"Is it here yet?" Mike asked eagerly, eyes fixed on the door to the AV room. Mr. Clark cleared his throat, standing beside the bulky crate that held their newest piece of equipment.
"Patience, Mike," Mr. Clark said with a small smile, tapping the crate gently. "Everyone, please—boys and girls alike—I hate to be the bearer of disappointment, but... it’s arrived."
Heads bowed for a moment, then lifted with renewed excitement as the promise of new tech sparked energy among the group.
"Follow me," Mr. Clark instructed, leading the way to the cramped AV room at the back of the school. The musty smell of old tapes and dust mingled with the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead.
He pulled back a tarp to reveal a sleek, black radio system, its dials gleaming under the harsh lighting. "This baby can reach farther than anything we've had before. Imagine the places you could connect with."
Dustin’s eyes widened. "Like, all the way to New York?" he asked, voice full of wonder.
"Think bigger," Mr. Clark encouraged, his smile broadening.
"California?" Lucas ventured, brow furrowed in thought.
"Bigger than that," Mr. Clark replied.
"Australia?" Mike guessed.
"Even more," the teacher said, a twinkle in his eye.
"The North Pole to the South Pole?" I said quietly, staring at the device, almost disbelieving.
"Exactly," Mr. Clark confirmed.
Mike was the first to leap into action, grabbing the microphone with a mischievous grin. "G’day, mate! This is Mike Wheeler, president of the Hawkins AV Club." He exaggerated an Aussie accent, making the others chuckle.
Dustin snatched the mic next, echoing the accent, "Hello, this is Dustin Henderson, treasurer of the Hawkins AV Club. How’s it goin', mate?"
Lucas took his turn. "Lucas Sinclair, secretary of the Hawkins AV Club. Good day to you all."
Suddenly, a firm voice interrupted. "Hey, can I borrow Michael Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, Dustin Henderson, and Y/n L/n?" We all turned toward the doorway where Chief Jim Hopper stood, his presence commanding but gentle.
Minutes later, we found ourselves sitting on a worn couch in the dim corner of the AV room, Hopper’s gaze serious as he faced us.
"When was the last time you saw Will Byers?" he asked quietly, his voice low but insistent.
Dustin blinked, surprised. "Wait, is Will missing?"
"Just answer the question," Hopper said, eyes narrowing slightly.
Mike spoke up. "We were all at my house earlier. Then everyone went home. Will, Lucas, Dustin, and I—well, Y/n too—we all hopped on our bikes and rode back."
"What route does Will usually take home?" Hopper pressed.
"Mirkwood," Mike answered simply.
Hopper looked at the officer beside him and asked, "Know a road named Mirkwood?"
The other man shrugged. "Sounds made up to me."
Lucas leaned forward. "It’s where Cornwallis and Kerley meet. We call it Mirkwood, from The Hobbit."
"Lord of the Rings!" Dustin interrupted eagerly.
"The Hobbit!" Lucas countered.
The two launched into a playful argument, their voices overlapping and fast, until I groaned, rubbing my temples.
"Guys!" Hopper barked, trying to restore order. "Focus."
I seized the moment, turning to Hopper. "Do you need help looking? We want to find Will too." The boys nodded along, hopeful.
"No," Hopper said firmly. "You all go straight home after school. No sneaking out, no searching on your own. Understood?"
We nodded, swallowing the urge to protest under his intense gaze.
——
The next afternoon, rain lightly drizzled as we gathered at the edge of the woods near Mirkwood Road. Mike scanned our faces. "Everyone ready?"
"All set," Lucas said, checking his backpack.
"Yeah, let’s do this," Dustin added, gripping his bike's handles.
We mounted our bikes and rode carefully into the thickening woods, the scent of wet leaves and damp bark filling the air around us.
After some time, the rain grew heavier. Dustin frowned, glancing skyward. "Maybe we should head back?"
"No way," Mike said firmly, dropping his bike to the ground. "We just got here. We haven’t even started looking." Lucas and I followed suit, setting our bikes aside.
Dustin jogged to catch up, calling out, "Guys? Wait up!"
We spread out cautiously, calling Will’s name into the gray, misty woods. "Will? Will!" Our voices echoed, swallowed by the dense forest.
Dustin held up a worn comic. "Will, I found your X-Men 134!" he shouted, hoping for a response.
Suddenly, a sharp snap of a twig on our right made us all spin around, hearts pounding.
But there was nothing—only dripping branches and the whisper of the wind.
Then, a strange feeling stirred in the back of my mind—a sensation both foreign and achingly familiar, like a distant memory just out of reach.
Turning around fully, I saw a figure shivering in the rain: a girl with large brown eyes, her head shaved close, wearing a yellow Benny’s T-shirt soaked through with rain.
The boys had learned to trust my instincts by now, and they turned with me, eyes wide in surprise.
"Eleven," I whispered, recognizing her instantly despite the years apart.
She looked fragile but alert, her gaze flickering between us, wary yet relieved.
"Hey," I said softly, stepping closer, careful not to startle her. "We’re looking for Will. Have you seen him?"
She hesitated, then nodded slowly.
As the rain fell heavier, we knew this was just the beginning of uncovering the shadows lurking beyond the lab—and beyond our town.