Dove and Steve stood in the bathroom, their foreheads still touching, when the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. They both turned their heads just in time to see Dustin stopping in the doorway of the bathroom, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. His expression shifted from confusion to mild amusement.
"Uh.. Mike has an idea," Dustin said, his voice breaking the tension between Dove and Steve.
For a second, Dove and Steve just stared at each other, knowing they'd been caught. Dove's cheeks flushed slightly, and Steve awkwardly stepped back, clearing his throat as he ran a hand through his hair.
"Right," Steve mumbled, his usual bravado faltering as he glanced between Dove and Dustin.
Dustin gave them a look, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing more as he turned and walked back down the hallway. Dove let out a soft sigh, sharing one last glance with Steve before they both followed after Dustin.
When they reached Will's room, the atmosphere was thick with tension as the group gathered around Will's desk. The dim glow of the lamp cast long shadows across the walls, highlighting the mess of papers, drawings, and books scattered around the room.
Mike stood in the center of the group, his face serious as he held up a drawing of a towering, menacing shadow creature. His hand shook slightly, but his voice was steady, full of certainty.
"This," Mike said, his voice low but confident, "is what got Will that day in the field. The doctor said it was like a virus, it infected him."
Max leaned forward, her face lit with a mix of curiosity and fear. "And so this virus, it's connecting him to the tunnels?" she asked, her voice tentative.
Mike nodded, speaking quickly now, as though he couldn't get the words out fast enough. "To the tunnels, to the monsters, to the Upside Down, to everything."
"Whoa, slow down," Steve interrupted, taking a few steps closer, his eyes wide with confusion. He raked a hand through his already-messy hair, clearly overwhelmed by what he was hearing.
Mike let out a sigh, trying to refocus. "Okay, so, the shadow monster is inside everything. And if the vines feel something, like pain, then so does Will."
"And so does Dart," Lucas chimed in, his face deep in thought as he pieced it together.
"Yes," Mike confirmed. "Like what Mr. Clarke taught us. The hive mind."
Steve frowned, crossing his arms over his chest, still trying to wrap his head around it. "Hive mind?"
Dustin, perched on the edge of Will's desk, leaned forward, his eyes gleaming as he explained. "A collective consciousness. It's a super-organism."
"And this," Mike said pointing to the drawing in his hand. "is the thing that controls everything. It's the brain."
Dustin's face lit up as he connected the dots. "Like the Mind Flayer!" he said, snapping his fingers.
Dove, standing near the foot of Will's bed, furrowed her brow, thinking hard. "That's why those things stopped attacking us at the junkyard," she said, "This Mind Flayer thing.. it called them back to the lab."
"Exactly," Dustin said, nodding eagerly.
Steve still looked lost, his brow furrowed. "What the hell is a Mind Flayer?" he asked, exasperated.
Mike, full of determination now, rushed over to Will's bookshelf and grabbed a thick, dusty book from the shelf. "I'll show you," he said, rushing out into the kitchen. The group followed, their footsteps echoing softly in the quiet house. The kitchen was bathed in a soft glow from the overhead light, casting an odd warmth in the otherwise tense setting. Mike plopped the book onto the table.
Dustin leaned in, his eyes sharp as he found the correct page and jabbed his finger down on the illustration. "The Mind Flayer," he said, pointing to a dark, twisted figure on the page.
Hopper approached the table, his expression one of disbelief. "What the hell is that?" he asked, his voice heavy with skepticism.
Dustin didn't hesitate. "It's a monster from an unknown dimension. It's so ancient that it doesn't even know its true home. It enslaves races of other dimensions by taking over their brains using its highly-developed psionic powers."
Hopper rubbed his face with one hand, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Oh, my God, none of this is real. This is a kid's game," he said, gesturing dismissively at the book.
"No, it's a manual!" Dustin fired back, the offense creeping into his tone. "And it's not for kids! And unless you know something that we don't—" he pointed an accusatory finger at Hopper, his voice rising, "this is the best metaphor—"
"Analogy," Lucas corrected, standing with his arms crossed beside Max.
Dustin shot him a look. "Analogy? That's what you're worried about?" He rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Fine. Ananalogyfor understanding whatever the hell this is."
Nancy, standing beside Jonathan, her eyes flicking from the book to Mike, took a deep breath and tried to bring the group back on track. "Okay, so this Mind Flamer thing—"
"Flayer. Mind Flayer," Dustin corrected her quickly.
Dove shot him a look. "Dustin, seriously, not the time."
Nancy sighed. "What does it want?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm.
"To conquer us, basically," Dustin said matter-of-factly. "It believes it's the master race."
Steve, trying to follow, perked up. "Like the Germans?" he asked.
Dustin stared at him blankly for a moment. "Uh, the Nazis?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, the Nazis," Steve corrected, nodding quickly.
Dustin's face didn't change. "If the Nazis were from another dimension, totally."
Hopper wiped a hand across his face, clearly exhausted by the direction of the conversation. Meanwhile, Dustin continued, undeterred by Steve's confusion. "It views other races, like us, as inferior to itself," Dustin explained.
"It wants to spread, take over other dimensions," Mike added, his eyes serious as he stared down at the book.
Lucas stepped forward, the gravity of the situation finally hitting him. "We are talking about the destruction of our world as we know it," he said, his voice grim.
Steve, running a hand through his hair and pacing a few steps away, let out a frustrated laugh. "That's great. That's really great. Jesus!" He turned back to face the group, his face a mixture of disbelief and frustration.
Dove leaned in to examine the book more closely, her fingers brushing over the illustration. Nancy's voice broke through the tension. "Okay, so if this thing is like a brain that's controlling everything, then if we kill it—"
"We kill everything it controls," Mike finished for her, his voice full of determination.
"We win," Dustin said.
Lucas crossed his arms, chiming in with a dose of reality. "Theoretically."
Hopper, who had been pacing near the table, stepped closer and grabbed the book, flipping through its pages with an air of frustration. "Great. So how do you kill this thing?" His voice was tight with impatience as he glanced at the group. "Shoot it with fireballs or something?"
Dustin let out a small chuckle, trying to keep things light, though the strain in his voice was evident. "No, no fireballs. You summon an undead army, uh, because zombies, you know, they don't have brains, and the Mind Flayer, it... it likes brains." His voice trailed off awkwardly as everyone in the room turned to look at him with a mix of confusion and skepticism. "It's just a game. It's a game."
Hopper, his patience wearing thin, closed the book with a loudthudand slammed it onto the table. The sound echoed through the kitchen, making everyone jump slightly.
"What the hell are we doing here?" Hopper's voice rose, frustration clear in every word.
Dustin, not willing to back down, shot back with equal heat. "I thought we were waiting for your military backup."
"We are!" Hopper yelled, his voice bouncing off the kitchen walls as he gestured emphatically.
"How are they gonna stop this?" Mike cut in, his voice sharp with fear and urgency. "You can't just shoot this with guns."
Hopper clenched his fists, his anger barely contained. "You don't know that! We don't know anything!"
"We know it's already killed everybody in that lab," Mike said, his voice firm, eyes flashing with the memory of what they'd seen.
"And we know the monsters are gonna molt again," Lucas added, his face set with determination.
Dustin nodded, his expression darkening. "We know it's only a matter of time before those tunnels reach this town."
The weight of their words hung in the air, the reality of the situation settling like a heavy stone in everyone's gut.
Suddenly, Joyce emerged from her bedroom, her face pale and tear-streaked, her voice hoarse from crying. "They're right," she said quietly, her eyes red, but there was a fire in them now. "We have to kill it."
Hopper stepped toward her, his face softening just a bit. "Me too, Joyce, okay?" he said, his voice calmer now and full of concern. "But how do we do that? We don't exactly know what we're dealing with here."
Joyce opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Dove's voice cut through the tension, firm and sure. "Yes, we do."
Everyone turned to look at her. Dove had been standing quietly off to the side, watching the conversation unfold, but now she stepped forward, her eyes sharp with conviction.
"We have a piece of it right here," she said, her voice steady as she gestured toward Will, still unconscious on the couch. The room fell silent, all eyes turning toward Will as Dove's words sunk in. The gravity of what she was saying wasn't lost on anyone. "If anyone knows how to destroy this thing, it's Will."
For a moment, no one moved. The only sound was the soft hum of the kitchen light, flickering faintly above them.
Hopper rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, his gaze shifting from Will's unconscious form on the couch to Dove, and then back to Will again. His eyes narrowed as he processed what Dove had said, the implications weighing heavily in the air. The room remained tense, everyone waiting for his response.
Max spoke up, her voice skeptical. "I thought we couldn't trust him anymore," she said, her eyes darting nervously between Will and the others. "That he's a spy for the Mind Flayer now."
Mike shook his head, his voice full of conviction. "Yeah, but he can't spy if he doesn't know where he is." The others looked at Mike, waiting for him to continue. His mind raced, connecting dots quickly. "If we take him somewhere with no identifying features, he won't be able to see where he is. The Mind Flayer can't use him if it doesn't know what it's looking at."
"The shed," Joyce suddenly said, her voice hoarse but determined. Everyone turned to face her, the fire in her eyes unmistakable. "We'll use the shed. We'll cover everything with tarps and sheets, make sure there are no identifying features."
Hopper nodded, his face set with grim resolve. "Let's do it. Everyone, grab what you can. We need to set this up fast."
With that, everyone sprang into action. Hopper led the charge, heading outside to the backyard to start clearing out the shed. The night air was cool, and the faint sounds of leaves rustling added an eerie backdrop to their hurried movements. Hopper began dragging everything out of the small, dusty shed—old tools, boxes of forgotten items, a rusted lawnmower. The shed was small, its wooden beams creaking with age as he worked, but it would have to do.
Inside the house, Dove and Max rushed toward the linen closet, throwing it open and grabbing as many sheets as they could find. The fabric spilled out of their arms as they raced back toward the others. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the hallways, everyone moving with a sense of urgency.
Jonathan and Lucas had already begun stripping the beds, yanking blankets and sheets off the mattresses, while Dustin scoured the house for duct tape and rope. The energy was frenetic, everyone working quickly, focused on their task. The floor was a mess of tangled sheets and hastily discarded items, but they didn't have time to worry about that.
Once the shed was cleared, they began to cover it completely, layering every surface to ensure there were no gaps. Tin foil was taped to the windows and along the walls, reflecting the dim light of the single bulb hanging from the ceiling. The sound of the foil crinkling filled the air as Max and Dove worked side by side, pressing it into place. The sharp scent of old newspapers mixed with the musty smell of the shed as they plastered the walls with headlines and weathered articles, layering them over the wood until the entire room felt sealed off from the outside world.
Curtains, hastily torn down from the house, were draped over the larger gaps, adding another layer of secrecy. It was a strange sight—the small wooden shed now transformed into a patchwork of fabric, foil, and paper, a surreal fortress to hide Will from the Mind Flayer's reach.
Nancy helped tape down the edges of the sheets so they wouldn't slip, her hands trembling slightly, but her face focused. She and Steve worked side by side, their hands moving quickly as they secured the last of the sheets.
Meanwhile, Hopper brought in a chair from the house, placing it in the center of the room. Its wooden legs creaked as it hit the floor, and everyone paused for a moment, the gravity of what they were about to do settling in. Joyce appeared in the doorway, her eyes red but her expression resolute.
When everything was ready, Jonathon gently lifted Will from the couch and carried him outside. Will's head lolled to one side, his face pale and sweat-drenched as they placed him in the chair. Joyce brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, her eyes full of sorrow as she knelt down in front of him.
Joyce, standing behind the chair, secured Will with the rope, making sure they were tight but not too tight. The quiet creak of the ropes and the sound of the duct tape being pulled and pressed into place filled the small space. Everyone watched in silence, the weight of what they were doing sinking in.
The shed was dimly lit, the small bulb above them casting an eerie glow over the scene. The room was quiet now, but the tension was thick, the sense that something much larger and darker was looming just beyond their control.
With Will securely tied to the chair, they stepped back, their breaths heavy from the work. They exchanged nervous glances, the gravity of the situation hanging over them like a dark cloud.
Dove stood near the door, her heart racing as she watched the others. Her mind was still processing everything that had just happened, the enormity of what they were up against. And now, it all came down to this—their last hope, a risky plan that might be the only chance they had.
Mike, Jonathan, Joyce, and Hopper stayed behind in the shed, while the rest of the group made their way inside. The night was cool, and the stars seemed distant, almost indifferent to the chaos unfolding below. The crunch of their footsteps on the gravel was the only sound as they made their way back to the house. Inside, the house felt unnervingly still, despite the frantic energy that had filled it just moments before.
Dove headed into the kitchen, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only noise breaking the silence. She immediately busied herself, her hands moving on autopilot as she picked up stray dishes and wiped down the counter. The repetitive motion was grounding, keeping her mind from spiraling into the chaos outside.
Steve lingered near the doorway, watching her for a moment before speaking, his voice soft but full of weight. "We should talk."
Dove froze mid-swipe, her hand still clutching the dish towel. She stared down at the counter, feeling the tension build in her chest. She knew what he meant, but acknowledging it felt too much, too soon. Slowly, she turned to face him, her expression guarded.
"Talk about what?" she asked, though she knew the answer. Her voice was quiet, almost cautious, as if she didn't want to disturb the fragile calm they had.
Steve shifted his weight, his hand running through his hair in that nervous way he did when he wasn't sure how to say what he was thinking. "About.. earlier," he said taking a few steps toward her, his voice low. "The kiss. Us. I don't know—this."
Dove felt her breath catch in her throat. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks as her mind replayed the kiss in the bathroom, the way everything had crashed together in that one moment. But right now, standing in the dim kitchen, with everything else going on, it felt.. out of place. There were more pressing things—life-or-death things.
"Maybe we should wait," she said after a moment, her voice firm but soft. She took a step closer to him, her gaze meeting his eyes. "Until this is all over."
Steve's brow furrowed slightly, frustration crossing his face, but he nodded. "I get it," he muttered, though there was an edge of disappointment in his tone. "But it's not like this is just gonna disappear because we don't talk about it."
Dove sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I know. But right now... everything is so messed up, Steve. And I-"She stopped herself, raising her hand slightly, like she was going to place it on his chest—but at the last second, she stopped. Her fingers hovered in the air before she dropped her hand back to her side, the gesture incomplete. "I can't deal with this right now."
Steve stared at her for a long moment, his expression softening. The silence felt heavy, full of things neither one of them was ready to say. He could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the weight of everything pressing down on her. He sighed, running a hand through his hair again before taking a step back.
"Yeah, okay," he said, though his voice lacked conviction. "You're right. It's... it's a lot." He forced a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Dove nodded, her throat tight. She could feel the tension between them, unresolved, but she couldn't bring herself to address it—not now. She watched as Steve turned and walked into the living room, picking up his bat from where it leaned against the wall.
He twirled it once, then twice, before letting the repetitive motion of practice swings consume him. The bat sliced through the air with a soft whoosh, and Dove stood in the kitchen, her fingers gripping the edge of the counter. She watched him from a distance, her mind swirling with everything left unsaid.
Dove looked up from the counter where she'd been absently wiping her hands. Across the room, Nancy was watching her, her eyes sharp, full of questions that Dove wasn't sure she had the answers to. Dove felt a jolt of something—guilt, maybe, or uncertainty—rise in her chest.
Before either of them could say anything, the front door swung open and everyone from the shed came rushing inside. The sudden burst of energy broke the silence, and Hopper strode into the kitchen with a sense of urgency. He grabbed a piece of paper from the counter and fished a pen out of his jacket pocket.
"What happened?" Dustin asked, his eyes wide with concern.
"I think Will's trying to communicate," Hopper said, barely looking up from the paper as he scribbled down a pattern of dots and dashes. "But not with words."
Dove's eyes widened as she recognized the familiar pattern, the quick staccato of dots and dashes forming a code. Morse code. Hopper's hand moved swiftly, writing out the letters, one by one: H-E-R-E.
Jonathan, who had been hovering over the table, rushed past them into Will's room. The sound of drawers opening and tapes being shuffled filled the air for a moment before he returned with an old radio and a tape in hand.
Hopper picked up one of the boys' walkie-talkies from the table. "We're going back out there, but I need you guys to keep track of the code he sends," he said, his tone firm as he handed the walkie over to Dustin.
Mike, Joyce, Jonathan, and Hopper moved quickly, heading back toward the shed while the rest of the group stayed behind. The kitchen was quieter now, the air thick with anticipation. Nancy, sitting at the table with the boys and Max, held a red crayon in her hand. She stared down at the notepad in front of her, poised to write as the Morse code came through the walkie-talkie.
Dove and Steve hovered around the table at opposite sides, their eyes focused on Nancy's hand as it moved across the page, transcribing the letters. The red crayon scraped against the paper, the only sound breaking the tense silence.
"C-L-O-S-E G-A-T-E," Nancy said, her voice low but steady as she spelled out the message.
Dove's heart skipped a beat as the meaning sank in. They had to close the gate—the gate to the Upside Down. Her eyes flicked toward Steve, catching his gaze for just a second, before the loud, jarring ring of the phone in the kitchen cut through the silence.
Without thinking, Dove rushed toward the phone and grabbed it off the hook, her hands trembling slightly. She slammed it down, cutting off the ring, but barely a second passed before it rang again. The sound felt deafening, panic rising in her chest.
"Dove, wait—" Steve started, but Dove didn't stop. She ripped the phone from the wall in one swift motion and threw it down the hallway, the loud crash of plastic hitting the floor echoing through the house.
For a moment, the room was silent again, save for the heavy breathing of everyone inside.
Max's voice broke the quiet, tentative and full of fear. "Do you think he heard that?" she asked, her eyes darting toward the broken phone.
Steve rubbed the back of his neck, trying to sound calm despite the tension gripping him. "It was just the phone. It could've come from anywhere," he said, though the tightness in his voice betrayed his unease.
Before anyone could respond, a loud, otherworldly screech pierced the night air outside, sending a shiver down Dove's spine. The monsters knew where they were. And they were getting closer.
