i'm back! and i hate authors notes
at the beginning of chapters BUT
i DID just return from a 2 week offline vacay
and the first thing im doing is publishing this chapter
which means i have yet to see volume 2 yet!!!!!!
please please PLEASE no spoilers </3

chapter xii .
we interrupt this program

MASON ANDERSON HATED HIS LIFE. At least, for the time being, he did.

     Somehow, in the span of thirty minutes, he had gone from driving over to Lover's Lake, blasting AC/DC on the way—to stumbling across his foster sister being possessed, or something—to almost getting hit by his own baseball bat by the same foster sister—to being forced to find a bunch of freshmen that could 'explain everything' to him—to being chased by the cops through the woods—and now, finally, found himself squished between some ginger girl and a boy with a stupid hat that said 'Thinking Cap' on it, being questioned by the goddamn police.

     Oh, and his parents were there, too. Goddamn cherry on top.

     "What exactly were you all doing at the lake?" Chief Powell began, eyeing the four teenagers curiously.

     They all shared some thoughtful glances, stuttering out excuses, but Mason kept his mouth shut. The girl next to him was the first to speak up.

     "We were... we were going for a walk."

     "A walk?" Officer Callahan repeated. "At 9:00 p.m.?"

     "To the lake!" the curly-headed kid replied in a high-pitched voice. "We were gonna... take a little swim. Little.... night swim."

     "Dusty!" one of the mothers in the room exclaimed—Mason used his detective skills to deduct that it was Dustin's mother. "Someone was just murdered there."

     Mason swallowed thickly and lowered his head. They were talking about Patrick. Mason had been there when his teammate died, and now he was hanging around with the people who were accomplices with his killer. He felt his own parents' eyes on him but couldn't bring himself to look up.

     "Yeah, we didn't realize that," Dustin replied. "You know, until we got there."

     "That's why we didn't swim!" Lucas added.

     "And Nancy," Mrs. Wheeler said, "was she with you at this night swim?"

     "No," Max and Lucas said, at the same time Dustin said, "Yes!"

     Dustin exchanged a tense glance with Max. "We're not sure. She was there... and then she left. It's all a little confusing."

     "And why on earth was Mason there?" Mason's dad demanded. "You don't usually hang out with these people, son!"

     Mason looked up, figuring he couldn't get out of answering this one by waiting for someone else to jump in. He cleared his throat and looked around. "Um.. I don't know."

     "You don't know," Callahan said, disbelieving. "You don't know why you were with them? What, did they kidnap you?"

     "Yes," Mason replied.

     Max shot him a glare. "No, we didn't."

     "Have you had any contact with Eddie?" the chief asked. "Eddie Munson?"

     "Psh," Dustin scoffed, "that psycho... freak killer? God no."

     Max and Lucas also voiced their dismissals, but Max must have noticed the look on Mason's face, because she pinched his thigh before he could open his mouth and tell the truth. He turned to look at her, his mouth hanging open in offense.

     "Oh, that's a bunch of bull!" Sinclair's little sister came forward, arms crossed and brow scrunched in annoyance. "You realize they're lying. The whole couch is on fire!"

     The Sinclair parents stammered. "Erica!"

     "Just the facts!"

     Dustin's mom let out some sort of strangled gasp. "Are you lying to these policemen, Dusty?"

     "No!" Dustin cried.

     "Lying to the cops is a crime, son," Lucas's dad said.

     "My son would never lie to officers," Mason's mom said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I didn't raise you like that, Mason—"

     "We aren't lying!" Lucas exclaimed.

     "The fire is consuming us."

     "Threaten them with a little jail time," Mr. Wheeler suggested. "Maybe that'll loosen their lips."

     Mrs. Sinclair's eyes widened. "You wanna send our kids to jail?"

     "We need to take this seriously," Ted said. "Sure."

     Everyone in the room—teenager and parents alike—began arguing over each other, not letting anybody get a true word in. Mason just sat in silence, not meeting his parents' eyes. He kept his gaze on the ground. He was going through enough mental turmoil—he didn't have it in him to be arguing with the cops, too. He was inches away from snapping.

     Finally, the chief lost it. He stood from his chair and shouted, "Shut UP!" which did the trick quite well. All arguments came to an abrupt end and everybody looked to the sheriff.

     He glared at the kids. "We're gonna try a more civilized approach. One at a time. Starting with..." His eyes skimmed the couch, looking for a victim, before he outstretch a finger to Max. "You first."

     Max went bug-eyed. "Wait, what? Why me—?"

     "Follow me," was all the chief said, before he headed off towards a room in the back of the Wheeler's house to temporarily become a questioning cell.

     "I'm not even in the Hellfire club!" Max yelled.

     Callahan stepped forward and wagged a finger towards her. "Do I need to cuff you?" When Max didn't reply, Callahan pointed upwards. "Up! Let's go. Chop, chop!"

     He gave the slew of teens one last daring look before following Max to where the chief had gone off to. Mrs. Wheeler offered something about cheese and crackers or anything to drink, and the rest of the adults followed her into the kitchen. The kids stayed put, sitting in silence, still smooshed together on the couch. Dustin announced he was going to the bathroom, but he brought his walkie talkie, which Mason thought was odd. Nevertheless, he kept seated on the couch, now alone with none other than Lucas Sinclair, the traitor.

     Finally, Mason stood, picking up his coat with much more force than was necessary.

     "Woah, where are you going?" Lucas asked, but Mason swiftly cut him off with a deathly sharp glare.

     "Don't talk to me, you son of a bitch," he said. "What the hell happened to 'we're a team,' asshole? You abandoned us, we go almost a full day without hearing from you, and now I come to find out you're fraternizing with the goddamn enemy? God, I'm gonna go find Jason. He'll have a good laugh at this, I'm sure."

     He turned to go, but somebody shoved him by the shoulders and he took a few steps back to stabilize himself. Dustin was back.

     "You can't leave," Dustin said. "For one reason; the cops would just come after you again. For another; you know what happened to the rest of our group. We need you to tell us."

      "Can't you ask them?" Mason seethed, clenching his fists and gesturing to the walkie talkie in Dustin's hand.

     "They aren't answering. You're the last person who saw them." Dustin held out a hand, like he was taming a wild animal. "We just want to know what you saw. All of it."

     Mason wet his lips, glancing between Lucas and Dustin in a way that suggested he wanted to murder them. But he drew in a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, putting his hands on his hips, eyes downcast as he recalled the story.

"My mom and dad had been bugging me about Val all day," he began, slowly, "asking where she is, who she was with, why she hadn't come home. If she was doing drugs. I told them I didn't know, but I did. I knew she was with the freak. I couldn't bring myself to tell them that, though. I knew if I did, they'd just go out looking for her, and I didn't want my parents to be the next victims of Munson's."

Lucas interrupted him. "Eddie didn't kill—"

"Lucas!" Dustin snapped. "Let him talk."

Mason swallowed, eyes glancing back and forth between two spots on the carpet. "So I decided I had to be the one to go find her. I took a baseball bat, just.. y'know, for my own safety, and left for the last place I'd seen her—Lover's Lake. 'Course, I doubted she'd actually be there. But when I pulled up to Rick's house, her car was there. And I only knew there were actually people there because they were blasting the speakers of her car, some Fleetwood Mac song. Then I saw them, standing around her. I'd thought it was some kind of cult.. ritual sacrifice, or something. She wasn't moving. All of them were freaking out."

Lucas and Dustin shared a worried glance. Dustin leaned in. "What did Val look like?"

"Uh... when I got closer, her eyes were all bloodshot and red, and she was completely unresponsive."

"Holy shit," Lucas muttered, collapsing back into his seat. He ran a hand down his face.

"Vecna," Dustin said.

Mason blinked. "Gesundheit."

Dustin rolled his eyes. "No, asshole, it's the name of what was cursing her. But listen, Mason, I need you to tell me—did she wake up? Or did she start to float, or something—"

     Mason shook his head, looking down again. "Nah, man, she—she woke up. She looked like she'd just been to Hell and back, though. But what I'd originally thought—that that freak had been, like, sacrificing her, or some bullshit—I knew it wasn't true, because the way he hugged her when she came back; it was like he was relieved."

     Lucas sat up again. "We told you, Eddie didn't—"

     "He didn't do it," Mason finished, nodding. He ran a hand down his face. "Yeah, I believe you now, asshat. You can stop whining."

     Dustin's eyes widened. "Y—you believe us?"

     "My sister almost just fucking died, or some shit, but she came back and immediately started beating my ass into the ground. Fucking Steve Harrington was with her. Fleetwood Mac saved her goddamn life, or something. What I'm trying to say is—I don't fucking know what the hell I just witnessed, but I can tell for a fact that it wasn't Eddie Munson who was doing it. He saved her, for God's sake. And for that... I'm thankful, okay?"

     Lucas and Dustin shared another glance, this time with an edge of a knowing smirk to it. Dustin raised an eyebrow. "You love h—"

     "No, no, I do not," Mason interrupted, glaring at the both of them. "I just... knew Mom and Dad would be upset if she died."

"Yeah, alright." Dustin scoffed. "Is that all you saw, though?"

Mason thought for a minute. "Uh.. yeah, just about. When I left, they were heading off towards the lake."

"Towards Watergate," Lucas muttered. He looked to Dustin. "You don't think they went through?"

"Through Watergate?" Dustin shook his head. "Without us? Without a plan? Without weapons? They wouldn't be that stupid. They must just be laying low 'cause the law got us."

"Wait a minute," Mason said, "went through what?"

Dustin sighed. "Look, Mason, there's a lot you don't know. About us, about Hawkins, about... inter-dimensional demons. All you need to know right now is—and I just need you to believe me on this—Val, Eddie, Steve, Robin, and Nancy were investigating a gate to another dimension at the bottom of Lover's Lake. This... this dimension is where the thing that cursed Val is. The thing that killed Chrissy and Patrick. It's all been one undead demon who we can sort of track through... lights."

Mason stared at Dustin listlessly. He just drew in a heavy breath. "For some goddamn reason, I'm just going to believe you and go along with whatever you say. Just get my sister back."

"Now, wait a minute," came another voice. The boys turned to see Erica Sinclair, arms crossed and eyebrow cocked judgmentally. "That's all a bunch of bull. We closed that gate last year."

"Erica!" Lucas exclaimed. "Please just go away."

"Here's the deal," Erica said. "Either you tell me what's happening, or I tell Dustin and Dreamy Eyes over here what I found under your bed."

Dustin and Mason shared a look. "What'd she find under your bed?"

"Spill your guts, cowpuncher."

"Erica, no—"

Mason smirked, amused, and leaned an elbow on Dustin's shoulder as they watched Lucas. "What was under your bed, Sinclair?"

"Is it gross?" Dustin asked Erica. "Scale of one to ten."

"A hundred."

"A hundred?" Mason repeated, shocked. "What the hell was it, Sinclair?"

"The serial killer is a dark wizard from the Upside Down!" Lucas blurted. "And we've been looking for him, but he's in the Upside down, which we can't reach. At least we thought we couldn't, until we found a gate at Lover's Lake. That was the reason why we were there, but these stupid cops grabbed us. And if you tell anyone about this—that's including Mom, and Dad, and Tina—I will smother you in your sleep. Do you understand?"

     Mason's eyes were glued on the light fixture hanging from the Wheeler's living room ceiling, ignoring the rest of the conversation at hand, not even bothering to listen to whether or not Erica understood. One of the lightbulbs was flickering rhythmically. Mason watched it blink repeatedly—he caught onto the pattern quickly. It was morse code.

     "Hey, uh, Henderson," he said, moving to stand beneath the light. "You said you can track that evil... undead demon through lights, right?"

     Dustin followed Mason, now taking notice of the fixture as well. "Yeah..."

     Mason's eyebrows raised in both confusion and skepticism. "Any chance our demon would be telling us S.O.S?"

     Dustin watched the lights blinking for a moment, mouthing the letters being spelt in the flickering of the light. Finally he said, without taking his eyes off the light, "Hey, uh, remember when I said they wouldn't be stupid enough to go through Watergate?"

     Lucas furrowed his brow. "Yeah?"

     "I overestimated them."