A year after Billy's death, upside down nasties start running around Hawkins again, and Max ends up at the old junkyard. Feels like a déjà vu.
It's close to midnight, the summer air weighs like a heavy wet blanket even at night, the dark surrounding woods stand tall like knights in medieval armor, the rich yellow moon hangs close to the forsaken earth, and Max can hear noises, rustling, whispering
Old rusty bones, worn tires deflated, front lights shattered. A predatory but powerless grin, like that of a dead shark. The skeleton of a car. It stands quietly, away from the other ghosts, closer to the trees, its faded paint glinting faintly in the moonlight.
A chill runs down Max's spine. She forgets about the horrifying creatures for a second. For a minute or two.
Max comes closer, reaches out, touches the slightly cool twisted metal. She can at least .. at least take the licence plate home, as a memory, as something to hold on to.
When she bends down and her slightly trembling hand touches the plate, there's a heavy sigh, oozing creepily from the depth of the forest.
I love that car. A heap of metal? Bullshit. I once wrote a fic about the camaro coming alive, might do it again.