ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT LESSONS Chadwick taught Shaelynn was to never trust the police, after those who had sworn to protect and serve had beaten him up when he was only ten. But after seeing Chrissy's mangled body on the floor, her arms and legs broken at horrible angles, her jaw dislocated, her eyes gouged out, she couldn't think of anything but to stumble over to the kitchen phone and dial 911.

        "And she didn't tell you she'd be going to Eddie's?" Chief Powell inquired of Shaelynn. She should've felt comforted given that he was Hawkins' first Black Chief of Police, having entered the police force in an attempt to reform an unjust system. But Chadwick had instilled in her a phrase in her that she couldn't ignore even now: once a cop, always a cop.

        "No, we haven't really talked in a while," Shaelynn explained, yanking her flannel tighter around her shoulders. They'd migrated to one of the picnic tables, as she (and the cops) couldn't stand to be in the same room as Chrissy's disfigured body. Sure, she was cold, but she didn't want to risk inviting them into her trailer and waking up Ramona, only for her to get the wrong impression. "We didn't fall out or anything – I've just been distant since my dad died, that's all."

        "But you've been friends for years," Powell continued, casually brushing over the subject of Shaelynn's dead father. "Did she ever talk about doing drugs before now?"

        "No, never," Shaelynn responded immediately. It was the truth, and the last thing she needed in addition to losing her best friend was for the cops to learn she had smoked weed before. And just like that she felt bad for contemplating her own arrest when she had the privilege of being alive, unlike Chrissy. Unlike her dad. God, why was she so selfish? "Her mother's like, super religious. She wouldn't even go to parties until I talked her into it. But I don't know why else she'd be with Eddie... "

        Chrissy hadn't even been gone for an hour and Shaelynn was already talking about her as though she was a was, not an is. Chrissy was her best friend. Was the girl she trusted with every fiber of her being. Was, was, was.

        "And you say Eddie ran away?" Powell asked next as Callahan jotted down information on his notepad.

        "Yeah," Shaelynn answered. She was sure that the police had come to the same deduction that she had; that Eddie had likely killed Chrissy. But that didn't explain his scream of terror or why he'd looked so scared when he'd run away. "I don't know where he went off to."

        "We'll find him, don't worry," Powell assured Shaelynn. "We're just going to have to keep this quiet, okay? The last thing we need is people coming to the wrong conclusions."

        "Wrong conclusions?" Shaelynn was overcome with anger for the first time that night. Chadwick was right that the police barely moved an inch unless they were tormenting people of color. They'd acted faster when Patrick had been caught drinking than they were now, when Chrissy's body was right there to give them proof that someone had slaughtered her. "You saw the same thing I did, Chief. Chrissy was murdered! Someone did this to her... "

        "We already have a lead, but we can't do more than list Eddie as a suspect – "

        "Who else could've killed her?" Shaelynn exclaimed, standing up. "I saw Eddie and Chrissy go in together, and only Eddie left. I don't know – maybe some serial killer could've been lurking in the shadows or something, but then why am I still here?"

        "I'm not saying that you don't have the right to be outraged, because you do. But you said you heard Eddie scream when he ran away," Powell reminded Shaelynn. "You said he looked scared."

        "He could've been acting," Shaelynn reasoned. Every instinct was telling her that Eddie's scream had been genuine, but her mind was muddled – Chrissy was dead and she needed someone to blame. Maybe she was no better than the carceral system that thrived off of the same mentality she had right now. Maybe justice was a far-fetched hope people abandoned as soon as they lost a loved one and could only think in the short term. "I saw them go in together and I didn't do anything. I should've been there."

        "You saw what Chrissy looked like. We all did," Powell said. "Now Eddie's always struck me as a delinquent, but I never imagined he'd murder anyone. Do you really think he's capable of what he did to Chrissy?"

        "I don't know," Shaelynn sighed, burying her head in her hands. "I don't know."

AMARA HOPED THAT 5:30 AM PACIFIC wasn't too premature to call Will and wish him a happy birthday, but she had to leave for her shift soon and she couldn't think of any better time to do so. And so she went for it, hoping he wouldn't mind being woken up at such an early hour.

        "Hello?" Will answered after the third dial tone. Amara still hadn't mastered the art of identifying tones with their corresponding emotions, particularly over the phone, but Will didn't sound the least bit groggy or aggravated, which made her feel slightly better.

        "Hey, it's Amara," she clarified, twirling the telephone cord around her finger. "I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday! I can't believe you're fifteen now."

        "Thank you! Yeah, it's crazy," Will gushed. Though Amara missed him and his family beyond words, she could tell from the few times they had visited that the move had been good for him. With the chance to finally be free from a town plagued by interdimensional beings that had endangered his life, Will had continued with his artwork and formed friendships with individuals who didn't know about his past to walk on eggshells around him, even though they could never replace his lifelong ones. "Thanks for the present, by the way."

        "Oh, you got it! I'm glad it arrived on time." Amara had purchased Will a new set of canvas boards and paint for his birthday, which she'd mailed to him a week in advance. "Is Mike arriving soon?"

        "Yeah, we're headed to the airport soon. I'm really excited to see him," Will expressed. He had confided to Amara during their last call that he wished Mike had reached out to him more, especially considering the number of times he had called and written to Eleven. "How's everything on your end?"

        "Pretty boring. But we won the basketball championship last night. Lucas scored the winning shot," Amara relayed, leaving out how the Hellfire Club had also triumphed in their final campaign. She understood that it wouldn't do Will any good to unearth that his friends had only started enjoying Dungeons and Dragons again once he was gone. "I'm spending most of spring break working. Nothing exciting."

        "You'll have to come visit California sometime. It's pretty sweet," Will offered. "The sunsets are amazing – Jonathan's taken a bunch of photos, but his camera doesn't do them justice. And the burritos are out of this world, you have to try them."

        "Maybe this summer if I can get any time off?" Amara pondered, her forehead creased in deep thought. "I'd love to see you guys again, it's really not the same without you here."

        They chatted for a few more minutes, Amara wishing Will a happy birthday once again and Will promising to tell Jonathan and Eleven hi for her. She hoped they were doing okay – she knew that Jonathan felt lost without Nancy and Eleven was having a harder time fitting in than she let on. Even Will, who had adjusted to the move better than his siblings had, felt homesick from time to time and wondered why his friends barely called, at one point voicing to Amara his frustration that she called more than the Party. So much had changed in the last few years, and Will fretted that his bonds with his childhood friends had, too.

        She thought about this while she made her rounds at Family Video, restocking the shelves alongside Steve and Robin as the latter rambled to them about something, most likely Shaelynn. Though she typically listened to her best friend, just as Robin had with her, she kept replaying her conversation with Will. Maybe she actually was becoming better at interpreting voice tones, for there was something in his that called into question whether he was as happy as he claimed to be...

        "I don't even know why I was expecting Shaelynn to be at the game," Robin was saying, and Amara made a note to start listening actively. "She quit cheer, she hasn't shown up to any games this year, so how could I have been so foolish to think she'd come?"

        "Because it was the championship game," Steve replied, optimistic as usual. His arms were stacked to the brim with tapes. "People who don't show up to the other games still go if their favorite team makes it. It's like the Super Bowl."

        "Okay, you did not just compare a high school basketball championship to the Super Bowl," Robin feigned outrage, shaking her head at how dense Steve could be sometimes. "It's like, not only did I have to stand next to a straight girl I once had a crush on for the entire night but a straight girl I had the biggest crush on happened to be the one invited to sing the national anthem and I can't stop thinking about another straight girl I don't have a chance in hell with. Why does every goddamn girl I like have to be straight?"

        "Robin – "

        "Maybe it's a sign," Robin ignored Amara, stopping working altogether. She was spiraling as Amara had all too often before. "Maybe it's God's warning or whatever that I'm gonna end up in hell for my sins if I try my luck with a girl, and it doesn't matter if we have chemistry or she can tolerate my weirdness because she doesn't like girls. Maybe I'm doomed to be rejected by every girl I meet, and something good can actually come out of that because I won't be shunned for dating a girl or discriminated against when getting a job or buying a house. This should be my wake-up call that I'm gonna live out my life alone while everyone else in my life ends up with someone, so why am I still bothering? And crap, I'm going down the rabbit hole now, aren't I?"

        "I wasn't gonna say it," Steve smiled sympathetically, propping his hand against one of the shelves.

        "Oh, I'm hopeless," Robin sighed miserably, sinking against the poster for The Last Dragon they had hung up the week before. "You two are gonna get married and grow old together while I'm stuck with nothing but cats for company."

        "You're allergic to cats, Rob," Amara giggled, her and Steve joining their friend. "And regardless of what happens in the future, we're not going to leave you behind. You're stuck with us – we promised you that."

        "Besides, it took me months to pluck up the courage to ask out 'Mara," Steve reminded Robin. "If you hadn't given me that push who knows where we'd be now. The point is, we had you. And you have us."

        "No offense, but no advice you guys give me can change who people like," Robin pointed out, hanging her head sadly. "If that were true I would've tried to make myself straight, but I was born this way. And so was every girl who hasn't been interested because they like guys."

        "That doesn't mean there aren't other queer people who feel just like you, who wish they could fit in but just can't," Amara disputed. While not queer herself, she could do her best to empathize with Robin, which her best friend said was more than enough. "There's bound to be someone out there for you, even if you don't find her right away. It could be someone you least expect."

        "You're only saying that because you thought no one else here had autism and it turned out I did, and we're best friends," Robin remarked, though she was smiling now. She glanced across the room and her eyes lit up. "Ooh, I think I found our morning movie." She bounded to the drama section and selected a tape for her co-workers to assess. "Doctor Zhivago."

        "Ugh, you know I don't do double VHS," Steve bemoaned. Amara swatted his arm, causing him to recoil.

        "But it's about doomed love," Robin pleaded, her eyes wide.

        "Come on Steve, you got to choose last week," Amara pressed, pushing the rolling cart back to the counter as Steve followed along. "You just don't appreciate the art of double VHS."

        "Fine, I guess this is what I get for choosing The Texas Chainsaw Massacre," Steve relented. "And I can look back and remember how miserable I used to be."

        "Precisely," Robin flashed Steve a grin, making her way behind the counter to turn on the TV. "Also, Julie Christie is b-b-bonkers hot in this. Like, seriously, the most beautiful creature I have ever seen in my life. You can admit how hot she is, right Amara?"

        "Hot in the sense that I wish I looked like her growing up? I can roll with that," Amara said. She had never been one to fawn over celebrities, but after watching Fahrenheit 451 when she was younger she had attempted styling her hair to match Julie Christie's to no avail. "But as Steve here said yesterday, I don't like boobies."

        Robin and Steve both groaned as Amara switched on the TV, only for all of them to fall silent in response to the local news broadcast. "We're in the Forest Hills trailer park in East Roane County," a news reporter stood in front of one of the trailers in the trailer park, which was bustling with townspeople craning to get a closer look at something or someone they were roped off from. It was all too similar to the aftermath of the battle of Starcourt. "We don't have a lot of details right now, but we can confirm that the body of a Hawkins High student was discovered late last night. Police have not released the name... "

        "Holy shit," Steve articulated. Robin and Amara were both too stunned to speak, and the latter felt a shiver of dread inch down her spine at the sudden turn of events.

        " ...although we are told they're currently in the process of notifying the family."

        "You guys don't think it could be Max, right?" Amara willed herself to speak what she was sure they were all wondering. Perhaps Max had become so melancholy recently that she'd committed suicide, but it wouldn't have guaranteed nearly the amount of press coverage. It had to be a murder, but that didn't make Amara feel any better. It meant that whoever had been killed hadn't wanted to die.

        "Or Shaelynn," Robin added, idly wondering if stressing over the potential murder of a girl who didn't know she existed was overstepping things. She could probably pass it off as concern, though.

        "Whatever has occurred here is sure to touch a nerve across the community of Hawkins, which is still reeling from last year's devastating mall fire," the reporter continued. Amara was thankful that no one was entering Family Video right now, as she was unable to peel her eyes off the TV. "Over 30 innocent individuals perished from a gas leak on the Fourth of July."

        "It has to be the Upside Down then, right?" Amara asked next; if people were comparing it to the tragedies that had occurred in the past there had to be a connection somewhere. Even those who didn't know the full scope were beginning to string everything together, pinning it down to the town being cursed. They were half right. "If it was an ordinary murder people wouldn't be comparing it to everything else that's gone on."

        "But the gate's closed," Steve contended, squeezing his girlfriend's hand for comfort. "We'd know if it was open. The power everywhere would've gone kablooey."

        "I don't have a good feeling about this," Amara persisted in her argument. Every time they had bested the Upside Down, it found a way to outsmart them. Organisms had to adapt to survive, and the alternate dimension was no different. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

        "Me too," Robin gulped, her knuckles whitening from how tightly she was gripping the forgotten tape. "Fuck, this isn't how I imagined spring break would go."

        "Many of the residents we spoke to voiced similar concerns to us," the reporter stated solemnly. "Grief, shock, disbelief, anger. Everyone wants to know the same thing, how can so many tragedies befall a once-peaceful town?"

        The Upside Down had given them a few months of peace only to strike Hawkins once again when they let their guard down for one damn second. While Amara had been celebrating a long overdue championship win and kissing Steve goodnight on her doorstep, one of her classmates hadn't lived to see the sun rise again. The worst part was that it could've been someone she knew and could've protected, like Max or Eddie.

        Amara loved to poke fun at Steve for his savior complex, but her years of battling the supernatural world had led to her developing one of her own.

        "All eyes are now on the police for answers. Is the new chief of police, Powell, in over his head? Or is he the very savior this town needs? We'll be here the rest of the day right here on channel nine, where we'll keep you posted on all the latest developments. In the meantime, we recommend you keep your doors and windows locked tight. This is Beverly Moss, signing off."

        Amara shut off the TV before another news reporter could say anything else that could make her feel guilty for not acting quickly enough. She leaned against Steve's shoulder, tangling her free hand with Robin's. The three of them just stood there, not knowing how to go forward when they had customers to attend to and none of their friends were answering the phone. All they could do was wait until their shift was over so they could track down their companions and hope they were all still alive.

        However, their friends beat them to the chase.

        "Max, oh my God," Amara breathed when the entrance bell rang for the first time that morning, revealing the girl she'd stewed had died, Dustin at her side. She maneuvered around the counter and embraced Max tightly – while caught off guard, Max quickly melted into the hug, realizing just how long it had been since she hugged anyone. After everything she'd witnessed last night and this morning, it was just what she needed. "We saw the news – I thought it was you. I'm so glad you're safe."

        "Did you see who it was?" Robin queried, fidgeting with her tie amid her anxiety. "It's okay if you didn't, I – "

        "It was Chrissy Cunningham," Max revealed once Amara had released her, her skin rivaling that of a ghost's. "She was wearing her cheerleading uniform, the same as last night. My neighbor Shaelynn found her and called the cops."

        The knowledge that Shaelynn was alive didn't bring them the same comfort they'd anticipated when it was her best friend who had suffered a cruel fate, specifically when she'd been the one to find her that way. "Wait, so what was Chrissy doing in the trailer park?" Steve questioned, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "And who murdered her?"

        "No time to explain. How many phones do you have?" Dustin asked sharply, bracing his hands against the countertop. When none of the employees responded he sighed through his nose and reiterated, "How many phones do you have?"

        "Uh, two," Steve replied, knowing Dustin well enough to comprehend that he wouldn't stop prodding them until he had the answer he required. "Why?"

        "Uh, technically three, if you count Keith's in the back," Robin added, gesturing at the employee room behind them.

        "Yeah, three works," Max nodded at Dustin. Still not bothering to explain what they needed phones for and how it had anything to do with Chrissy's murder, Dustin took off his backpack. Ignoring Steve's query of "What are you doing?" he hurled it over the counter, where it crashed into the VHS tapes Amara, Robin, and Steve had sorted earlier. Dustin himself was quick to follow, vaulting over the counter and stationing himself in front of the computer with little regard for the mess he'd created.

        "My pile!" Robin gasped, her mouth falling open comically.

        "No, no, no, no! My tapes! Dude!" Steve exclaimed, brandishing his hands wildly. Amara and Max rounded the counter to join the others, wondering why Dustin couldn't bother doing the same. "What are you doing, man?"

        "Setting up base of operations here," Dustin responded shortly. He activated the computer and began navigating Family Video's customer database.

        "Base of operations?" Robin interrogated with a roll of her eyes, gathering the tapes he'd knocked over and restocking them.

        "Could you maybe tell us what's going on before you knock everything over? Our tapes don't organize themselves," Amara spoke up. She didn't want to come across as too harsh but Dustin's lack of explanation was really starting to get on her last nerve. She wasn't a mind reader, and neither were Steve and Robin. "Look, we get that there are more pressing issues right now, and we want to help, but we can't if you don't tell us anything."

        "I'm looking up Eddie's friends' phone numbers," Dustin's response was barely helpful, but it at least gave them something. Amara looked to Max for support, but she was too distraught to speak and she didn't want to make things worse.

        "What does Eddie have to do with all of this?" Steve asked next, moving to stand next to Dustin, hiding the sliver of jealousy that arose whenever his best friend brought up the boy who had become something of a mentor in his place. For once, Dustin wasn't rubbing it in his face about how he had another older male friend. "Why is calling his friends so important?"

        "Wait, is Eddie okay?" Amara questioned, having pieced together enough information to know that Dustin could only be so frantic to call Eddie's friends if he couldn't reach Eddie himself. However, Dustin remained silent other than a quick shake of the head to dignify an answer. "Max said Chrissy was murdered, not him."

        "Dustin, if you don't explain to us what's going on I'm gonna strangle you," Robin threatened when Dustin didn't respond to Steve and Amara's queries, too engrossed in his mission to clue in the rest of his team. "Believe me, you're already on thin ice."

        Dustin groaned and turned to face Max, deciding to pin the job on her rather than stepping aside and letting someone else take over the duty he had designated as his own. "Can you just, fill them in while I do this?" he pleaded, not waiting another second before going back to typing.

        Amara was tempted to ask Dustin to do the explaining when Max was clearly affected by what she'd witnessed, but the aforementioned girl had already opened her mouth to begin. She informed them of how Chrissy had been with Eddie in his trailer for a reason she couldn't decipher, and that a few minutes later the lights in her house had flickered in a manner analogous to their previous brushes with the Upside Down. She said that Eddie had fled the trailer screaming and driven away like a maniac, and Shaelynn went inside only to scream as well and call the police. It now made more sense why Eddie was missing and why Dustin was so keen to find him – Eddie was suspect number one for Chrissy's murder.

        Once Dustin had compiled a list of Eddie's friends' phone numbers they got to work, conscious that they were in a race against the police to locate him. Since there were only three phones, Amara worked the cash register while Steve kept their few customers occupied. She didn't even mind that he was using his charm – as it turned out, their female customers had a penchant for unattainable guys. His charisma was a defense mechanism for appearing vulnerable around anyone other than his girlfriend, just as working the cash register was for her.

        But the news of a murder had ostensibly spurred many people to remain at home, for Amara couldn't distract herself when very few people were showing up. She retreated to the science fiction section, where Steve was reshelving their returns. She could tell that he wasn't completely focused on his task based on how he kept tousling his hair and coming close to dropping a tape every now and then. He was scared, and rightfully so.

        Amara made her presence known by crouching to pick up a tape Steve had let slip. "I got it," she whispered, turning it over so she could read the title. "Ooh, 2001: A Space Odyssey. Haven't seen that in a while."

        "Yeah, that's a good one," Steve recalled as she placed it on the shelf. "Not that I remember much of it... "

        "Guess we'll have to watch it again, then," Amara grinned, though she didn't hold it for long. There was too much at stake for them to discuss matters that didn't revolve around their current predicament. "How are you feeling?"

        "I don't know," Steve cast his gaze to the ground. It took Amara extending her hand to cradle his jaw for him to make eye contact with her. He leaned into her touch, far wearier than anyone at nineteen years of age should have to be. "I just... I don't know if I can do this again."

        "Me too," Amara guided them both to sit on the floor, her back against the wall. She wasn't ready to go through it all again – bloodthirsty monsters and casualties and the aftermath of nightmares and guilt from not being able to do enough. It was a never-ending game of chess against a domain that was starting to predict their moves. "I guess I always knew this day was coming, but I thought we'd have longer. We've done it before and I know we'll be able to do it again, but how many times do we need to keep going at this? It just never ends."

        "It just sucks that it always has to be us," Steve sighed, checking to make sure they were obscured enough from the others. He didn't know if he could stand to break down in front of them, other than maybe Robin. They were supposed to be the protectors, but who was there to protect them? It wasn't fair for them to have to hold off interdimensional commodities once, let alone four times. "It's always us who have to step up and never anyone else. But I know I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't do anything. I'm not walking out."

        "Then I'm not either," Amara affirmed, blinking back tears as she remembered just how terrified she'd felt last summer, when she'd had to leave Steve and Robin behind. She couldn't experience that again, not when there was a chance they wouldn't end up lucky this time around. "Just... stay with me this time, okay? Almost losing you was the worst."

        "I will," Steve vowed, circling his arms around her tightly. She reciprocated the gesture, her head nestled in the crook of his neck. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

        They had gone to hell and back enough times to understand what they were dealing with, but Eddie hadn't. He was out there somewhere, on the run for a crime he hadn't committed, still trying to wrap his head around what he'd seen, and they owed it to him to tell him everything they knew. Because eventually, Eddie would start to believe what everyone else did, that he hadn't been able to save Chrissy and was therefore responsible for her death.

        "Hey, guys, I might have a lead," Max announced a few minutes later, slamming the phone onto the receiver. Amara and Steve took it as their cue to return to the front; Robin and Dustin promptly pivoted to face her, eager to learn what she had found after hours of dead ends and accusations of Eddie being a murderer.

        "Seriously?" Dustin asked, his face lighting up.

        "Yeah," Max elucidated. "Apparently Eddie gets his drugs from some guy named Reefer Rick, and sometimes Eddie crashes there."

        "That sounds promising," Robin admitted. It was the closest they'd gotten to uncovering Eddie's whereabouts in the entire day. "Um, where does this Reefer Rick guy live?"

        "See, that's the thing. No one knows," Max clarified, her burst of confidence deflating slightly. "He's more of a... a legend than someone that people actually know."

        "Well, what about a last name?" Dustin inquired hopefully.

        Max frowned. "I don't know that either."

        "Bet the cops know the last name," Steve chimed in from the front. When neither Dustin, Max, or Robin appeared convinced, Steve continued, "I mean, listen, if this Reefer Rick is actually a drug dealer, I guarantee you he's been busted at some point. Means he's in the system."

        "The cops?" Dustin shot down Steve's idea without bothering to consider it fully. "Really, Steve? That's your suggestion?"

        "It's actually a pretty good idea," Amara flew to Steve's aid. "Not that they'd believe Eddie's innocent, of course – but if this Reefer Rick's in the system, which he probably is, we'd be able to get a last name and an address. We just need to sneak in when they're gone, maybe cause a distraction if we have to."

        "Or they could catch us and force us to tell them everything we know," Dustin claimed, his tone unnecessarily condescending. "Y'know, maybe we'd have a little bit more luck if you two spent less time canoodling in the back and more time trying to find Eddie."

        "Dustin, this job is hard enough without your attitude," Amara fixed Dustin with a glare that immediately shut him up; it was a rarity that she ever got angry with him or any of the Party, but she supposed that them no longer being kids meant that she no longer had to treat them as such. Especially Dustin, whose ego now rivaled the size of Jupiter. "We want to find Eddie just as much as you do, but we're scared because we don't know what we're up against. We're too scared to have the luxury to 'canoodle' or whatever you think we've been doing, and I think you know that."

        "You're right. I'm sorry," Dustin murmured, regretting his term of phrase. His snark was just as much of a front for him as Amara's habit of solving everyone else's problems before her own. "I just want to find him before anyone else does. He's gotta be terrified."

        "And we will find him, but we can't let any infighting slow us down," Amara asserted, though her voice had softened considerably due to Dustin's apology. "Breaking into the station might be our best bet. I've done it before."

        "You broke into the police station?" Max's eyes widened, wondering how she hadn't known that until now.

        "Back in '83. They'd kept our weapons and we needed them back," Amara specified. "But that was back when we had Hopper. It might not be as easy now."

        "I might have another idea," Robin piped up, eyeing a customer with spiked hair and black garb who had just entered. She rushed to the computer and began typing away, encouraging the others to observe from behind. "If breaking and entering isn't gonna work... "

        "What are you doing?" Max asked, peering over Robin's shoulder.

        "Maybe we don't need a last name," Robin realized, hazarding a guess and assuming Reefer Rick had a purchase history in their database. Searching up his name gave them a breadth of results, but not nearly as many as they'd have to contend with beforehand. "Twelve Ricks already have accounts here."

        "That's a lot of Ricks," Max noted.

        "So let's narrow it down." Robin zeroed in on the rentals for each customer by the name of Rick, aiming to determine their match based on their favorite movies. As Amara understood, a person's favorite movies said a lot about who they were. "Rick Alderman's latest rentals are Annie and Dumbo. What are the chances our drug dealer has a family?"

        "Not likely," Max hummed, Dustin shaking his head in agreement.

        "All right. Rick Conroy," Robin moved on to the next Rick out of the twelve they had. "Sixteen Candles, Teen Wolf, and Romancing the Stone."

        "No," they all agreed.

        "Okay. Rick Joiner," Robin continued. "Mask, Footloose, and Grease."

        "Nah."

        "Rick Kimbrough. The Blue Lagoon and Splash."

        "Definitely not," the five of them chuckled at that. Amara contemplated if any of the first four Ricks knew each other. There seemed to be a running theme, or maybe romance movies were popular right now.

        "Okay. Rick Lipton," Robin went with next. They were almost halfway through by now, but this was the first to have any late returns. "Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Cheech and Chong's Next Movie, Cheech and Chong's Nice Dreams, Cheech and Chong's Up in Smoke."

        None of them could contain their laughter by the time Robin finished reading, knowing they had found their guy. "Bingo," Dustin declared amid his chortling, genuinely happy for the first time that day. There really was a type of movie to watch when high that was so different from the norm, and Amara had to admire Reefer Rick for his authenticity.

        "Lipton?" Max confirmed, leaning forward.

        "Spelled like the tea," Robin replied. "2121 Holland Road."

        "That's out by Lover's Lake," Amara voiced. She and Steve had driven by it the day she had first opened up to him in November of 1984. "I've seen it, but it's hard to find if you aren't looking close enough."

        "Middle of nowhere."

        "It's a perfect place to hide," Robin grinned wickedly.

THE SUN HAD DIPPED BELOW THE HORIZON by the time the group arrived at Reefer Rick's house, the inky sky saturated with stars that normally helped Amara to remember just how small her problems were. But not this time, for if they didn't plan their next steps accordingly it would be one of the last night skies she'd ever witness. Somehow, she knew in her gut that whatever they were up against was prepared for a fight.

        Once Steve had parked the car in the driveway, the five of them stepped out and made their way to the front door, Dustin handing them each a flashlight. The closest to Eddie out of them, he rang the doorbell, hoping that his familiarity would coax his friend out of the shadows. When no one responded, he rang it again. And again, and again, and again, and again until Amara had a mild headache. Dustin had every reason to be desperate, but if Eddie was there he could easily be under the impression that the cops had tracked him down.

        "I don't think that's working," Amara stated after Dustin rang the doorbell for the tenth time, her fingers interlocked with Steve's as they'd been for the entire drive. "He might think it's a trap."

        Evidently that had been the wrong thing to say, for Dustin rapped his knuckles against the door at a magnitude that would surely disturb the neighbors. "Eddie! It's Dustin!" he shouted.

        "Great," Steve mumbled, sharing a glance with Amara. She merely shrugged, wordlessly apologizing to him for her choice of words.

        "Look, we just wanna talk, okay?" Dustin hollered, continuing to pound on the door as Max and Robin shone their flashlights through the window for any sign of Eddie. There was nothing that signified his presence, implying he had hidden himself well enough or wasn't there as they had suspected. "No cops, I swear. We just wanna help. Eddie!"

        "Shh!"

        "Rick!" Dustin ignored Robin, back to ringing the doorbell incessantly. "Reefer Rick!"

        "Don't scream that," Steve chided but once again Dustin didn't listen, banging on the door and calling out Rick's name. Meanwhile, Max began wandering around the house in search of a back entrance. Amara considered the prospect that neither Eddie nor Rick was there, which put them back at square one. "He's not there."

        "He could just be really high," Dustin contended, grasping at straws now.

        "Or maybe he's in jail?" Amara offered, recalling Steve's observation that Reefer Rick had to have been arrested at one point or another. "I don't see his car anywhere."

        "Is that a foot?"

        "No, that's a shoe."

        "Hey, guys?" Max called out to them from several feet away, provoking Steve and Dustin to quit their bickering and join her along with Robin and Amara. She had located an oxidized boathouse tucked behind Reefer Rick's house, illuminated by a single overhead light that suggested to the group that someone was there. If a house by Lover's Lake was already a good place to hide then a barely visible boathouse was even better, minus the automatic light. Eddie had to be there.

        The five of them cautiously made their way to the boathouse, mindful to keep their footsteps light so as not to startle Eddie. The windows were too tinted to give them a clear view of the interior, leaving them with no choice but to go inside. Robin opened the door as quietly as she could, wincing when it creaked.

        "Hello?" she made her presence known if the door squeaking hadn't already. "Is anyone home?"

        "What a dump," Steve muttered, casting his flashlight to the ceiling.

        Amara entered after Max, using her flashlight to scan the room for anything out of place. It looked like no one had used it for months, a film of dust covering practically every surface. Boat supplies ranging from life jackets to oars littered the walls, flanking a boat tied in place on the water and shrouded by a tarp. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet, but there was no sign of Eddie. At least, not in plain sight.

        She nearly jumped when a loud thunk disturbed the quiet of the night, pivoting around only to find that her boyfriend had armed himself with an oar and was prodding at the tarp for any movement that indicated Eddie was hiding beneath it. Holding back her amusement, she continued searching the enclosure for any evidence that a sixth person was in the room with them.

        "What are you doing?" Dustin asked incredulously as though he hadn't done his fair share of stupid things. "What are you doing?"

        "He might be in there," Steve justified, continuing to poke at the tarp with his oar.

        "So take the tarp off!"

        "If you're so brave, you take the tarp off!"

        "Hey, look over here," Max interrupted, drawing Amara's attention away from Steve and Dustin, who were squabbling once again. She had found a wooden table overlaid with empty beer bottles, food wrappers, and ashen cigarettes. "Someone was here."

        "Maybe he heard us," Robin theorized. "Got spooked and ran."

        "Wouldn't we have heard him, though?" Amara mentioned, picking up one of the food wrappers to examine. "It's dark out, he probably would've tripped or something. He has to be here somewhere."

        "Don't worry. Steve will get him with his oar," Dustin chirped, back to being condescending.

        "I know you think you're being funny, Henderson," Steve snapped, still jabbing at the tarp despite nothing happening. "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 slight – "

        In the brief moment that Steve had faced Dustin, someone actually emerged from beneath the tarp with a battle cry; Amara screamed as a figure with messy hair grabbed hold of Steve and pinned him against the wall despite his protests. She immediately ran over to protect him, only to halt in her tracks when she saw that Eddie was holding the edge of a broken beer bottle against his jugular vein. Eddie was rightfully skittish, but any sudden movement could lead to Steve bleeding out.

        "Wait, wait, wait!" Amara shrieked, pleading for Eddie to recognize her from all the times she'd picked up the kids. "Eddie, let him go!"

        "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Eddie!" Dustin shouted, his hand outstretched and chest heaving rapidly. "Eddie, stop! Eddie! Eddie!"

        Eddie turned to face the others, not removing the glass shard from Steve's throat. His complexion was glistening with sweat and his eyes were wild, akin to the reaction of a prey discovered by its predators. He was terrified, just as Amara had been when she'd first learned of alternate dimensions and supernatural entities. All at once, she knew that he was innocent, entangled against his will in a world that shouldn't exist and branded the villain for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. But she couldn't let his fright be the reason Steve died.

        "It's me! It's Dustin!" Dustin exclaimed, deliberately speaking slowly. "This is Steve! He's not gonna hurt you, right, Steve?"

        "Right. Yeah," Steve's voice was barely discernible.

        "Steve, why don't you drop the oar?" Dustin suggested. Steve looked at Dustin as if he was insane, but did as he was told. The oar fell to the ground with a clatter that only set Eddie further on edge – he tightened his grip on Steve, pressing the glass against his skin. Amara's breath hitched.

        "He's cool! He's cool!" Dustin rushed out. "Please don't kill him, otherwise Amara's gonna kill you."

        "No, I'm not!" Amara clamored, not wanting to raise the temperature higher than it already was. "Okay, maybe I would... "

        "I'm cool, man," Steve insisted. "I'm cool."

        "What are you doing here?" Eddie finally spoke, his voice ragged. Amara swore a piece of her died from seeing him like that. She'd never wanted anyone else to have to learn about the horrors lurking beneath their town, least of all the eccentric metalhead who had taken Dustin and Mike under his wing and just wanted to graduate high school.

        "We're looking for you," Dustin answered. His strategy seemed to be working if Eddie's loosening grip on the broken glass was any sign.

        "We're here to help," Robin added.

        "Eddie, these are my friends," Dustin gestured to his companions. "You know Robin, from band – " Robin mimed playing an instrument " – This is my friend Max, the one who never wants to play D&D – " Max waved her hand in greeting " – And you know Amara, she drives us home after club meetings. And Steve's her boyfriend if you didn't already know so she'd really appreciate it if you let him go."

        Amara nodded quickly, hoping Eddie got the memo.

        "Eddie. We're on your side," Dustin said softly. "I swear on my mother! Right, guys!"

        "Yes. Yes. We swear," Max backed Dustin up.

        "Yeah on – on Dustin's mother," Robin added blithely.

        "Yeah, she's great," Amara agreed.

        "Yeah, Dustin's... Dustin's mother," Steve stammered weakly, his throat aching.

        Eddie hesitated before finally releasing Steve, and everyone exhaled in relief. Amara rushed over to him, bracing him by the arm as he sank against the wall. It was far from his first near-death experience, but he had still been pretty fucking terrified.

        "You okay?" Amara looked him in the eye, her face etched with concern. "Sorry, I shouldn't be asking you that when you clearly aren't, I – "

        "I'm good," Steve breathed, massaging his hand against his throat. He smiled gratefully at her. "I'm good."

        Meanwhile, Eddie had slumped to the floor, still gripping the bottle tightly. His body was trembling and his eyes were sparkling with tears. Amara had never met an assassin who showed any mercy for their victims, not when the ones she'd battled were hellbent on eradicating humanity itself. This wasn't the face of a killer. The same person who freaked out anytime he saw an insect in his food couldn't possibly be capable of murder.

        "Eddie... We just want to talk," Dustin hunkered down in front of his friend, hating seeing him like this. He attempted to take the broken glass away from him, but he only gripped it tighter. "Okay?"

        "We want to know what happened," Robin whispered, crouching down as well.

        "You won't believe me," Eddie sniffed, under the impression that they would pin what he'd witnessed down to a trick of the mind. Just as Amara had assumed when she'd been reluctant to tell the truth to Kevin, and Robin, and her parents. Just as everyone who'd ever had to wake someone up to the unfortunate truth that their town was haunted. Just as anyone who believed they were alone in what they'd seen.

        "Try us," Max offered. What a juxtaposition it was, for the girl who had once dismissed Lucas's account as hogwash to now be the one to convince another that their horrific reality was, in fact, real. God, she missed him.

        Eddie's eyes widened at the possibility that someone, let alone five people, wanted proof that he was lying or losing his mind. But they hadn't come all this way to find him just to turn away, right? Either they would laugh in his face and abandon him in his time of need and he'd be on his own like he'd always been... or by some miracle they would believe him even when no one else would. He decided to take a chance, even if sharing his story would only make Chrissy's murder more real.

        "Her body just, like, lifted up into the air and uh... " Eddie began, his voice quivering as he spoke. If he had been the one to witness Chrissy die, he couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her. "And she just, like, hung there. In the air. And her bones... uh... she... " he paused, screwing his eyes shut as he struggled to form the words he needed to say next. "Her bones started to snap."

        Amara's blood went cold.

        "Her eyes, man. It... it was like there was something, like, inside her head, pulling," Eddie elaborated with his hands for effect. Amara could almost see it play out in her mind like that of a movie. "I... I didn't know what to do, so I... I ran away. I left her there."

        Amara realized with a jolt that she would've done the very same thing had her first encounter with the Upside Down been a body disfiguring on its own accord. She'd first involved herself after Will had been abducted and again when he had been possessed, but that was the commonality – the Mind Flayer took over people's minds and compelled them to do its bidding, only killing those who stood in its way or were condemned to die the moment they lost their free will. It had never killed someone so viciously it rendered them unrecognizable. Maybe it wasn't even the Mind Flayer.

        Eddie scoffed to himself, looking away in shame. "You all think I'm crazy, right?"

        "No," Dustin said fervently, shaking his head. "We don't think you're crazy."

        "No, don't bullshit me, man!" Eddie wailed, his face buried in his hands. "I know how this sounds."

        "We're not bullshitting you," Max insisted. She knew all too well that everything they'd been through, everything she'd been through, was far from bullshit.

        "We believe you," Robin stated.

        "Look," Dustin began, poised to give Eddie the explanation he deserved, "what I'm about to tell you might be a little... difficult to take."

        Eddie merely blinked, wondering how anything could possibly be more bizarre than last night. "Okay."

        "You know how people say Hawkins is... cursed?" Dustin proceeded the best he could. "They're not way off. There's another world. A world hidden beneath Hawkins. Sometimes it bleeds into ours."

        "Like ghosts and shit?" Eddie tried.

        "There are some things worse than ghosts," Max responded somberly.

        "These monsters from this other world... we've defeated them before. We thought they were gone," Amara chimed in, ducking her head. "But they've come back before, multiple times. That's why we were looking for you. We knew you couldn't have killed Chrissy."

        "If they're back again, we need to know," Max exhorted.

        "That night, did you see anything besides blinking lights?" Amara inquired, tilting her head.

        "Dark particles, maybe?"

        "It would almost look like dust," Dustin elucidated. "Swirling dust."

        "No, man, there was nothing you could see or, uh... or touch," Eddie mumbled sadly. "You know, I tried to wake her, man. She couldn't move. It was like she... she was in a trance or something."

        "Or under a spell," Dustin straightened up. If this was something entirely new, there had to be a Dungeons and Dragons villain that best matched their foe's capabilities.

        "A curse."

        "Vecna's curse."

        "Who's Vecna?" Steve questioned, speaking up for the first time.

        "An undead creature of great power," Dustin answered, any trace of sarcasm long gone from his body.

        "A spell caster," Eddie added.

        "A dark wizard."

        It was just as they had suspected – the Upside Down was back. But what the fighters were facing was far more formidable than anything they'd encountered in the past. Amara only knew one thing as they bid Eddie goodnight with the promise to return with food the next morning and she smashed the automatic light with the tip of an oar; Vecna knew how strong they were. And he had stepped in to ensure that he would be the one to overpower them.

published to quotev: 9/6/23
published to wattpad: 2/1/25

AUTHOR'S NOTE

so sorry for the long chapter