Chapter 5: Season 2, Episode 8: The Mindflayer
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Original Female Character
(Can be found HERE on ao3)
Summary: Amelia Henderson always knew something bad was going on in the sleepy town of Hawkins, Indiana—but it wasn't until her cat died that she became aware of how bad things truly were.
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The Byers home was a quaint little thing situated down a long, twisting gravel road in the large expanse of forest between Hawkins Lab, the quarry, and downtown. It was a house that seemed it didn’t want the world to notice it– and to its credit, it rarely was. The posts that wrapped around the front porch were a boney white, as if they were ribs protecting the heart of the house from the danger that surrounded it. They failed, however, to protect poor Will Byers on that strange night eleven months ago, when he was taken; and right now, I was praying that he would be able to fend off his attacker once more– I was praying that the ribs wouldn’t shatter, would protect the heart and lungs from whatever might come its way.
I sat at the foot of the couch where Will’s unconscious body lay, my ax leaned up against a wall a few paces away. Jonathan sat beside me, facing Will, hand cupping his head. I could see the guilt in his eyes as he looked at his little brother. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t his fault– how could it be? But I knew that it wouldn’t help; his little brother was in pain and all he wanted to do was make it stop.
Jim Hopper had done his best to fill the kids, Steve, and I in on what had gone down at Hawkins lab, and honestly, I was still having a hard time wrapping my head around it.
Will had been having visions–episodes, the chief had called them– ever since he was rescued from the upside down. The name, I was told, for the alternate dimension where the evil dogs came from. A couple days before Dart ate my cat, Will had his worst episode yet– a seizure-like event at Hawkins Middle School. Mrs. Byers had taken Will to the lab, where he had been getting check ups, and there (at the lab) something awful had happened. Something that had resulted in the dogs abandoning their attack on us at the junkyard, and instead focusing their energy on the lab. Dozens had died, including Bob Newby.
It didn’t even feel real. Mr. Newby’s death. Sure, Jonathan did nothing but complain about the guy–called him a dork– but he had always been a friendly face around town. The type of guy to cover the difference of your groceries if you were a few dollars short, and always had a box of sweets on the desk at the Radio Shack for the kids who had been dragged there by their parents. I don’t understand why of all people, Mr. Newby had to be the one to go. It always seemed to be the innocent people who had it the worst.
Innocents like Robert Newby, and Will Byers.
“I’m sorry bud,” Jonathan murmured to the sleeping boy, Nancy– who was standing above us–reached out a hand and placed it on Jonathan's shoulder. There seemed to have been a development there, between my two friends, in the three days since I’d last seen them. But now was not the time to ask them about it, so I added it to my growing list of questions to sort out once this whole ordeal was over.
The way she was looking at Jonathan as he whispered apologies to his brother was so full of emotion, so intimate, that I felt the need to leave them to have their moment alone. I sighed and quickly reached over to put a hand on Jonathan's knee, wordlessly offering some support, before standing up and walking through the Byers living room towards their kitchen, where Hopper was yelling on the phone.
I inwardly cringed as I made my way towards the kids, noticing Steve’s pained expression as he watched his girlfriend (ex-girlfriend?) console Jonathan. He seemed to snap out of his daze as I walked passed, shaking his head a little and rubbing his nose in an idiosyncratic fashion, before he sighed and followed me.
“I don’t know how many people are there–I don’t know how many people are left alive!” Hopper said sternly into the Byers phone as I passed by. He had been trying to get through to the FBI for the last ten minutes.
In the kitchen, the four conscious kids were sitting around the dining table. I pulled up a chair to sit beside my brother, who was standing up, and Lucas– both listening intently to the Chief’s phone call. Steve continued pacing the kitchen, obviously a lot on his mind.
“I am the police! Chief Jim Hopper!”
I rested my head in my hands, massaging my temples. This was going to be a long night.
The chief's voice got quieter as he seemed to reach some sort of agreement with the woman on the other side.
“Yes, the number that I gave you, yes– 6767. I will be here.” He stated, sounding resigned, before putting the phone back on its mount.
I looked up at Dustin, and then to Hopper as he turned around to face us. I kinda felt bad for the guy, obviously bracing to give bad news to a group of kids– might as well be feeding himself to a pack of wolves, at this point.
Mike Wheeler, Nancy’s little brother and the so-called glue of the group, sat with his hands folded on the table looking expectantly up at the Chief.
“They didn’t believe you, did they?” Dustin said, breaking the nervous quiet that enveloped the room.
“We’ll see.” Hopper stated.
Mike rounded on him: “We’ll see? We can’t just sit here while those things are loose!”
Dustin pushed off the table to go pace around the Kitchen in frustration, obviously inspired by Steve’s absentminded antics.
“We stay here, and we wait for help.” Hopper responded with an air of finality, before turning around and exiting the room, leaving Steve and I in the kitchen with a bunch of angry kids.
I’m half expecting them to start bitching about the cop the second he leaves the room but they don’t. They just sit there in silence. I don’t know if it's the exhaustion, or the death that hangs in the air, but either way, the kids don’t say a word.
My head pounds from exhaustion. All that has happened in the last, what, forty-eight hours? I can’t even wrap my head around it. It's like I’ve stepped into an alternate dimension which, I guess, isn’t even that far fetched anymore. I can’t believe these kids have had to deal with this, practically all on their own, for a year.
A few minutes of quiet later, Mike stands up and walks into the living room with no warning. He bends over and picks something up that I can’t see.
“Did you guys know that Bob was the original founder of Hawkins AV?” He says softly, back to us.
Lucas speaks up from beside me, “Really?”
“He petitioned the school to start it and everything. Then he had a fundraiser for equipment!” Mike responds, “Mr. Clarke learned everything from him.”
He walks back over to where we are all sitting, carrying a blue puzzle or something that looks a bit like a Rubik's cube. “Pretty cool right?”
I smile sadly, eyes falling to the table. Dustin and Lucas pipe up in a synchronized “Yeah.”
Mike places the blue cube on the table for everyone to see.
“We can’t let him die in vain.”
“What do you want us to do Mike?” Dustin replied, exasperated. “The chiefs right on this one, we can’t stop those demodogs on our own.”
I don’t think I’ve heard my brother sound so defeated since his party lost to Tiamat in one of their D&D campaigns last year– which is saying something.
“Demo-dogs?” Max asks, looking skeptically at Dustin. He just looks back at her like what he’s talking about should be obvious– but clearly, it's not. I lightly slap him in the chest, prompting him to fill us in on what the hell a demodog is.
“Demogorgon dogs,” He explains, gesturing slowly to us all as if explaining addition to a kindergartener, “Demo-dogs….” he sighs, giving up. “It’s like a compound. It’s like a play on words, so when you-”
“Okay!” Max interrupts, desperate for Dustin to shut up. He sighs, before continuing to his original point.
“I mean, when it was just Dart maybe….” He trailed off.
“But there’s an army now.” Added Lucas.
Dustin nodded in agreement, “Precisely.”
Everyone turned to look at Mike.
Dustin was staring at him with an expression of pure and utter puzzlement. That alone made me feel better about the fact that I didn’t have a clue what the boy was talking about; finally something that confused the whole group and not just Max and I.
“What do you mean?” I heard Steve ask from somewhere off to my left.
Mike began to look at his friends, expecting them to clue into what he was referencing: “His army. Maybe if we stop him, we can stop his army too!”
Mike quickly and excitedly exited the room with no warning, prompting the two other young boys to get up and follow him; and somehow, I was more confused than before. Steve sighed in annoyance and trailed after them, arms crossed. Glancing over at Max, I noticed that she was shaking her head in bewilderment. I caught her eye and smiled, shrugging. Letting out a long sigh, I pushed myself off of the table and stood up.
“We should go see what’s so important, I guess.”
Max and I traipsed into the room where the boys stood hunched over some pencil drawing, the redhead grumbling about the idiocy of men as we did so.
“The shadow monster…” Dustin murmured, holding the drawing– which appeared to be of some spider-esq creature– up for us all to see.
“It got Will that day in the field.” Insisted Mike, looking between Dustin, Lucas, and Max, prompting them to remember the day of Will’s episode. “The doctor said it was like a virus– it infected him.
Max began to speak, “and so this virus, it’s connecting him to the tunnels?”
“To the tunnels, to the monsters, to the Upside Down, everything.” Mike affirmed. At this point, I was more lost than I was to begin with– what tunnels?
“Whoa, slow down. Slow down.” Steve said, finally breaking his long withstanding silence.
“Yeah, Wheeler, I’m afraid you’re losing your audience.” I muttered, folding my arms across my chest, where splatters of the demodogs' blood still stained.
Mike turned to glance between me and Steve, seemingly finally clueing in on the level of confusion that comes with not being privy to all of this information regarding monsters, alternate dimensions, and child possession.
“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 cut in.
Everything was slowly starting to make sense the more the kids explained, piecing together new bits of information– and it was really beginning to sound like something Robin and I would watch on television late at night, delirious from exhaustion and laughter. God, I wish I was with her right now instead of hunkered down in Jonathans house plotting how to take down a pack of monsters. Everything was so much simpler two days ago.
“Yeah. Like Mr. Clarke taught us–the hive mind.” Mike added.
“Hive mind?” Steve asked, sounding incredibly lost, seemingly asking for a definition like the group before him was a thesaurus or something.
“Oh Steven, you poor thing.” I said dryly. He just glared back at me in return, prompting a smug smile to settle on my face, erasing my melancholy thoughts about movie nights and my friend.
Dustin turned to look at the older boy, judgement that I was feeling internally clearly displayed in his expression. “A collective consciousness. It's a super-organism.”
“And this is the thing that controls everything. It’s the brain.” Mike was speaking faster and faster, clearly excited by the connections he was drawing. I looked down at my little brother, who had begun to clutch the drawing tighter in his hands. He looked as if he had just had the largest epiphany of his life, eyes large and mouth agape.
Of course, Dungeons and Dragons would have to surface in this conversation eventually. To be completely transparent, I’m surprised they had managed to hold off for as long as they did. Lucas snapped his fingers and pointed to Dustin in celebration.
“What?” Max and Steve asked at the same time. Mike rolled his eyes and darted off down the hall.
“D&D.” I said to them, in answer to their question. Max looked as if she was slowly catching on, but Steve looked at me as if I was speaking another language. The other kids seemed to have given up on Steve, and went to follow Mike down the hall.
“Sorry Henderson, but that clears nothing up, like, at all.” Steve snarked.
“Dungeons and Dragons? It's a game.”
“Yeah, sure…but how does that affect us? What the hell is this shadow monster?”
“It’s an analogy, Steve.” I defended. Seriously, this guy.
“An analogy for what?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed.
“Holy shit.” I sighed, turning around and walking towards the kitchen table once again.
“Hey Henderson! Maybe try answering my question!” He shouted from over my shoulder. “You’re not a very good teacher…”
I rolled my eyes, “Just c’mere Steve– who knows, maybe you’re a visual learner.” I teased, playing along with his metaphor as I led us towards the kitchen.
The kids had gathered around the table again, and had evidently dragged Hopper, Nancy, and Jonathan with them. Dustin slammed what appeared to be a D&D manual down and began to address us as a group as I came to stand beside him, Steve close behind me.
“What the hell is that?” Hopper asked from where he stood behind the crowd of kids, stern skepticism clear in his tone.
“It’s a monster from an unknown dimension.” Dustin explained, passion evident as he rambled on, “it’s so ancient that it doesn’t even know its true home. Okay, it enslaves races of different dimensions by taking over their brains using its highly developed psionic powers.”
“Oh my god, none of this is real! This is a kids game!”
If I knew one thing from growing up with Dustin Henderson, it was the danger of belittling Dungeons and Dragons to his face– and that was exactly what the chief had done.
“No, it’s a manual,” Dustin snapped back, “and it's not for kids. And unless you know something that we don’t, then this is the best metaphor–”
“–Analogy.” Lucas and I corrected at the same time. I smiled at him, laughing at our synchronization.
“Analogy. That’s what you guys are worried about?” Dustin asked, loud and incredulous, eyes darting between the two of us on opposite sides of the table. “Fine. An analogy for understanding whatever the hell this is.”
Nancy interjected quickly, “Okay, so this Mind Flamer thing–”
“Flayer. Mind Flayer.” Dustin interrupted. Christ, for a kid who got so defensive over grammatical correction, he was being awfully picky about the proper use of D&D terminology. I looked towards Nancy apologetically, she just sighed and continued towards her original question, ignoring Dustin.
“To conquer basically, it believes it’s the master race.”
Steve pressed against my back so he could lean over the table.
“Oh, like the Germans.” He added from behind me. I turned my head to the side to look at him over my shoulder, brows furrowed and effectively baffled. He just stared back, looking at me as if I was the strange one here.
“Uh, the Nazi’s?” Dustin corrected, not lacking at all in condescension, looking over at Steve.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, the Nazi’s.” he responded, like that was what he meant all along. How dare we be so stupid as to misinterpret your meaning, lord Steve.
I rolled my eyes (again) and let out an exasperated and disbelieving chuckle.
“Uh, if the Nazi’s were from another dimension, yeah, totally.” My brother returned before going back to addressing the whole group– Hopper pinched the bridge of his nose, “It views other races, like us, as inferior to itself.”
“It wants to spread, and take over other dimensions.” Mike added.
“We are talking about the destruction of our world as we know it.” Lucas enthusiastically concluded.
Steve took a step back to run a hand through his hair, "That's great. That’s great, that’s really great. Jesus!”
“Ok, so if this thing is like a brain that's controlling everything,” Nancy spoke as she picked up the D&D manual, “Then if we kill it-”
“We kill everything it controls.” Mike interrupted.
Dustin smiled slightly, “We win.”
“Theoretically.” Lucas. Always the realist.
Hopper walked over to where Nancy stood to Dustin's left, and took the book from her hands, “Great, so how do we kill this thing? Shoot it with fireballs or something?”
“No, no… no fireballs,” Dustin laughed, looking over to the chief, “Uh, you summon an undead army because…uh, zombies, you know, they uh…they don’t have brains,” he stammered, “and the mindflayer… it…it likes brains.”
He paused, and took in Hopper's unimpressed expression, “It's just a game. It’s a game.”
Hopper slammed the manual down on the table in frustration, “What the hell are we doing here?”
“I thought we were waiting for your military backup?” Dustin called to him mockingly as the chief walked away from where we were gathered around the table.
“But even if they come, how are they gonna stop this?” Mike shouted, the boys seemingly ganging up on a man who could put them behind bars if he really wanted to. “You can’t just shoot this with guns!”
“You don’t know that! We don’t know anything!” Hopper protested, ears turning red.
“We know it’s already killed everybody in that lab!”
“And we know the monsters are going to molt again!” Lucas added from his place at the table beside Jonathan.
“And we know it's only a matter of time before those tunnels reach this town!” Dustin pointed out, voice finally lowering.
“They’re right.” A new voice added, prompting everyone to turn their heads towards the living room. Joyce Byers, looking incredibly small, like she was shriveling up into herself. “We have to kill it.”
Hopper slowly walked over to where she stood, “I want to kill it.” she stated firmly.
“Me too, Joyce, ok? But how do we do that? We don’t exactly know what we’re dealing with here…”
Mike butted in, pushing off the table and walking away, “No. But he does.”
The boy approached the sleeping body of Will on the couch– the rest of us following him as we all slowly migrated from the kitchen to the living room.
“If anyone knows how to destroy this thing, it’s Will. He’s connected to it. He’ll know its weaknesses.”
Max walked over to Mike with her arms crossed, “I thought we couldn’t trust him anymore? He’s a spy for the Mind Flayer now…”
“Yeah but, he can’t spy if he doesn’t know where he is.”
The plan was simple in theory.
Take Will’s still-unconscious body out back to the newly-modified shed, wake him up, figure out the Mind Flayer’s weakness, and kill that son of a bitch.
However, theory is always far easier than reality.
We couldn’t wake Will up before we had a secure place to keep him, to hide our location from the enemy. So, to rectify that, the group of us spent the larger part of an hour emptying the Byer’s garden shed of its contents, stripping the place of any identifiers, and boarding the entire room up. Old cardboard boxes were broken down and placed over landscape fabric that Steve and Nancy had giftwrapped the room with. Jonathan found a bright light in the garage and with the help of Mike and Lucas he had propped it up across from where Will would be seated to obscure his vision– they didn’t want to take any chances of Will being able to recognize where he was. I even had to wrap their shitty, old dining chairs– that Joyce had forgotten to bring to the junkyard for ten years– in cardboard and duct tape, in case Will remembered them.
Yeah so, evidently, it wasn’t that simple.
Now, we’re waiting. Hopper, Joyce, Jonathan, and Mike are with Will in the shed, doing whatever they can to wake him up, get through to him somehow, and the rest of us are anxiously waiting in the house for Hopper to call in with any information.
Dustin comes to sit beside me on the floor in the kitchen, my spine pressed against the wall and ass starting to hurt from the hardwood. He adjusts his hat as he slowly slides down the wall.
“Hey kiddo.” I say quietly, smiling, but my stomach has been turning over nervously at the thought of what Will has gone through– what he is going through.
“Hi…” He says quietly, still fiddling with his hat; an obvious tell that he’s anxious, and I don’t blame him.
“He’s gonna be okay, Dustin.” I smile, bittersweet.
Dustin huffs, “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything.”
“Okay, sure– but we do know that Mrs. Byers and the chief are out there with him, and if I was the Mind Flayer, I’d be scared of them. Shitless.”
Dustin cracks a smile at that, something I haven’t seen much of since Mew’s got her shit rocked by that demodog. It makes me smile in return.
“Not Jonathan?” He laughs quietly.
“Meh. Not so much.” I mutter. Dustin smiles a big toothless smile and looks over into the living room, where Steve is swinging around his bat.
“I’m happy you guys are friends again.” he states, looking at the boy with the bat.
“Friends? Who said anything about friends?”
“You’re not fooling anybody, Lia.” I roll my eyes at his presumptuous comment. But in a way, I guess, he’s right– and of course he is, he’s a genius, and he knows me better than anyone.
“You’re a little shit you know that?”
“Yeah, whatever.” Dustin laughs, “hey, maybe when this is all over, we can finally watch Return of the Jedi with him, I bet he still hasn’t seen it.”
I’m just about to respond with a quiet maybe when the lights start going haywire. Every light in the house begins to flicker rapidly. Dustin stands up in a flash, running over to the window that looks out into their backyard. I stand up quickly and follow him there, Steve and Nancy joining us. The shed is pulsing in the dark, light slipping through the cracks in the cardboard, flickering madly. Then, as quickly as it started, everything returns to normal.
“What the hell?” I ask nobody in particular.
“It means he’s here. Something’s happening.” Dustin mutters, turning around quickly and pushing past the three of us. He’s reaching for the walkie talkie when the backdoor slams open and Joyce, Jonathan, and Mike– led by Hopper– file through the door. Hopper grabs something (a pen?) off the dresser beside the door and sits down at the table, urgently scribbling something down.
“What happened?” Dustin asks quickly.
“I think he’s talking. Just not through words.” the chief mumbles as he writes a series of dots and dashes on an old bank envelope.
“Hey, what is that?” Steve questions, in reference to what Hopper is writing down.
“Morse code.” Everyone else responds in unison.
“H-E-R-E” The chief spells.
“Here.” The kids respond. I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Will’s still in there. He’s talking to us.”
We spent the next thirty or so minutes ‘manning our posts’ as Lucas called it. Joyce, Jonathan, Mike, and Hopper went back out to the shed to resume talking to Will, telling him stories, memories, attempting to get through to him while the chief buzzed in dots and dashed through the walkie talkie. Inside, the kids and Nancy sat around the table, our walkie set in the center of it. Dustin hastily wrote down the messages we received, muttering whether it was a dot or dash under his breath. Lucas had a stained morse code translation pamphlet that Mike had found in Will’s bedroom between him and Max, converting said dots and dashes, and passing the results over to Nancy one letter at a time. Steve and I stood over Nancy’s shoulders, quietly observing the letters she confidently transcribed on the back of an empty notepad until she eventually wrote two words.
“Close gate…” We all spoke, reading out loud. Dustin opened his mouth to speak, but before he could the Byers phone began to ring furiously from its place on the wall. My stomach dropped in a clear sign of anxiety, looking at Dustin who stood closest to the ringing device.
“Dustin, phone!” I said urgently, “Hang up the phone!”
“Shit. Shit!” Dustin bolted over and removed the phone from its mount before slamming it back down, Nancy–always quick on her feet– right behind him. I let out a sigh, relaxing momentarily, before the stupid thing began to ring frantically again. Nancy grunted, grabbing the phone and tearing it off the wall before throwing it violently to the ground. My eyebrows disappeared behind my bangs in shock– these Wheelers didn’t mess around.
“Do you think he heard that?” Max asked cautiously from beside me.
“It’s just a phone, it could be anywhere…right?” Steve answered quickly, but it was easy to tell how unsure he was about the words leaving his mouth. I shook my head anxiously, gnawing on my lip.
“No. Something's wrong.” I mutter, beginning to pace the room. “How do we tell if it knows?”
As if on cue, a screech rang through the night, sound filtering through the open windings. The little hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Demodogs.
We all turned to look out the window, Dustin being the first to break the taut silence.
I stepped forward and slammed the kitchen window closed, clicking the lock into place before turning around and locking eyes with Nancy. “Everyone lock the windows. Now.”
We all scattered to separate areas of the house, Nancy running to lock the windows in the living room with Steve’s help, the kids all running down to the assorted bedrooms. I walked up to the front door and slid the gold deadbolt in place before turning on my heel and heading towards the wall beside the couch that currently housed my ax. I picked it up swiftly, feeling its weight in my hand, when the back door slammed open once again, welcoming Jonathan carrying an unconscious Will followed by an incredibly distressed looking Mike. The kids ran back down the hallway, sat on the couch, and peered out the windows, scouting for enemies like soldiers in the trenches. The backdoor slammed and Hopper rounded the corner, two large guns in his hands.
“Hey. Hey, get away from the windows!” The man called towards the three kids. I moved aside, allowing them to walk behind me.
Hopper turned to Jonathan, extending one of the guns towards him “Do you know how to use this?”
“What?” he asked frantically.
“Can. You. Use. This?” the older man repeated for a second time, accentuating every syllable.
Nancy stepped forward, “I can.” she spoke, determined.
Hopper didn’t hesitate in tossing her the weapon. Hopper and Nancy cocked their guns and faced the large window and front door, the rest of us assuming position beside them, protecting the kids. Steve twirled his bat, which he had retrieved from his bag in the kitchen, and raised it above his head. I mimicked him with my ax, imposter syndrome pushed aside and replaced by a strong sense of impending doom.
The sound of the dogs was getting louder, screeching howls mixing with the sound of the wind.
“Where are they?” Max asked from her place beside Lucas, who had his wrist rocket locked and loaded.
Nobody answered, as the growling slowly got closer, and closer, before a loud growl sounded from right outside the window to my right. The group of us all turned towards the sound. My hands shook, so I gripped the wooden handle of my ax tighter.
“What are they doing?” Nancy questioned breathlessly, some fear dripping into her voice as she looked down the gun and at the window. No one answered once again. Every one of us, silent as a ghost. Silence stretched on for what felt like hours, but was likely mere ticks of a clock, before it was broken by another screech, from the other window. Joyce screamed and clutched Jonathan from where she stood beside me. I moved further in front of Dustin, shielding him slightly from the threat.
The monster snarled, clicked, and groaned noisily on the outside of the house, but had yet to try to get in. We all stood our ground, readying ourselves for an attack.
Then, everything went silent, and a demodog flew through the window.
Hopper and Steve approached the animal, weapons still raised, as if expecting it to be resurrected- brought back to life.
“Holy shit.” Dustin muttered beside me. Holy shit, indeed.
“Is it dead?” Max probed.
Hopper kicked the beast lightly in the head with his shoe. The demodog simply flopped dramatically to the side, head hitting the floor. The chief slowly lowered his gun, sighing.
We all turned just as rapidly towards the sound, just as we had when the demodogs were circling the house. But instead of growling, we were met with silence.
And then, the door unlocked.
I gasped, readying my ax once again, expecting some sort of wizard or alien to open the door and slaughter us all–without even bothering to knock. Everyone around me seemed to agree, as they all shortly raised their weapons once more as well.
The deadbolt slid, slowly, tauntingly, before it came completely undone.
It wasn’t a wizard, nor was it some monster from another dimension seeking blood.
Younger than Dustin- she must have been. Her hair was slicked back, dark liner smudged around her eyes. She wore all black and a serious expression. Her nose was bleeding, dripping slowly from her nostril down to her lip. She was the strangest looking girl I’d ever seen. She looked cool.
Mike stepped forward slowly, towards the strange girl.
“Holy shit.” Dustin whispered under his breath, so only I could hear.
I looked down at my brother who was gazing at the intruder.
“That’s her,” he said, “that’s Eleven.”
I let out a quiet gasp. Holy shit.
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