The air was thick, hot, and muggy from the downpour the night before. Everything felt heavy—the stillness around them, the weight of their own unspoken words, and the uncertainty hanging over their heads as they waited on the roof for word from Erica.
Dove paced back and forth, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The dim glow of the mall's lights below barely illuminated her path as her shoes scuffed against the gravel. Her frustration mounted with every step.
Her mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts, circling back to the pictures she'd seen in Danny's trunk. What she thought she saw. What she knows she saw. The field, the vines, the tree—it had been so clear in that moment, but the further she got from it, the more her certainty wavered.
It's not real, she told herself for the hundredth time. It can't be. The Upside Down is sealed. It's over. But no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, the image wouldn't leave her mind. The sickly, crawling familiarity of it. The way it had felt like it was reaching out to her, even through the paper.
She rubbed her temples, feeling the beginning of a headache prickling at the base of her skull. Maybe she was crazy. Maybe the stress and lack of sleep were messing with her head.
Dove's eyes darted toward Dustin, who was perched near the edge of the roof, binoculars glued to his face. His usual chatter was absent, replaced by quiet, focused movements. It was unlike him to be this silent, and it only made Dove feel more uneasy. Beside Dustin, Robin fiddled with the walkie-talkie, one hand resting on her knee, ready to spring into action at any moment.
Dove bit the inside of her cheek, the urge to call this whole operation off gnawing at her. She turned the thought over in her mind, trying to come up with a valid reason that wouldn't set off anyone's suspicion. Nothing came. She sighed, dragging a hand through her hair.
Behind her, Steve stood a few feet away, leaning against the railing. He wasn't watching the loading dock like the others; his eyes were fixed on Dove. His fingers fidgeted, picking absently at the skin around his cuticles—a nervous habit she'd seen countless times before. His gaze didn't waver, even when she glanced at him, her frustration flickering into curiosity.
Dustin's voice broke through her thoughts. "Erica ready yet?" he asked, perring through the binoculars, as if he would be able to see her through the walls.
Robin clicked the button on the walkie talkie, not taking her eyes off the dock entrance. "Erica, do you copy?"
"I copy." Erica said back, her voice crackling through the walkie. "I'm finishing my milkshake."
Dove pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath, "This kid is gonna be the death of me."
Steve smirked, pushing off the railing slightly. "You know," he said, his tone light but teasing, "you and Erica are a lot alike."
Dove shot him a glare, her arms crossing over her chest. "Excuse me?"
Steve raised his hands defensively, though the grin on his face didn't waver. "I'm just saying—both stubborn, both quick with the sarcasm, both constantly reminding us how dumb we are."
Before Dove could retort, Erica's voice crackled through the walkie-talkie, cutting through the moment. "Commence Operation Child Endangerment."
Steve motioned toward the walkie, his grin widening. "See? She's got your sass down perfectly."
Dove rolled her eyes, brushing past him to join Robin at the edge of the roof. She crouched down next to her, ignoring Steve entirely.
Robin clicked the walkie and spoke, her voice edged with exasperation. "Can we maybe not call it that?" She kept her eyes fixed on the empty loading dock below, her frustration evident as she scanned for any sign of movement.
"See you on the other side. Nerds." Erica's voice chirped back, full of her usual sass, followed by a small click as the walkie went silent.
The quiet that followed was thick, filled with a tense anticipation that gripped them all. The minutes stretched on, each one dragging, the weight of waiting pressing down on them like a physical thing. No one moved. No one spoke. They just sat there, nerves on edge, staring at the darkness below, waiting for some sign that everything was going according to plan.
Dove's fingers drummed restlessly against her leg, her eyes flicking between Steve, Dustin, Robin, and the loading dock. The world seemed to hold its breath along with them. The night air, sticky and muggy, clung to Dove's skin, making the wait even more unbearable. She swallowed, trying to keep her anxiety in check, but her thoughts kept pulling her back to the pictures, the ones that hinted at something much bigger, something darker than just Russians sneaking around Starcourt.
Her gaze shifted to Steve again. He was staring down at the loading dock, his jaw set, the tension clear in his body. He hadn't noticed her watching him, too focused on the task at hand. For a brief moment, Dove considered pulling him aside, telling him what she'd discovered. But what if he thought she was losing it? Worse, what if she was losing it? The radio crackled to life, breaking through the tension again.
"All right, nerds. I'm there," Erica's voice came through, smug and confident.
It was as if everyone exhaled at once. Dustin immediately lifted the binoculars to his eyes, scanning the loading dock below.
"Do you see anything?" Robin asked into the walkie, leaning forward expectantly.
"Yeah, I see those boring boxes you're so excited about," Erica replied.
"Any guards?" Robin pressed, her voice still tense.
"Negative," Erica answered.
"Booby traps?" Robin threw in.
"If I could see them, they'd be pretty shit traps, wouldn't they?" Erica shot back.
Robin rolled her eyes, muttering a sarcastic, "Thank you for that."
The minutes stretched on in silence, thick with anticipation, until suddenly, the doors to the locked room swung open. Erica strutted out, hands on her hips, her expression triumphant. "Free ice cream. For. Life," she declared into the walkie.
The group charged down the narrow staircase, their footsteps echoing off the metal walls. Robin gripped the handrail, practically leaping down two steps at a time, while Dustin tried to keep up, excitement written all over his face. Dove followed close behind, her pulse pounding in her ears, the weight of what they were doing pushing her forward despite the nagging doubts in the back of her mind. Steve brought up the rear, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was following them.
Bursting out of the stairwell, they darted through the mall's dimly lit corridors, the fluorescent lights flickering faintly overhead. Dove's heart raced as they rounded a corner, the faint hum of the mall fading behind them as they reached the loading dock.
Erica stood confidently by the door, her small figure framed against the dim light spilling out from the room beyond. "Took you long enough," she quipped, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Dove ignored her, stepping cautiously into the room. The chill hit her immediately, unnatural and biting for a summer night. She hesitated, her eyes scanning the space as the others followed behind. The walls were lined with identical, nondescript boxes stacked methodically. Only the logos—Kaufman Shoes and Imperial Panda—gave any hint of their supposed contents. Yet, the pristine arrangement and the faint chemical smell in the air told Dove that whatever was in these boxes, it wasn't shoes or takeout.
The fluorescent bulbs hanging from the ceiling flickered faintly, their harsh light casting long, distorted shadows across the concrete floor.
Dove reached into her bag and pulled out a Polaroid camera, the strap tangled slightly as she lifted it. She glanced back at the others, her voice low but firm. "Let's make this quick."
Steve nodded, his usual playful demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness. He strode to one of the boxes and hefted it onto the nearest table, his fingers brushing along the smooth surface before glancing back at Dove. Their eyes met briefly, tension and understanding passing between them without a word.
Dove reached into her pocket and pulled out a box cutter, holding it out to him. Their hands brushed as he took it from her, the contact brief but grounding in the cold, sterile room.
Steve pressed the blade into the tape, slicing through it with precision. He ripped the box open with a grunt, revealing an unexpected interior: a smaller metal box gleaming under the flickering lights. Its polished surface reflected the harsh fluorescence, the handle atop it seeming both inviting and ominous.
Dove stepped closer, her camera ready. She lifted it to her face and snapped a picture, the loud click and mechanical whir of the film developing cutting through the eerie silence. She shook the photo gently, her heart pounding as Steve's hands reached into the cardboard, gripping the handle of the mysterious container.
Steve glanced at Dove, his hesitation clear, before he twisted it slowly. A sharp hiss echoed through the room as the pressurized seal broke, the air around them growing even colder.
All five of them leaned in, their breaths held as Steve carefully lifted the lid. A dense fog of dry ice billowed out, curling over the edges of the box like something alive. As the mist began to dissipate, the contents were revealed: four smaller metallic cases, each one precisely nestled inside, their surfaces gleaming and slick with condensation.
"That's definitely not Chinese food," Steve muttered, his voice low, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the strange cases.
Dove quickly lifted her Polaroid, snapping another picture. The flash illuminated the cold, sterile room for a brief moment before the soft whir of the camera developing the photo filled the silence. She shook the photo absently, her gaze locked on the unsettling sight before them.
Steve reached out toward one of the metallic handles, his hand hovering just above it. He hesitated, his gaze flicking nervously between the box and the others. "Uh, maybe you guys should, you know, step back," he said, his voice tight with uncertainty.
Robin immediately stepped back a few paces, dragging Erica with her by the arm. Erica shrugged her off but kept her distance, perching on one of the nearby crates, her sharp eyes fixed on the scene with casual curiosity.
Dustin and Dove didn't budge.
"You've got to be kidding me," Dove said, narrowing her eyes. "Step back? Really?"
"I'm serious," Steve said, his tone firmer now. "Just—stand back. Please."
"No," Dustin said, his voice uncharacteristically resolute. He planted his feet firmly, crossing his arms in defiance. Steve moved to push him back, pressing a hand against his chest, but Dustin swatted it away and squared his shoulders. "No! If you die, I die."
Before either of them could argue further, Dove stepped forward, shoving past them both with a determination that left no room for debate. "Nobody is dying," she snapped, snatching her camera from around her neck and roughly thrusting it into Dustin's hands. "Hold this."
Without hesitation, Dove reached into the box, her fingers wrapping around one of the icy handles. She twisted it free with a sharp, decisive motion, her jaw clenched. The contents were heavier than she'd expected, but Dove managed to lift the metallic cylinder. Inside, a thick, green liquid sloshed ominously. It gave off a faint glow, the light reflecting eerily off the surface.
Steve leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "What the hell?"
Before Dove could answer, a sudden flash lit up the room, causing Dove to blink rapidly to clear her vision. Dustin shook the polaroid, his face painted with a mix of awe and unease.
Robin stepped forward, her movements cautious, as if the cylinder might explode at any moment. Her eyes widened as she peered at the glowing liquid. "What is that?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief.
Before anyone could answer, the floor beneath them trembled, a low rumble vibrating through the room. Dove staggered slightly, her grip instinctively tightening on the cylinder as she tried to steady herself.
For a split second, she wasn't in the mall anymore.
Her mind flashed back to the tunnels last year, the sickly sweet stench of decay filling the air. The ground beneath her had trembled then too, a deep, guttural vibration that seemed alive. She remembered the way the vines twitched and writhed, reacting to the fire they'd set, as if the tunnels themselves were screaming in pain.
Now, as the rumble beneath her feet subsided, Dove forced herself to blink back to the present. Her breathing was shallow, her chest tight with the ghost of that fear. The cylinder in her hands felt heavier, its cold surface grounding her as she tried to focus on the room around her.
"You know what?" Robin said, surging forward with sudden urgency. She snatched the metal cylinder from Dove's hands. "Let's just grab this and go." She unzipped Erica's backpack and shoved the container inside while Steve and Dove scrambled to reseal the box.
Dustin, already in front of the control panel, started pressing buttons in a panic. "Which one do I press, Erica?" he asked, his voice pitched with nervous energy.
"Just press the damn button, nerd!" Erica snapped, though her usual confidence was edged with a subtle note of unease.
"Which button?!" Dustin shot back, his fingers hovering anxiously over the panel.
Erica, clearly exasperated, rolled her eyes. "Press 'open door'!"
"I am pressing 'open door'!" Dustin yelled, frantically mashing the button. But nothing happened.
Steve strode over, pushing Dustin out of the way. "Just let me do it," he grumbled, but before his finger hit the button, a loud, ominous hum reverberated through the room. The doors remained firmly shut.
The sound of heavy machinery whirred to life, and a metallic panel slid down, covering the entrance completely. The group stood frozen, the hum intensifying as the room shook again, this time with enough force to knock Dove off balance. She stumbled, her hand reaching out for the table to steady herself, but it was too late. The ground beneath them seemed to drop, sending her crashing to the floor.
The lights above flickered wildly as the room began to plummet. The sensation of free-falling sent a wave of nausea through Dove's stomach as the walls blurred around her. She scrambled on all fours, crawling beneath the table as everyone screamed around her. The shelves rattled violently as everything not bolted down shook with terrifying force.
"Shit! Shit!" Dustin screeched, frantically slamming every button on the panel, his voice climbing in pitch.
Steve backed himself into the corner. "We're going down!" He yelled.
"Yeah, no shit, Harrington!" Robin shouted, gripping onto a nearby shelf, her knuckles white with fear.
"Why aren't these buttons working?!" Dustin wailed, panic rising in his voice as he punched the controls repeatedly.
Erica rushed forward, shoving him with a huff. "Press the button!"
"What do you think I'm doing?!" Dustin yelled, his voice breaking as his hands slammed into the panel, fingers jamming every button in a desperate attempt to stop the freefall.
"Somebody do something!" Erica yelled, her voice surprisingly steady compared to the chaos around her. She braced herself against a stack of boxes, her face set with a mix of anger and determination.
Robin, her body still pressed against the shelf for stability, shot a wild glance at Dove. "Dove! What do we do?"
Dove, still crouched under the table, gritted her teeth, willing herself to move despite the chaos swirling around her. She forced herself to her feet, gripping the edge of the table for balance. "Now you want my plan?!" she yelled, her voice cutting through the metallic hum and the rattling of shelves.
Dustin screamed as he slammed his palm against the buttons one last time, just as the room jolted violently to a stop. The sudden halt sent them all sprawling. Dove was thrown backward, her body hitting the ground hard, the air rushing out of her lungs as her head smacked against the concrete. A sharp, blinding pain radiated through her skull, her ears ringing so loudly it drowned out everything else.
The room settled into an eerie stillness, the only sound the ragged breathing of the group and the faint hum of machinery beneath them.
"My groin," Steve groaned from the corner, his voice tight with pain. "It fell on my groin."
Dove blinked, her vision swimming as she looked over to see Steve pinned beneath a large box. Dustin, still dazed, stumbled toward him, his movements sluggish as he grasped at the edges of the box.
"Dustin! Get this off me!" Steve barked, his voice strained and rising in pitch.
"I'm trying!" Dustin snapped, gripping the box and managing to lift it just enough to drag it aside with a loud bang. Steve rolled away, clutching his midsection.
Robin groaned as she pushed herself upright, rubbing her bruised elbow. "Is everyone okay?" she asked, her voice shaky, though the edge of panic still lingered.
"Yeah, I'm great," Steve snapped, his sarcasm cutting through the air as he staggered to his feet, one hand still pressed to his stomach. "Now that I know Russians can't design elevators!"
He stomped over to the control panel, jabbing at the buttons like they had personally wronged him. The panel blinked back mockingly, unmoving.
Robin, still catching her breath, shot him a look. "I think we've clearly established that those buttons don't work."
"They're buttons." Steve said spinning around. "They have to do something!"
Robin stepped closer, pointing at a small black box near the door. "Yeah, if we had a keycard." She leaned in, inspecting the mechanism. "It's an electronic lock. Same as the loading dock door. No keycard, no operation, meaning—"
"We're stuck in here," Dustin cut in, his voice grim as the realization settled over them.
The group fell into a tense silence, the gravity of the situation sinking in as the hum of the machinery continued in the background. Dove pressed her fingers to her temple, trying to focus through the throbbing in her head. "Awesome," she muttered, her voice laced with frustration as she glared up at the dim, flickering lights.
Erica, who had been standing off to the side with her arms crossed, finally spoke, her voice eerily calm and cutting through the tension like a knife. "Just so you nerds are aware," she began, her tone as sharp as ever, "I'm supposed to be spending the night at Tina's, and Tina always covers for me. But if I'm not home for Uncle Jack's party tomorrow, and my mom finds out you four are responsible, she's gonna hunt you down, one by one, and slit your throats."
Steve threw his hands in the air, his face flushed with frustration. "I don't care about Tina! Or Uncle Jack's party! Your mom's not gonna find us if we're dead in a Russian elevator!"
"Would you two shut up?!" Dove snapped, her voice cutting through the rising chaos. She pushed herself to her feet, wobbling slightly before steadying herself against the wall. Her sharp glare silenced both of them as she brushed her hair out of her face. "I already told you, nobody is dying. We're gonna find a way out of here."
Robin let out a short, humorless laugh, pushing off the wall and throwing her hands up. "Oh, fantastic. Another one of Dove's genius plans. This should be good."
Dove turned on her, her tone sharp and biting. "You have a better idea, Robin? Because I'm all ears. Seriously, I'm begging you—say something useful for once."
Robin opened her mouth to fire back but hesitated, the panic in her eyes betraying her frustration. She let out a sharp sigh and shook her head, looking away. "Fine. What's your plan, Dove?"
Dove scanned the room, her mind racing as she tried to piece together a solution. The walls were unmarked, and the only visible exits were the elevator doors and the maintenance hatch. Her gaze landed on Dustin, who was still inspecting the control panel with a determined scowl.
"Dustin, is there anything in that panel we can use? Wires, circuits—anything?" Dove asked, walking over to him.
Dustin frowned, pulling at the edge of the panel until it popped loose with a metallic clang. "If we knew what wires to cut maybe.." His voice trailed off as he leaned in closer, his fingers carefully tracing the circuits. Dustin let out a frustrated sigh, his shoulders slumping. "I have no idea where to even start."
Robin straightened up from where she was leaning on a pile of boxes. "Move over," she said, walking toward the panel. "I took a basic engineering class freshman year. I might be able to figure something out."
Dustin raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Basic engineering? That's your qualification?"
Robin shrugged as she nudged him aside. "It's better than 'no clue,' which is what you're working with." She squinted at the open panel, her fingers hovering over the tangle of wires.
Dove nodded, crossing her arms, her nerves prickling as she glanced around the elevator again, searching for anything that might be useful. Her eyes landed on the maintenance hatch in the ceiling. She stepped toward it, climbing onto the nearest table to get a better look.
Reaching up, she pressed her palms against the hatch and gave it a tentative push. It didn't budge. She tried again, this time with more force, but it was no use. Frustration mounting, she turned back to the others. "Does anyone have a screwdriver?" she asked, her voice tight with impatience.
Steve hesitated for a second before patting his pockets. "Uh.. no screwdriver," he said, pulling out a quarter and holding it up like a consolation prize. "But I have this."
Dove stared at the coin, then let out an exasperated sigh and held out her hand. Steve stepped forward, placing the quarter into her outstretched palm. With a determined frown, she jammed the edge of the quarter into the first screw and twisted, the metal groaning faintly under the strain.
The minutes dragged on, stretching into what felt like hours. The dim, flickering lights above cast restless shadows across the cramped elevator, making the space feel even smaller. Sweat beaded on Dove's brow, her arms trembling with the effort of working the quarter against each stubborn screw. The air was heavy with tension, the earlier panic replaced by a dull, restless silence.
Robin, leaning against the wall, glanced over at Dove and broke the quiet. "Bet you're wishing someone thought to pack a screwdriver."
Dove didn't even pause, her voice sharp with frustration. "Right now, I'm just wishing you'd stop talking."
Robin raised an eyebrow but said nothing, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. Dove's grip slipped on the coin, and she let out a hiss of irritation, shaking her aching hand before gripping the quarter again and forcing it back into the groove.
Steve, sitting cross-legged on the floor, watched her with a mix of concern and impatience. "Are you sure you don't want me to take over?" he offered, his brow furrowing as Dove's hand trembled mid-twist.
"I've got it," Dove snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument. She pressed harder, the quarter squealing faintly as it scraped against the metal. Finally, with a sharp twist, the last screw came free. Dove let out a triumphant breath, the quarter slipping from her fingers as she shook out her aching arms. She reached up and gave the hatch a push. This time, it creaked open, a small gust of cool air rushing down from above.
"Got it," Dove said, her voice firm despite the exhaustion in her tone as she peeered into the darness above. The faint glint of metal rails and wires stretched upward into the elevator shaft, disappearing into the shadows.
Steve got to his feet, craning his neck to look up. "Okay, now what?"
"We see where this goes," Dove replied, her tone leaving no room for argument. She wiped her hands on her shorts, ignoring the sting in her fingers, and started pulling herself up through the hatch.
Steve immediately stepped forward. "Whoa, whoa, hold on. You're not going up there alone."
Dove paused, half through the opening, and glanced down at him with a small smile. "Don't worry, Steve, there's plenty of room for all of us." Dove turned back to the hatch, fully pulling herself onto the roof of the elevator. The cool, stale air hit her immediately, carrying with it a faint metallic tang. She straightened up, scanning the narrow, shadowy shaft above.
Steve's voice echoed up from below, laced with both curiosity and concern. "Anything?"
Dove let out a heavy sigh, the sound bouncing faintly off the metal walls of the shaft. She craned her neck to peer into the darkness above, frustration tightening her chest. "No," she called back, her voice sharp with irritation. "No ladder, no platform—nothing. Just cables and metal walls. We have to be at least 300 feet underground."
A tense silence followed her words, the weight of their situation settling over the group. Below, Dustin muttered a quiet "Great," while Robin let out a long breath, her usual sarcasm noticeably absent.
Steve's head appeared through the hatch, his brows furrowed as he studied her expression. "Are you sure?" he asked, climbing the rest of the way onto the roof.
Dove didn't look at him right away, her eyes still fixed on the cables stretching endlessly upward. "Yeah, Steve," she said finally, her voice tight. "I'm sure. Unless you see a hidden staircase I missed."
Steve straightened, brushing dust off his hands as he surveyed their surroundings. The faint hum of the elevator's machinery filled the air, an almost mocking reminder of how deep underground they were. "Well, shit."