THE KIDS AREN'T ALRIGHT ｡ STRANGER THINGS

37 - RETURN OF THE DEAD

"A glowing review," Daisy shook her head. "I'm touched."

Steve shoved his shoulder against her own playfully, but his eyes suddenly grew serious. "I'm really sorry about your grandfather." he remarked.

Daisy wanted to cry, but she could not. "He was a jerk," Her words were underlined with colours of blues and greens, a lot like her pens that danced across her sketchbook pages. "He killed Duncan's dad and covered it up. He did a lot of horrible things, but in the end, he stood in front of my family tonight and saved them. So, maybe he wasn't all bad."

Steve wrapped an arm around Daisy, pulling her to his chest. Under a blanket of stars and planets and while the world kept on spinning, they sat together and waited.

Inside, where it was warm and humming with life, Marigold Lonsdale watched the pair on the front porch with an amused smile pressed to her lips. Her jeans had been torn above her knee, Nancy Wheeler being the person to fix her ankle in a thick bandage and give her painkillers. Something was different about the studious girl, like she was more mature, but complicated in the same breath. She liked her a lot better like this.

"They're cute," Nancy Wheeler said randomly, coming to stand by Marigold, who had been quiet ever since arriving at the Byers' place and cleaning herself up in the tiny bathroom. Marigold arched up an eyebrow with the statement and Nancy crossed her arms. "Things between us have been dead for a long while. Daisy suits him better. Maybe she always did."

Marigold nodded vaguely. "So, you and Jonathan?" Nancy's cheeks flared with a touch of pinkness. "Ah, of course. Well, finally. You shouldn't have drawn things out with Steve when you liked Jonathan all this time. But I have a feeling you already know that."

Nancy Wheeler owed Steve Harrington an apology, she knew that. "I do, it was unfair." Her words were almost lost in the chaos unfolding at the dining room table. "You know, I never really liked you. I always thought you were kind of, well, bitchy. I was wrong and I'm glad about that." Nancy admitted quietly.

"I was wrong about you too," Marigold smiled.

Both girls turned around when Dustin Henderson let out a loud thrilled scream. He was grinning hugely, very pleased with himself for cracking the code. The children, along with Duncan and Dottie had been figuring out Will's morse cord for a while now. Marigold joined Duncan, her shoulder pressed against his own, wondering what was running through his head. He had been through too much tonight and truly, did not deserve more chaos. She just hoped he was not drowning; like she felt herself right now. All this was not just weird, it was scary. 

"Close gate," Nancy read the words written down.

Duncan glanced down at his cousin, a chill running down both their spines. If Will Byers was correct, that meant they would have to head back to Hawkins National Laboratory to end all this. Which was not a comforting thought right now.

Suddenly, the phone on the wall chimed. Dustin lurched off his seat with a struggled curse. He slammed the phone down, but it only rung again. Nancy stepped forward and ripped the entire blue phone from the wall and pegged it towards the floorboards. Everyone stared at each other, even Steve and Daisy, who had hurried inside with the commotion. 

"You don't think—" Max Mayfield started.

Steve shook his head. "It's only a phone, that could anywhere."

They did not even get the chance to push away the thought that Will Byers, the spy for the Mind Flayer, had not pinpointed their location, before a very familiar echoing of sounds sparked through the quiet night. Marigold turned her head towards the windows, where the children raced to watch the dark woods that surrounded the house.

Dottie Fields stepped inline with Nancy, her hands nested against her chest. "Oh no," Her words were filled with the greatest fear. Nancy placed a small hand on her bicep, reminding her that she was not alone in this fight against a pack of Demodogs, the Mind Flayer's army.

Jim Hopper, along with Joyce, Mike and Jonathan holding an unconscious Will in his arms, pushed through the back door. "Get away from the windows!" Jim shouted, turning back to the teenagers gathered in the living room. He flicked his gaze around wildly.

Daisy grabbed her metal weapon, holding it tightly in her grasp and Steve reached for his spiked bat, which he swung around effortlessly. Hopper stared back at Jonathan, holding out his shotgun for him. "Do you know how to use one of these?" he demanded.

Jonathan, frozen in fear, shook his head. Nancy grabbed it without a second thought. "I can." She released the safety lock with a loud click and Dottie inched closer towards her, a little in awe of her suddenly.

Standing in a tightly packed group, they faced the front door together. Growls, not animal like at all, echoed through the night and they waited. They could hear movement by the windows, something moving around on the porch steps slowly. Daisy's fingertips clung to Steve's jacket sleeve, her heart thumping against her eardrums. Everyone stayed silent and still, waiting for a Demodog to break into the living room.

Outside the house, it sounded like the Demodogs were fighting, or dying, their growls turning to whimpers. "What are they doing out there?" Marigold questioned, fear pulsing through her body like nicotine.

The sound of glass shattering broke through the stillness, the body of a dead Demodog crashing through the windows and landing oddly against the far wall. The group stared at the lifeless body, everyone holding their breaths. Jim Hopper swung his gun back to the front door, where more movement squeaked on the porch.

When the tension was growing too thick, Duncan Downings was the boy to move an inch, his sneakers shifting on the wooden floorboards steadily. He walked right by Hopper, who glared at him wordlessly. Marigold gulped, her eyes pleading for him to stay where he was. Nancy aimed the gun over his shoulder, ready to shoot without hesitation. Duncan, hands not shaking, twisted the doorknob and pulled open the door.

Standing in the doorway was a child, who was supposed to be dead. Blood dribbled down her nose and she wiped it away with ease. Duncan eyed her, but a tiny smile lit up his face. "You must be Eleven," he greeted her. "You're late."