The air inside Eddie's trailer was thick with tension, the faint scent of burnt toast wafting in from the kitchen where someone had botched an attempt at a snack. The group was gathered around the coffee table, flipping through the yellow pages, their expressions somber as the weight of the situation settled on them.

Eddie, hunched over the book, rifled through pages with an almost frantic energy. His fingers smudged the ink slightly as he jabbed at one of the listings.

"Check this out," Eddie said, his voice laced with urgency. "The War Zone. I've been there once. It's huge. They've got everything you need for, uh… well, killing things, basically."

Robin leaned over his shoulder, her face twisting into mock horror. "You think fake Rambo has enough guns there? Is that a grenade? I mean, how is any of this legal?"

Eddie shot her a crooked grin. "Lucky for us it is, so… This place is just far enough outside of Hawkins. As long as we steer clear of main roads, we oughta be able to avoid cops and, uh, angry hicks."

Erica, reclining on the couch with her arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. "If we're trying to avoid angry hicks, maybe we shouldn't go to some store called the War Zone."

Nancy, perched on the arm of a chair, cut in decisively. "Normally, I'd agree, but we need the weapons. If it's a choice between risking the trip or leaving Ursula in there… it's worth it."

Eddie's jaw tightened as she spoke, his gaze dropping briefly to the coffee table. The thought of Ursula still trapped in Vecna's clutches was a torment that ate at him every second. He would do anything to save her. The world needed her—not Eddie Munson—and if it came down to sacrificing himself to make that happen, he'd do it without hesitation. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the yellow pages, the thought sharpening his resolve.

"I'll get her back," Eddie said, his voice low but firm. "Even if it means walking into hell myself."

The group fell silent for a moment, their eyes flicking toward him in shared understanding. Before anyone could respond, Max, who had been standing by the window, suddenly stiffened.

"Uh, guys?" she said, pointing outside. "Black Betty's leaving."

Everyone froze, their heads snapping toward her before they rushed to the window. Faces pressed against the glass, they watched in disbelief as the tow truck hauled the black Chevy away, its matte finish catching the dim light.

Dustin groaned, throwing up his hands. "You've gotta be kidding me! They're towing it? Who the hell called a tow truck?"

Lucas slumped back against the wall, shaking his head. "This is bad."

Steve let out a sharp exhale, his hand raking through his hair in frustration. "We can't just let them take it! That thing could've gotten us anywhere. Hell, it might've been our only way out."

Eddie stood back, silent for a moment, his eyes locked on the truck as it disappeared around the corner. He crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. "That wasn't just a truck," he muttered. "That was Ursula's."

His voice cut through the growing chatter, and the group turned toward him. The weight of his words settled over them, thick and heavy, as they realized the symbolic loss they'd just witnessed.

"We shouldn't have left it out there," Max muttered, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "The park manager always has cars towed that don't have a sticker."

Robin leaned her forehead against the window, sighing deeply. "Yeah, well, unless one of us has a magical tow truck retrieval spell up our sleeve, it's gone. That sucks, but we've got bigger problems to deal with."

Nancy's jaw tightened as she straightened up, addressing the group with a clear, focused tone. "We still have the cash for weapons, but now we have no way to get there."

"Yeah," Lucas said, gesturing toward the now-empty street outside. "And it's like 45 minutes away! What are we supposed to do, bike there?"

A slow, sly grin crept onto Eddie's face as he leaned against the wall, his eyes glinting with a spark of mischief. "Who said anything about bikes?"

Steve shot him a doubtful look. "You got some car we don't know about?"

Eddie shrugged, clearly enjoying the attention. "Not exactly," he said cryptically, glancing around the room. "But I've got an idea."

Robin groaned, throwing her head back. "Oh no. That's never a good sign."

Eddie ignored her, turning toward Max with a raised eyebrow. "Hey, Red. You got a ski mask or a bandanna lying around?"

The group crouched low near a rusting camper parked in the trailer park, the air heavy with the faint scent of beer and charcoal. Its owners sat on the passenger side, relaxed and oblivious, laughing over their beers on a makeshift patio of folding chairs and a cooler.

Eddie adjusted the strap of a bag slung over his shoulder, gripping a set of tools in one hand. The other hand clutched Max's Jason mask from Halloween. With a swift motion, he slipped the mask on, the grotesque face sitting crookedly against his wild curls.

He gestured for the others to stay put as he crept forward, his movements quick and fluid. The group watched from behind an old sedan, breaths held as Eddie reached the camper.

Peering through one of the windows, he let out a quiet, muffled chuckle. "Wide open," he muttered under his breath. "Amateurs."

Eddie slipped the thin tool back into his bag, jostling the window latch with practiced ease. The window popped open with a soft click, and with a theatrical flourish, Eddie pulled himself inside. He turned back to the group, the mask still in place, and spread his arms wide.

A muffled voice emerged from behind the mask. "Ladies and gentlemen, the Munson Express is now boarding."

Max rolled her eyes, muttering, "He's enjoying this way too much."

One by one, the group piled in, careful not to make a sound. Once everyone was inside, Eddie yanked the Jason mask off with an exaggerated gasp, tossing it onto the passenger seat.

"That was suffocating," he said, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Go! Come on."

The camper was dimly lit, the air inside stale and thick. Eddie knelt beneath the steering wheel, pulling at wires with nimble fingers.

Steve leaned over his shoulder, watching curiously. "Where'd you learn how to do this?"

Without looking up, Eddie smirked. "Well, when the other dads were teaching their kids how to fish or play ball, my old man was teaching me how to hot-wire. Now, I swore to myself I wouldn't wind up like he did, but I've already been wanted for murder this week, and soon, grand theft auto. So, uh, I'm really living up to that Munson name."

Robin perched on the edge of the passenger seat, arms crossed. "Eddie, I'm not sure I love the idea of you driving."

Eddie glanced up at her, still grinning. "Oh, I'm just starting this sucker. Harrington's got her. Don't ya, big boy?"

He gave Steve a playful smack on the cheek before touching two wires together.

The engine sputtered, coughed, and then roared to life with surprising vigor. The camper vibrated slightly as the sound filled the cabin.

From the radio, Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Up Around the Bend" blasted through the speakers, startling everyone.

"There's a place up ahead and I'm going."

The owners of the camper barely registered the figures slipping inside at first. Sitting on their makeshift patio, beers in hand, the duo chatted idly until the engine's roar shattered their lazy evening.

"Just as fast as my feet can fly."

"What the hell?" one of them shouted, jumping to his feet as the camper rattled to life. He ran to the door, yanking at the handle.

"They locked the door!" the other bellowed, his face twisting in disbelief as the camper jerked forward.

"Come away, come away, if you're going."

Inside, Dustin's voice rose in a frantic yell. "Shit! Go!"

"Leave the sinking ship behind."

Eddie scrambled from the driver's seat, laughing as Steve jumped in, gripping the wheel. Without hesitation, Steve slammed his foot onto the gas, sending the camper lurching forward.

"Everybody, hang on to something!" Steve barked as the vehicle swayed, bouncing over the uneven dirt path.

"Come on the rising wind."

Dustin clutched at the nearest surface, his face pale. "Oh my God! Let's go! Let's go! Drive, Steve! DRIVE!"

From the back, Eddie howled with laughter. "Go, go, go!"

"We're going up around the bend."

Robin, gripping the edge of a table that wobbled dangerously, shot a glance out the rear window. "Shit, they look pissed," she remarked, a touch of amusement in her voice.

"Ooh!"

Lucas craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the owners, now tiny figures in the distance, flailing their arms and yelling at the departing vehicle. "Yeah, well, wouldn't you be? It's not every day someone steals your house and your car."

"Come on the rising wind."

The camper rattled onto the main road, its engine humming with newfound momentum as Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Up Around the Bend" blasted from the speakers. The group burst into chaotic laughter, adrenaline buzzing in the air like electricity.

"We're going up around the bend."

Through the laughter, the music swelled, carrying the camper—and its stolen cargo—further from the trailer park. In the distance, the furious owners' shouts faded into the dusty afternoon as the vehicle disappeared down the road.