Apocalypse, Steve Harrington

Chapter Thirty-Six. Eleven

    She chuckled, nodding. "We have the same scar on our elbows— I still have mine." Lucy lifted her arm, and pointed to a jagged mark. She smiled, despite the tears welling in her eyes. "That day, when your mom got home, you told her I was the best babysitter ever. And then, I was stuck with you."

    Will's lip twitched. After a passing moment, Joyce spoke. "We all love you, Will— so much. We just want you back."

    He scanned each person in the room. Will's lips parted, and his eyes were filled with visible, glossy tears. "Let me go."

    Their spirits crashed. Lucy's chest fell, a frown twitching onto her lips. She stared at Will— her tired eyes drifted towards his hands. They hit the chair in a rhythmic, his pointer and middle finger. Lucy blinked; she averted her gaze left, towards Hopper, who was squinting at Will. She shot out of the chair, and straight for him. "Look— look, look, the tapping," Lucy whispered. "Dad, I think that's morse code."

Jim blinked. He backed up, and nodded. "Come on."

    It was happening fast— with his hand on Lucy's shoulder, Jim entered the house, the door slamming harsh against the wall. Everyone jumped, and he pulled out a chair to sit.

Riley was first to move to her feet. "What's happening?" she asked, brow furrowed.

With a red crayon, Hopper scribbled on a piece of scrap-paper. "I think he's talking, just not with words," he explained. Riley recognized it almost immediately— Jim was writing in morse code.

"Hey, what is that?" Steve asked.

They replied all at once, "Morse code."

Lucy tapped on the paper. "H-E-R-E," she mumbled. "Here. Will, he's there— he's talking to us.

The air was pushed from her lungs. Riley parted her lips, and blinked. Hopper turned to her, "You know morse code, kid?"

     Her mouth went dry. "I mean... kind of?" she stumbled on her words, shrugging.

Jim ran a hand over his brow, and dropped the crayon. He turned to Lucy, "Alright, Luce, stay here— help them," he spoke. Then, he looked at Riley. "Work together, yeah?"

They turned to each other, eyes wide. Riley's shoulders dropped, and Lucy's chest expanded. In unison, they nodded, and and scrambled for the crayons on the table.

It was happening in a blur— Riley and Dustin shouting the letters across the kitchen, Lucy with a bright red crayon in her right hand. Her knuckles ached, her stomach was in knots, and she hadn't even been thinking. Max was leaning over her left, Lucas had his hands on her back, and Danny was peering over her shoulder. Everyone was looking at the same thing— CLOSE GATE was written on the back of a notebook.

She exhaled— it seemed like the first breath taken in minutes. "Close gate," the words left Lucy's lips in a breathy whisper. She repeated herself, slowly, this time. "Close gate."

A noise split the air. The shrill sound of a phone ringing filled their ears, inducing a gut-wrenching panic into them all. Lucy drew out a gasp, her eyes shifting between the telephone and Dustin, when he lifted it off a wall. "Fuck," she muttered, dropping the crayon.