trucks and crashed into each other, sobbing and holding onto the other one desperately. It took a few minutes before Nancy opened her eyes again and the first thing she saw was that pink bike lying in the highway, its back tire spinning in the air. Lucas' arms were wrapped around her tightly, but he was silent, the tears having fallen and his sobs run dry.

Nancy curled her fingers into his shirt and pulled him back. "How are you here?" she asked. Her eyes crossed the two gruesome scars that split the left side of his face. They should have disturbed her more, but she found herself somehow easily capable of accepting his battles. "Hawkins is gone."

Lucas nodded, looking sideways. "The Demogorgons are everywhere," he admitted, squinting his eyes as he recalled his escape. "They took over, they…" He trailed off. He turned back to Nancy. "Where's Mike?" he asked.

Nancy chewed her bottom lip and stared back with dry eyes. She'd already closed the door on the past. Shaking her head, she looked over Lucas' shoulder. "Is that the Byers' dog?" she asked.

Lucas reached behind his head and tightened his camouflage bandanna. "Yep," he replied. He turned and snapped his fingers. The dog rushed over to his side. "We're the lone survivors of Hawkins," Lucas added. He clenched his jaw and patted the dog's chest.

Nancy stroked Orcus' neck and then collected her weapons. "Holly's waiting for me," she explained, turning around. As she marched away, she heard Lucas picking up the bike.

"Who else is alive?" his voice called from behind.

Nancy paused and narrowed her eyes, reminding herself again that she closed the door on the past. She forced her voice to answer calmly, "I don't know," and started forward again, spotting Holly's face peeking over the closed door of the Volvo. The sight of her little sister had an immediate calming effect. "We were all camped out at River Valley and," she peered over her shoulder, "the monsters attacked. A lot of people died." They reached the Volvo and Nancy opened the driver's side door. "Some people escaped," she added, glancing back at Lucas again. "So we're following them."

Lucas coasted to a stop and nodded at Holly as she climbed back onto the road. "Do you know who escaped?"

Nancy shrugged. "Will, I think," she said. "And Dustin, maybe." She looked up into the sky and sighed heavily. "Their parents, I guess." She couldn't quite hide the emptiness in her voice. That hollowness would never go away. It was the piece of her she was leaving behind.

Lucas was studying her. The scars moved smoothly with his expressions. They were both gruesome and exquisite—a testament to his survival and a token of his past. "What do we do now?" he asked. Nancy felt a shift in his words. He'd grouped himself together with her and Holly. They were a team—traveling together. Surviving together. Nancy pursed her lips, considering whether she was okay with that or not. She looked down at Holly who was openly staring at Lucas' scars, while absentmindedly brushing the dog. Nancy held out the tire iron. Lucas eyed it for a second, then wrapped his fist around it determinedly.

"We're going to Indianapolis," Nancy replied, "and we're going to fight."

(Not) The End


Author's Note and Appendix: First, thank you so much for reading this fanfiction! I had a lot of fun writing it and obviously enjoy creating suspense. I hope you enjoyed it as well! Although this piece is complete, it isn't entirely over. The next installment will be a new story that is a sequel to this one (with lots of familiar characters and very minimal OCs). If you enjoyed this, please take a moment to read the synopsis below and skip to the next chapter which is a teaser (chapter one) of the sequel: Twelve. If you like it, you can give it a "follow" here: s/12283602/1/

Synopsis: It's 1995, over a decade after the Demogorgons breached the dimensions and the world is a dystopian shadow of itself. Thirty-six protected colonies are all that remain of North America. Outside of the colonies are the Badlands—an area unprotected and frequently ravaged by roaming Demogorgons. And beyond the Badlands lies the Vale. Living in the poverty-stricken twenty-fourth colony in the northeast is Twelve, a Demogorgon hunter and unlikely heroine.