Chapter 7: Discussions and Negotiations
Hawkins, Indiana, USA
30th June 1985
Mornings are for just two things: coffee and contemplation.
That was Jim Hopper's motto for nearly his entire life and that's what he was thinking to himself right now as he sat by the dinner table in the kitchen of the Byers household, nursing a cup of hot coffee, made for him by recently awakened Joyce, who herself was on the front porch having a cigarette. She was a bit…cross with him. He could easily tell.
Jonathan too has woken up earlier so he can pick up Nancy. The rest of the kids will come with bikes. Hopper and Joyce heavily disagreed with the idea of them coming in alone, but the kids, including El, argued that it would be better that way because who would suspect a bunch of kids on their bikes. It was summer after all. Besides they knew if they insisted, they would just come on their bikes anyway. They were that stubborn.
He sighed deeply. He doubted that any of them got any sleep at all. Then again, how could anyone sleep after what they've found out?
Usually, Jim himself would have some cereal for breakfast, but he simply couldn't stomach them at the moment. Hell, he was still in his uniform. The only things holding him up were a few Camel cigarettes, which he already smoked in the early morning, watching the morning sunrise up from its slumber, while barely managing to achieve his slumber.
Jim let out another long, tired sigh.
Last night he knew there were only two possibilities for today's events with clear certainty.
Either he manages to successfully implement a "heart-to-heart" conversation and manages to finally convince El and Mike of the fact that the two of them being together for too much time was not okay and, finally, order is established after a long time, and then tomorrow morning Jim and his fellow officers observe a peaceful protest at the City Hall against Starcourt with fuming mayor Kline watching it from his office and a smirking Jim Hopper watching back.
Or… they both get mad at him; he gets called an old man and a fart and he's forced to use drastic measures for which he was sure he would be hated for it; the protests themselves turn violent, and an all-out brawl erupts, and all in all he's going to have a really bad day which couldn't get any worse.
Only it turns out, to his horror, it can get worse…much, much worse.
Jim just dragged his hand across his face as a sense of fatigue still hung on him and his heart still clenched inside his ribcage. When people hear of this, the protests are definitely going to be violent.
Jim shook his head. He couldn't believe it. It was happening again.
After his worst fears had been confirmed last night-
he didn't even dare to look at the bodies at first, only when they'd been carried in… black body bags
-it has been, a far too long (and painful) process of filling in the necessary paperwork, contacting their family in Oakland, and looking around for additional evidence. He felt his energy being slowly and slowly sapped away from him during the entire night. He knew his deputies felt the same.
Jim only responded to Powell's question when he asked him if he found anything by saying he found nothing, lying right to his face. He hid the yellow Walkman with the small bloody handprints and the photograph inside the pockets of his jacket. They were still in the said jacket, hanging on the wooden hanger by the front door. He still didn't tell the others about them. Jim felt anxious about telling them at all.
After eventually making it back to the Byer's residence, when he broke the news to Joyce and the kids, he was shocked to find out that Will, Mike, and Eleven already knew the outcome somehow. At first, he thought it was because El used her powers to find out what was going on.
But she didn't. Because it was Dustin Henderson who overheard it over some ham radio they built yesterday. Overhearing someone talk about arson, about a cover-up because they killed people. Because they are back.
"Jesus Christ." He muttered, rubbing his temples as he felt a migraine building up inside his head. Jim wasn't sure if they were the same people.
Later on, plans have been made for a meet-up, discussing them with a distressed Dustin over the kid's walkie-talkie.
"I need you to tell me what you'd heard Dustin, word per word," Jim demanded, standing in the middle of the living room, clutching the walkie-talkie in his hand, with the nervous Byers family, plus El and Mike watching him. Mike had his arm around El's shoulders in a show of support.
"Okay, okay." he heard Dustin taking in quick, small breaths, "The first thing I heard was this guy asking some other guy if they found the girl."
Eleven stood up straighter. She was already on high alert ever since he came back, but this made her even more alarmed.
"All right, and then what?" Jim inquired further, ignoring the wave of panic he felt internally. The panic he felt for the safety of his daughter.
Though he had a strong feeling they weren't here for her.
"And then when the guy who asked- the man who responded said they didn't find them on the farm or anywhere else, and th-they probably escaped into the forest nearby." Dustin continued, stuttering over his words.
"Who's they?" Jim asked while the images of the evidence he found in the forest flashed in his mind. He could see the others looking at each other in confusion, wondering about the mysterious "they."
"I don't know! They didn't say much about it at all!" Dustin snapped. "Next thing I hear is when the first guy asked them about the others- "
Dustin stopped abruptly.
"The Munson family," Jim stated grimly, aware of how everyone felt a chill creeping down their spines.
"Yeah, t-the Munson family, when they confirmed they are…dead, the man who asked the questions ordered them to burn down the farm…along with the bodies so the cops and the firefighters can… deal with it."
"Jesus." Whispered a horrified Jonathan.
"Those poor people," Joyce added in her own horrified whisper, clutching Jonathan's and Will's arms.
Sorrow and rage flared in Jim's heart. Sorrow for the family who was killed and treated as if they were some annoyances to be brushed away and rage against those unknown sons of bitches who had the audacity to treat them like that.
Will, Mike, and El said nothing, although he could see clearly on their faces that they were disturbed by the whole situation. He saw El squeeze Mike's hand in comfort.
Jim suddenly remembered how Kathryn came to Joyce's one time, back when Will was "missing", offering condolences and comfort. William Munson himself was part of the search party for Will.
"Anything else?" Jim asked as he shook his head. Right now, he needed to focus.
"Well, I also heard how they don't need shit right now, and there was an emphasis on especially now, and how they can't be seen by anyone while searching for… I don't know. After that, I lost the signal." Dustin finished with his voice firm. Even though Jim could still hear a hint of fear in it.
Jim started to think carefully, planning their next steps.
"Okay. Okay, here's what we gonna do." He addressed everyone in the room, including Dustin on the walkie-talkie and Max and Lucas who were currently with Dustin at his house. "Dustin, call Steve and let him know what's going on, tell him to meet us here first thing tomorrow morning."
"You got it Chief," Dustin confirmed while Jonathan gave a firm nod.
"Jonathan will pick you up-"
He was, however, interrupted.
"No need, we'll come by with bikes." He heard Max insist in the background.
Jim looked sharply at the device. Not happening. He saw Jonathan and Joyce doing the same thing as well. Will, Mike, and Eleven didn't say anything, but he could see it clearly they were more or less agreed with the other kids.
"No," he ordered.
"It's better that way," Lucas added.
"Now wait just a minute-" Jim tried to say.
"It's less suspicious that way," Dustin argued.
"Less suspicious?" Joyce repeated incredulously as she got up and went over to Jim, staring at the walkie-talkie.
"Guys, I don't think it's the right call," Jonathan stated.
"They're looking for someone who will look scared and agitated and out of place," Dustin continued, "whoever these guys are, they won't bother with a bunch of kids who are driving on their bikes. It's summer for Christ's sake. We'll just pretend to laugh and smile, and they won't even notice us."
Jim barely had the energy to argue with Dustin.
"Henderson…" he nearly growled.
"He's right."
Jim, as well as everyone else, turned around to stare at Eleven, who was quiet up until this point.
"El…" Joyce started.
"They are not looking for me," Eleven said slowly, "they are not in danger. It's a good decision."
Jim tiredly dragged his hand across his face.
"Okay, okay," he conceded. Joyce gave him a perplexed look. "But you will use the forest. No open space. Got it?"
"Got it." Dustin, Lucas, and Max confirmed.
Jim turned around swiftly to address Mike.
"Mike," he addressed him as he straightened up, "call Nancy, same thing. Here, tomorrow morning."
Mike gulped and nodded. "O-okay, got it."
Mike hesitantly detached himself from El (Jim nearly rolled his eyes) and went to use the phone to contact Nancy.
"And I'm going to…" Jim started and then he stopped.
What was he going to do?
Calling Owens to ask him what the hell was going on sounded good for starters.
Except… for that small, nagging voice in the back of his mind whispering a question that he secretly dreaded throughout the entire ordeal.
Was Owens responsible for this?
"Hopper?" Joyce asked him.
Jim couldn't bear those thoughts mixing up inside his head any longer as he got up from his chair and went to join Joyce on the front porch, the warm coffee staying untouched on the dinner table.
Opening the front door, he spotted her immediately to his left, lost in thought, with the trail of tobacco smoke lingering in the air visibly. She was still in her nightwear.
Approaching her, she didn't acknowledge him at first. She didn't say anything. She just…stared.
Then Joyce wordlessly offered him her own cigarette. Jim took it.
As he slowly dragged it, watching the trees that surrounded the house and leaning on the pole, Joyce finally spoke.
"The last time Kathryn Munson came here was back when Will was still…missing." She said, in a light tone. "Before they "found him" in the quarry", she quoted with her fingers.
"Oh yeah. I recall. Came here with an apple pie. Surprised she didn't mention the Christmas lights." He also responded lightly.
"She politely ignored them." She replied. "Didn't say anything about them at all. I was glad. It was a…dark time for us."
Jim nodded, exhaling the smoke through his nose. "It was a long week Joyce."
"Too long Jim," Joyce responded, her voice now hollow.
"True, true." Jim nodded again, the flashbacks of Will's fake body being pulled out of water and then finding the real him in that godforsaken hellhole.
He wordlessly gave Joyce back the cigarette. She took a much more quickened drag and nervously let out the tobacco smoke.
"They're back." Her voice was now calm, but Jim could definitely hear silent fury behind it.
"Yeah, they're back," Jim repeated, taking in a deep breath.
"I thought this whole...insanity," she flapped her arms around in frustration and agitation, "was over. It's behind us. That we can finally move on. You said- "
She turned around and pointed an accusatory finger at him.
"-that Owens assured you everything will be fine. We don't have to worry at all- "
"I know Joyce," Jim responded, trying to be calm.
"-it's all behind us. Unbelievable!"
"I know." Jim stressfully said as he turned around so he could also face her, angry and frustrated himself. "But right now, we need to be smart about this."
Joyce angrily scoffed as she went back to smoke the cig.
Jim pulled back slightly at this.
"You're angry with me because I didn't call Owens." He guessed.
"…Yeah, I am." She answered in a clipped tone.
It was a correct guess.
"We don't know what exactly happened last night Joyce."
"Yes, yes we do Hopper! Some psychopaths killed an innocent family and burned down their home so they can…" Joyce trailed off, putting her hand on her face, taking in deep shuddering breaths.
Jim knew how Joyce felt. That anger and sadness, and all in all, a feeling of helplessness.
It was supposed to be over. They shouldn't live a life like this. Looking over your back and wondering (fearing) if your life or more importantly, the lives of your loved ones are in danger.
Jim wanted to take Joyce in his arms. To comfort her. To tell her, to promise her it's going to be okay, despite the feeling he had that somehow things weren't going to be okay. However, two things prevented him from doing that.
One, it was not the right time, nor it was appropriate. He knew Joyce was still mourning Bob and Jim didn't want to make her feel he was making a cheap move on her. And two…a voice called out within the house.
"Dad?"
Jim and Joyce looked over their shoulders. It was Eleven.
"I should go inside," he said to her," to check on her."
"You go," Joyce replied, her voice a bit thick," I need, I, I need a few minutes Jim."
Jim nodded. "I understand."
Jim returned back to the house to find his daughter. Entering he found El standing in the living room in her pajamas with little deer's spread across them, the one she had bought with Max, back then before she started to spend too much time with Mike.
They still didn't finish their heart-to-heart conversation before the call.
Whatever, there were more important things at hand right now.
Jim shook his head and refocused his attention on Eleven who was standing a few feet away from him, with her head slightly hunched down and her curly hair covering her face.
El looked and Jim saw a small spark of relief flash in her eyes. She looked like she hasn't slept at all. The dark rings under her eyes gave it away. Poor kid. Jim knew he looked the same.
"Morning kiddo," he greeted her, "you're alright?"
Common sense told him that was a stupid question because she obviously wasn't alright at all, but he asked her nevertheless in order to break the tension that hung all over them like a hungry vulture.
Slowly, El shook her head as she went inside the kitchen and approached the dinner table, pulled out a chair, and sat on it. He joined her, sitting right next to her, and putting a comforting hand on her back, rubbing it slightly.
"How…are you?" El asked him in return.
Jim sighed. "I'm holding up kiddo." He replied. What he didn't add was "for now."
Jim knew for a fact that Eleven was one brave and strong kid. He has seen it with his own two eyes when they ventured down to the depths of Hawkins Lab to close the Gate. He had witnessed the sheer power she demonstrated when El fought that thing from the other side. It was a privilege to witness such a display.
He figured that for now he should, at least, resemble some kinda bastion of strength and reassurance, using the boy's slang for Dragons and Dungeons. Or what is Dungeons or Dragons?
Never mind, at the moment he didn't care for that.
El nodded. "Good." Then she looked down. "What…happens now?" she asked him, looking up and staring him in the eyes. She observed him with those honey amber eyes, the same eyes which somehow always looked like they could gaze at the very depths of his soul. Eyes that stared at him for reassurance.
"Now, we wait for the others," he answered, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "to arrive so we can go figure out what exactly happened last night."
"Putting two and two together," El added.
Jim smiled at her correct usage of the slang. "Precisely."
"Pre-ci-sely." El repeated, testing out the word verbally. He knew she already knew that word, but she did, nevertheless. For practice.
El suddenly looked down again.
"Those people…the Munsons. Did you know them?" she asked quietly.
Jim's breath hitched briefly as he ran his hand across his face and stopped at his moustache, rubbing it in thought.
"I did." El looked up. Jim didn't look at her, however. He stared at the kitchen sink. "William Munson and his wife Kathryn and their son Nathan." Jim then did look at El, who was listening attentively. "Remember when I told you I served in Vietnam, right?"
El nodded. "Yes…far away from home. In another… c-o-u-ntry."
"Well, William served as well. We were in the same platoon. He was the only one in it who was also from Hawkins. Well, besides Lucas's dad. But he was in another unit."
"Were you friends?" El asked.
"Back then…yeah. William and I were in a lot of tense situations. He saved my life a few times. And in return, I saved his." Jim chuckled to himself. "I remember one day, how William suddenly came to our barracks, waving a letter in his hand and shouting," Jim then waved his hand around, "I have a kid, I have a kid!"
Eleven laughed.
Jim sighed. "That moment came at the right time because we needed some good news for a while." Jim looked back at confused El. "Morale was low, so this news helped us get through some tough times. Our commanding officer said we get the night off, so we spend the night celebrating."
"Was it a good night?" El asked, smiling still.
Jim smiled back "One of the best we had in a long time."
Then he frowned.
"Then the war was over, and I went back to Hawkins. Meet Diane, had Sara, went to New York to be a detective," then he added hesitantly, "well… you know the rest."
El's face was now a sad one. She knew that story. "I know."
Jim then noticed from the periphery of his vision, Joyce entering the house and leaning on the doorway, listening in.
"After Sara…I returned to Hawkins. William and Kathryn helped me a lot at the time. They made it…bearable."
Then guilt settled inside Jim's stomach. "However, after a while, I stopped coming to their farm. I was…lost. Didn't know what to do. And then…Will was taken."
"The Upside Down," El whispered, shivering. No doubt she had bad memories of that place herself. He could hear Joyce inhaling sharply.
Eleven jumped a bit at the sound and turned around to see Joyce.
"Morning." Eleven greeted her.
"Morning sweetie, how did you sleep?" Joyce kindly asked her, approaching them both, pulling up a chair, and taking a seat. She managed to pull herself together.
"It was…enough." Eleven answered, avoiding eye contact. Then she looked at Jim. "Dad was telling me," Jim smiled broadly," a story about the Munsons."
Joyce smiled back.
"I know, I heard some bits of it. You mind continuing Hopper?"
Jim nodded and squeezed El's hand in gratitude and comfort. "No problem. So yeah, the Upside Down. During that time, I… woke up a bit. Realized there are far more important things in life. I knew there was a kid who needed my help. Because some people got…" he addressed El," got too greedy."
Eleven looked down. "Because of me- "
"Because" Jim interrupted her before she could blame herself, "of bad people who forced you to do things you didn't want to do. Just because you were the one who opened the Gate, does not mean it was your fault. Remember that?"
Jim had another flashback, this one back when Eleven was still hiding in his cabin from the bad men. One night, while he was reading to her a book of Alice in the Wonderland, she quietly told him it was her fault for the Gate and the monsters that came out of them. Jim replied to her gently, but firmly that it was not her fault for doing all those things. Eleven was immensely relieved that night. Jim hugged her in comfort all night, his heart breaking while this little girl sobbed her heart out.
"I remember." Eleven responded in a shaky voice, looking up. Joyce rubbed her back in comfort.
"Good." Jim nodded.
"And…after that? Did you see them after that?" El asked.
Jim rubbed his face. "Yeah, a few times. One day," Jim smirked at the memory," William came to me one day on the street. He was dragging Nathan behind him in one hand, and in another, he held a trophy."
"An award," El guessed.
"Yeah, for a rodeo. William was beaming with pride, and Nathan," Jim chuckled, "he was embarrassed. But proud. You could see it clearly."
"Rodeo?" El repeated slowly, confused.
"It's a sport with horses sweetie," Joyce explained to her.
"Yeah, you do tricks with them and stuff like that," Jim added. "Odd, I haven't seen them last night…" he trailed off.
Suddenly a tense silence descended over the kitchen table.
"And now," El said, her voice heavy and thick, "they're gone."
"Yeah," Jim inhaled sharply, feeling invisible strings pulling at his heart, "they're gone."
Joyce shivered and shakily exhaled.
Because it was happening again.
Joyce then glanced over at Jim's shoulders with a confused expression on her face.
"Hey," she said, drawing his and Els's attention, "what the?"
Jim turned his head around as Joyce got up and then kneeled to pick up the papers on the floor. He didn't even notice them at all.
"Weird, it happened again." He heard Joyce mutter as she attempted to put the papers back on the fridge.
Only for them to fall right back down.
"Huh, the magnets are not working for some reason," Joyce stated, confused.
Jim didn't know what to make of this.
"Oh, I've been meaning to ask you, how did your heart-to-heart go last night?" Joyce asked, in an obvious attempt to divert the grim mood of the atmosphere.
Jim winced and could probably tell El mimicked his expression.
Thankfully, Jim could hear a car pulling out outside.
"You know what Joyce, why don't we leave this for another time, yeah?" Jim responded, thanking the Lord for the distraction.
Billy was currently taking in a slow drag from his cigarette, as he leaned on the railing of the upper floor of Liberty Motel and watched the morning's sunrise, signalling a start of a new day. The taste of tobacco grated his tongue as he inhaled in, feeling the smoke fester in his lungs.
As the mullet-haired teen exhaled the smoke through his nostrils, his mind went through various motions of the last's night events. After managing to properly stitch up Gabriela's gunshot wound, which in reality wasn't a gunshot wound, but a manageable deep gash (thank God), he decided not to ask questions until she has rested. She was currently sleeping on the bed, with that kid of hers laying at her side.
Watching her. Guarding her.
Billy felt as if he was being watched by a guard dog the entire night, waiting for the right moment to strike. She almost did that when he woke up in the early morning and found her observing him, audibly cracking her knuckles and raising the tension. Even a quick explanation that he needed to do something really quick, like dumping the trash of the first aid kit leftover and cleaning up the car, didn't pacify her at all. She just…stared at him. Like a wolf staring down at a deer.
He still felt chills in his spine from the words she spoke to him last night.
You hurt her; I kill you.
"Shit." He swears as he takes the cig from his mouth and runs his hand across his tired face and stops at his small moustache. He also had a distinct flashback of furiously washing his hands in the bathroom sink. Whenever he sees the colour red from now on, he will always think of blood.
Oh fucking great.
Exhaustion wracked his entire body. The last time he felt like this was nearly eight months ago when that son of a bitch Harrington cheated in a fight. If it wasn't for Max, that little shitbird…
For a brief moment, he wondered with concern where she was, as he rubbed his neck, a faint memory of a painful sting. Probably with that brat Sinclair.
Billy shook his head. He still needed to figure out what to do for today.
He just can't appear at the pools today, that's for sure. Not while looking like this. The tiredness itself didn't just come from getting barely a wink of sleep last night. Oh no, the first thing he had to do was wash away the backseat of his Camaro from the blood polled in it, as well as his leather jacket.
It was a nerve-wracking experience. He went to one of those self-service car wash places near the gas pump at 7/11 with the sun not even appearing yet at that point, but its rays of light started to slowly illuminate the sky. Billy had to keep his cool the entire time as he rigorously washed the backseat, and quickly the jacket, while simultaneously praying no one will come because at any given moment the gas station attendant could appear out of nowhere and ask him, "Is that blood?" which could lead to panic and him calling the cops and trouble and Billy simply didn't have the time or energy to deal with it at all. He barely had the energy to stand up, much less to…
Billy stopped that recollection as he sighed and rubbed his eyes, willing himself to stay awake. He already got weird looks from the guy when he entered the store to exchange paper for coins.
Thankfully nothing happened, the now freshly washed jacket was in the Camaro, the interior of the car was also clear of blood, (thank God for the small drains) and he returned with no problem back at the motel. It was a plus that he wasn't haggled by the receptionist. That was the last thing he needed right now. Bothered by a goddamn female lard-ass. She was probably the mother of lard-ass junior.
It was a big plus they were the only guests at the motel he thought absentmindedly.
And now he stood there on the balcony, focusing his attention on the cigarette in his left hand, with just an inch of tobacco left, and ignoring the summer sunlight that warmed his face. He also ignored how it reminded him of California.
Billy didn't enter the room when he came back. First, he needed some nicotine to clear his mind, though he wished he took something stronger, and prepare himself for the rest of the day.
Why did he have that awful feeling that it was going to be a long one?
Sighing again, he tossed the cigarette butt on the ground and used the heel of his shoe to squash out the remains. Pivoting on the same heel, Billy faced the door with the number 203 and used his keys to unlock it.
Entering, the first thing he saw was a pair of deep, green eyes staring right at him from a face obscured by ebony, black hair. They belonged to that kid, Laura, who was currently….crouching on the bed. Looking like she will jump at him at any moment.
"Jesus." He breathed out in surprise.
She simply cocked her head to the side. Not taking her eyes off him. Billy took a brief look at her.
She was in her plain black pyjama and a plain red t-shirt. Her blood-stained clothes were currently in the bathroom, hidden away in a small cupboard.
After the effects of adrenaline had worn off and she remerged from the bathroom, finally, clean off all that red, and now wearing pyjamas, she actually looked like a normal kid. He would even call her adorable. Expect for the fact that somehow, she was still…fairly intimidating. Billy didn't know what it was that made her look that way.
Maybe it was those eyes. They were observing him with intense sharpness as if they could see his very soul. Or as if they're trying to find different ways how to kill him.
Christ, even Max's angriest glare couldn't achieve that kind of level of fear in him.
Trying to push aside those thoughts as he approached them slowly, the kid already glaring at him distrustfully, Billy refocused his attention on another individual.
Next to Laura was Gabriela, still sleeping, and finally looking as if she was a bit better. The fact she wasn't sweating or breathing harshly was a big plus. Billy focused his attention on her bandaged side, with some of her clothes on the chair next to a small nightstand and their backpacks leaning on them. On the said nightstand was also…a gun.
As Gabriela started to remove her sweatshirt with a hoddie, she pulled out a gun from her pocket.
Billy froze.
It was a small one, a revolver, perfect for a woman, with fading Smith & Wesson initials on the barrel. He gazed at it with wariness.
"It's a-alright," Gabriela reassured him, throwing in a small smile "you d-don't have t-to be afraid. I will n-not shoot you." she finished, shakily.
Billy shook his head. Nope. He wasn't afraid. Not at all.
"I'm not." He responded, completely ignoring the sudden rapid beating of his heart. "I ain't afraid at all."
Neil's furious words from the past echoed in his head.
'Did a raise a pussy for a son?'
Billy closed his eyes and inhaled sharply as his body involuntary shuddered. He willed himself to clear his mind, steady his being and focus on the situation at the present. Was there a word for being half angry, half afraid? Frangry? Afangy?
Whatever, when he opened his eyes, he saw Gabriela stirring awake. Her eyelids fluttered as she slowly gained awareness of her surroundings.
Opening her eyes, the woman attempted to rise up, but then she hissed in pain, closed her eyes, and laid back down, putting her hand on her wounded side. The kid stood up a bit straighter and leaned forward, her emotionless face cracking a bit and showing concern.
"Good morning," Billy drawled, putting his hand on his hips trying to ignore the scene in front of him, in an attempt to project a nonchalant image of himself. Gabriela's eyes once again opened, staring at him with more alertness. "I hope you two" he grumbled, "had a good night's rest, after everything that happened."
Gabriela winced a little bit in guilt (and pain) as she glanced at him nervously, while the kid turned her head to give him another death glare. This gave Billy an opportunity to actually get a proper look at the two while ignoring the dirty look. The adrenaline and the urgency from last night prevented him from doing so. He could barely think then. He could barely think right now.
"Our apologies," Gabriela apologized in a hushed, tired tone while the kid briefly glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, clearly showing she wasn't sorry at all.
He decided to ignore that.
What Billy actually decided to do was take a fully good look at Gabriela. She had suntanned skin; long, slightly curly, brown hair, and brown eyes. Even though his rough estimate for her age was somewhere around mid-thirties, he had to admit she was good-looking.
The kid on the other hand…well, was a completely whole another story.
Laura's skin was much paler than her mother's, had long, straight, black hair that fell just below her shoulders and obscured her face. And again, has those deep green eyes. She was also skinny as a twig and didn't have much baby fat on her face as most girls of her age had. She couldn't more than nine or ten years old. Again, he would call her cute…but the glaring looks prevented him from doing that. From the looks of it, Billy had a feeling if he did, she would try to punch him in the face.
He understood that. He would do the same thing if someone he didn't like tried to talk to him in the first place. Well, a guy at any rate.
"It's all right," he waved the apology off with his hand casually, "noo problem at all. It's just…" he chuckled, "it's not every day or night that I nearly drive into two people who look like they emerged from a horror movie" he stated, seeing Gabriela wince, while the kid remained stony-faced, "running away for their lives from someone." Billy finished crossing his arms at his chest.
Both individuals in front of him remained quiet.
"How's the wound?" he asked, in order to break the silence.
Gabriela glanced down at her bandaged side.
"It is…okay, for now. The pain is still there," Billy then took notice of the accent in her voice, they're not from around here, "but it doesn't bother me too much."
"Cool, cool, that's good to hear." He nodded. "Now I would like to ask a few questions. I think I deserve some answers after you offered me ten thousand dollars to not to drive to a hospital." Billy cocked his head sideways. "If you don't mind." He added nonchalantly.
"Apuesto que lo haces." He heard her whisper as she clutched a golden rosary she had. She did that several times last night when they were dealing with her wound. Gabriela then took a deep breath. "Okay, ask."
"Okay. Why we're you covered in blood in the first place? Why we're running in the middle of the night on the road? From whom were you running away? Why was there a damn fire? Just…" Billy stopped his rambling questioning for a moment," tell me what the hell is going on here?" he spread his arms in expiration.
Gabriela was quiet for a few seconds, obviously trying to find a way how to answer him.
"…I know you are upset Senor Hargrove," she started, standing up a bit straighter with the kid's help.
Understatement of the fucking century.
"Oh lady, you have no idea how- "
"And you have every right to be upset-" she interrupted him, stopping when she winced slightly in pain.
Laura pushed her down so she could lay on the bed again. He couldn't see her face because she had her full attention on her mother.
Billy inhaled and exhaled sharply.
"Ma'am," he started, "if you can't tell me- "
"There are bad men hunting us." A tiny flat voice, a bit squeaky, answered his question.
Laura was the one who spoke up, talking to him for the first time, well the second time since they arrived at the motel. She stared at him blandly, as if he were a wall.
That gave him a pause.
"I'm sorry, who?" he asked politely, much to his shock.
"Bad men," She repeated slowly, her face devoid of emotion.
Billy's brows furrowed down in confusion. Normally in a situation like this, he would-
…Wait a damn minute, he's never been in a situation like this!
"The bad men? Whose are these bad men?" he demanded, as he felt agitation building up in his body. A rational part of his brain said to him he needed to tone down on aggression, but goddamnit he wanted some clear answers. "What on Earth are you- "
Then Billy stopped as he had a realization hit him like a punch in the chest.
"The bad men." He repeated slowly. "You mean… the people who started that fire last night?"
And who killed.
"Yes." Gabriela nodded. Laura nodded as well and then lifted her hand and pointed a finger at him. Then she did a sound as if she was firing a gun.
"Jesus." He whispered in horror.
"Look, Billy," Gabriela added, ignoring his shock and discomfort at the display, "all you need to know is this."
Billy refocused his attention on her.
"There are some very bad people after us. Evil people. Monsters." She stressed out the words as if they were bile. He also saw Laura's face twist up in disgust. "That's the reason why we are here because our car broke down. And a group of people, a kind family…" she trailed off.
She closed her eyes as she once again clutched her golden rosary in one hand and grasped the kid's hand with the other one. He didn't see Laura's face because once again her long black hair covered her face. Billy didn't have to be a genius to sense sadness radiating off her.
"A kind family took us in," Gabriela continued, opening her eyes and staring right at Billy, "so we can stay overnight while our car was at the mechanic. A kind family that was murdered," she once again stressed out the word, making Billy's heart beat faster," like they were nothing."
Billy didn't say anything for a while. But then he asked, "Why not call the cops?"
Laura looked up and stared at him as if he was an idiot.
"What?" he asked defensively.
"Because Billy," Gabriela uttered, "the people who this are powerful and have connections. Connections that makes them…out of reach of the law. And makes the police either powerless or under their pocket."
Billy nodded, fully understanding that part. Some rich assholes who think themselves untouchable.
"Okay," he said slowly, "okay, I get that. But why were you in Hawkins in the first place."
"Because we are traveling up north. To Canada." Gabriela answered.
"To Canada?" he repeated numbly, dread settling deep inside his stomach.
"Yes. Through Michigan. As of matter of fact, I am willing to pay you another ten thousand dollars," Billy did a double-take, and so did Laura, "if you are willing to drive us there."
"Drive you there?" he asked incredulously.
"Yes." She calmly said.
"All the way to Canada?" he needed clarification.
"Yes."
Billy dragged his hand across his mouth and bit inside his cheek. This whole thing was just crazy. Hell, the word crazy in itself wasn't enough to describe this insanity.
This isn't how the summer was supposed to go. He excepted some easy cash, partying, something fun and relaxing. Not fucking this.
He laughed.
"Okay, okay let me get this straight. You want me to drive you all the way to Canada." He waved his hands around in an exaggerated manner, like some seal in a zoo. "From some…psychopaths who want to kill you."
"Yes," Gabriela said as if she wasn't bothered by that insane idea at all.
"You know lady, I actually wouldn't mind a road trip for the summer," Billy replied sarcastically. "That is of course if you even have money." He pointed out, wordlessly daring them for evidence.
Gabriela was silent for a few moments.
"Laura." She suddenly spoke.
Laura, quite gracefully somehow, jumped out of the bed and walked over to the nightstand.
For a brief second, Billy panicked internally because he thought she was going for the gun. Thankfully, she crouched down, opened a larger of the two backpacks, rummaged around inside it for a bit, and then pulled out a big, yellow envelope.
It was a bit brick-shaped as if there was a large amount of money inside. And yes, indeed there was, as the kid opened the envelope and showed him the money.
Oh, there were so many, many green papers. Billy was once again stunned. And greatly tempted. So many complaints he had in his mind suddenly vanished.
"Twenty thousand dollars," Gabriela stated, making sure he knew how much there were, as she watched him with narrowed, calculating eyes, "for you to drive us there. What do you say?"
It was a stark difference from the last night. She no longer sounded desperate. Must have been because there was no urgency to find shelter.
Billy felt his mind racing as if it was going a thousand miles per hour.
"Well?" the woman asked him.
Billy dragged both of his hands across his face and briefly paced back and forth as the enormity of the offer still stunned his very being.
"You are really going to pay me twenty thousand dollars for a road trip?" he asked.
"I am." She answered.
"Why are they after you?" he pressed on, for more information he quite honestly didn't want to know.
As if she could read his mind, with narrowed eyes Gabriela asked him. "Do you really want to know why?"
Her tone was that of a warning. Laura too watched him, but her green-eyed gaze felt more threatening than Gabriela's own reproachful question.
Billy replied with an honest…" No," he briefly shook his head. "No, I really don't."
Gabriela nodded grimly, while Laura tilted her head. Eventually, Billy re-put his hands on his hips, licked his lips, and smiled.
"Okay. Screw it. I'm in." He clapped his hands. "What's the plan?"
Steve was sure his mind was going at least a thousand miles per second as he neared the Byers' house. A lot was going on inside his head. A lot of questions he honestly didn't want answers for.
Why was there a fire last night? Who exactly started? Who killed those people? Steve knew it was the bad guys but were there the same bad guys?
Steve remembered it back when Dustin and the rest kids explained to him how they found Eleven and the circumstances behind her powers and everything.
Oh, he knew there was this girl with a shaved head named Eleven that Dustin, Mike, and Lucas found in the forest on that rainy night when they went searching for the missing Will Byers. A girl who could move things with her mind and find people without really moving. However, he didn't have the opportunity to meet Eleven herself. Apparently, she died tragically, fighting that monster. The same monster that he, Nancy, and Jonathan fought when he came back to apologize for being a humongous asshole.
They didn't talk about much after that night. Well with Nancy and Jonathan. He didn't hang out back then with the others. Things just went back to… well not to normal, but life still moved on.
Then, a year later, the monster(s), this time plural, appeared again, the girl with the shaved head who has powers was alive and had grown curls and had been secretly living with the police chief in the forest so the government officials couldn't find her, Will Byers has been possessed by a monster from another dimension, he got in a fight that asshole Hargrove, lost, and somehow found himself fighting monsters in dark tunnels in the middle of nowhere, again, and then…and then it was over.
It was one hell of a night. Even crazier than the night the year before. Steve still felt the echo of the pain on his face from it. Mostly from Billy Hargrove's fists.
And now, it was happening again. People got killed. He drove to Byers house. Do discuss. To regroup.
Steve has just pulled into the driveway, well the area where most of the cars were parked in front of the Byers's residence. He just saw Nancy and Jonathan exiting their car, Jonathan's grey Ford Galaxie parked right next to Hoppers police Blazer. Both of them had that grim and sad look on their faces.
Steve took a moment to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen. Opening the door, he stepped out of the car to greet the couple in front of him. Both turned around to do so as well. And then, they both froze.
Nancy and Jonathan were quiet as a couple of church mice, watching him with their eyes nearly bulging out of their eye sockets. Steve waved his hand awkwardly.
"Morning guys."
"M-morning Steve." Jonathan politely greeted him; his lips formed in a tin line. Steve could see Nancy struggling to keep her face stony. But both were spectacularly falling.
"Yeah, morning. You look…" she motioned with her hand, "you look…"
Steve sighed.
"Okay, out with it." He beckoned with one hand, while the other one was on his hip. "Let's get this over with."
"Um, get over with what-" Jonathan tried to be polite and had some decency to try to look confused, but Nancy beat him to a punch.
"So, how's Donald Duck these days." She snickered, putting her hand on her mouth. Jonathan mimicked her, struggling not to laugh himself.
Steve once again sighed.
He left the house earlier this morning, way earlier than he usually did. So, he just put on his sailor work uniform and decided to roll with it. It was a stark contrast, compared to how the both of them were dressed much more professionally, with Nancy wearing a striped, white dress and Jonathan wearing a shirt and a tie, while Steve on the other hand looked like an idiot. The only thing that was missing was the stupid hat which he will not put on until he gets to work. Mentally, he already dreaded Robin's teasing him for being late. Again.
Also, Steve secretly figured that everyone needed some good laugh before the shit hits the fan. He knew shit will hit the fan. Might as well be of some use.
"Oh, that's it?" He responded, unimpressed. "You don't have anything else to-"
While Jonathan tried to retain his laughter, he hiccupped/wheezed awkwardly, and in doing so, sounded exactly like the aforementioned duck.
All three of them froze. Then Nancy doubled over, cackling loudly. At least, Jonathan still had the decency to try and look sorry. Nevertheless, he too joined Nancy.
"I-I'm sor-ry" Jonathan attempted to apologize but kept stuttering " I did-dnt-"
"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know," Steve replied, annoyed.
"I wa-was an accident-"
"I. Get. It." Steve stressed out.
"What's going on here?"
Oh. Oh great, just great.
"What you are all laughing about?" called out an irate Chief Jim Hopper as he stepped onto the porch to investigate only to stop dead in his tracks. He was still in his tan police uniform, minus the hat, which looked very crumpled. Probably stayed at the Byers overnight. Which meant Eleven was here too. He couldn't imagine leaving her alone in their cabin in the woods. Powers or not.
"Um, morning Chief." Steve waved, wishing he was swallowed up by the Earth itself.
Hopper stared blankly at him while Jonathan and Nancy turned away and tried to regain their bearings. His mouth twitched. After a few moments, he then shook his head. "Nope, I'm not even going to ask." Hopper turned around on his heel in order to head back inside.
"It's for a job-" Steve tried to explain himself.
"I'm not gonna ask," Hopper repeated, ignoring Steve as his voice faded re-entering the house.
Steve let out a tired sigh. He had a feeling this was going to be a long day. Although it was good to see them laugh. He was right. They needed it.
"I know why are dressed this way, but why are you dressed this way?" Nancy asked him as she and Jonathan approached him. They were still smiling.
"Yeah, the only that's missing is you putting Farrah Fawcett," Jonathan added smugly.
"Yeah I- wait a minute how do you know about that!?" he demanded.
"Oh, I have my ways," Jonathan smirked "Like a certain curly friend of ours."
'Henderson' Steve thought furiously, although there wasn't actually any anger behind it.
"I wonder what Dustin will say when he sees you," Nancy speculated, grinning.
"Look, I wasn't thinking at all this morning, okay!" Steve argued defensively. "I usually have something quick to eat, I put on this," he gestured to his uniform, "and then I head straight to work. But because of last night…" Steve trailed off.
The mood instantly changed. Nancy's and Jonathan's faces instantly became grim themselves. Steve mimicked them. The reason why they were here in the first place gave them a figurative splash of cold, icy water in their faces. And their souls. Steve suddenly had a dreadful realization. Hopper was the one who was investigating the case. Hell, he was probably the one who saw the whole thing.
"Yeah, right," Nancy said, her body rigid. "Because of the fire."
"Because of the fire" Jonathan repeated numbly, "that was set up."
"To cover up…" Steve gulped, "a murder."
All three of them were silent, absorbing the severity of the situation.
Nancy covered her face with her hands.
"I can't believe this is happening again." Through her muffled voice, Steve could easily sense anger, frustration, and grief, all combined.
"I have to ask." Jonathan and Nancy looked back at him, Nancy taking her hands off her face. "Who was it?" Steve hesitantly inquired. "Henderson only told me about the fire and how it was started but that's about it."
Nancy looked down while Jonathan answered him.
"It was the Munsons."
"The Munsons?"
"Yeah, they live-" Jonathan stopped himself. He continued demurely. "They used to live up north."
Munson, Munson. Why did that name sound familiar?
"Wait a minute. Isn't there a guy named Eddie Munson in your class? Who's been left behind like, twice?"
Nancy shook her head. "Yes there is, but they're not related. It was Nathan Munson."
"Oh, now I remember. Yeah, he won that trophy in rodeo recently. He…" Steve stopped. Sadness and horror descended on him like an unwelcome blanket. "Jesus." He breathed out.
"Yes." Nancy nodded, looking up, her eyes now shining with sudden tears. "Nathan Munson. He…used to go with us. In the same class." She wiped the tears away.
"I didn't know him that well," Jonathan added quietly. "I was too busy helping mom and Will with, well, you know." He gestured around vaguely but they knew. "Everything really. Didn't have the opportunity to talk to him at all."
"I helped him a few times," Nancy added herself, a sad tone in her voice. "Over some school projects and homework."
"I too didn't know him," Steve said remorsefully. "I mean, I only hanged out then with Tommy and Carol", he saw Jonathan and Nancy make a face, "and then after all this shit with the monsters from another world happened, I didn't think much about socializing anymore." He admitted.
"None of us have." Jonathan agreed.
"Yeah." Nancy nodded.
Silence settled around. The only sound they could actually hear was noises coming from inside the house.
"We better head inside," Steve stated, in an attempt to change the subject. Not that they will talk about anyways later. "Are the others here already? The kids?" he asked Jonathan.
"Will, Mike, and El are here." Jonathan nodded. "Hopper brought Mike and El here last night," he explained to Steve when he saw his confused looks. "Dustin, Lucas, and Max should be here right now." He added, looking around.
And just on cue, Steve heard the sound of creaking chains in the distance.
Steve, Jonathan, and Nancy slowly turned around and saw the remaining three kids arriving on their bikes, slowly approaching the house.
Lucas and Max were sharing a bike, with Max standing behind Lucas and gripping his shoulders. And on the other bike was-
"Henderson!" Steve exclaimed happily, raising his arms and startling Jonathan and Nancy.
He could see clearly and hear Dustin laughing in joy. Steve was sooo looking forward to this.
"Henderson! He's back!" he exclaimed again, and this time he actually jumped.
He ignored the incredulous looks the two fellow teenagers were giving him, as well the annoying looks Sinclair and Mayfield gave him, as he approached Dustin. He saw him wearing a hat from that science summer camp Know Where.
"Your back!" Steve parroted joyfully.
"I'm back!" Dustin replied in kind, smiling. "And you got the job!" he gestured at his uniform.
"I got the job!" Steve confirmed and then cupped his hands in front of his mouth, imitating a mocking sound of an imaginary trumpet. "Hey! Oh!"
As soon as Dustin got off his bike, the two proceeded to two their own signature secret handshake which they'd been practicing for a while. Which then progressed to a lightsaber battle. Striking and deflecting, Steve proceeded to "lose" and gasp in faked shock when Dustin "stabbed" him in the stomach. Steve waved his hands around, mimicking his guts falling over.
"Blaargh!" he mocks chocked.
Steve and Dustin laughed and then hugged each other.
"Glad to see you, man!" Steve stated happily.
Steve was so caught up in his reunion with Henderson, that he failed to notice a small crowd watching the exchange. When he did notice it, he saw on the porch Will, Mike, and Eleven on the porch, observing them with perplexed looks on their faces, especially El, who looked like she wanted to do the same thing they did.
Max and Lucas watched Dustin as was growing another head, while Jonathan and Nancy looked on the brink of their snickering.
"Umm…" Steve rubbed his neck in slight discomfort.
"What?" Dustin asked everyone defensively. "This is how real friends greet each other!"
Steve probably imagined it, but did he see Mike and El wince? Lucas, Max, and Will also made odd faces.
"Okay, okay," Jim Hopper announced, emerging again from the house, all eyes drawn to him. His eye slightly twitched when he once again glanced at Steve, "Everyone inside the house. Now. We got important things to discuss."
The brief weird (normal) good, spirited mood once again lifted off as Steve, Nancy, Jonathan and the rest of the kids gathered in the Byers' residence.
Once again, they were all gathering in to discuss events. To discuss strategy. Steve really didn't like how all this somehow became a regular thing.
Laura was trying to numb her mind. Her senses were naturally still on high alert for threats, but the personal part of her mind, the kind that sent forth uncontrollable thoughts and unnecessary tension, was becoming unbearable.
This was not news to her. Back when she was in that prison, sometimes those dark thoughts would threaten to destroy her from the inside out. So she numbed her mind. As a form of defense mechanism and safety.
Defense against the inhuman abuse and experiments performed on her and on her siblings, in a twisted attempt to make them into obedient soldiers. Into perfect weapons. Safety as it allowed her not to make too much trouble for them because as much she hated those bastards, Laura loved her brothers and sisters far more. Her brothers and sisters who were now…gone.
Jonah, Gideon, Rebecca, Delilah, Rictor…
gone, all gone
She was currently pretending to watch TV, not caring about a cartoon that was on it about a rabbit and a duck, in a crouched position on the chair by the side of the bed, ready to spring into action at any moment. She would have gone outside to do a quick sweep of the surrounding area for possible escape routes or threats. But she didn't want to leave Gabriela alone. She didn't dare.
Her mentioned numbness didn't stop her from glancing at Gabriela every minute now or then in worry. She was currently breathing very deeply, trying to fall asleep but failing. Her eyelids were tightly closed, and she saw her hands occasionally clutching the bedsheets. Laura felt a painful squeeze in the region of her heart, a repetitive action since last night.
my fault, my fault if I just paid attention
Billy Hargrove, who left just five minutes ago, was off to buy necessary things for their trip which they could hopefully continue. Laura kept her eyes and ears trained in the direction of the door from which he left, with a quick reassurance he needed to drop by at his home, for a change of clothes, as well as the money for the supplies. She could still smell his cologne in the air.
Plans have been made. It has been a short discussion, lasting maybe ten minutes at most, on where they'll go, and which route they will take. It was decided that Detroit is the final resting stop. There they will contact Sarah Kinney, their connection in Canada, and arrange a meetup at the US-Canadian border. They didn't tell Billy Hargrove that part. Only a drive to the border checkpoint as their final destination and that's it.
Laura didn't trust him one bit, chief reasons being he was still an unknown and the only reason he agreed to drive them there in the first place was because of the money. And there was also that aura which he projected that reminded her of that pendejo with a skull tattoo on his neck. They even had the same blond hair and a smug smirk. Though his lacked cruelty.
She didn't trust him. But then again what choice did they have? She knew Gabriela felt the same as Billy Hargrove wasn't known to Transigen. If they decide to move around Hawkins, surely they will be spotted, and attempts will be made to hunt them down. And kill anyone standing in their way.
Laura looked down. This isn't how it was supposed to go. She didn't want any of this to happen.
my fault, my fault, let my guard down
Standing in the bathtub, letting the hot water from the shower wash away the blood-
so much blood
-her mind was wracked with enormous guilt, and hot rage, not knowing if she should feel angry and simply just jump off from the bathroom, from the motel and hunt those monsters down or curl up and cry and cry and cry, hoping the ache in her heart would just go away.
Laura felt angry and guilty and stupid and stupid and why why did she have to insist to accept that offer, why did she have to let herself relax, now people were dead, good people, people who just wanted to show goodwill after they helped them, in order to express their gratitude.
And they were killed for it. If she just listened for threats, if she was just on her guard.
stupid, stupid you wanted to listen to some stupid music if you just paid attention
Laura felt even more idiotic as she realized when she changed from her blood-soaked clothes for the shower that her picture, her only reminder of her sisters and brothers, was gone. She franticly searched for it in her jeans only to realize that she probably dropped it in the forest when they were escaping.
At that moment, she did curl up and cried. She let the tears fall out of her eyes. For a moment. To grieve. To let it out. The sound of the shower muffled it anyway.
stupid, stupid, stupid, you deserve it for what you did
What else could she do? What else does she's got left?
Laura then glanced at her left wrist, at that accursed number tattooed on her skin, 023. Twenty-three. She made sure that Billy Hargrove couldn't see it. It would just raise more unnecessary questions.
The scarlet red continues to wash away.
She was tempted in that one moment to just start-
SNIKT
Staring at those damn blades, the reason for all this, the only thing they were good was to hurt.
hurt, cut, kill
She deserved it. After all, that was what she did. Hurt, cut, kill. What else she was good for?
It was also at that moment she heard Gabriela briefly hiss in pain as she was reminded, no she did have someone left, someone to care for.
Someone she would protect with her life. At least in that way she would be of some use.
So, Laura pushed away herself from her self-loathing, unsheathed her claws, rose up and quickly washed away the remainder of the blood (but not the guilt), and then swiftly changed into her pyjamas and was on the lookout for the rest of the night, observing Billy Hargrove as he stitched up Gabriela's wound. Laura didn't show it, but she felt fear coursing through her. For Gabriela's safety.
If it weren't for them, Laura would carry Gabriela to the hospital herself.
"Mija."
Laura's dark flashback ended as she turned her head swiftly to respond to Gabriela's call.
She looked…not better, but at least not worse as well.
Her face was covered in a slim veil of sweat, for which Laura hopped off the chair and went to the bathroom for some more towels. She ignored the small cabinet in which the bloodied clothes were stashed.
Returning with a fresh white towel, she approached Gabriela's side and started to carefully wipe her face.
"Mija."
Laura glanced at the wounded side. It was a long process, but thanks to Gabriela's instructions and Billy Hargrove's somewhat expertise (he didn't seem to be a stranger to using a first aid kit), they managed. Although he evidently didn't handle gunshot wounds before.
"Laura."
Laura tried to figure out in her head how long will Gabriela be able to travel-
"Laura!"
Laura stopped her pondering as Gabriela sternly called her, using a rather harsh tone, something she rarely did. She looked up and saw her as she gently, but firmly removed the towel from her face and locked eyes with Laura.
"Are you alright?" she asked her, her voice now soft and layered with concern.
Laura was stunned by that ridiculous question.
Was she alright? When she was the one who got shot?
because of you
"Laura," Gabriela reached her hand to touch Laura's face. As her hand rested on her cheek she said, "it was not your fault."
Laura stepped back, looked down, and gripped the towel in her hands, trying to ignore the harsh beating of her heart in her chest. She was taking in shuddering breaths.
"It is not your fault," Gabriela repeated, more firmly.
Laura stubbornly shook her head, willing herself not to cry.
"Mírame, pequeña." Gabriela gently asked her.
She hesitantly raised her head to meet Gabriela's face.
"Si tan solo... hiciera otra cosa-" Laura tried to reply, her small voice thick with emotion.
"Hacer qué, cariño? No podrías haber sabido lo que iba a pasar. Ni tú ni yo podríamos haber predicho que estarían aquí". Gabriela stopped her, trying to comfort her but she knew it was all just, just…
"No debería haber bajado la guardia." Laura admitted quietly. "Yo... Nathan me dio una caja amarilla llamada Walkman. Para escuchar música." She felt hot tears building in her eyes. "Si yo... si no la escuchara... si solo prestara atención, tal vez ellos no estarían... .ser..."
Laura dropped the towel and put her hands on her face in order to hide her face. Out of shame. She couldn't stop the tears from falling.
stupid, stupid
"Oh mi niña."
She felt Gabriela's reassuring arms enveloping her and pulling her in slowly and gently. Gabriela rubbed her back and stroked her hair as hummed her a song. It was a comforting one, the one she used to sing to her back when she was "living" in that facility in Juarez.
"Shhh. No es tu culpa. No es tu cupla, mi hija." Laura heard Gabriela murmur in her ear as small drops of tears fell down her cheeks.
"Pero-" once again Laura tried to say something, and once again Gabriela stopped her.
"No peros. Laura, mirame."
Laura pulled away from her and gazed at Gabriela's face.
"Esto no es tu culpa. Esto nunca será tu culpa. Tu me entiendes?" Laura slowly nodded her head, sniffing."Esos bastardos que hicieron esto tienen la culpa."
Laura started to sob.
Gabriela once again hugged her and hold her tightly in her chest, as Laura sobbed and felt her guilt, while still being there, but its effect has been lessened. Laura told herself she still has someone left to fight for. Someone to live for.
So, Laura stayed in Gabriela's comforting hands for a while, careful not to touch her wounded side.
I will not let you die.
Laura was so caught up in her warm embrace that she failed to see a guilty look flash on Gabriela's face.
Eleven moved away from the window and retreated further inside the living room and sat on the couch to join the others because the light of the morning sun was blinding her. Normally she would welcome its warm feeling on her face, especially on a sunny day like this, but as of right now the only thing it was doing was giving her a headache. But she ignored it so she could sur-vey the scene in front of her.
Everyone was here.
The last time she saw everyone grouped up together in this man-ner, that is the people she knew or vaguely meet was when the news of the Laboratory being shut down reached them and Mrs. Byers decided to throw a small party at their house.
That was a happy night. A good night. A perfect night. Nearly as perfect when they celebrated Christmas or the night when she and Mike danced at the Snow Ball. She remembered vividly the lyrics. Even nearly swayed at the words.
"Every breath you take,"
"Every move you make,"
She felt immense relief and joy when Hopper (Dad) told her that night. When she com-pre-hended the fact that it was over, that finally, finally, she was free, that there was no longer the need to hide, to keep a low profile. For the first time, she sobbed out of pure happiness. Out of pure peace of her mind. The nightmares she continuously experienced during her hiding days no longer came to her in her sleep.
For the most part.
Her mind however didn't feel peaceful at the moment. The only thing she felt was…what was that word that she read in the "Using Good English" book?
Trepidation.
A feeling of fear or anxiety about something that may happen.
That will happen.
Something will happen, Eleven felt that in the core of her very soul. It already happened last night.
The Munson family. William, Kathryn, and Nathan. Dead. Gone.
People were killed last night. People who Dad knew. Good people.
And sadly, Eleven knew how this whole thing was just a beginning. More horrible stuff will happen.
It wasn't fair.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, suppressing a painful pang in her chest. When she opened them, she observed the scene in front of her.
Eleven, Mike, and Will were sitting on the couch while Dustin himself was sitting on the chair to their left with Max and Lucas standing behind him, their arms crossed and serious, stiff looks on their faces. Steve was leaning on the wall near them, wearing that funny uniform, while Jonathan and Nancy stood near Steve, whispering among themselves. Dad and Mrs. Byers were standing in front of Dustin, with Dad looking at Dustin in the same way he looked at the papers and pictures he sometimes brought home from work.
She felt the air in the room being heavy. Tense.
Absentmindedly, she took Mike's hand in comfort. Mike didn't look at her, but he squeezed back. She felt a small relief.
"And nothing else? That's all you heard?" Dad asked Dustin, his arms crossed, and eyebrows furrowed.
"Yeah, just let the cops and the firefighters deal with it, and then I…I saw the farm being burnt down. In the distance." Dustin finished, his voice barely a whisper.
She heard several people in the room themselves whisper in shock. She didn't say anything at all. The fact they just…destroyed someone's home…it horrified her.
"Dustin," Dustin turned his head to face Nancy, "where exactly is that ham radio you built… what did you call it?" Nancy asked him.
"It's called Cerebro and it's the Cadillac of ham radios." Dustin bragged. "It's on a hill called Weathertop."
"Weathertop?" Jonathan repeated.
"Um, I never heard of a hill called Weathertop." Steve pon-dered.
"It's from Lord of the Rings," Dustin explained. Steve just looked confused. Eleven was confused as well. Dustin rolled his eyes. "It's a hill near Nelson farm. Get educated Steve." Steve frowned.
"Hey," Dad interrupted him. "I ask you again. Is that it?" Dad asked again, his face serious. Eleven noticed how his hands tightened around his forearms. She watched him in concern.
"Oh, um…" Dustin looked down and put a finger on his chin, trying to remember something, and then he suddenly looked up, "Yeah! Yeah, the guy behind the mike, the one who gave the orders!" he exclaimed.
"Yes?" Dad, like everyone else in the room, leaned forward in intrigue.
"He had a southern accent." He stated.
A small silence. Everybody looked at each other in bewilderment.
"A southern accent," Nancy echoed.
"The hell are we talking about Dustin, a cowboy?" Steve questioned him, perplexed.
"A southern accent?" Eleven repeated out loud. "What does that sound like?"
"It sounds kinda like…yee-haw." Mike…tried to explain, but Eleven just stared at him, not knowing what to make of it. Mike cringed, and so did several people in the room.
"I'll explain it later," Max told her.
"It… isn't much," Jonathan added, looking skeptical.
"But is a start," Joyce sighed, looking ex-hausted.
"It's something." Dad finished, rubbing his eyes.
"I mean, Indiana isn't in the South, but we are close. Like bordering with them." Lucas commented.
"Yeah, well there's like literally millions of guys who speak in that accent," Max argued.
"And at least half of people in Hawkins speak like that," Nancy stated, shaking her head. "It is like trying to find a needle in a haystack."
"Did any of you notice something strange yesterday? Anything out of the ordinary, anything at all." Dad asked the rest of them, focusing his attention on Will, Mike, Max, Lucas, and her.
"Well, not us. Most of us were waiting for Dustin. And then we went to build Cerebro so we can talk to Dustin's girlfriend." Will said.
"Woah, girlfriend?" Jonathan exclaimed in surprise.
"Really?" Nancy added, her eyebrows raised.
"Congratulations dude!" Steve cheered him, clapping him on the shoulder.
Dustin smiled broadly.
"Yeah, a fake girlfriend," Max added smugly. Lucas sniggered.
"Hey, Suzie is not fake!" Dustin snapped, twisting his head to glare at Max.
"A Mormon who's dating a guy like you, and it's supposed to be like Romeo and Juliet?" Max countered.
"Yeah, unless she's really good at pretending to be an old man selling tacos, I highly doubt that," Lucas teased him, smirking.
Old man? Taco Bell?
"What are you talking about?" Mike asked them, baffled just like her.
Will sighed. "When we tried to get in contact with "Suzie" Will did an air quote with his fingers, causing Dustin to glare at him, "we accidentally caught a radio commercial for Taco Bell. It was about an hour after you two left," he explained, not looking at them. She saw from the periphery of her vision Max, Lucas, and Dustin glancing around, not looking at them either.
A small, but nevertheless a strong pang of guilt and shame resonated inside her chest. She looked down, her brown curls covering her face. No doubt Mike felt the same.
"Yeah", Lucas eventually said, "a whole hour of calling Susie." Lucas made a kissy face. "We were bored out of our minds." He complained.
"Hey, if you meet Suzie you would think otherwise!" Dustin insisted hotly.
"Well too bad she's in Utah of all places." Max snarked.
"Hey, hey, hey," she heard Dad clap his hands, "now is not the time for arguing about a fake girlfriend." Dustin spluttered. "Especially now." He added, reminding everyone.
The grim mood returned. As Eleven looked up, she saw everyone wore a downcast look on their faces.
"So, are you sure that is all you heard?" Dad continued.
Dustin sighed. "Yeah, that's all. I was alone at the moment, but then I remembered that Lucas and Max were in the woods, so I ran over there to find them. Then I heard Lucas scream like a girl-"
"Hey!" Lucas complained. Max and Steve chuckled, while Jonathan and Nancy rolled their eyes.
"-and the reason he screamed like that was because of a horse."
"A horse?" Joyce asked, perplexed.
"Yeah, there was this huge, white horse that literally appeared out of nowhere. Scared the hell out of us." Max explained.
"How was there a horse in the middle of the forest?" Jonathan wondered.
"The Munsons. They…they dealt with horses." Dad quietly explained.
"Nathan competes…" Nancy closed her eyes, "used to compete in rodeos," Nancy said, her voice shaky. Jonathan put a comforting arm on her shoulder.
"So, a horse came out of nowhere and scared you?" Joyce inquired further, she herself sad but nevertheless continuing her questioning.
"Yeah, then it ran off. That's how Dustin found us and then explained what happened," Lucas said.
"After that, we went to my house and contacted the rest of you. I wish I had my recorder with me so you can learn more, but…you know, I had to warn you guys." Dustin said.
Dad nodded. "Okay, okay, you did good Dustin." Dad then turned to address everyone else in the house.
"Okay, now do any of you know something? Did you see anything suspicious yesterday?" He asked, the question directed at Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve. All three shook their heads.
"No sorry, I dropped Nancy at her house," Jonathan said.
"And just got home from work," Steve answered.
"I didn't see anything weird," everyone looked at Nancy," but last night a woman called me. While I was at the office. Doris Driscoll. Says she has a story for us. That is, a story for the Hawkins Post."
"A story? What kind of story?" Steve asked her, surprised.
"…Diseased rats," Nancy replied.
"Diseased rats?" several people echoed.
"The hell?" Steve murmured.
"I don't know the details. That is why we," she pointed at herself and Jonathan, "are going to her house this afternoon."
Jonathan for some reason looked…hesitant.
Dad sighed. "Is that all?" he asked Nancy.
Nancy nodded. "Yes."
"All right. Okay. Because…because last night I have found…something." Dad said…relu-ctan-tly.
Everyone stood up a bit straighter.
"What is it Hopper, what did you find?" asked Joyce, her face wary.
"While I was there…waiting for the firemen to put out the fire, I went around searching for clues. Behind the house is a cornfield. And there, on one of its leaves, I found blood."
"Blood?" Joyce, Jonathan, and Will repeated, looking sick.
"Jesus," Max whispered.
The rest of them didn't like where this is going.
Dad grimly nodded. "Yes. Blood. As I was thinking to myself how Callahan and Powell could miss this, I reminded myself how those two aren't exactly big city cops. Then I remembered Benny Hammond-"
Eleven felt sadness and guilt wash over her. The first man who has treated her with kindness and concern. Who gave her food and shelter. Benny Hammond, the man who was killed because of her.
"-I followed the trail. It led towards the forest behind the cornfield. And in there-"
Dad went over to his police coat and rummaged inside its pockets. He produced two items from it, one in each hand.
"-I found this." He presented it to them.
In one hand was a small, yellow box with wires and headphones. Eleven knew what that was.
"A Walkman?" Will asked.
Dad turned over the Walkman. There was blood on it. A small bloody handprint. Eleven was confused. So was everyone else.
"Jesus, that belonged to Nathan." Nancy took a closer look. "But those fingertips…" she pointed at the shape, "those looks like they belong to a kid."
For some reason, Eleven felt a chill crawl down her spine.
Dad didn't say anything, but what he did was put a second item on the coffee table.
Everyone leaned forward to see it. And then several of them gasped in shock.
"What the?" Will whispered.
"The hell?" Steve muttered.
"I don't understand," Mike said what everybody else was thinking.
"What is it this Hopper?" Joyce now demanded an answer.
Eleven took a closer look. In the picture were several children and a woman in a nurse outfit. Their faces were blank and emotionless. The children themselves were wearing clothes…that looked like…
No.
No. It…it can't be.
"Who are these kids? And that woman?" Nancy asked.
"Hey, those clothes they're wearing. It kinda looks like-" Lucas was about to say but stopped.
The silence that ensued was for some reason deafening.
"…No way." Dustin breathed out.
"You don't think it…?" Nancy whispered.
"Holy shit." Mike softly exclaimed.
"Jesus Christ." Max muttered.
Eleven didn't say anything at all. She just wordlessly picked up the photograph to stare at it. To fully see it.
Three boys and three girls. All had black hair and pale skin and dull looks. Sad looks. The woman next to them had much tanner skin and brown curly hair. She overturned the photo and saw there were names written on it.
"Jonah, Gideon, Rebecca, Delilah, Rictor, and Laura." Eleven slowly recited.
"Jesus, I mean, it's not possible," Jonathan said in a shaky voice.
"But it is," Hopper responded grimly.
"So, whoever I heard last night they were…chasing someone," Dustin stated.
"Someone on that photograph," Max said, her face pale.
"Someone like me," Eleven whispered, her voice somehow echoing across the room.
Distant memories she kept locked in the darkest depths of her mind resurfaced like an angry Demogorgon.
Screaming. Pleading. Blood. So much blood.
An innocent. Dead.
Someone is being chased. Someone like her. And now, staring at this photograph she felt her entire world crumbling beneath her feet. The room started to spin as Eleven shakily sat back on the couch.
"El?" Hopper, like everyone, moved forward in concern, crouching down in front of her.
"Eleven?" Mike leaned forward as well, grasping her shoulder.
"It's, it's happening again." She whispered.
"It's happening again." Dustin put his hands on his head. "Jesus Christ it's happening again."
"How? I mean, are there more like you?" Steve said out loud, voicing everyone's unspoken question.
"Are there?" Lucas continued, leaning forward and grasping the back of the chair on which Dustin was sitting.
"El, honey," she heard Joyce whisper in a soothing tone, crouching beside Hopper. Eleven looked up in a daze. "Do you remember anyone else from…the lab?"
Eleven once again gazed at the photograph, scanning every individual face on it. She even examined the woman's face.
Her mind felt like she was once again in that place, trying to furiously think of an answer when Pa-Brenner asked her a question.
She shook her head. "…No. No, I, I don't remember. I, I mean there was Eight. Kali."
Everyone looked at each other. They knew about her older sister whom she found in Chicago and that she spent some time with them but that's all she told them. They don't need to know about that.
"But I don't…I would know" Eleven declared as she overturned the photo again, "Jonah, Gideon, Rebecca, Delilah, Rictor, and Laura." Eleven looked up, meeting their eyes. "I would know their names." She insisted.
"So, wait what the hell does this all mean?" Steve asked.
"It means," Hopper sighed, "that there is a possibility that the Hawkins lab," everyone turned their head to stare at him, "wasn't the only one who did those experiments." No one said anything.
"But, but," Joyce fumbled with her words, "Owens said this was the only one that did-"
"That he either knows of or that he told us about?" Hopper explained.
"You didn't call that guy?" Steve asked him.
"No, because we don't if he is involved or not," Jim said.
"Someone is definitely involved," Nancy muttered darkly.
"You mean to say…?" Lucas started.
"That there are more," Will added.
"More than one," Dustin whispered.
"And whoever killed those people…" Max said shakily.
"Came here in Hawkins to look for," Mike leaned forward to stare at the photo, "whoever was or is in this picture."
"But not for El." Hopper declared.
"It could be more than one," Jonathan commented staring at the photograph.
"It could be any of them," Steve argued.
"It could be all of them." Nancy proclaimed, scrutinizing the photo.
"We have to find them." Everybody looked at Eleven. Her voice was getting steadier and steadier. "We have to find them, or him or him or her-
"El-" Hopper tried to say.
"-we have to find them. We have to help them!" Eleven nearly yelled.
"Eleven, sweetie-" Joyce whispered.
Eleven stopped and looked at Hopper and then at Joyce. Immediately she figured it out.
"No," she shook her head, "I am not staying here." She said fiercely.
"Actually," Hopper declared, looking at the rest of her friends, mainly Mike, Lucas, Will, Dustin, and Max, "you will all stay here."
The reaction to this injustice was immediate.
"What?" Max exclaimed hotly.
"Absolutely not!" Dustin nearly shouted.
"We can't just stay here!" Lucas argued.
"What the hell Hopper!" Mike challenged him. Hopper's eyebrows twitched.
"Come on Mom," Will complained to Joyce, "you can't expect to just stay here. Tell her Jonathan." Will turned his head to address Jonathan.
Eleven and the rest of the kids turned their heads as well and saw Jonathan, Nancy, and Steve looking at each other. While also avoiding their stares. Why were they doing that?
"Jonathan…come on." Will urged him.
Jonathan sighed. "I actually agree."
"What?!" El and the rest of the Party cried out.
"Look," Nancy addressed them, "we have no idea what is really going on-"
"Yes, yes we do Nancy!" Mike argued hotly, "There is someone out there who is like El and they're being hunted-"
"Yeah," Steve interrupted him, "there is also someone out there who killed people because they probably got in their way, and they won't hesitate to kill you all." Steve was looking at them like they were crazy.
"Were doing this for your safety. If you could just stay here for today," Mrs Byers said, pleading with them.
"I can fight." Eleven declared.
"I know you can kiddo," Dad said gently, "better than any of us. But until we know more we can't risk it."
"You can't just forbid us from going outside!" Max complained.
"This is bullshit!" Dustin said hotly.
Dad was about to say something but was interrupted.
"Hey, Chief, do you copy?"
Everyone turned their head to look at Dad's police walkie-talkie.
Dad went over to pick it up.
"Chief?"
"Say it quick Powell, I'm a little busy right now." He replied.
"Yeah, well I'm busier here." They heard Powell counter. Eleven could hear people shouting in the background.
"Shit!" Dad swore. "The protest already started?"
"Yes, it did. If you wanna keep your job tomorrow, I think you need to get your ass at City Hall. Now!" Powell loudly suggested.
"Do they know about the Munsons yet?" Dad asked.
"A few knew, and by the looks of it, everyone else will know very soon Chief. You really need to get over here!"
Dad sighed. "I'll be there."
"Copy that."
The call ended as Dad turned around to look at everyone.
"A protest?" Jonathan voiced his question.
"It is against Starcourt. Long story short there was a meeting last night at City Hall. Local business owners gathered around to organize a protest again the mall. I promised I'll be there as a show of support." Dad explained.
"Why a protest against the mall?" Mike asked him, despite his earlier protest against staying here. "They're not doing anything bad."
"When was the last time you went Downtown?" Nancy asked him with narrowed eyes.
"Yeah, it looks a lot like a ghost town these days," Jonathan added.
"It is really that bad?" Steve asked them.
"Yes." They both replied.
"Okay. Well?" Mrs. Byers asked Dad. "What is your plan, Hopper?" she continued, crossing her arms. El mimicked her and raised her eyebrow. She would like to know that as well.
"Right after I deal with the protesters, and with Larry," Larry was the ma-yor, she remembered, "I'll go back at the farm…or what is left of it. See if there's anything I can find."
"Okay, I'll go with you-" Mrs. Byers attempted to join in.
"No."
"No?" she blinked.
"Better for me to go alone."
"But-"
"They are not after us," Dad stressed out. "Therefore, we don't have to worry about them. But we cannot draw attention to ourselves. Not until we figure out what the hell is going and find out who's being hunted."
Everyone was silent.
"So, I'm asking you," Hopper addressed El and the rest," at least for today. Stay here until we know more."
Eleven didn't like this. Not one bit. She looked down and stared at the photo.
Then an idea came to here.
"Okay," she said, making the rest of the party stare at her in shock, "we will stay here. For today."
Hopper was shocked as well. He narrowed his eyes. "Okay, um good. Now the rest you…"
As Hopper started talking to others, Eleven made plans of her own.
"Th-this, this can't go on any longer, Mr. Pierce!" Kline stuttered, nervously dragging a hand through his blond hair, a far cry from his smug smile-infested face. "Three people are dead! In my town. Dead." He punctuated those words as if they mattered.
Donald Pierce sighed.
Last night was a complete disaster. After the men returned almost empty-handed, Pierce gave himself a mental note to start leveling up their criteria and standards for recruitment in the future.
He endured dark, threatening words from Doctor Rice in silence. When he was finished, a much more calculating demeanour for which he is known followed suit.
"Do you think they could be still here?" Rice asked him.
"One of them got shot. They found some blood on the backdoor staircase leading to the forest. It was Lopez without doubt," Rice's eyes twitched at the mention of the ex-nurses name, "if she got shot that means they couldn't get far. The kid is not gonna leave her behind. You know how she and the rest got…attached to her."
Rice folded his arms and put one under his chin, lost in thought. "Hmm, yes, a grievous error on our part. We should have made sure that Twenty-three or any of them for that matter couldn't form any connections." Rice suddenly narrowed down his eyes. "An error which will not be repeated." He promised darkly.
Pierce carried on. "I already sent several men undercover to Hawkins Memorial Hospital. If they see them, they will report immediately." Pierce stated.
"And that's it?" Rice said.
"Actually, there's one more thing," Rice waited, "they found tire tracks on the road nearby. Looks like someone picked them up."
"Whoever they are…find them," Rice growled.
"Understood." Pierce nodded.
"And the recruits?" Rice asked, his face twisted up in disgust, no doubt at their incompetence.
"The only thing they will be good for as of now is recon and nothing else. As I said, the real soldiers are coming in tomorrow morning." Pierce responded, voicing his own disgust.
"How many?" he demanded.
"Don't know exactly but around a hundred. With the necessary equipment at hand."
Rice nodded, satisfied. Pierce had reservations, however.
"Isn't that too much? I mean I don't mind additional backup, but isn't this supposed to be, you know, a covert operation?"
"With everything at stake? Not at all. Just make sure they are not seen by the civilians."
"Naturally."
Rice nodded. "Good. Now, as I said last night, this is our prime opportunity. The sheer possibilities we can achieve with Twenty-three and the Key will launch us into new heights. Oh, speaking of the Key, there will be another attempt at the opening tonight."
Pierce nodded. "I will put up several Reavers for security."
"Never mind that just make sure that idiot Kline stays in line. And make sure the cops are not after us. The last thing we need is another fiasco." Rice reminded him.
And now, sitting in the mayor's office, he allowed the aforementioned weak man to let out some pathetic rant about "concern" for his citizens before reverting back to his normal drug-sniffing, wife cheating behaviour. This was nothing new. Complain, complain, and before you know it he's back being a "charming" politician. Although he knew this time was different.
It was a piece of cake at the start. Approaching him with an easy offer, they had the mayor in their pocket within seconds. Building a mall here, buying a few properties there and in return, he gets wealth and power.
Pierce knew the moment things get really tough this excuse of a human being will try to back out. He was prepared for that too.
"Look Mayor Kline," Pierce spread his arms, his tone relaxed "what happened last night was a tragedy. A horrible tragedy. Nothing more than that. A precious local family lost in an inferno. It happens all the time all over the world." He shrugged.
"That's bullshit and we know it!" Kline snapped. He pointed his finger at Pierce. "I know you had something to do with this. You and your company. Why I have a half of mind to-"
Oh, do you now?
"To do what Larry?" Pierce interrupted him, as he leaned forward.
Kline stopped; his lips drawn in a thin line.
"I, I-" the moron fumbled for words.
"To do what? Remember Larry, we have a deal." Pierce drawled, his southern accent echoing in the room. "A deal which in which you promise to bring up your end. And that's making sure no one bothers us."
Kline, the little turd, predictably said nothing.
"Like I said, a tragedy." Pierce leaned back in the chair.
"Yeah, well the people know the Munsons are dead. It's a small town, news travels fast." Kline argued.
"So?" Pierce asked unconcerned, his left eyebrow raised.
"So, there's going to be a protest in front of my office." He whined. That's how it sounded to him.
"Do they have a license for that?" Pierce countered.
"Well, no-"
"Then what's the problem, just call the cops and they deal with it."
"They're too going to ask questions as well Mr. Pierce. Answers to the questions which I'm not sure I can't answer."
"And that's one of few reasons why I came to you on this fine summer morning."
Pierce now took off his sunglasses, staring right into Kline's cowardly eyes. He felt deep satisfaction when he saw the mayor's face get paler.
"You're going to do everything in your power to make sure they stay out of this. No investigations. No sniffing around our properties." He explained.
Kline was perplexed. "Bu-but that will raise even more questions!"
Pierce put back his sunglasses on. "Well, I'm sure you can handle it. Tell them to focus on small things. Like that little party of yours for the Fourth of July." He waved his hand.
Kline tried to control his breathing, attempting to "take back" some control. Like he had any in the first place.
"Look, Mr. Pierce-"
Pierce interrupted him again. "Oh, by the way, a few of your additional… security personnel will be arriving this morning."
Kline blinked. "What, what do you mean by additional security personnel? And what on earth for?" he demanded.
"Apologies Mr. Kline. Official Transigen business. Can't go running around, blabbing the company secrets to locals, you now?" Pierce smirked.
"Now wait just a minute!" Kline snapped, rising up from his chair.
Pierce didn't say anything at first. Then he rose up.
"Larry, are we gonna have a problem, hm?" Pierce asked the little turd, daring him to say anything.
Kline struggled to say anything back. Predictably nothing came out. Pierce smiled.
"Didn't think otherwise," Pierce stated as he walked over to the window. "You seem to have quite the crowd gathering outside." He observed.
There was a decent number of locals in front of City Hall, wearing those stupid signs and angry looks on their faces. He nearly laughed.
As if they have any real power.
Pierce glanced at Kline and smiled. "You might want to call the cops Mr. Mayor. I'm sure people are gonna get quite…rowdy."
Jim smoked his cigarette, trying in vain to collect his thoughts while he could hear "Kline's a swine!" repeatedly being shouted over by the protesters outside. After they found out what happened last night…well to say they were angry is an understatement.
He himself was currently in the waiting lobby of City Hall, sitting and fumbling around with his hat, waiting for Candice, Kline's secretary (and secret lover) to call him in. His ears still rang from all discussion (shouting) with the kids. Thankfully, an agreement has been made. For now.
Just about he was going to think about how to have a talk with Larry, he was interrupted by a voice. A voice with a southern drawl in the accent. A voice which he, unfortunately, knew too well.
"Well, well, as I live and breathe! Is that Jim Hopper I see?"
Jim felt his blood going cold and hot at the same time as realization hit him in the chest.
"He had a southern accent."
Turning his head, he was confronted with a visage of a smug, condescending asshole in a form of Donald Pierce. Pierce approached him, wearing a military jacket, gloves, sunglasses, and of course with that skull tattoo on his neck, parading it around as if he was a gift from God to this world.
More of a curse from the devil.
A familiar feeling of disgust and hatred swirled in his mind as memories of Vietnam came back to him.
"Sergeant Jim Hopper. And he's a police chief now. In a small town in the middle of nowhere." Pierce continued his drawling observation, somehow sounding like he knew much more than that.
Jim Hopper immediately stood up and drew himself at full height and at the same time restrained himself from punching the son of a bitch in the face.
"Donald Pierce," Jim slightly sneered, looking down at the blonde-haired man. "Thought shitheads like yourselves don't go to small towns in the middle of nowhere." He made sure the smoke he exhaled went over Pierce's face.
Pierce ignored it and laughed as if they were some old high school friends. Jim knew he was faking it.
"Now, now Jimmy is that any way to greet an old war comrade." Pierce tutted as he took off his sunglasses.
"The only thing you deserve is my foot up your ass. If a weren't a bigger man I would have decked right here." Jim growled.
Pierce showed no signs of fear. Only that smug smirk, that to those who didn't know him, hid the cruelty in him.
"That's funny. A bigger man." He gestured at Jim.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Jim ignored that and went straight for the questioning.
"Why I just came to visit Larry Kline. You know he's an old friend of mine." Pierce toothily smiled.
"Yeah, like you are friends with a mayor. Last time I heard you said all politicians deserved to be burned." Jim countered.
Pierce mock gasped. He even put a hand on his chest. "Did I? Well, people change Jimmy boy, like yourself. Noticed you got a bit older," he gestured at his hair which has started to get a bit grey, "and…rounder around the waist." Pierce looked down with mock concern.
Jim resisted the urge to throttle the bastard. He also ignored that thinly veiled insult.
"So, Donald, what is it you do for a living? Being an asshole of course, from what I heard, can't get you many job opportunities." He commented.
Pierce chuckled. He shook his head.
"You hurt me, Hopper."
"Not enough in my opinion, Pierce."
Pierce tutted. "Well, I have a few side jobs here and there. Representing this big, fancy, company as of matter of fact." He bragged.
"Oh really? What kinda company?" Hopper inquired, pretending not to be interested.
If Pierce was behind what happened last night- no no, not if. Definitely is.
"Woah look at you, real good old detective. Funny, the last time I heard you was in New York City."
Jim stilled his breathing and the growing rage inside him.
"Then suddenly I hear you're here, in Hawkins. I wonder what happened." Pierce smiled.
Jim didn't say anything. His hand just simply slid up at his right side, where his revolver was.
Pierce looked down and his smile disappeared.
"Now, now Hopper there's no need for that. Tell you what," Pierce produced from his jeans a card and presented it to him, "if you see anything…suspicious going around, you let me know. The last thing we need, we and the good people of Hawkins, is some trouble."
The last thing we need. Those were the words Dustin overheard on the radio.
Jim was sorely tempted to shoot the son of a bitch right here. But he needed to play his cards well. He hesitantly took the card.
Jim looked at the description.
Alkali-Transigen
Donald Pierce
Chief of Security
"Alkali-Transigen?" Jim repeated out loud.
"Ah, spoiler alert. It ain't official yet, but we're gonna a merger with this Japanese company. It's good for business." Pierce boasted.
"Who the hell would put you in charge of security?" Jim asked him.
"Why not? I am a man of many talents, Hopper. You know I am; you saw it yourself in 'Nam." Pierce reminded him as he smiled again.
"Yeah…I saw." Jim slightly growled, memories of the war flashing in his mind, as well as maniacal laughter.
Further conversation (and escalation) were stopped when Candice appeared in the hallway.
"Chief Hopper?" both men turned to look at her. "Mayor Kline will see you now." She said sweetly.
Jim nodded as Candice went back to her desk.
Pierce whistled. "Well well, now wonder Larry hired her. I would like her to be my secretary as well." He suggested.
Jim said nothing as he made a mental note to make sure Joyce or Nancy or any female, in general, stays the hell away from him.
"Well," Pierce put his sunglasses back on, "time to head back to work." He locked eyes with Jim and smiled. "It was good seeing you again…Sergeant. Let me know if you see anything…odd."
Jim sucked in a breath and said nothing. The bastard still smiled.
"Good talk," he says as he goes out the front door.
Jim never took his eyes off him. He suddenly recalled his talk with El when he told her about Vietnam. He hadn't told her everything, only the basic and somewhat good memories.
Not Pierce. Not Agent Orange.
Jim closed his eyes and tried to control himself, because he found himself breathing harshly, clutching his police hat.
Nevertheless, he knew he's going to have to tell the others. To warn them. Because he has found the bad guy.
Transigen. A pharmaceutical company.
The one who gave the orders.
Donald Pierce. Chief of Security.
The only thing that remains is their reason and their target. He will get to a bottom of it.
Having regained control over himself, Jim Hopper breathed in and out, and then put the card in his pocket, and went to see Larry Kline. He started to mentally prepare himself for a talk with Larry. And how to go on with his investigation.
It was going to be a long day.
Joyce was currently sitting and fumbling around the cash register, trying to occupy her mind by counting the money. She checked the stock, relabelled the prices, and tried to straighten the giant sign for the discount she put up yesterday but gave up halfway.
Joyce sighed. Despite everything she simply couldn't think of anything else. Images of William, Kathryn, and Nathan swirled in her mind ever since last night.
Good people. Dead.
Joyce covered her face with her hands and breathed in and out. This was supposed to be over. No monsters. No Upside Down. No government conspiracy. She wasn't even sure if it was a government conspiracy.
She was still cross with Hopper. And angry. Angry at not calling Owens. There was a reason they had the ability to contact him in the first place. If any of this ever happened again. To prevent a disaster. Just yesterday she had a refreshingly normal conversation with Jim. About problems with Eleven and Mike. Trouble he had with him being a father again. And now…
Joyce stopped the counting, deposited the money, and closed the cash register. She got up and started to absentmindedly walk around Melvad's.
A vivid memory came to her…
Joyce was frantic. After managing to finally get in contact with her sweet little boy, she was restless. She didn't know what to do. She just waited, sitting on her chair and waiting for her boy to contact her again.
All of a sudden, there was a knock, jolting her out of her restlessness.
Joyce got up quickly and came to the door and opened it. She was greeted by a friendly face Kathryn Munson.
"Kathryn?" she said, confused.
"Morning Joyce. I hope I am not interrupting, but I came here hoping we can talk." Kathryn replied politely. Joyce noticed she was holding something in her hands. From the looks of it, it was probably her pie.
"Oh, oh right, right, come in." Joyce allowed her in.
"Thank you I-" she stopped when she noticed the Christmas lights. "Um, are you, I mean it's not Christmas yet." She said politely.
"Ohm those are for…um for comfort. It it reminds me of the time when had Christmas at my old home. I'm sorry." Joyce explained, lying about their true purpose.
"No, no it's okay. You found your own way in dealing with this." Kathryn sighed. "I know I would probably do the same if Nathan… went missing." She delicately said, her face compassionate.
Joyce just nodded, having no words for this.
"I just…I just worry. If my boy is-" she tried to say, emotions and stress pilling on top of her like snow in winter. She nearly started to cry.
"Hey, hey it's okay, it's okay. I'm sure they're going to find him." Kathryn put her pie down on the kitchen table and went to give Joyce a comforting hug. It felt…reassuring.
"I'm sorry." She apologized; her voice shaky.
"It's okay. It's okay." Kathryn soothed.
"Oh, Kathryn. You and William and Nathan didn't deserve this. Didn't deserve any of this." Joyce whispered and began to sob. She was glad the convenience store was empty. Nobody needed to see this.
Joyce didn't pay attention to where she was going when she suddenly crunched on something beneath her feet.
She looked down and removed her foot. Did she stomp on a…magnet?
As in matter of fact, there were several magnets littered on the floor. All fruit shaped. The kind of magnets that are supposed to stick.
Wiping her tears, she crouched down and picked up one in a shape of a pineapple. Joyce put the magnet on the wall and watched as it did not stick and just fell down.
"What the…?" she murmured picking up another magnet in the shape of banana and watching it fall once again.
She stared at them intently.
This can't be a coincidence. Yesterday. Then again this morning. And now this.
Joyce's mind then went over the reasons why she did hang those Christmas lights. And then when the kids told her about the compass.
Deciding, Joyce got up, went outside, closed Melvad's, flipped over the closed sign, and went to her car. It didn't matter, Starcourt already attracted all the customers, and she doubted her boss would be mad at her.
Because she needed to figure something out. Something that has happened before.
Joyce entered her car, ignited it, and headed in the direction of the library.
She didn't care what kinda plans Hopper had, she already managed to figure out a few mysteries on her own, what is one more? And if it is connected to what happened yesterday…well they will get the sense of what the hell is happening in Hawkins. Again.
The only comfort she had was that at least she and her kids weren't targeted anymore. For now.
Hello everyone. First of all I would like to apologize to everyone for being late. Lots of things have happened, in private and on my job which prevented me from writing.
I have also split this chapter into two parts because it was becoming too long and I didnt want to make you wait any further.
Just saw the first volume of Season 4 and I am glad they brought back the horror elements of the story. I will also try to post the second part somewhere after the second volume.
I will address some changes I made in the second part.
A guest has asked will Logan and Charles appear. Well...we will see.
That is all, see you soon. ;)
