The fluorescent lights overhead flickered faintly as Dove, Steve, and Dustin made their way down the aisles of the grocery store. It was the middle of the day, the sun shining brightly outside, but inside the store, the air felt cool and sterile, like time had frozen. Steve pushed the shopping cart ahead of them, his brow furrowed with a mix of concentration and frustration. The cart's wheels squeaked with every turn, but he didn't seem to notice. Dustin, on the other hand, moved with purpose, darting from one refrigerator section to another, grabbing packs of raw meat with little regard for how much they were getting.

"Stick to red meat," Dustin muttered, half to himself as he loaded the cart with ground beef, steaks, and stew meat.

Steve shook his head, watching Dustin toss in another pack of steaks. "What are we feeding, a monster or a king?" he muttered, though there was no real malice in his tone. It was clear he was just along for the ride, doing his best to keep up with whatever insane plan Dustin and Dove had concocted.

Dove followed behind, quieter than usual, her eyes scanning the meat-packed cart and the odd looks they were starting to attract from other customers. It wasn't every day you saw three teenagers buying enough raw meat to fill a large freezer. She shot Steve a glance as he pushed the cart, his hands gripping the handle a little tighter than necessary. They were all on edge. It wasn't just the strangeness of the situation—it was everything.

"You sure this is going to work?" Dove finally asked, her voice low as they moved toward the checkout.

Dustin shrugged, his expression oddly confident for someone preparing to face down a creature from another dimension. "It worked last time.. kinda."

They arrived at the checkout line, and the cashier—a woman in her mid-forties with graying hair and glasses perched low on her nose—eyed them suspiciously as she started scanning the items. Her fingers moved methodically over the barcodes, her brow furrowing deeper with every pack of meat that slid across the scanner.

"That's a lot of meat," she remarked, glancing up at Steve.

Steve gave a tight-lipped smile, clearly uncomfortable. "Uh, yeah. Big barbecue," he mumbled.

The cashier's raised eyebrow told them she didn't buy it, but she didn't push for details. The total rang up on the register, an eye-popping number that made Steve wince as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his dad's credit card. He swiped it quickly, avoiding eye contact with the cashier as she bagged their haul.

"Thanks," Steve muttered as they gathered the bags and hurried out of the store.

Once they loaded the meat into the trunk of Steve's BMW, the three of them piled into the car and drove in tense silence. Dustin sat in the back, his hands wrapped tightly around his walkie-talkie, while Dove stared out the window, watching the familiar Hawkins streets blur past.

But instead of heading straight to the junkyard, Steve veered off toward the old railroad tracks a few miles out of town. The tracks, overgrown with weeds and abandoned for years, were the perfect spot for what they had planned. They needed to lure Dart to the junkyard, and what better way than a trail of raw meat?

Steve parked the car near the tracks, the tires crunching over gravel as they came to a stop. The smell of gasoline and rust filled the air as they climbed out, the sun now high overhead.

"All right, let's get to it," Steve muttered as he popped the trunk, revealing the buckets of raw meat and gasoline cans they'd gathered. He handed one bucket to Dove and another to Dustin, grabbing one for himself before glancing around them.

As they unloaded, the silence was broken by the crackle of Dustin's walkie-talkie.

"Dustin! This is Lucas. Do you copy?"

Dustin's head snapped up, and he quickly set his bucket down to answer. "Hold on!" he called out, stepping a few paces away to answer the call.

Dove and Steve stood alone by the car, the awkward silence stretching between them. Dove shifted on her feet, her grip tightening on the bucket of meat. An unspoken tension had hung in the air since last night, and now, with no distractions, it was harder to ignore.

Finally, Dove broke the silence. "So, you and Nancy, huh? You back together?" She kept her voice casual, but she couldn't shake the curiosity nagging at her.

Steve's reaction was immediate. "No," he said, a little too forcefully. He hesitated, then added, "I mean, no, we're not."

Dove raised an eyebrow. "Oh. I just figured.. with the flowers and all."

Steve let out a sigh, his expression softening as he ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, I was going to apologize to her.. about everything. But, uh—" He stopped himself, glancing down at the ground before meeting Dove's gaze again. "Then I thought, what the hell am I apologizing for?"

Dove studied him for a moment, unsure of what to say. It was strange, seeing Steve like this—open, vulnerable. The cocky jock persona was gone, replaced by someone who seemed more lost than anything.

Before she could respond, Dustin came bounding back toward them, clipping the walkie-talkie to his belt. "Lucas is on his way. Everything's good to go."

They moved in silence for a while, laying down chunks of raw meat along the tracks, the sound of rustling leaves and the occasional call of birds the only things breaking the quiet. After a few minutes, they had laid down a decent trail, with pieces of meat spaced every few feet. The rhythmic thud of raw meat hitting the ground filled the space between them, a strange sort of calm before the chaos they were preparing for.

Dove walked a few steps ahead of Steve and Dustin, her mind focused on the task at hand. She tossed another chunk of meat onto the ground, barely paying attention to the faint conversation happening behind her. But as the sound of their voices floated closer, her curiosity piqued.

Dustin was talking, his voice quieter than usual, but the words were clear enough for Dove to catch.

"It's just... I thought if I kept Dart, maybe it would make her like me, you know?" Dustin said, his tone carrying a hint of vulnerability.

Dove's hand paused mid-air as she threw down another piece of meat, her brow furrowing slightly. She listened closer, not turning around, straining to catch more of what her brother was saying. This was news to her—Dustin had kept Dart for a girl?

Steve's disbelieving voice broke through. "All right, so let me get this straight. You kept something you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress a girl who you just met?" There was a note of amusement, but mostly surprise in his tone.

Dustin sighed. "That'sgrosslyoversimplifying things," he mumbled.

"I mean, why would a girl like some nasty slug anyway?" Steve continued, smirking.

"An interdimensional slug," Dustin corrected, his voice filled with pride. "Because it's awesome."

Steve chuckled. "Well, even if she thought it was cool, which she didn't, I just... I don't know, I just feel like you're trying way too hard."

Dove could hear the frustration in Dustin's voice as he shot back, "Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, all right?"

Steve laughed. "It's not about the hair, man," he said, though Dove noticed the slight pride in his tone. "The key with girls is just... just acting like you don't care. It drives them nuts." Dove scoffed, unable to suppress a laugh. "What, you don't agree?" Steve asked, turning to face her.

Dove stopped in her tracks and spun around, crossing her arms as she faced the two boys. "Why is it that men always go to other men for advice on how to get women?" she asked, shaking her head. She focused on her brother, ignoring Steve's gaze. "Dustin. You are smart, funny, and so much fun to be around. Any girl would be lucky to have you. Just be yourself, and if she doesn't like you, that's her loss."

Dove glanced at Steve as she finished, noticing an odd expression on his face—something between admiration and confusion. She turned away quickly, her heart skipping a beat, though she had no idea why. Shaking off the moment, she continued walking down the tracks.

Dustin seemed deep in thought, but his curiosity wasn't going to let the conversation die. "What do I do after I pretend not to care?" he asked, his attention back on Steve.

Dove rolled her eyes but kept walking, trying her best to block out their conversation. Still, their voices carried.

"Then you wait until..." Steve paused, searching for the right words. "Until you feel it."

"Feel what?" Dustin asked.

Steve hesitated, his eyes drifting toward Dove as she walked ahead of them, her figure slightly blurred by the sun. Something clicked inside him, an awareness he hadn't fully grasped until now. "Electricity," he muttered, the word heavy on his lips. "You feel that, and then you make your move."

As he said it, Steve's gaze lingered on Dove a little longer than he intended. His heart thudded uncomfortably in his chest. Electricity. Was that what he was feeling now?

Dove, oblivious to Steve's eyes on her, walked on, focused on the task at hand. But deep down, something was shifting within her too, a subtle unease she couldn't name. It felt like everything was changing without her even realizing it.

"So that's when you kiss her?" Dustin asked, his voice breaking the tension.

Steve chuckled, shaking off the strange feeling in his chest. "Slow down, Romeo," he said. "Some girls, yeah, they want you to be aggressive. You know, strong, hot and heavy, like a... I don't know, like a lion. But others, you gotta be slow, you gotta be stealthy, like a ninja."

Dove suppressed a grin, finding the whole conversation ridiculous, but there was a part of her—deep down—that wondered where she fit into those categories. She shoved the thought away, annoyed with herself for even entertaining it.

"What type is Nancy?" Dustin asked.

Steve flinched at the mention of Nancy. The name still stung, even after everything. His jaw tightened slightly, and out of the corner of her eye, Dove noticed the shift in his posture. For some reason, hearing Nancy's name sent a tiny, unwelcome pang of something Dove couldn't identify.

"Nancy's different," Steve said quietly. "She's not like the other girls."

Dustin nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, she seems pretty special."

"Yeah, she is," Steve agreed, his voice distant, as if he was remembering something bittersweet.

Dove clenched her jaw, annoyed at the conversation.

Dustin, unaware of the tension brewing around him, kept going. "But this girl's special too. It's just... like, something about her."

Steve nodded absentmindedly, his gaze flickering back to Dove as she walked ahead. That 'something' Dustin was talking about? It hit a little too close to home.

"Whoa, whoa, hey," Steve said, suddenly stopping in his tracks. Dustin looked at him, confused. "You're not falling in love with this girl, are you?"

Dove stopped too, turning to face them both. Dustin's face turned a deep shade of red as he shook his head quickly. "Uh, no. No."

"Good," Steve said, half-joking but serious. "She's only gonna break your heart, and you're way too young for that shit."

"Agreed," Dove chimed in, her voice a little sharper than she intended. Both boys looked up at her, but she ignored their stares. "Now, if you're done giving my baby brother terrible dating advice—" she pointed toward the junkyard, which was just ahead of them, "—let's get on with the plan."

Steve nodded, clearly relieved to move on, though the awkward tension between him and Dove still lingered. They continued forward, the strange conversation hanging in the air as they approached the junkyard.

As Steve started explaining the secret of his hair to Dustin, Dove tossed her now-empty bucket over the junkyard fence, her mind spinning with thoughts she wasn't ready to face. She climbed over the fence and dropped down on the other side, watching as Steve and Dustin did the same.

The trio moved deeper into the junkyard, the mid-afternoon sun beating down on their backs. The sky was a flawless blue, free of clouds, casting long shadows over the piles of rusted metal and discarded machinery that littered the area. The air smelled of old gasoline and dust, and the crunch of gravel under their shoes was the only sound that broke the eerie quiet.

Steve and Dustin scattered pieces of raw meat as they walked, each step a reminder of the danger they were preparing for. Dove walked slightly ahead, her eyes scanning the familiar yet unsettling surroundings. The junkyard was like something out of a forgotten world—piles of twisted metal, broken cars, and abandoned buses that had long since fallen into decay. It was the perfect place for a trap, but it still gave her an uneasy feeling.

As they neared the old rusted bus, Dove stepped forward, her attention drawn to the large vehicle. The bus, once bright yellow, had faded to a dirty, peeling rust color, its windows cracked and its body dented from years of neglect. She pulled off her yellow rubber gloves, tossing them aside as she hoisted herself up into the bus through the side door.

Inside, the air was stale, and the worn leather seats creaked under her weight as she climbed into one of them. Dust floated in the streams of sunlight that filtered through the cracked windows. Dove felt a strange sense of calm inside the bus, even though she knew what was coming.

Dove hoisted herself up, her head poking through the emergency exit of the rusted bus, and spotted Lucas pedaling hard with the redheaded girl—Max—seated behind him. Her eyes flicked to Dustin, who stood a few feet away, watching them pull up with that unmistakable hint of jealousy on his face.So, this is her,Dove thought, feeling a pang of sympathy for her brother. He was trying so hard, and all she wanted was for things to go smoothly—for him, for all of them.

With a sigh, she pulled herself back inside the bus and quickly jumped down from the seat, ready to join the others. But just as her boots hit the floor, she almost ran straight into Steve, who was making his way down the aisle with an old metal lawn chair slung over his shoulder.

"Whoa—" Steve muttered, stopping short as Dove nearly collided with him. His eyes widened slightly, and for a brief moment, they were closer than either of them had anticipated.

Dove's breath caught in her throat, and she took a hurried step back, her pulse quickening. "Sorry," she said quickly, her voice coming out a little shakier than she intended.

Steve's mouth quirked up into a small smile, but he didn't move. "No worries," he replied, though his eyes lingered on her for just a second longer than they should have. There was something unspoken between them, something Dove wasn't ready to acknowledge.

Feeling the tension rise, Dove spun on her heel and rushed toward the bus's front exit, leaving Steve standing there, dumbfounded. She practically flew off the bus, her heart racing, desperate to shake off the strange, uncomfortable feeling that had suddenly crept in.

Steve watched her go, confusion flickering in his eyes. He stood there for a moment, holding the metal lawn chair, his mind racing to catch up with what had just happened. With a sigh, he swung the chair around, wedging it against one of the bus windows to barricade it.

Once Dove rushed off the bus, she found herself face to face with Max. Without exchanging many words, the two girls fell into step, gathering scraps of metal and debris scattered throughout the junkyard. It was a quiet, unspoken agreement—they needed to be ready, and that meant fortifying their defenses.

For hours, they worked tirelessly alongside Steve and Dustin. Dove and Max rolled heavy, rusted barrels into place, forming makeshift barricades around the perimeter. They scavenged through piles of scrap, nailing pieces of metal to the inside of the bus windows and doors, reinforcing any weak points they could find. The sharp clang of metal on metal echoed through the junkyard, their efforts fueled by the urgency of the approaching danger.

As the afternoon wore on, the sky slowly shifted, the sun dipping lower, casting long shadows across the junkyard. The heat of the day was giving way to the coolness of the evening, and the sense of impending doom hung heavy in the air.

Finally, as the sun began to set, Steve stood near the bus, holding a red gas can in his hands. He moved with purpose, drawing a thin line of gasoline from the pile of meat they had scattered earlier, all the way to the door of the bus. The pungent smell of gasoline filled the air, mingling with the rust and dust that surrounded them.

Dove, now perched on the roof of the bus, wiped the sweat from her brow. She had spent the last hour stacking old tires along the edges, creating a barrier that would help shield them from whatever was coming. From her vantage point, she could see the entire junkyard—the piles of debris, the barricades, the rusty vehicles. Everything looked ominous in the fading light, as if the junkyard itself had transformed into something much more sinister.

The sun slipped below the horizon, casting the junkyard into deep hues of orange and purple. The air cooled quickly, and an eerie fog began to settle on the ground, creeping between the piles of scrap and rolling slowly toward the bus. The fog clung to the earth, thick and unsettling, adding to the growing sense of dread.

Satisfied with her work, Dove climbed back down into the bus, her boots landing with a thud on the floor. The rest of the group was already inside—Dustin at the door, securing it behind them. Steve was checking the barricades one last time, his expression tense, while Max sat on one of the bus seats, her leg bouncing anxiously.

Lucas, armed with a pair of binoculars, climbed onto the roof, taking up his position as lookout. The darkness intensified quickly, the last traces of sunlight disappearing behind the horizon, leaving them in near-blackness save for the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the fog.

The atmosphere was suffocating, the quiet so thick it pressed down on them from all sides. Dove sat down on one of the seats, her heart pounding in her chest as the reality of what was about to happen fully settled in. Outside, the world felt still—too still.

The waiting had begun.