CHAPTER THIRTEEN
XIII. edge of seventeen
[ season 2, episode 8 ]
There was a Demodog at the end of the hallway, sniffing at the air eagerly in an attempt to locate the traces of fresh meat.
Steph and Lucia pressed their backs against the wall in unison. They both held their breaths in anticipation, opting for the more silent approach rather than bursting into the hallway all guns a'blazing in hopes the Demodogs would not locate them. But it was more than unlikely; the door was wide open.
And the creature was growing nearer.
Steph tightened her grip around Steve's baseball bat. She had a plan. A dangerous plan, but if it was carried out and negotiated efficiently, it was a damn good alternative to being eaten alive.
She just had to close that door. Somehow. That, or face the Demodogs.
In a way it seemed crazy, being in her current position. Last week, she was helping Nancy Wheeler put together an outfit for dinner with Barbara Holland's parents. Just acting like normal teenagers, skirting the edge of seventeen, avoiding supernatural surges billowing across Hawkins like a blanket of thick fog. And now, she was in the presence of interdimensional monsters that wanted nothing more than to peel the flesh from her bones. The two scenarios were so stark in difference that she felt thoroughly sick to her stomach.
Today had the potential to be the end of her days. The end of Lucia's short lived days.
That was why she needed to make a move. Fast.
She took one step toward the door ── tiptoeing to decrease the amount of noise her footsteps made. Realising what the adolescent was going to do, Lucia pressed a hand over her mouth to smother the possibilities of screaming, shaking her head in noncompliance when her eyes connected with Steph's. She gestured for her to return to their initial hiding spot, but it was a futile attempt. Without closing the door, they were fully exposed. Steph was determined.
She took another step toward the doorway. From that position, she was able to peer around the corner.
Shit.
The Demodog was five feet away, if that.
A string of saliva was dangling from it's folded mouth. It followed an invisible trail that coiled throughout the humid air, the scent of human flesh growing unbearably strong. Throat constricted with fear, Steph shrank back into the darkness of the file room. She pressed a trembling finger to her lips, a silent demand for Lucia to remain as quiet as possible.
Carefully, she raised the bat. Pointed it.
She almost cried out with relief when the jagged nails slotted into the small gap between the door handle and the door. Leverage. She gently tugged the baseball bat back toward herself, using the nails to slowly pull the door back into it's original position. Closed. The silhouette of the Demodog was nearing, and she had little time to fulfil the life saving mission.
The door was an inch away from connecting with the frame when a earth-shattering squeal emanated from the old hinges.
Steph's limbs turned to ice.
The Demodog screeched. It slammed it's body against the wall, scuttling in the direction of the file room. Steph didn't waste any more time ── she surged toward the door and curled her clammy fingers around the handle. The Demodog refused to abandon the possibility of food, however, and stuck it's slimy, pointed head into the slither of space that the open door created. Lucia screamed, scrambling back into the corner of the file room as Steph tried with all of her might to slam the door.
The Demodog's mouth blossomed, splitting into four separate folds of razor-sharp teeth. It roared. The thick scent of fresh blood that pooled from it's mouth invaded Steph's nostrils, and she struggled to inwardly retch.
"Lucia!" she yelled hoarsely. "Help me!"
Lucia swallowed the bile rising in her throat. Tried to ignore the fear and anxiety rushing through her blood. She jumped in to assist Steph with the door, trying to close it on the Demodog's grotesque face. Surely, the impact would result in it's skull exploding like a watermelon.
That was the aim.
Steph gritted her teeth, digging her heels into the floor. A flare of pain blazed down the length of her left arm as she tried in earnest to yank the handle. The Demodog was far too strong. Too determined.
Her eyes flickered to the bat lying on the ground beneath her feet. If she let go of the door . . . well, they were both dead. But without the bat, they had no defence mechanism.
She had to take her chances.
"Lucia, hold the door."
Lucia's eyes flared, and she spluttered incredulously, "What!"
"Hold the door!" Steph repeated sternly.
She let go of the handle. The door jerked inward ever so slightly, but Lucia was swift to press her weight against the Demodog's. Her shoulders ached, and her chest was beginning to cave in around exertion. She didn't have much time.
Steph acknowledged the struggle. She crouched and scooped the bat up from the ground, stabilising it between her hands. The Demodog was halfway into the file room at that point, and Steph knew what she had to do.
"Let go of the door." she commanded.
"Are you crazy?"
She pinned Lucia with a determined glare, "Just do it!"
It was a crazy idea in hindsight. Not so crazy in execution. The Demodog's body threw aside the door, the intensity of the blow forcing Lucia to the ground. It barrelled directly toward Steph, mouth peeling open with bloodlust. She raised the bat and ── hands growing noticeably clammy around the handle ── drove it down against the creature's face.
There was a singular yelp. That was all. The blow of the bat didn't cause enough damage to give them an opening. The nails tore a few teeth from the Demodog's mouth, but that was where the desecration ended.
That was also where Steph's plan ended.
She needed a new one. Quickly. The bat was weak, and the wood was beginning to splinter down the sides. One more hit and it was broken. She would be weaponless. But without it she was defenceless.
All she knew was that they didn't like flames. A pretty useless fact, seeing as nothing in her vicinity had the power to light a fire.
They did have legs, however. Running seemed to be their last alternative.
In Steph's brief moment of distraction, the Demodog launched an attack. Legs propelling from the ground, arms stretched either side of its body, claws protruding from it's fleshy paws. It lunged at her. Steph's back hit the floor before she even understood what was happening.
But the realisation hit her pretty soon.
Bait. She was bait.
The sickening stench of blood overwhelmed her senses. A flicker of pain engulfed her left shoulder, bleeding into her neck like thick poison. She could no longer hold back a scream ── both distressed, frightened, and indignant. She didn't want it to end like this. The Demodog's mouth was an open cavity looming above her, poised to swallow her entire existence whole, and she knew this was it. There was no saving her now.
Her hands curled around the Demodog's neck as she tried to keep it at bay. Tried to squeeze the life from it's lungs.
To no avail.
The pain blossoming in her shoulder was growing worse. Her teeth were clamped together, every muscle in her limbs aching the longer she attempted to push the growling Demodog away.
She thought she was going to die.
Until suddenly, something knocked the Demodog aside. It's entire form smacked into the wall, and it released a low, pained squeal that melted into a prolonged yelp. Blood splattered against the ground, glistening beneath the flickering overhead light. The monster struggled to keep it's composure upheld, and by the time it did, Lucia was already tugging Steph up from the bloody floor.
Lucia had used Steve's bat to knock the bloodthirsty rabid animal off of Steph. When she saw the blood, the rapidly worsening injury, she knew she could no longer stand back. It was all or nothing.
She had given it her all.
Steph blinked away the haze misting across her eyes. The searing pain in her shoulder was blinding ── it made her feel woozy and nauseous. Followed by the warm sensation trickling down her arm, Steph knew the wound was serious.
"Let's get back to the foyer." Lucia said.
She gave the file-room door a kick, sealing the Demodog inside. It was badly injured, but able to scratch at the door, howling and snarling greedily.
The danger was eliminated. For now.
Suddenly, Steph came to a halt. She felt weirdly breathless. Felt unable to continue onward. The hallway was spinning, tilting on an axis. Bile rose in her throat, and she could no longer stand up on her own. She leaned into the wall, her wounded shoulder smearing blood across the bleach-white wall.
"Steph?" Lucia urged. She looked down the hallway nervously, the crimson lights flickering overheard casting shadows on her face. An idea sprung to mind. "You don't mind me destroying your jacket, right?"
Steph was able to shake her head past the wooziness overwhelming her entire body.
"Good."
Lucia untied the jacket from around the adolescent's waist. She placed it on the floor, pressing her heel to the fabric, wrapping her fingers around the arm. An almighty tearing sound was drowned out by the blaring alarms.
Only the arm of the jacket remained. The remainder was tossed into the murky abyss of the lab.
"Here," Lucia outstretched the denim material. Steph was barely able to keep her eyes open properly. "I'll use it to staunch the blood. Might sting. Sorry."
She stretched on her tippy toes and ravelled the ripped fabric around the wounds puncturing Steph's shoulder. The Demodog's claws had sunk deep into her flesh during the altercation, drawing more blood than anticipated. It was too much. Lucia was treating it on a last resort.
She pressed her lips into a thin line, "The blood loss is minor, thankfully. But we should get you some bandages, at the very least. Or to a hospital."
Steph's skin was pallid, cold and clammy to the touch. She coughed once, and then shoved herself away from the wall, as if overcome by a wave of determination. Lucia could see it glistening in her cobalt eyes ── swirling like a nearing storm.
"Let's get out of here." she mumbled, but not before adding, "Wouldn't want you to get hurt. I'm not as smart as you, Doctor Delgado."
Lucia would have said something witty or amusing in return if it weren't for the distant howl echoing throughout the lab. Not just a singular howl, but many meshed together to create a horrifying crescendo that had them both running back in the direction they came.
That was when they saw it.
It. More like someone.
A man; short, round and plump. He was wearing scrubs, and had a walkie-talkie wedged between his fingers, accompanied by an ear piece. Every ounce of colour had drained from his face, and he looked terrified.
Lucia immediately raised her arm, "Hey! Help us!"
The stranger whipped his head toward the source of sound. The fear glistening in his eyes seemed to multiply at the sight of the two unfamiliar girls. One, bloody and pale. Two, too young to be in the crossfire of lab experimentations and flesh eating monsters.
"Follow me!" he gasped, breathless.
They staggered through the hallway, red light seeping into every molecule of air, increasing the levels of horror that the lab emitted. It was like they were walking through, and directly into, a bloodbath. And it became clear that some of the laboratory inhabitants faced the repercussions of waltzing into danger head on, evident by the bodies of workers wearing white overalls strewn aside by the miniature Demogorgons during their rampage. There was nobody left to man the structure. They had all been ripped apart.
Steph held back a gag and focused on moving forward.
The floor beneath her feet dipped into a staircase, and eventually the level evened out until they were finally back to the ground floor. Back to where it all started.
"They're kids." the man said out of nowhere, seemingly talking to himself. But Steph noticed the ear piece ── the microphone coiling down to his neck. "They came from nowhere."
He nodded as someone in his ear assumably responded.
"Don't worry. I'll get them out safely."
Lucia's chest was rising and falling rapidly, her breathing ragged. She managed to breath a response to words that weren't exactly directed toward her and Steph, "Thank you, sir."
"You can call me Bob." Bob, their temporary hero, said with a smile.
"Lucia. That's Steph." she pointed at the pale blonde hanging on her shoulder. "She got wounded pretty bad. A Demodog attacked her."
"We'll get her all cleaned up, don't worry." Bob placed his hand on Lucia's shoulder. It was a firm grip, urging. "But we need to get to the entrance first, and then we're safe."
She nodded her immediate approval of that idea.
They both helped Steph hobble in the direction of the double doors at the end of the narrow corridor. Beyond those doors was the foyer ── the end of this nightmare. A way out. A way back to those awaiting them on the other side, hoping they would resurface in one piece.
Steph thought about Steve. She never considered approaching him about her theory that proved to be true, and now she regretted it. Instead, she dragged Lucia into her mess, and look where it got her.
Bait. Almost.
They continued stumbling forward. Things were going swimmingly, the silence enrapturing and hopeful ── a lack of Demodog screeching ── until Lucia did something so incredibly stupid that she wanted to claw her own brain out and drown in a pool of salty tears.
Her hands were so sweaty that she accidentally dropped Steve's bat. It slipped from her grasp. The noise of the wood clunking against the floor was immeasurable.
But it was certainly enough to draw any nearby Demodogs to their location.
Bob's face drained of any remaining colour. Simultaneously, they all halted their rushed steps. How close were the monsters? What damage had her clumsiness caused? Lots. Lucia's heart dropped when she heard it ── the sound of scuttling footsteps. A screech of bloodlust.
A voice roared in Bob's ear, "Run!"
And they did just that.
Steph looped her uninjured arm around Lucia, staggering clumsily toward the double doors at the end of the corridor. The light at the end of the tunnel. Just follow the light. Safety is guaranteed. Right?
"Almost there." Bob assured in a small, wavering voice. The Demodog had made its long awaited appearance, materialising at the opposing end of the hallway.
Lucia hissed profanities under her breath as she attempted to steady Steph, ensuring the blood loss didn't result in her slipping away from consciousness. The makeshift bandage wrapped around her injured shoulder was soaking in a majority of the trickling crimson oozing from the puncture wounds inflicted by the Demodog's claws. It was no longer denim, but scarlet. Bright red. Steph's complexion was paler than usual, and her hold around Lucia was beginning to slacken.
They had only twenty metres left to run. That was it.
Eventually, the trio skidded to a halt at the doors. Bob pried open the latch, and discarded the tangled microphone cord. Lucia waited in anticipation, her eyes flicking between the stuck latch and the Demodog inching its way through the gloomy corridor.
It was close enough to be deemed an immediate threat. Lucia bristled, pressing her fingers into Steph's flesh in hopes she wouldn't lose her in the carnage that was bound to happen on their rush out.
And she was proven right when Bob finally ripped the door open.
"Go, go, go!"
The Demodog sensed their determination to make it out. As it began hurtling toward them, Bob ushered both Steph and Lucia out into the foyer before finally joining them himself, only a second before the creature could indulge in a feast of flesh. Only a second before the Demodog could launch a fatal attack. Bob slammed the doors. The thud of it throwing it's entire body weight at the metal slab was reverberating, and Steph perked up ── if only a little ── upon survival instinct to make a run for it. But they were safe. They were safe. No need for running.
They made it to the foyer, as promised.
A woman with unkempt brown hair was rushing inside, her complexion obscured by a cloud of unwavering relief. Someone was hot on her heels. Jim Hopper. The chief. What was he doing here?
No questions were asked. Bloodlust had returned full force.
Steph heard the ear-shattering, agonised scream before she witnessed the worst thing imaginable.
"No!"
The Demodog launched a fatal attack. And it didn't do it with grace, or remorse, or with any trace of decency. It burst through the door, mouth blooming into four bloody quarters, and latched onto Bob ── their hero. Merciless. The creature roared in his face, and sunk the endless rows of razor-sharp teeth directly into his neck.
There was no coming back from an injury as serious as that.
Steph and Lucia had only a moment to witness the brutal ambush, the eruption of blood spilling over their shoes, the death of an innocent man right there, before being hurried outside by Jim Hopper. He had little time to worry about Steph's injury, or Lucia's pallid expression, or Joyce Byer's haunting screams, or the man they had no choice but to leave.
He had to get them out of there. And fast.
But God. Death was unrelenting. It swooped it, carved it's scythe through the air, and took without any consideration for those left behind. Those abandoned, forced to grieve. From what Lucia could assume in the short moment it took for Hopper to wedge the entrance doors closed to keep the Demodogs at bay, Joyce had been close to Bob ── she was the one left to grieve. She was sobbing. Endlessly. Staring into the lab's dark abyss, as if Bob would miraculously materialise unscathed. That he would make it out. Like them.
He saved them. But he couldn't save himself.
Lucia choked back a sob. She couldn't cry for someone she barely knew in front of a woman who knew too much.
Instead, she turned her attention toward the sound of a car horn blaring in the distance. It grew louder and louder until, suddenly, the mysterious vehicle screeched to a harsh stop directly in front of them. Luck was on their side today, it seemed.
Well . . . only for some.
"Lucia?" squeaked a voice Lucia had not been expecting.
Only then did she notice Mike Wheeler. He was utterly perplexed as to why she was present ── rescued from the bloody confines within the deadly, infested lab. He didn't remember her coming in with them. She wasn't in on the plan to rescue Will from the Shadow Monster. She was just . . . there. Why?
Her mouth felt dry. She blinked, "Mike?"
Hopper whirled around, stricken by an impatience that came only with the impending threat of death; truly one of a kind. Will Byers was slumped over his shoulder, unconscious. Lucia's confusion and curiosity mounted. "Move! Get to the car!"
Demodogs threw themselves against the doors; glass splintered and cracked precariously. Lucia's heart raced as she dragged Steph toward the car. Surprisingly, the driver happened to be Will's older brother, Jonathan Byers. His eyes flared to the size of two sonar-dishes when he saw Steph's condition. He had never seen her look so vulnerable.
"Jesus!" he yelled. "What happened?"
With Hopper's frantic demands, Lucia was forced to practically throw Steph into the backseat. Jonathan stared, wide eyed, in expectation, hoping for some form of explanation to Steph's weary state. Lucia merely shook her head in response, "No time! We need to get out of here!"
That they did.
Jonathan slammed his foot against the accelerator, and they were jerked back onto the main roads within seconds. Leaving behind the lab. Nightmare fuel. Lucia shivered when she recalled the Demodog's blooming mouth, a deadly flower that had only the power to tear apart lives and implement terror. Her hands grew clammy with thoughts of Bob ── how he met his end. His body . . . a carcass to the insatiable creatures.
And her: traumatised. Scorched by the fires of an inferno she never knew had been lit.
But now she knew.
Hawkins was a cursed town.
✧.｡. *.
The Byers residence was their temporary hideout. A place to come to terms with the impeding doom of Demodogs, danger, and possible death. The majority of the party were congregated in the sitting room ── of which had been decorated in hundreds upon hundreds of intense drawings stuck to the walls, the floor, the windows ── sitting in absolute silence.
Fortunately, Steph's injuries had proven to be treatable. Not too serious. The holes embedded into the flesh above and around her collarbone were rather deep in consideration, but once covered by large swabs of bandages, didn't cause any major issues that could result in unconsciousness or death. And the blood loss ebbed away until nothing but dark stains remained.
Currently, Steph was slumped on the kitchen floor, sipping from a glass of water. Sitting beside her was Steve Harrington, who was peeling open the last package of bandages that he had been using to treat her wounds. Apparently, Will had a tendency to take tumbles from his bike and graze his knees to the point they refused to stop bleeding, so Joyce had many of the thick bandages stashed in the cupboard for safekeeping.
Luckily enough.
"How are you holding up?" Steve asked, once the silence became impalpable. Besides, Steph's lack of movement was sending shockwaves of anxiety through his body.
She shrugged, her expression vacant. "Not great."
"Drink more water."
"Water can't erase it, Steve."
The seriousness of the situation refused to let Steve weave a smug smile across his lips at her use of his first name. Instead, he shuffled closer, his eyes meeting Steph's storm ── which now looked to be more of a hurricane ── of icy-cobalt. "Erase it? What do you mean by that?"
When she turned to him, Steve saw her expression was no longer empty and vacant. It was pinched with distress, brimming with a sadness that was irreparable, even for Stephanie Miller, who rarely felt anything at all. "I watched a man die. He saved us, and I just stood there and watched. How am I ever supposed to forget that?"
She looked down at her shoes. The white fabric was stained with Bob's blood. When that Demodog tore into his flesh, the crimson river just poured . . . and poured.
Remnants of his life remained embedded in her shoes. That was all that was left of Bob. An unprecedented hero.
"You were injured." Steve assured. He pushed his reluctance deep into the murky depths of his overwhelming ego, and placed his hand over Steph's. It was colder than ice. "You can't dwell on something like that. It wasn't your fault. Sometimes . . . you know, bad things happen and there's nothing we can do to control it. Or change the outcome. It sticks. Never leaves us. But blaming yourself, that's wrong."
There was a truth in his words Steph had a hard time digesting. She curled her fingers around Steve's. The warmth radiating from his touch was soothing, providing brief solace, and she felt the sudden urge to squeeze his flesh tighter. To never let go. But she refrained.
"Thank you."
"For what?" Steve asked, clueless as always. She almost smiled.
The first tear, like a shard of chipped diamond, slid down Steph's cheek. "Making me feel better."
He truly did ── ease the heaviness pressing against her chest. Remove the rubble crumbling and caving into her lungs. Steve was like a beacon of light, pulsating through a blanket of murky fog drifting into the hollow night. A symbol of hope. What came on the other side of grief and anguish, almost unreachable. And overcoming was the first step to reaching it.
Without a word, he coiled his arm around her trembling body. Exhausted, Steph pressed her temple to Steve's shoulder and let the tears fall.
Strangely, Steve reminisced in times with Nancy, remembering how he reacted when she was upset or scared. Like this. Holding her close, imagining the nightmares as physical beings he could smack away with a bat. Those fragments of his past littered the ground like shards of a shattered vase, and the scattered face of the blue eyed Wheeler faded into a dark silhouette haunting his past. That face was fast replaced by someone new. With messy blonde hair and stormy eyes, Steve knew who it was on his mind immediately.
He looked down at her. At their interlaced hands. Her hollow cheeks. Head resting against his shoulder.
Those memories of Nancy had been replaced for a reason ── a sign his own mind was trying to illuminate. A truth, a stark revelation, that he had buried one time too many, trying to resurface once again. Only this time, he wasn't so sure he wanted to combat it with a shovel and mounds of suffocating dirt, erecting a gravestone that marked the end of something that had never truly begun. He wanted to chase it, like a child would chase a canvas of glittering constellations, no matter how far away they seemed.
A silver lining, perhaps ── Steph Miller could be his silver lining. It felt that way. He could only hope it wasn't too late.
And that she felt it too.
Because it only took him today to realise that without her presence, he would never be the same again.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
she fell first but he fell
harder trope >
this is their first interaction
where they aren't sharing death
threats and teasing remarks.
progress folks. progress.