The car rolled down the dark, narrow street, headlights barely cutting through the thick shadows. The tension in the car grew as they approached the cabin. Dove leaned forward, squinting at the numbers on the mailbox.
"This is it," she confirmed, her voice low.
Steve parked, and the group slowly stepped out into the chilly night air. The place was eerie, the cabin old and weathered, its wooden panels creaking in the wind. It sat at the edge of the lake, surrounded by tall, swaying trees that cast long, twisted shadows. A small, dilapidated dock extended out into the water, where the moonlight shimmered faintly on the surface. To the right of the cabin was a separate boathouse, its rusted door slightly ajar, as though it hadn't been properly closed in years.
The group flipped on their flashlights, the beams of light flickering over the overgrown grass and cobweb-covered porch. The windows were grimy, streaked with dirt, and the cabin itself had an almost forgotten feel to it, like no one had stepped foot inside for months, maybe even years.
Dustin wasted no time, marching up to the front door and ringing the doorbell. They all stood still for a moment, listening intently. No one answered. Dustin, undeterred, pressed the doorbell again—this time rapidly, as if spamming the button would somehow summon Eddie.
"Okay. Well, that's settled," Steve said, deadpan. "I guess he's not here."
But Dustin wasn't giving up. "Eddie! It's Dustin!" he called out, banging his fist against the door. "Look, we just wanna talk. No cops, I swear. We just wanna help."
Dove's flashlight flickered as she swept the beam across the grimy window. The inside of the cabin was dark and cluttered, with old furniture draped in dust-covered sheets. A sagging couch sat in the middle of the living room, surrounded by stacks of yellowed newspapers and empty beer bottles. The air inside looked stale, and the walls were lined with peeling wallpaper that might've been vibrant once but now seemed like it had given up long ago. It was the kind of place that felt frozen in time—left behind.
"Rick! Reefer Rick!" Dustin continued to yell, banging on the door.
Steve, looking exasperated, shot him a look. "Don't scream that. You're gonna get us arrested."
Dove sighed, stepping away from the window, her mind working faster than her patience. She pulled a bobby pin from her hair and started walking back to the front door, bending it with precision.
Steve raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"
"I'm picking the lock," Dove replied matter-of-factly, as she knelt by the door and inserted the bobby pin into the keyhole.
Dustin, standing over her shoulder, was both impressed and confused. "Wait, since when do you know how to pick locks?"
"I saw Danny do it once," Dove shrugged. "How hard can it be?"
"Hey guys," Max called, pulling Dove away from her task.
She paused, standing up quickly and exchanging a glance with Dustin.
"Maybe he's in there," Max suggested, her flashlight trained on the boathouse.
Dove and Dustin glanced at each other before surging forward, the excitement palpable between them. The sense that they might be on the verge of finding Eddie made them move with urgency, while Steve, Robin, and Max followed a few steps behind, their enthusiasm noticeably lacking in comparison.
As they reached the shed, Dove's stomach twisted in anticipation. The rusty door loomed in front of them, old and slightly cracked open, almost daring them to step inside.
The floodlight above the door flickered slightly, casting a dull, yellowish glow over the dilapidated structure. Their flashlights cut through the darkness as Dove stepped inside first, her shoes making the old wooden floorboards creak beneath her feet. She scanned the room, the beam of her flashlight catching details as she moved—faded old life jackets hung from hooks on the cieling, and oars leaned haphazardly against the walls. The whole place smelled of damp wood and lake water, like it had been left to decay for years.
In the middle of the shed was an old boat, covered with a dusty tarp. It took up most of the space, looming in the darkness like a forgotten relic.
"Hello?" Robin asked hesitantly, stepping inside after Dove, her voice low and cautious. "Is anyone home?"
Steve walked in behind them, flashlight pointed at the walls. "What a dump," he muttered, his expression unimpressed as he eyed the rundown surroundings.
Robin and Dove moved toward a workbench tucked into the corner. The surface was cluttered with old tools, food wrappers, and empty beer bottles, some overturned, others standing but with a thick layer of dust on them. Robin wrinkled her nose at the mess.
Dove picked up one of the bottles, her brow furrowing when she realized it was half-full. She brought her flashlight closer, the beam catching the condensation—it was still cold. Her heart skipped a beat.
"Someone was just here," Dove whispered to Robin, her voice tight with urgency as she turned to face her.
"Maybe he heard us. Got spooked and ran." Robin replied.
Steve suddenly jabbed the tarp-covered boat with one of the oars that was once leaning against the wall. The girls jumped, startled by the unexpected noise, their flashlights jerking to point at him.
"What are you doing?" Dustin hissed, glaring at him.
"He might be in here," Steve replied defensively, holding the oar like a weapon, before poking the tarp again, the dull thud of the wood hitting the boat echoing around the garage.
"So, take the tarp off." Dustin urged, gesturing toward it with an exaggerated sweep of his hand.
"If you're so brave, why don'tyoutake the tarp off?" Steve shot back, still jabbing at the vinyl.
Dove rolled her eyes at the ridiculous display. "Move, I'll do it," she said, stepping forward, but before she could get closer, Dustin stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"No, no, let Steve get it with his oar," Dustin said sarcastically, earning a smirk from Max, who stood nearby with her arms crossed, watching the absurd scene unfold.
Steve, ignoring the mockery, continued prodding the tarp. "I know you think you're being funny, Henderson, but considering the fact that everyone in this room has nearly died about a hundred times, personally, I don't find it funny in the sli—"
Before Steve could finish his sentence, there was a sudden movement. The tarp exploded upward as Eddie, wild-eyed and frantic, jumped out from under it. With surprising speed, he lunged at Steve, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and slamming him against the wooden wall with a thud that echoed through the shed.
Steve's eyes went wide in shock, his breath knocked out of him as Eddie pressed a jagged, broken beer bottle to his neck. The glass glittered under the dim light, dangerously close to Steve's throat. His hands flew up in defense, but he remained frozen, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Whoa, whoa, Eddie! Eddie, stop!" Dustin shouted, his voice frantic as the rest of them rushed toward where Eddie had Steve pinned against the wall, the jagged glass of the beer bottle pressed against Steve's neck.
Eddie's wild eyes darted to Dustin, then to Dove, confusion and panic flooding his face.
"Eddie, look, it's me. It's Dustin." Dustin's tone softened, his hands raised in a placating gesture.
Dove took a slow, tentative step forward, her heart pounding in her chest. "Eddie, it's okay," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Look, it's just Steve." She gestured toward Steve, whose eyes were wide with fear. "Remember? We talked about Steve. He's not gonna hurt you, right, Steve?"
Steve gave the slightest nod, his breath shaky, and dropped the oar from his hand, letting it clatter to the floor as a sign of surrender.
Dove continued, keeping her voice steady. "And Robin—you know her from band." She pointed back to where Robin stood, her flashlight aimed at the floor now, her face tight with concern. "And this is Max. I told you about her too, remember?"
Eddie's grip on the broken bottle wavered slightly, his eyes darting back and forth between them, struggling to make sense of it all. His gaze softened as he locked eyes with Dove.
"Dove?" he rasped, his voice raw, almost broken. "What are you doing here?"
"We're looking for you," Dove replied gently, inching closer, her eyes never leaving his. "We just wanna talk."
Eddie's face twisted with anguish, his hands trembling as he held the bottle, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't hurt her, Dove. I swear, I didn't.."
"I know, Eddie." Dove nodded, her voice full of reassurance. She took another careful step forward, now only a foot away from him. "We're on your side. But we need you to trust us, okay? Just put the bottle down."
Dove reached out slowly, her hand gripping the makeshift weapon, careful not to startle him. She kept her eyes locked on Eddie's, her touch gentle, not forcing him but offering a way out. Eddie stared back at her, his breathing ragged, but she could see something shift in his eyes—he believed her.
With a shaky exhale, Eddie released his grip on the bottle and stepped back from Steve.
"Jesus Christ." Steve mumbled, stumbling forward slightly, his breath rushing out in a heavy sigh of relief as he leaned against the wall, rubbing his neck.
Dove gave him a quick glance, concern flashing across her face. "You okay?"
Steve nodded, still catching his breath as he reached to grab the bottle from Dove's hand, though his eyes were locked on Eddie, watching him cautiously.
Eddie slid down the wall, his body collapsing under the weight of everything he'd been carrying. Dove crouched in front of him, her heart aching at the sight of him so broken, so lost. She kept her voice gentle, calm. "We just want to talk," she repeated softly. She reached out, her hand hovering over his arm, but before she could make contact, Eddie jerked away, his eyes wide with fear and distrust. Dove quickly withdrew, swallowing the knot in her throat.
"We just want to know what happened," she said, her tone steady but full of empathy. She could feel the tension radiating from him, could see the terror still etched on his face.
Eddie hesitated, his breathing uneven as he glanced around the room, his gaze flicking between them all. His voice cracked as he spoke. "You won't believe me," he muttered, shaking his head.
"Try us," Max said, her voice firm yet soft as she took a step forward, crossing her arms and waiting patiently.
Eddie's eyes darted to Max, then back to Dove. He hesitated for a moment longer before taking a deep, trembling breath and starting to explain. "Chrissy.. she.. her body just, like.. lifted up into the air and, uh," he stammered, "she just, like, hung there. In the air. And her bones.. uh, she.." His voice cracked again, and he swallowed hard, his eyes wide with haunted memories. "Her bones started to snap, Dove. Her eyes, man. It was like.. like there was something, like, inside her head, pulling."
Dove's chest tightened as he spoke, her mind spinning. It felt like the ground beneath her had vanished, like she was falling into an endless pit of confusion and horror. She could barely breathe as Eddie continued, his words replaying over and over in her mind.
The image formed in her head, and it was too much. She felt sick. Her stomach churned as she tried to keep her face neutral, tried to keep it together for Eddie's sake. But the horror in his voice, the brokenness in his expression, it hit her like a truck. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, but instead, she blinked away the sting in her eyes.
"I.. I didn't know what to do," Eddie's voice cracked, barely a whisper now. "So I ran away." His gaze dropped to the floor, shaking his head as tears welled in his eyes. "I left her there." He let out a small, bitter laugh. "You all think I'm crazy, right?"
Dove bit down on her lip, the image of Chrissy's horrible death flashing in her mind. The thought alone made her stomach churn. She wanted to stay strong for Eddie, but it was impossible to stop the tear that slipped down her cheek.
She quickly wiped it away, trying to regain her composure. "Eddie," she whispered, her voice shaking but full of sincerity. "We don't think you're crazy."
"Don't bullshit me, man!" Eddie snapped, his voice trembling with frustration. "I know how this sounds."
"We're not bullshitting you," Max jumped in, her voice firm but gentle.
Robin nodded in agreement. "We believe you."
Eddie let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of it all had become too much to bear.
"Look," Dustin started, leaning forward, "what I'm about to tell you might be a little.. difficult to take."
"Okay," Eddie nodded slightly, his eyes darting between them all, desperate for a reason that made sense, something that could explain the unimaginable.
"You know how people say Hawkins is.. cursed?" Dustin asked, his voice steady. "They're not.. way off. There's another world. A world hidden beneath Hawkins. Sometimes it bleeds into ours."
Eddie blinked at him, his brows furrowing. "Like ghosts and shit?"
"And shit," Dove said quietly.
"There are some things," Max said softly, "worse than ghosts."
Dustin nodded, continuing, "These monsters from this other world.. we thought they were gone."
"Twice," Dove interjected.
"Three times, actually," Steve corrected from behind her, crossing his arms. "You weren't there the first time."
Dustin shot him a look, frustrated by the interruption. "The point is, they've come back before. That's why we needed to find you."
"If they're back again, we need to know," Max added, her eyes locking with Eddie's, urging him to understand the seriousness of the situation.
Robin leaned in, trying to catch Eddie's gaze. "That night.. did you see anything strange?"
"Dark particles, maybe?" Max asked.
"It would almost look like dust, swirling dust." Dustin added.
Eddie shook his head, confused. "No, man. There was nothing you could see or.. or touch."
"That's okay," Dove said softly, placing her hand gently over his, her touch hesitant. Eddie flinched at first, but didn't pull away this time. His eyes, filled with sorrow, met hers.
"I tried to wake her, Dove," he murmured, his voice breaking. "She couldn't move. It was like she.. she was in a trance or something."
"Or under a spell," Dustin suggested, leaning in.
"A curse," Eddie said, the word hanging in the air, dark and ominous.
"Vecna's curse," Dustin said, as if the name alone explained everything.
"Who's Vecna?" Steve asked, confusion plastered across his face.
"An undead creature ofgreatpower," Dustin explained.
"A spell caster," Eddie added, nodding slowly.
"A dark wizard," Dustin finished.
Dove's heart pounded in her chest, her breath shallow as a sudden headache bloomed behind her eyes. The pain was sharp, like a blade pressing into her skull, making her wince. She blinked rapidly, trying to shake it off, but something cold crawled up her spine.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shadow pass by the window, quick and fleeting. Her body stiffened as the room seemed to grow darker, colder.
As the shadow vanished, she couldn't shake the unsettling feeling creeping over her skin. Something was out there, and it was watching them.