[ iv. a walk in the woods ]

november 7th, 1983. monday.

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THE CLINKING OF SILVERWARE was the only sound to be heard in the Wheeler family's near-silent dining room. Each family member sat in strained quiet, the reality of Hawkins's darkening devastation pressing heavily on their shoulders. A little boy was missing—a child who was not just a friend but an integral part of their daily lives. Will Byers, Melanie's best friend, was out there somewhere, lost in the dark.

The Wheeler daughter sat hunched forward, her elbows braced on the table, her chin resting in her right palm. Her left hand, still tender in her cast, clumsily manipulated the dinner fork. The tongs stirred listlessly through the chicken, causing it to mix with the untouched salad on her plate. Melanie was not remotely hungry. Her appetite had gone away in the passing weeks.

She flicked a lifeless piece of green with her fork, watching as it fell to her plate again.

Across from the dining table, Melanie felt her mother's stare burning into her. Karen, trying to feed herself with one hand while holding a small plate up to Holly with the other, seemed to be as disconnected from the meal as her children. Little Holly, barely four, pushed her food around disinterestedly. Mike and Nancy, seated beside Melanie, mirrored her lack of appetite. The only one who seemed oblivious to the tension was their father, who ate heartedly—and loudly.

"Eat up," Karen eventually said, her suspicious eyes lingering on her three unmoving eldest children.

Melanie sighed deeply. "I'm not hungry," she said. "Can I be excused?"

"No, you cannot," her mother answered. "Not until you've finished your plate. I didn't slave away in the kitchen just for you to ignore your food."

"How can I eat when one of my best friends is out there, possibly starving?" Melanie challenged. "Will is out there alone, and we're sitting here like nothing's wrong. Something is wrong."

Mike nodded in agreement. "Mel's right," he said. "I'm worried about Will. We should be out there right now. We should be helping look for him."

Karen immediately shook her head. "We've been over this, Mike. The Chief says—"

"I don't care what the Chief said," Mike snapped, eyes narrowing.

Their mother's voice cracked with anger upon the sudden interruption. "Michael!"

Mike did not flinch from her glare. Instead, he leaned forward, pushing his dinner plate aside. "We have to do something," he implored desperately. "Will could be in danger."

"That's more reason to stay put," Karen disagreed, her gaze shifting between Mike and Melanie, her stubborn, strong-willed twins. "I know that Will is your friend. But do you think he would want you out there, risking your own lives out there for him?"

"That's what friends do for each other," Melanie exclaimed. "We take risks. We protect each other. Will would do the same for us if the roles were reversed. I know it. We can't just sit here and let the adults handle this. We know Will better than anyone. We know—"

"End of discussion," Karen interrupted with icy finality. Melanie's jaw tightened, frustration settling in. Deep down, Melanie knew that her mother knew her children were right, but she was unwilling to admit it. To Karen, children could never outwit their parents, no matter how valid their arguments were.

With a loud clang, Melanie dropped her fork onto her plate, and leaned back, her meal barely touched. Mike promptly mirrored her action, pushing his plate away completely in silent rebellion. Across the table, Karen sighed in exasperation, her eyes flashing with unspoken disappointment. Nevertheless, rather than endure a round two, she resumed feeding Holly, who sat unmoved in her highchair, her small brown eyes locked onto her older twin siblings with intense curiosity.

After a long pause, Nancy dared to break the dining room stillness. "So . . . Me and Barbara are going to study at her house tonight," she began, her tone somehow both bold and cautious at once as she addressed her parents. "That's cool, right?"

Karen's response was immediate. "No, not cool."

Nancy's eyes widened in disbelief. "What? Why not?"

"Why do you think?" their mother returned. "Am I speaking Chinese in this house? Until we know Will is okay, no one leaves."

"This is such bullshit!" Nancy shouted, her foot stamping on the ground.

"Language," Ted cut in, though his attention remained fixed on his meal.

Nancy did not even spare a glance to acknowledge her father's reprimand. "So, we're under house arrest?" she challenged. "Just because the twins' little friend got lost on the way home from—"

"Don't say that!" Melanie flared as she turned to face her older sister. "You know he didn't just get lost!"

At the same time, Mike demanded, "Are you trying to say that this is Will's fault?" His hands clenched into fists on the dining table, but he practically looked ready to hurl himself across it.

"Take it back, Nancy," Karen ordered sternly.

"No!" Nancy cried, shaking her head defiantly.

"You're just pissed off because you want to hang out with Steve," Mike scoffed.

Nancy's face flushed with rage. She turned sharply, her steely blue eyes narrowing as she faced the twins head-on. Now, her own stiffened posture suggested she was on the brink of exploding, but she remained seated, her fury barely contained. It was clear to Melanie that, if not for their parents' presence, she and her twin would both be getting hit.

"Steve?" Ted questioned, finally lifting his gaze from his chicken. "Who is Steve?"

"Her new boyfriend," Mike smugly informed.

Melanie snorted. "I bet Nancy wasn't even planning to go to Barbara's. She was just looking for a hookup with Harrington!"

"Melanie, watch your mouth," Karen warned. Melanie merely rolled her eyes, unbothered.

Nancy slammed her palms against the edge of the dining table. "You both are such douchebags!" she yelled.

"Language!"

The eldest Wheeler child snapped.

Nancy let out an exasperated shout and shoved back from the table, her chair nearly toppling over. The fire in her eyes was unmistakable as she threw one last icy glare at the twins. Melanie's smirk only deepened; she knew her older sister would not dare escalate things. With a final, furious huff, Nancy spun on her heel and stormed up the stairs, her footsteps echoing with each wrathful step. Mike, on the other side of Melanie, chuckled softly into his iced tea.

"Nancy, come back!" Karen called after her oldest. When Nancy's retreat was met with silence and Holly's tiny whimper of distress, Karen's attention quickly shifted to her youngest. "It's okay, baby," she cooed, her tone softening. She held out Holly's sippy cup as though it were a peace offering. "Here, have some juice, okay?"

At the head of the table, Ted swallowed his massive mouthful and had the nerve to suddenly sound irritated. "You see, kids?" He lectured his twins. "You see what happens?"

"What happens when what?" Mike shot back. "Melanie and I are the only ones acting normal here! It's like we're the only ones that care about Will!"

"That is really unfair, son."

"Unfair?" Melanie repeated. "It's the truth!"

"We care," Ted insisted dryly, beady eyes shifting between the twins.

Without another word, Mike abruptly rose from his seat. As if he could simply no longer endure their father's ignorance and stupidity, he strode purposefully toward the basement stairs. As he disappeared down the steps, Melanie sat frozen, incredulous that she remained at the table alone. With a bitter scoff, she muttered under her breath, "Care my ass."

But her words cut more sharply than she had intended.

Karen's eyes widened in outrage. "That's enough out of you, Melanie!" she chastised. "You need to stop with the foul language! It is completely out of control."

"I'm not the only one!" Melanie retorted. "Nancy and Mike are just as bad."

"They're not getting detentions," Karen countered. "I received a call from the principal this afternoon. He told me you swore at the police Chief."

"I wasn't swearing at the Chief!" Melanie corrected. "I was arguing with Lucas. He was being mean to Dustin."

"Let the boys handle their own problems," Ted interjected through another mouthful of food.

"I'm perfectly capable of standing up for my friends!" Melanie sneered back.

Karen's expression softened, but only slightly. "Melanie," she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "I know you've been through a lot recently. I understand you were scared—I was scared, too. I've been trying to give you some leeway, but I can't keep dealing with this constant back-and-forth. The lashing out, the talking-back, the swearing . . . It all needs to stop. Please."

Melanie's eyes narrowed. "You think this is all about my accident?"

"What else could it be? This isn't like you."

Melanie sat paralyzed, staring at her mother in disbelief. How could her own mother look at her and not recognize her? The woman's eyes were vacant, as though they were staring at a stranger. But Melanie had not changed. She was the same person she had always been, unchanged by the accident. The only difference now was that her mother seemed to see her for the first time, only after she had nearly lost her.

"No, it's me," Melanie said, voice trembling. "It's always been me. I'm not Michael, or Nancy, or baby Holly. I'm sorry you can't see that. I'm sorry you have more children than you can handle. I'm sorry you don't even know who your own daughter is." Her chin quivered, but she fought to keep the tears at bay. She was angry, not sad. She refused to let her emotions betray her. "Maybe you should try fixing yourself before you try to fix me. Because I'm not messed up. I don't need to be fixed. I'm not broken. The only thing broken about me is my arm!"

As a sudden sting began to blur her vision, Melanie was startled by the wetness on her cheeks. She quickly swiped at her tears, her face burning with a mixture of shame and fury. She glared at her parents, who merely stared back. For a fleeting moment, Karen looked distant and on the verge of breaking down herself, but Melanie was not interested in her mother's tears. She did not want to see her mother cry.

Melanie rapidly pushed back from her seat and hurried out of the dining room. Neither parent made a move to stop her, and she was grateful for that. She rounded the corner of the hallway and yanked open the basement door, disappearing down the wooden steps with a slam. She made sure the door shut firmly behind her.

At the bottom of the stairs, Melanie saw her brother, Mike, reaching for his walkie-talkie, evidently preparing to call someone. Before he could react, he froze, his eyes widening in concern at the sight of his sister.

"Are you crying?" he asked.

Melanie shook her head, brushing at her warm cheeks. "No," she replied quickly. "Don't worry about it." She took a deep, steadying breath and lowered herself into one of the gaming chairs around their small Dungeons & Dragons table. "Who are you calling?" she asked, nodding toward the radio still in his hand.

"The boys," Mike answered. "We're going to look for Will. Get dressed and find something to cover your cast. It's supposed to rain tonight."

Melanie obeyed without a word and was relieved that she would be able to avoid trekking back upstairs for supplies. She spent more time in the basement than in her bedroom, and an array of clothes awaited her in the homely space. She wasted no time, quickly selecting a vivid fuchsia mitten to cover her cast.

"Lucas, do you copy?" Mike called as he pressed the walkie-talkie to his ear. "It's Mike. Mel's here, too."

Static crackled before the Sinclair boy's voice emerged clearly. "Hey, it's Lucas."

Mike's eyes rolled. "I know it's you. And say 'over' when you're done talking so I know when you're done. Over."

Lucas's reply dripped with sarcasm. "I'm done." Melanie could easily imagine the irritated look on his face as he dramatically added, "Over."

Her brother, however, did seem to notice the extra flair. "I'm worried about Will," Mike confessed. "Over."

"Yeah, this is crazy," Lucas agreed. "Over."

Mike chewed on his lower lip, brow furrowed with concern. "I was thinking . . . Will could've cast Protection last night, but he didn't. He cast Fireball. Over."

A frown of Melanie's own began to develop at her twin's cryptic words. She sensed that Lucas's confusion mirrored her own. "What's your point?" The Sinclair boy asked, his voice crackling. "Over."

"My point is he could've played it safe, but he didn't," Mike reiterated. "He put himself in danger to help the Party. Over."

Now it was their turn.

The silence that followed stretched interminably, each second dragging. Finally, Lucas's voice crackled back through the static. "Get Mel and meet me in ten. I'll get Dustin, too. Over and out."

Mike swiftly lowered the antenna on the walkie-talkie and slipped it into his backpack. Melanie scrambled to gather the remainder of her belongings and shoved them into her brother's bag. Within minutes, they were suited up in their rain gear. Melanie looked somewhat comical, her exposed hand battling the cold while her cast was enveloped in a bright pink glove that did little for her appearance.

Quietly, the twins slipped out the back door that led from the basement. Mike's discarded bicycle lay nearby in the large backyard, inviting them to escape. He carefully lifted it and swung his leg over the seat. Patting the open leather seat behind him, he said, "Climb on."

Melanie hesitated, her body stiffening as she cautiously mounted the bike. Memories of her last bike ride unwantedly flashed through her mind, and she took another deep, controlling breath. Wrapping her arms around Mike's neck and gripping his shoulders for added balance, she waited for him to ask if she was okay. When he looked back at her, she gave a nod of encouragement. "Let's go," she urged.

Mike did not need to be told twice. He pedaled silently around to the front of the house, pausing only once to glance back at their home. The bottom floor was cloaked in darkness, save for a single, solitary light in the kitchen. Then, Melanie's gaze swept upward, and what she saw made her breath hitch in her throat.

Perched atop the Wheeler roof, silhouetted against the night sky, was none other than Nancy's supposed boyfriend, Steve Harrington. At the sound of Melanie's gasp, Steve froze mid-climb, his expression one of surprise and awkwardness. He lifted a hand in a hesitant wave toward the twins, an ineffective gesture meant to diffuse their alarm.

Naturally, Melanie's initial impulse as a younger sister was to scream, to wake the whole neighborhood and expose both Steve's nocturnal escapade and her older sister's sleazy behavior. But then the reality of the situation sank in: such a commotion would only serve to incriminate all of them. She bit her lip, stifling her frustration, as Mike shook his head in disapproval and resumed pedaling.

Tightening her grip on her brother, Melanie and Mike glided down Maple Street. Soon, the distant glow of headlights pierced the gloom, revealing Dustin and Lucas waiting on their own bikes. The two boys offered curt nods, their faces set with the same determined expression shared by Melanie and Mike. Together, the four of them turned and pedaled toward Mirkwood.

Despite having biked through Hawkins many times at night, Melanie could not shake the sense that something was off that evening. The sky overhead was a shroud of ominous, heavy clouds, and the thick wood loomed darkly on either side of the empty road. The added stillness of the newly imposed curfew only added to the uncomfortable atmosphere.

Breaking the silence, Dustin eventually spoke. "I overheard the Chief in the hallway," he panted as he pedaled. "They found Will's bike on Mirkwood just a few feet from the road."

"That must be it!" Lucas exclaimed, raising a hand. Melanie followed his gesture as their bikes began to slow. They approached a red and white police barricade stretched between two trees, a lone barrier against an eerie forest backdrop.

Suddenly, the sky overhead rumbled with distant thunder, and jagged bolts of lightning briefly illuminated the treetops. Melanie shivered but knew she could not back out now. These woods were her domain. Hawkins was her town. Will was her friend. She would find him.

Beside her, Dustin dismounted. "Do you feel that?" he asked, holding his hand up, palm facing the sky.

Melanie did not need to ask. The first raindrops were already splattering on her head, cold and insistent. She adjusted her fuchsia-colored glove and climbed off her brother's bike. "Let's make this fast," she said, already striding toward the barricade.

Dustin's voice wavered. "Maybe we should go back."

"No way," Mike protested. "We're not going back. Just stay close. Stay on channel six."

"And don't do anything stupid," Melanie added, taking the extra flashlight from her twin. "Now, come on."

Melanie did not wait to see if the other boys would follow her into the dark woods. The sounds of hurried footsteps crunching over dead leaves and snapping branches told her they were right behind her. Within moments, Mike and Lucas had flanked her, while Dustin trailed a few paces behind.

The storm, which had started as a mere sprinkle, was now a downpour. Rain hammered down in torrents, soaking them to the bone. The wind whipped around Melanie, sending shivers cascading down her drenched spine. She pulled her jacket tight, her teeth beginning to chatter. Black clouds had swallowed the moon, plunging the forest into near-impenetrable darkness. Without their flashlights, the Party would have been hopelessly lost.

"What are we looking for again?" Dustin questioned, voice nearly swallowed by the roar of the rain.

"Any sign that points to Will," Mike answered.

"Will's a master at hiding," Melanie noted as she stepped carefully over a wet, fallen trunk. "Remember the hide-and-seek days? It took us over two hours to find him up in that tree."

"Or the attic in my house that I didn't even know existed," Lucas added with a quiet laugh.

Melanie managed a small smile, but it fell upon hearing her brother's frustration. "Stay focused, guys," he snapped at them. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted into the dark, "Will! Will Byers!"

"I've got your X-Men One-Thirty-Four!" Dustin yelled.

Nearly thirty minutes into their search, Melanie's hope was starting to wane. Realistically, she knew Will could not possibly hear them over the storm. The wind and rain were so overwhelming that she could barely hear the boys shouting beside her. Her left arm was now tucked into her jacket to keep her cast dry, but it was a losing battle against the elements. Melanie knew they could not stay out much longer.

"Mike," she called out hesitantly. "How much longer?"

"Guys, I really think we should turn back now," Dustin suggested worriedly.

"Seriously, Dustin?" Lucas shot back. "If you want to be a baby, then go home already!"

"I'm just being realistic, Lucas!" Dustin retorted.

"Dustin's right," Melanie agreed. "It's too dark and cold. I want to help Will, I really do, but with the storm this loud, he won't hear us. We're just going to get ourselves lost if we keep going."

Dustin spat out a mouthful of rainwater and halted in the midst of the dark wood. "Did any of you ever think Will went missing because he ran into something bad? And we're going to the exact same spot where he was last seen? And we have no weapons or anything?"

Mike, standing a few steps behind the trio, suddenly raised his hand. "Dustin, shut up," he ordered sharply.

"I'm just saying," the curly-haired boy persisted. "Does that seem smart to you?"

"Shut up! Shut up. Do you guys hear that?"

Melanie glowered, but her intent to scold her brother for his scare tactics was abruptly halted by a jarring rustle of leaves behind her. Her heart skidded to a stop, icy fear creeping up her spine. The sound of hurried movement intensified, merging with the distinct crack of a tree branch snapping and crashing to the ground. Melanie spun around, her flashlight beam slicing through the darkness, but the shadows revealed nothing.

"We need to—" Melanie began, but the terrified words were swallowed by a sudden, gasping intake of breath to her right. The Party swung their flashlights toward the sound, their collective yelps slicing through the night as they stumbled backward in surprise.

In the harsh glare of their flashlights stood a small, drenched figure, barely illuminated against the torrential rain. The figure, scarcely taller than they were, wore nothing but a sodden, yellow nightgown, and had dark hair shorn close to the scalp. Alone in the woods, the figure shivered violently, narrow chest heaving as though they had been fleeing from something.

Melanie's instinct told her immediately that this was a girl, no more than a child, like them. Her dark brown eyes, reflecting the harsh beams of light, were wide with terror, their depth mirroring the intense fear that clenched at Melanie's empty gut. The girl's lips parted, but the words seemed caught in her throat.

Heart pounding, Melanie Wheeler found her own strength. Still, her voice trembled as she dared to speak what they all were likely thinking: 

"Oh, my God."

~~~~~~~~~~

edited 08/06/2024.