Billy
The Camaro's engine roared, speedoter climbing past ninety. Road blurred beneath headlights. Bottle of whiskey sat in cupholder, half-empty.
Max had been asking questions again. About the bruises. About why I stayed. About California.
Easier to drive angry than answer.
The creature appeared in the road.
No warning. Just suddenly there—low-slung body, too many legs, face that looked wrong even in the headlights.
I yanked the wheel. Camaro spun, tires screaming. Slamd into a tree, passenger side crumpling like paper.
Silence. Just engine ticking, cooling down.
Then clicking. Getting closer.
The thing approached the driver's side window. Walked on all fours but wrong, joints bending incorrectly. Its face—
The face split open. Four petals peeling back to show rings of teeth.
"Jesus Christ!"
Fumbled for anything. Glove box. Tire iron. Grabbed it as the creature lunged through window.
Glass exploded. Jaws snapped inches from my face. I swung blind, felt iron connect with sothing solid.
The creature shrieked. Pulled back. I scrambled out passenger door, landed on broken glass, swung again.
Tire iron crushed its skull. Once. Twice. Three tis until it stopped moving.
Stood there, panting, bleeding, staring at the impossible thing dead on the ground.
What the fuck. What the FUCK.
Hopper would ask questions if I reported this. Lab would disappear if they knew. Only one person might understand.
Harrington.
Steve
Billy Hargrove cornered between first and second period.
"We need to talk. Now."
His eyes held fear badly hidden under aggression. Knuckles bruised, scratch on his jaw, moving like every muscle hurt.
"Okay. Where?"
"Your car. No one else."
I followed him to the parking lot. BMW's backseat afforded privacy while letting keep weapons close—tire iron, lighter, the knife I'd started carrying everywhere.
Billy slid into passenger seat, hands shaking. "Last night. Driving. Sothing crossed the road."
My stomach dropped. "Describe it."
"Low. Dog-sized. Too many legs. Face opened up like a fucking flower." He t my eyes. "I killed it. Crushed its skull with tire iron. What the hell was that thing?"
Demo-dog escaped tunnel system. Hunting on surface now.
"Where's the body?"
"Left it. Drove away. Thought I was hallucinating." He laughed, high and wrong. "But hallucinations don't crumple your car."
I made a decision. Billy knew now. Couldn't un-know. Either bring him in controlled, or watch him spiral and compromise everything.
"Follow . There's sothing you need to see."
Billy
Harrington's house looked normal. Rich-kid normal. Empty-parents normal.
The basent bunker looked like military command center.
Maps covering every wall. Communication equipnt humming. The weird kids from Max's school clustered around monitoring stations. Nancy Wheeler photographing sothing. Chief Hopper coordinating via radio.
And in the corner—a cage. With sothing inside.
"What the fuck is this?" I whispered.
"War room." Steve led to the cage. "That's D'Artagnan. Dart. Baby version of what you killed."
The creature in the cage clicked at . Face-petals opened briefly, closed.
"Jesus."
"Monsters from another dinsion," Steve explained, voice flat. "They're spreading under Hawkins. Tunnels, breeding chambers, invasion prep. We're trying to stop it before they overrun the surface."
"This is insane."
"Yeah. But real." Steve grabbed my arm, turned to face him. His eyes—sothing wrong with them. Black veins spreading from pupils, creeping toward temples. "You tell anyone, governnt disappears you. Keep your mouth shut, go about your life, pretend you saw nothing. That's option one."
"What's option two?"
"Help."
I stared at him. At the corruption visible on his face. At the exhaustion and determination warring in his expression.
"Why would I help you?"
"Because Max lives here. Your little sister—"
"Stepsister."
"—is in this town. These things break surface, everyone dies. Including her." Steve released my arm. "I need surface scouts. People mobile, familiar with Hawkins, willing to report sightings. You're perfect."
"I'm not a hero."
"Don't need heroes. Need survivors who give a shit about sothing other than themselves."
Low blow. Accurate, but low.
Steve
Billy processed everything—bunker, monsters, mission. His face cycled through disbelief, fear, anger, grudging acceptance.
"Fine. I'll watch for those things. Call in sightings." He pointed at Dart. "But if one cos at or Max, I'm killing it."
"Fair."
"And Harrington? Whatever's wrong with your eyes—that black shit spreading—get it fixed."
My hand went to my face automatically. Corruption had progressed faster than I'd realized. Visible even to soone eting casually.
"Working on it."
"Work harder. You look like death."
He left without looking back. Max caught him at the stairs, confused.
"Billy? What are you doing here?"
"Talking to your babysitter. Making sure he keeps you alive."
"I don't need—"
"Yeah. You do." Billy's hand landed on her shoulder, almost gentle. "Stay close to Harrington and his freaks. They know what they're doing."
He climbed the stairs. Max stared after him, shocked.
Steve
Hopper approached after Billy left. "That was risky. Bringing him in."
"He knew. Couldn't un-know. This way I control what he knows."
"And if he talks?"
"He won't. He's scared, but not stupid. And he cares about Max whether he admits it or not." I marked Billy's encounter location on the map. "Demo-dog on surface. That's new."
"ans they're leaking out. Invasion tiline accelerating."
"Yeah." I stared at the map—red marks spreading like infection. Twenty hours until planned assault. Maybe less if creatures kept escaping.
The corruption throbbed. Mind Flayer whispered congratulations on recruiting another soldier.
Building an army, traveler. How many will you sacrifice to win?
I touched my face where corruption spread. Billy was right—I looked like death. Felt like it too.
But Phase 2 was complete. Fight Master peaked. Resources positioned. Team trained.
We were as ready as we'd ever be.
Ready to lose them? Ready to watch them die despite everything you've done?
"Steve?" Chrissy's voice pulled back. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Just thinking."
"About?"
About Bob dying in the lab. About demo-dogs flooding surface. About the corruption consuming . About how many people I'll fail to save.
"About how ridiculous my hair looks."
She smiled, saw through the lie, kissed anyway. "Co eat. You need energy for tomorrow."
Tomorrow. The assault. The gamble. The mont everything either worked or fell apart.
I followed her upstairs, leaving the map bleeding red behind .
Billy Hargrove sat in his damaged Camaro, staring at nothing, processing impossible truths.
And sowhere beneath Hawkins, the Mind Flayer counted down.
Eighteen hours.
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