͏b͏r͏o͏k͏e͏n || ͏b͏i͏l͏l͏y ͏h͏a͏r͏g͏r͏o͏v͏e

T H I R T E E N

"Come on," I hissed. "Unless you want to be dinner."

***

"Steve?"

My head jerked up. Jonathan and Nancy stood by the gate of Hawkins Lab, pale and winded.

"Nancy?" Steve and I blurted at the same time.

"What are you doing here?" Nancy demanded.

"What are you doing here?" I shot back.

"We're looking for Mike and Will," Jonathan said, barely catching his breath.

"They're not in there, are they?" Dustin's voice cracked with fear.

"We don't know," Nancy answered, eyes darting to the shadowy windows. A sharp screech tore through the air from inside the lab, making my stomach flip.

"If they're in there..." I swallowed hard. "They're in serious trouble."

"D-Don't say that," Jonathan stammered, already rushing to the control panel. He slammed the OPEN button over and over. Nothing. The gate didn't even twitch.

Seconds dragged. Screeching echoed again, closer, sharper, vibrating the metal fence beneath our palms.

Then—
FWUMP.
The building lights snapped back on.

"The power's back," Nancy breathed.

"Move," Dustin insisted, shouldering Jonathan aside. He jabbed the button. Nothing. Jabbed it again. Nothing. "Son of a—just—come on!" He hammered at the panel like it insulted his mother.

Then—
CLANK—CLANK—WHOOSH.
The gates lurched open.

"I got it! I got it!" Dustin crowed.

But a scream ripped out from inside the lab—raw, terrified, unmistakably human.

We all jerked toward the entrance.

"Was that—" Lucas started.

But he didn't need to finish.

People were pouring out—Joyce first, panic in her eyes, followed by scientists and soldiers sprinting for their lives.

"Joyce," I whispered. "Get the car," I told Nancy and Jonathan. They bolted.

A truck screeched up beside us. Hopper leaned out the window, face ashen.

"Come on, let's go! MOVE!" he barked.

We piled in fast—too fast—and the second the doors shut, Hopper floored it.

"Hopper—what the heck happened?" I gasped.

His jaw tightened. "Bob just saved our lives."

My heart stopped. "Where is he?"

"He didn't make it," Hopper admitted quietly.

The weight of those four words hit hard. This night was far from over.

***

Some time later, we arrive at the Byers' house. Will is carefully laid down, looking gravely ill. My heart aches seeing him like this. I kneel beside him, brushing his hair away from his face.

"I'm sorry, buddy. Sorry I wasn't there to help you," I whisper softly.

Jonathan, his face streaked with tears, collapses against Nancy, clearly overwhelmed. "I should have been there."

I give Jonathan a look of pity as he buries his face in Nancy's shoulder.

"Sam Owens. Dr. Sam Owens," Hopper says into his phone, his tone tense. "I don't know how many people are there! I don't know how many people are left alive!" Hopper's frustration is evident.