𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

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C H A P T E R  T H R E E :

" THE MESSAGE "


















・ 。゚ ⋆✩⋆  ・ 。゚

・ 。゚ ⋆✩⋆  ・ 。゚

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・ 。゚  ・ 。゚






















| D E C E M B E R  22nd, 1986 |

C h i c a g o , I l l i n o i s


  JOYCE'S FOOT on the pedal of her car couldn't possibly press any harder on the gas than she already was, speeding her way towards the familiar rundown compartment that she and Hopper and Dr.Alexei all went to for Murray's assistance about the Russians.

Her car pulled up on his driveway, hurriedly twisting the key out of the ignition before striding for the front metal door with the familiar red spray paint.
She rang the doorbell, expecting Murray to demand that she look at the camera to her right but she didn't hear his voice through the little speaker. Instead, she heard the metal door unlocking quickly before swinging open, revealing a disheveled and stressed Murray.

"Joyce! Good, you're here, we need to talk. Come in, come in."
Murray's voice was rushed as he ushered Joyce inside the totaled complex that used to be Murray's home, but because he moved out, it was all dusty and cobwebs littered the corners of every room, no doubt.

There were still a few moving boxes in certain rooms, meaning that he was still in the process of moving it all out without potentially drawing unwanted attention from the government to himself.

Murray led her towards the living room of his now emptied old house before stopping in front of his radio and wall phone.

"What was so important you couldn't tell me over the phone?"
Joyce was anxious to hear what he had to tell her, considering that they hadn't been back at this complex in a good while.

Murray exhaled, adjusting his sleeping robe over his dirtied tank top and shorts that looked to also be pajamas.
He hadn't slept well recently, it seemed.

"Remember how you and Hopper barged into my residence 5 months ago when you needed help translating to communicate with Dr. Alexei?"
Murray began, his eyes expecting her immediate answer behind his glasses.

"Y-yeah.."
Joyce answered, her heart beat quickening just at the mention of Hopper—extending her arms with expectance for Murray's explanation.

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