The call ca at 8:47 AM.
Mike's voice, high and panicked: "Steve. Will didn't co ho last night. His mom is freaking out. The police are at his house. Sothing happened."
I was already dressed, already moving. Had been since 6 AM, waiting for this exact mont.
"I'm coming. Stay at your house. Don't go looking for him alone."
"But—"
"Mike. Stay put. I'll handle this."
I grabbed my car keys and drove toward Mirkwood.
The bike was exactly where I knew it would be.
Crashed on the side of the road, front wheel bent, handlebar twisted. Skid marks in the dirt. And twenty feet away, partially hidden by underbrush—a circular patch of scorched earth about six feet in diater.
The gate's burn mark. Physical evidence of dinsional breach.
I was first on scene. Had tid it perfectly—early enough that police hadn't arrived, late enough that Will was already missing for ten hours.
I pulled out my cara and docunted everything.
The bike from multiple angles. The skid marks. The burned patch with its too-perfect circle and strange ash. The disturbed vegetation. The way the trees leaned away from that spot like they'd been pushed by explosion—except no explosion left ash this fine and gray.
I collected samples of the ash in plastic bags. Photographed the ground temperature differences visible even in morning light. Noted the complete absence of wildlife sounds within fifty ters.
Then I did the hardest thing: I disturbed nothing else. Left the bike where it lay. Left the scene pristine for police investigation.
Let them find it. Let them question what happened. But don't give them answers yet.
I returned to my car and made an anonymous call from a payphone two blocks away.
"Hawkins Police? Yeah, I found a crashed bike on Mirkwood Road near Kerley. Looks abandoned. Thought soone should check it out."
Hung up before they could ask questions.
Then I called Mike. "Ergency eting. My house. Now. Get Lucas and Dustin."
The Party - 9:30 AM
They arrived within twenty minutes—three terrified twelve-year-olds who'd just lost their best friend.
Mike was shaking. Lucas stone-faced. Dustin's eyes red from crying.
I led them to the basent and closed the door.
"It started," I said without preamble. "What I've been warning about. Will encountered it last night."
"Encountered what?" Mike's voice cracked. "Where is he? Is he—"
"He's not dead." Probably. God, please don't let be wrong. "But he's not here either. Sothing took him."
Dustin pulled out his notebook with trembling hands. "The dinsional breach. It actually happened. When?"
"Midnight. Small gate, temporary. But sothing crossed over."
"Sothing," Lucas repeated. "You an a creature. From the dark dinsion."
"Yeah."
Mike slamd his fist on the workbench. "You knew this would happen! You've been preparing for months—you could have prevented it!"
Yes. And if I had, sothing worse would have happened. But I can't explain that.
"I knew sothing would breach," I said carefully. "I didn't know it would be Will. I didn't know when or where exactly. All I could do was prepare all of you to handle it when it ca."
"Well it ca and Will is gone!" Mike's voice rose to a shout. "Your preparation didn't save him!"
"No. It didn't." I t his eyes. "But it's going to help us get him back."
Silence. Three kids processing the shift from preparation to crisis. From theoretical danger to actual loss.
Finally, Dustin spoke: "Okay. What's the plan?"
I pulled out my notes. "First, we figure out where he is. He's not in our dinsion—that much is certain. But the dark dinsion and ours are connected. There might be ways to reach him. Second, we gather information. I found evidence at the crash site—" I showed them the ash samples. "—that confirms dinsional activity. Third, we coordinate. This isn't just us anymore."
"What do you an?" Lucas asked.
"Will's mom Joyce is going to investigate. She won't believe the official explanations. Hopper will get involved. Other people will start noticing strange things. We need to be smart about who we trust and what we reveal."
Mike pulled himself together. "Divide and conquer. Like you taught us."
"Exactly." I grabbed a marker, started writing on the whiteboard I'd installed months ago. "Mike, you stay near Will's house. Monitor Joyce. If she discovers sothing, you'll know first. Dustin, library research. Dinsional theory, myths about parallel worlds, anything that might explain how to communicate across the barrier."
"What about ?" Lucas asked.
"You scout the woods around the crash site. Map any strange occurrences—dead animals, strange sounds, weird temperature changes. Docunt everything. But don't go alone and don't approach anything dangerous."
"What are you doing?" Mike demanded.
"Leveraging adult connections. Hopper's going to want to talk to since I found the bike. I'll see what the police investigation turns up. And—" I hesitated. "—I'll watch for other signs. The breach might have let through more than just the thing that took Will."
"Other things." Dustin's voice was faint. "Like an invasion."
"Like a scout. Testing our defenses. Seeing what crosses over and what doesn't."
The room felt heavy with new reality. This wasn't training anymore. Wasn't preparation. Will Byers—their friend, their party mber—was gone. Taken by sothing impossible. And they were twelve years old being asked to help find him.
But they nodded. Accepted their assignnts. Because I'd spent a year training them for exactly this.
"Rember the protocols," I said. "Check in every six hours. Don't investigate anything alone. Use the caches if you need supplies. And most importantly—trust each other. Trust the preparation. We're going to get Will back."
"Alive?" Mike asked quietly.
In the original tiline, yes. He survives. But this tiline is already different. Barb might still be alive in the original one—wait, no, she dies. I need to prevent that too.
"That's the goal," I said firmly. "Everyone cos ho alive. Including Will."
They left through the back door, scattered to their assignnts. Three kids trying to save their friend from dinsional horror.
I stood in the basent, surrounded by three years of preparation, and felt the weight of command settle onto my shoulders.
This is it. The test. Find out if everything I've built is enough.
Hawkins Police Station slled like bad coffee and fluorescent desperation.
I walked in at 11 AM, approached the front desk. "I'm Steve Harrington. I called in the crashed bike on Mirkwood this morning."
The dispatcher—Flo—looked up. "Chief Hopper wants to talk to you. Wait here."
Five minutes later, Hopper erged from his office. He looked worse than at the Halloween encounter—exhausted, worried, sothing in his eyes that suggested he knew this case was wrong.
"Harrington. Co with ."
His office was cramped and cluttered. Case files. Coffee mugs. Photo of a young girl on his desk—his daughter, the one who'd died. Sara.
Hopper gestured at a chair. "Tell exactly what you saw this morning."
I recited the story. Driving past Mirkwood. Seeing the bike. Stopping to check. Finding it abandoned with strange marks on the ground. Calling it in anonymously because I didn't want to get involved.
Hopper watched the entire ti. Cop eyes. Reading micro-expressions.
"You seem very calm," he observed. "Kid goes missing, you find evidence, but you're not panicking. Not scared. Why is that?"
Because I've known this was coming for three years. Because I've prepared for exactly this scenario. Because I can't afford to panic when people need functional.
"Shock, probably," I said instead. "Hasn't hit yet."
"Right." Hopper didn't believe . "You know Will Byers? He's one of the kids you've been ntoring."
"Yeah. He's a good kid."
"And you just happened to find his bike."
"I drive that road every morning. Going to school. Wrong place, right ti I guess."
Hopper leaned forward. "Steve. I'm going to be straight with you. Sothing's wrong in this town. Has been for weeks. The lab is involved sohow. And you—you've been preparing for sothing. Training kids. Investigating the lab. Acting like you know disaster is coming."
"I don't know what—"
"Don't insult my intelligence." His voice went hard. "You knew sothing was going to happen. Maybe not this exactly, but sothing. So I'm asking you directly: what the hell is going on?"
Decision point. Trust him or lie.
The original tiline, Hopper becos an ally. Fights with them. Protects Eleven. If I alienate him now, I lose a critical asset.
"I don't know what took Will," I said carefully. "But I know the lab is doing dinsional research. I know there have been strange occurrences around town—electromagnetic disturbances, animal deaths, reality feeling wrong in certain locations. I've been preparing because I thought sothing might breach. Sothing from another place."
"Another place." Hopper absorbed this. "Like another dinsion."
"Yeah."
"And you know this how?"
Because I watched a TV show. Because I'm from another world. Because I've seen all of this before.
"Research. Pattern recognition. Connecting dots that most people ignore." I t his eyes. "Chief, I know this sounds crazy. But Will is missing. And if my theories are correct, he's not just missing—he's been taken sowhere. Sowhere the police can't follow with normal thods."
Hopper stared at for a long mont. Then he pulled out a bottle from his desk drawer. Whiskey. Poured two fingers into his coffee mug.
"I should kick you out of here. Tell you to stay away from the investigation." He drank. "But you're the first person who's said anything that makes sense with what I've been seeing. So here's what's going to happen. You're going to share everything you know. Every theory, every piece of evidence, every suspicion. And I'm going to decide if you're crazy or if we're all in danger."
"Deal."
I spent the next hour telling him everything I could without revealing the transmigration. The dinsional weak points. The lab's activity. The evidence from the crash site. My suspicions about what had crossed over.
Hopper listened. Took notes. Asked sharp questions.
When I finished, he refilled his mug.
"If you're right," he said slowly, "then Will Byers is in hell. And we have no idea how to reach him."
"Not yet. But we'll figure it out."
"We."
"I'm not sitting this out, Chief. I've been preparing too long. And those kids—they trust . They'll work with . Use or lose that resource."
Hopper studied . Then nodded. "Fine. But you follow my lead. No cowboy shit. No putting those kids in danger. Understood?"
"Understood."
I left the station at 1 PM. Hopper was now an ally. The investigation was coordinated. The Party was deployed on research and surveillance.
And Will Byers was sowhere in the dark, hiding, surviving, waiting for rescue.
We're coming, kid, I thought. Just hold on a little longer.
The compass in my pocket pointed northeast. The gate was closed but not gone. Reality had been breached once. It could be breached again.
And in approximately thirty-six hours, Eleven would escape the lab. The girl who could open gates. The girl who could find Will.
The girl who would change everything.
I drove ho to regroup and felt the weight of three years of preparation finally becoming action.
This is it. The test. Let's see if I'm ready.
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