Mike's watch went off at 2 in the morning, the time he had set it to after talking to his friends. Mike had decided to go into the woods by himself to look for Eleven, and he wasn't scared at all. HE was going to bring Eleven back. He would not go home until he had found some clue about Eleven's whereabouts.

The cool almost winter air bit at Mike's face as he peddled through the night. The streetlights lit the way and the sound of his bike skidding along the pavement would have lured him to sleep if he had not seen the path to the woods coming up. He peddled quickly across the road, not stopping to look to see if he was being followed. He should have checked.

The crispy fall leaves stuck to his tires as he peddled further and further into the woods. A twig snapped behind him and he quickly turned his head. Suddenly, his bike wobbled and it tripped over a tree root. Mike was thrown to the ground, right against a small wooden box with a slanted lid.