Summary: Benjamin Rosales-Hopper never expected much from the small town of Hawkins. A small group of friends, persistent bullies, and former unrequited crushes were all the classic staples of what he believed would make up the rest of his high school life. However, when Will Byers disappears and strange dreams invade Ben's sleep one November night, he and his friends realize that something dark lays behind its tranquil exterior.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Male OC

Changes to Character(s): N/A

Spoilers To: Stranger Things (S1-S4)

Type of Story: Chapter-Filled

"So . . . you're like a superhero now?"

Ben wasn't sure how he expected his friends to react to his newly found abilities, but he wasn't expecting them to be so calm. After the slip up in the darkroom, the teens decided to move from the school to Jonathan's car; the awaiting conversation was too important to be held in such a public place.

Nancy and Jonathan remained silent as he told them about the dream, his power, and the coincidental timing of Barb's and Will's disappearance. Their faces remained blank the entire time, only showing some emotion when he summoned the glowing weapon back into his hand. Once he finished, Ben was surprised to hear the question come out of Jonathan's mouth—fully expecting a different response.

"I-I suppose?"

Nancy, who turned to face him from the passenger seat, was next to speak. "Why haven't you told anyone about this? About Barb?"

"Until we saw the pictures, it was just a theory, and I didn't think anyone was going to believe a monster was roaming Hawkins," Ben said, shifting nervously in the backseat. "Plus, if I showed anyone what I can do . . . I've seen plenty of movies to know it wouldn't be a good idea."

The car was silent.

"You guys are surprisingly okay with this," Ben pointed out, confusion clear in his voice. "Are you guys okay?"

"After learning about the monster from you and Ms. Byers," Nancy answered, waving the newly made picture, "this seems a little easier to swallow."

"Can you show us again?" Jonathan asked.

Closing his eyes, Ben focused his thoughts until he felt the cool surface of the knife in his hand. Seeing Jonathan reach for it from the driver's seat, he carefully placed the shimmering object in his palm. He wasn't sure if it would survive long without his touch, but the light remained strong as the other boy inspected it—twisting it in his hands.

Nancy leaned over it, a mixture of awe and confusion on her face. "What can it do?"

Ben shrugged. "Not sure. I've only managed to summon it so far."

"You said the light scared it off, right?" Jonathan continued her thoughts, handing Nancy the dagger. "It could be its weakness."

"Maybe? I know as much as you two do. I don't know my power's limits or its capabilities. I-I might have more abilities than just this."

"Your nose is bleeding," Nancy said, concerned.

"Oh," Ben uttered, wiping his nose with his sleeve. He should really start carrying tissues around. "Yeah, that happens every time."

When his friends didn't say anything, Ben decided to drop his concentration on the light, earning a gasp from Nancy when the dagger dispersed into nothingness. He rubbed his arms as a sudden chill overtook him. "What do we do now?"

Nancy was the first to speak. "I don't know. This is all just so . . . crazy."

"Tell me about it," Ben muttered, "and I'm the one with the powers."

"Monsters in Hawkins" she uttered. "Kids with powers. Multiple disappearance. It's almost like we're in—"

"—one of Will's comic books," Jonathan finished. He furrowed his eyebrows, taking a second to debate whatever thought he had. "I might have an idea."

After promising to regroup the next day, Ben and Nancy got into the latter's car and made their way to the Wheeler residence. Feeling drained from today's events, they made their way up the stairs to her room when he heard someone call his name.

Telling Nancy he would see her in a few, he headed towards the kitchen where Mrs. Wheeler was standing by the stove, steam floating from a hot pan. It was easy to see where his best friend got her looks; they had the same brown hair, similar face shape. He could even see they shared certain aspects of their personality—both being a fighter at heart. Just like Ben and his dad, Nancy was an extension of her mother.

Ben knocked on the kitchen island to let her know he had arrived. "Hey, Mrs. Wheeler. You called?"

"Hi, sweetheart," Mrs. Wheeler greeted, switching off the stove. After moving the pan onto a cooler surface, she turned around and gave him a concerned smile. "How've you been?"

"Good," he blurted out, wincing at his rushed response. "I mean, as good as I can be."

She nodded in understanding. "Your dad called. He's going to be out late, and he asked if you could stay overnight. Of course, with everything going on, I told him that you're more than welcome to."

A pit appeared in his stomach. "Is everything okay?"

"He didn't go into too much detail," Karen admitted, "but I'm sure everything is fine. If you want, you can sleep in Mike's room tonight, but the couch is also an option."

"I don't want to be a bother," he said. "I'll be okay by myself."

"Don't be silly. We'd love to have you. Right, Ted?"

Ben turned to see Mr. Wheeler standing behind him, his hand stretched out towards the refrigerator. For a moment, the older man looked annoyed; he was unmistakably hoping to get in and get out of the room without being noticed. He dropped his arm back to his side, turning his attention to them with indifference.

"Of course," Nancy's dad said, his voice monotone. "Who wouldn't love to have another teenager in their house." Having said his piece, Ted grabbed a drink from the fridge and exited the kitchen without a second glance.

Karen shook her head in frustration. "I'm always happy to have you here, Ben."

"Thanks," the teen muttered. He looked down at the ground for a moment before shyly voicing his thoughts. "Um, tomorrow is Will's funeral. I-I need to get my suit from my trailer."

"We'll pass by after dinner," Mrs. Wheeler assured, grabbing some plates and glasses from a cabinet. "Hungry?"

"Starving."

"Good, I made my world-famous goulash for tonight," she said. "I'm about to set everything up. Do you mind getting Mike and Nancy? I think Mike might be in the basement."

"Will do," he said, giving her a playful salute as he headed towards the basement.

As Ben opened the cellar door and descended into the dimly lit space, he heard some scuffling from one of the corners, his view blocked by the walls. He was about halfway down the stairs when the boy he was searching for stopped him..

"What are you doing here?" Mike asked, his brown eyes wide with alarm. "You can't be down here."

"I'm staying over tonight, and your mom sent me to get you," he explained, leaning down to try and catch a glimpse of the room. "Food's done. I-Is something wrong?"

Seeing his curiosity, Mike pushed him back up toward the ground floor. "I'm working on some campaign stuff. It's not ready yet. I'll join you guys when I'm done."

"Okay, okay," Ben said, placing his hand on the doorway. "But your mom—"

The preteen slammed the door shut, nearly catching his fingers. The teen stared at the door, too in shock to do anything else. He had never seen Mike act like this before . . . What the hell just happened?

Crazy kid, Ben thought as he shook his head and made his way up the stairs. I'm for sure taking the couch.

• - • - • - •

The next morning, Ben woke up to the tense atmosphere that enveloped the Wheeler's home. Nancy's parents were quiet during breakfast, unsure of what to say to them besides a couple of soft-spoken phrases. Mike stayed his usual self, stubborn and blunt, which Ben found a little odd, but he couldn't fully judge. He was the same way when Sara died—unable to accept the tragedy that had befallen his family.

Nancy appeared to share the same feelings of apprehensiveness, but the teen knew better. Today would be an act, an act for someone who may not truly be dead.

The funeral was going to start soon, stirring a lot of complicated emotion in Ben's heart. As he fixed his suit, he felt a yearning to call his dad—wanting a familiar presence to comfort him in such a vulnerable time. In the end, he decided not to. Hopper was already on edge with his case; he didn't need to add his son's worry to the list.

Once he finished dressing up, he walked out of the second floor bathroom and went in search of the patriarch of the household.

"Ah! Dad, you're—you're choking me," Mike complained, tugging at the tie his dad had placed around his neck. Standing in front of a mirror, the two Wheeler boys were dressed in finely pressed blazers, the black material shining in the daylight.

"Ah, there," Mr. Wheeler said after fixing his collar. "It's supposed to be a little tight. Looks good."

Ben gently knocked on the doorway, catching the duo's attention.

"I just wanted to thank you for the tie, Mr. Wheeler," he said. He had forgotten his in his trailer and had reluctantly asked the older man for one—much to the father's chagrin. "I really appreciate it. I'll make sure to bring it back unharmed."

Ted nodded, a frown on his face. "Just don't get it dirty."

The teen didn't take the response personally. Nancy's dad wasn't a social man and had little patience for others around his children's age. Ben had never seen him crack a smile in the entirety of his friendship with his daughter. Feeling the exact way about the older man, he decided that he was fine with keeping his distance.

So, when he sensed the not-so-subtle dismissal, the sophomore boy left the house's upper-level to wait for everyone else to finish—hearing Nancy and her mother talking in her room as he passed by.

The next hour was a collection of murmurs and passing figures, his mind disconnecting from the bleakness of the situation. He could remember the silence during the drive to the funeral, the depth of the officiant's voice. His brain was confused by the dark clothing and mourning visitors; his past and present coming together in flashes. Sara would cross his mind as he walked through the world like a robot, expressing programmed words and mimicked emotions.

It wasn't until the end of the ceremony that his thoughts settled. They were standing on the cemetery plot when Mrs. Wheeler had gently ushered him forward, handing him a yellow rose. He stepped towards the hovering casket that supposedly held Will's body, ready to be lowered and buried into earth. He inched towards the wooden box and let out a sigh. With a trembling hand, he dropped the flower and hurried away.

Ben nearly stumbled when he caught sight of Lonnie, sitting comfortably on a nearby bench with Joyce and Jonathan. As far as he knew, the man was still in Indianapolis and hadn't had any contact with the Byers in over a year. If he was here, he clearly wanted something. With a bewildered glance at Jonathan, he detached himself from the crowd and stood by a gated gravestone in the distance.

It didn't take long before Jonathan approached him.

"What the hell is your dad doing here?" Ben spat as the other boy joined him.

"I don't know," Jonathan uttered in displeasure. Plopping on the ground, he sat against the grave's iron bars. "He says he's concerned about us."

Ben scoffed, taking the spot next to him. It didn't take a genius to know that Lonnie didn't like his children unless he could mold them to his image, forcing them to like the things he enjoyed and yelling at them when they didn't. "Bullshit."

"What's bullshit?" Nancy asked, settling beside them.

"That fucking—" Ben started but stopped when Jonathan tiredly shook his head at him, switching tactics at the last minute. "What did your mom say?"

"She thinks we're taking Jonathan out to decompress," she says. Church bells began to toll behind them, announcing the end of the service "Why are we here?"

Jonathan pulled out a map of the town from his suit, the page marked by three red X's. "After it attacked Ben near Lover's Lake, it seems to have claimed its territory. This is where we know for sure it's been, right? So, that's . . . Steve's house." He pointed to the mark on the left. "And that's the woods where they found Will's bike and . . . that's my house."

"It's all so close," Nance muttered as she inspected the paper.

"Yeah. Exactly," the Byers boy said, catching her eyes. "I mean, it's all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it's-it's not traveling far."

"It's all woods there," Ben pointed out. "Full of plants and animals. Not only is it a perfect place to hide, but it's the perfect hunting ground."

Nancy looked at Jonathan in realization. "You want to go out there."

"Are you insane?" Ben shouted. "Why do you—?

"We might not find anything," Jonathan said, ignoring his outburst. He stared at Nancy, her expression matching his. It was clear that Ben's thoughts wouldn't sway them from whatever plan they were going to hatch.

"We found something," she said. "And if we do see it, then what?"

Johnathon sighed. "We kill it."

"Woah, woah, woah," Ben interjected. "We are talking about a seven-foot-tall alien thing with razor sharp teeth! What can we do against something like that?"

"We aren't going unarmed," the other boy argued. "Come on."

Jonathan quickly pushed himself off the ground, making his way towards the cemetery's parking lot. With a quick glance at one another, Ben and Nancy ran after him and found him next to a black 1972 Oldsmobile. The Byers boy opened the passenger door and took out a switchblade from his pocket before jamming it into the keyhole of the car's glove compartment.

"What are you doing?" Nancy asked him, looking around for any passersby.

"Just give me a second" was all Jonathan said.

Ben inspected the car, hearing a successful click coming from the glovebox. "Wait, isn't this Lonnie's car?"

"This is your dad's car?" Wheeler said in alarm. Her expression darkened when Jonathan pulled out a gun, checking the chamber before switching it out for a box of bullets. "Are you serious?

"What?" he asked sarcastically. He stuffed the box inside his pocket and grabbed the rest of the stuff before stepping out of the car. "You want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it? "

Nancy crossed her arms. "This is a terrible idea."

"Yeah, well, it's the best we've got," Jonathan continued, hiding the gun and an extra case. "What? You can tell someone, but they're not gonna believe you. You know that."

"Your mom would," she insisted.

"She's been through enough."

"She deserves to know."

"Yeah, and I'll tell her," he told her, his eyes darkening. "When this thing is dead."

• - • - • - •

"What if I told my dad?"

After going to both of their houses (where Ben found his dad sleeping peacefully on their couch) and changing into new sets of clothes, Jonathan and Ben found themselves in the middle of the Hoppers' shooting range, preparing the patch of land for practice. They removed the two targets from their spots and placed a couple of empty beer cans they had collected on the three small stumps that stood behind them, deciding they needed to be as accurate as possible if they were to enact their plan.

Nancy had gone home to collect whatever weapon and clothes she could get from her house. Following the same train of thought, Ben had uncovered a hunting rifle he had stuffed in one of the trees on their property. Jonathan had questioned it when he came back to the open area—saying that his daggers were just a thought away—but he didn't want to risk the mission by simply relying on his very amateur abilities.

"He would believe me," Ben continued, summoning the light. He gently waved his fingers to make the shine dance. "I have enough evidence to prove it. The picture, my powers . . ."

Jonathan shook his head. "He would stop us from searching. You already saw how determined he was to keep you away from Will's case."

He did have a point.

"It's still risky," Ben said, shaking away the light. He saw the other boy raising his gun to aim at the cans. "Are we sure we can do this?"

His question was answered when his friend shot six rounds from his pistol, each shot missing their intended target. Sighing in disappointment, Jonathan dropped his arms and stared at the cans.

Ben was about to offer the boy some comfort when a voice echoed across the field.

"You're supposed to hit the cans, right?" Nancy teased, approaching them with a baseball bat and her bag in hand.

"No, actually, you see the spaces in between the cans?" Jonathan said, pointing at the stumps. "I'm aiming for those."

"Ah."

Ben shook his head in amusement, slinging the rifle off his back. "He just needs some practice. He'll be a pro in no time."

"You ever shot a gun before?" Jonathan asked Nancy, emptying the chamber.

She scoffed. "Have you met my parents?"

Despite Mr. Wheeler's clear position on gun ownership, Nancy's family had prohibited themselves from owning one of their own. Ben nearly snorted at the thought of the old man wielding a weapon, imagining him falling over with a single shot.

"Yeah, I haven't shot one since I was ten," Jonathan told her, digging around his pockets for bullets. "My dad took me hunting on my birthday. He made me kill a rabbit."

"A rabbit?" she asked.

"Yeah. I guess he thought it would make me into more of a man or something," he explained. "I cried for a week."

The brunette girl raised her eyebrow at the thought. "Jesus."

"What?" Jonathan jokingly questioned with a smile. "I'm a fan of Thumper."

"I meant your dad," Nancy chuckled.

"If you think that's bad," Ben said, taking aim. He pulled the rifle trigger and successfully knocked a can over. It looks like his dad's training was still ingrained in him. Maybe he should practice with the dagger. "That's probably the least traumatic thing he's done."

Strapping the gun back on his back, Ben flexed his hand in preparation and summoned a dagger. He rotated the cool object in his hands, pondering for a moment before throwing it across the field. The dagger flew across the air and missed the stumps, sticking into the ground several feet behind it. "Damn it."

"Yeah," Jon sighed. "I guess he and my mother loved each other at some point, but"—he cocked the gun—"I wasn't around for that part." Nancy held out her hand, making the boy stop in surprise before he gave up the weapon. "Um, yeah. Just, uh, point and shoot."

"I don't think my parents ever loved each other." the Wheeler girl confessed, fixing her stance.

"They must've married for some reason." Jonathan said

"My mom was young," Nancy explained. "My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So, they bought a nice house at the end of the cul-de-sac . . . and started their nuclear family."

Ben thought of his parents. There weren't many examples of love in his life; he never knew his biological parents, and he only had a handful of memories of his aunt and uncle. His one true example of it was Jim and Diane Hopper, two twenty-something-year-olds that met one fateful night at a rundown bar.

He summoned another knife, staring down at the remaining two cans. They cared for each other once, sometimes acting like teenagers in love, but the loss of their only daughter had destroyed them, tearing at their already fragile edges. Movie dates and laughter turned to tear-filled photo albums and screaming matches.

The divorce was a messy and terrible ordeal, the terms constantly changed and voided as they fought for the remnants of their marriage—laced all in fresh pain and misery. Ben remembered crying himself to sleep to the sound of his parents' arguments, always stuck in the middle of it all.

Ben threw the dagger and managed to stick it at the base of the wood. A little better, he thought as he summoned another one, blood dripping from his nose. Fuck, I forgot to bring tissues.

"Screw that," Jonathan said to her.

"Yeah," Nancy muttered, concentrating on the targets. "Screw that."

She pulled the trigger, and a loud bang rang out across the field. Where a can used to be, emptiness now occupied its place. Damn, she's good.

Once the shock wore out, Ben let out a groan of realization and lowered his arm. "Hey, I was aiming for that one."

His friends chuckled.

• - • - • - •

The woods looked a lot smaller on paper.

Starting where Will's bike was found, the three teenagers marched their way through the greenery and searched for any signs of the monster. It didn't take long for them to realize that, if it had been around recently, it hadn't left much of a trail. With nothing to lead them in a particular direction, they decided to wander around in hopes of finding something, anything.

After their practice session, they decided that Nancy would take charge of the gun, seeing that she was a prodigy from the first shot, and traded her baseball bat with Jonathon. Ben hadn't had much luck with the daggers and comfortably settled for his rifle.

"You never said what I was saying," Nancy commented to Jonathan, clearly bored from the lack of progress.

"What?" Byers asked.

"Yesterday," she explained, carefully walking over broken branches. "You said I was saying something and that's why you took my picture."

"Oh, you better tread carefully, Byers," Ben warned him under his breath. His eyes glanced at the gun in the girl's gloved hand. "One wrong word . . ."

"Oh, uh," Jon began, "I don't know. My guess . . . I saw this girl, you know, trying to be someone else. But for that moment . . . it was like you were alone, or you thought you were. And, you know, you could just be yourself."

Nancy paused. "That is such bullshit."

Oh, he fucked up.

"What?" Jonathan said in surprise, stopping in his path.

"I am not trying to be someone else," she defended, turning around to face him. "Just because I'm dating Steve and you don't like him—"

"You know what? Forget it," Jonathon said in exasperation, marching away from her. "I just thought it was a good picture."

Nancy was quick to follow. "He's actually a good guy."

"Okay," he scoffed.

"Isn't he, Ben?" the girl asked him, turning to face him. She saw his sheepish expression and asked him again. "Ben."

"I would rather not get involved in this," Ben responded, shaking his head. As he struggled to catch up, he felt his power flicker at his fingertips. The atmosphere was becoming too intense, and the light inside him seemed to know it.

"Okay," Jonathon stammered.

"Yesterday, with the camera," she started, searching for the right defense. "He's not like that at all. He was just being protective."

"Yeah, that's one word for it," the Byers boy spat, stomping ahead.

Nancy stared at him in disbelief. "Oh, and I guess what you did was okay?".

"No, I-I never said that."

"He had every right to be pissed—"

"Okay, all right." Jonathon shouted in frustration, tightening his grip on his bat. "Does that mean I have to like him?"

"No," Nancy resigned, furrowing her eyebrows.

Ben stood between them, carefully using his arms to distance them. "Guys, I don't think we should be having this conversation right n—"

"Listen, don't take it so personally, okay?" Jonathon interrupted. "I don't like most people. He's in the vast majority."

"You know," Wheeler said, her tone sour, "I was actually starting to think that you were okay."

"Yeah?"

Ben tried to intervene again; sparks crackling in his palms. "Hey, hey. Look, it's been a long day, but if we take a couple deep breathes—"

"Yeah," Nancy continued. "Yeah, I was thinking, 'Jonathan Byers, maybe he's not the pretentious creep everyone says he is.'"

"Well, I was just starting to think you were okay," the other boy lashed angrily, walking up to her.

Nancy shook her head. "Oh."

"I was thinking, 'Nancy Wheeler, she's not just another suburban girl who thinks she's rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does . . . until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and they live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of a cul-de-sac. Exactly like their parents, who they thought were so depressing, but now, hey, they get it.'"

With a final scoff, Jonathon walked away.

Nancy sneered and glared at his back, turning to Ben. "Can you believe him?"

Before he could even answer, his best friend stomped behind the other boy. Ben shook his head and followed. Why do I even bother?

• - • - • - •

By the time Ben heard something, night had fallen over the town of Hawkins.

Not much had changed since the argument. For most of their investigation, they had remained silent, allowing the chirps of birds and crickets to do most of the talking. He would occasionally catch Nancy glaring at the Byers boy, her attitude only fueling the occasional grumblings that would spew from Jonathon; it was only spite that kept the group together. However, tired from walking and his friend's emotional rollercoaster, Ben was ready to stop for the day.

That's when he heard it.

He wouldn't have noticed it at first, his thoughts distracted by the idea of a shower, when suddenly . . . there! He turned towards the direction of the cry, the indistinct whimper piercing the air with pain and misery. The sounds were unfamiliar, different from the monster he faced, but that didn't mean they were in the clear.

"Nance," Ben whispered as fear dug into his bones. "Do you hear that?"

Nancy stopped in her tracks, tilting her head in concentration. The cry echoed throughout the trees once again—loud and gut-wrenching. Her brows furrowed in concern. Seeing their lack of movement, Jonathon spun around to face them; annoyance etched into his features.

"What, are you tired?" the other boy jeered, his eyes landing on the brunette girl.

"Shut up," Ben and Nancy said in unison.

"What?"

"We heard something," Nancy quickly explained.

It didn't take long before they found themselves fumbling through the woods, using the noise to guide them through the never-ending forest. They followed the whimpers until they came upon a desolate sight.

Ben stumbled to a stop. "Holy fuck."

An injured deer was on the ground, its matted, dirty hide stained by the blood leaking from its neck. Pained and fear filled its dark eyes as the teens approached, calling out into the woods as they bent down next to it. Ben felt a twinge of sadness. It was all alone. No one was around to help it, no one to give it mercy.

Nancy gasped at the sight. "Oh, God."

The deer bleated out as she reached out to touch it, making Jonathan sigh.

"It's been hit by a car," she analyzed. She gently smoothed its brown hair before sitting back, her expression full of sorrow. "We can't just leave it." Nancy glanced at the gun in her hand and reluctantly pointed at the animal before her, her lips quivering as she fixed her aim.

Seeing her hesitation, Jonathon motioned at the gun with a grimace. "I'll do it. "

"I thought you said—"

"I'm not nine anymore," he let out.

Once she handed it over, they all stood up and took a step back. Jonathon sighed before cocking the gun in his hand. His breath became heavy, and Ben suspected he was envisioning the rabbit—his father's words haunting him once more.

Ben knew he should have volunteered to make the shot. He'd gone hunting with his dad before and was taught to make peace with his kills, but this was different. From a distance, the sophomore was quick and merciful while shooting, never too attached to his targets. He's never had to look his prey in the eye as he took their life.

They waited for a shot to fire, for the deer's pain to finally end, but before they could do anything, the deer was suddenly yanked away.

The three of them gasped, jumping back in shock.

"What was that?" Nancy wheezed.

Ben felt his hand shine with light, illuminating their panicked faces. He rolled his shoulders and tightened his grip on his rifle, staring at the crimson path the deer had left behind. "I think we found the monster."

They followed the trail of blood, going deeper and deeper into the woods. Jonathon kept his flashlight on the nearby trees, Lonnie's gun firm in his hand. Ben summoned multiple daggas they moved, throwing them in front of them to light up the area ahead while Nancy guided them.

Soon, they found themselves at the end of the blood trail.

"Where'd it go?" Wheeler uttered, whipping her head around nervously.

"I don't know," Jonathon answered. "Do you see any more blood?"

"No."

"It's like it vanished into thin air," Ben whispered.

Deciding to step further into the unlit space, the Hopper boy inspected every leaf and branch with his powers. It couldn't have just disappeared. Or maybe it could? They didn't find anything at Steve's, so why should they expect anything different? A few moments later, Ben found drops of blood on a leaf, nearly missing it in the dark. The teen approached it, sensing Nancy right behind him.

He found more splotches of red that eventually lead Ben to a mysterious tree, its trunk hollowed out. Weird, thick liquid dripped from the edges of the entrance, mixing together with the blood that decorated its walls. This is where it went, where it took Barb and Will.

It was looks like a rabbit hole to a fucked up Wonderland.

Nancy got closer, dropping her bag as she got on her knees to inspect the wood. Looking behind her, she shouted, "Jonathan?"

Ben turned, expecting to see the brown-haired boy but was met with empty space. He must've gone in the opposite direction. "Let's go find him. We don't want to be separated if we have to face this thing."

"We're going to lose it."

"Better to be safe than sorry. Come on—" But she was gone, her shoes disappearing into the crevice of the tree.

Why won't anyone listen to me? he thought, strapping his rifle across his back. He wasn't going to let her be by herself.

Dropping on all fours, Ben squeezed his way through the roughly made cavity, trying to ignore the foul-smelling goo overwhelmed his nose. He groaned at the sensation under his hands as he pushed through the slimy, blood-covered roots that blocked his path. Once he reached the other side of the tree, he took a deep breath to clear his lungs, but the air was just as bad—smelling of rot and decay.

"Nancy!" he shouted, wiping his face with his shirt. "Where are you?"

The world had changed all around him. He recognized the forest, the same one he left moments ago, but the trees were covered in twisted dark vines and globs of milk white film. The air was filled with floating spores that made his throat itch. A different kind of darkness took place here, strange and eerie. It was as if he had stepped through a portal to another planet.

"Nance!"

He saw her figure standing a few feet away, standing still as he approached her. He placed his hand on her shoulder, startling her so much that she jumped. "There you are." Before he could say anything else, she covered his mouth—her eyes wide with fear. Suddenly, he became aware of the sound of chewing, terrible, terrible chewing.

What stood before them was a scene straight out of a horror movie.

The monster was hunched over on the ground, gnawing hungrily at the poor deer they had found earlier. Its bony back blocked most of the gruesome details, but the crunching of bones and the tearing of flesh was enough to paint the picture. He knew the sound was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Come on," Ben whispered, grabbing her arm. "Before it sees us."

Nancy nodded, taking a couple of steps back . . . Snap!

The splintering twig was enough to catch its attention. The monster turned, a dreadful screech escaping its blood-filled mouth.

"Nancy, run!"