Eleven witnessed the entire scene.
Her eyes widened in horror as she watched Benny drop, shot in the head.
She froze. Her whole body locked up in shock and fear. For a few seconds, she couldn't move.
Then—crash—she bolted from the kitchen, bumping into the counter. Dishes fell and shattered around her, the sound sharp and chaotic.
She darted toward the back door—but before she could reach it, a man burst through, pistol raised. Another man followed, both aiming directly at her.
Eleven panicked. Her breathing quickened. She screamed, eyes going wide, and in that moment her powers surged out of her like a wave—flinging both men violently against the wall. Their weapons clattered to the floor.
They groaned. Still alive, but down.
Without hesitation, Eleven ran. Out the back, into the woods.
Brenner heard the crash and the groaning from inside. He calmly walked to the back door and looked out. She was already gone—swallowed by the trees and the dark.
---
Meanwhile, Mike had just met up with Dustin and Lucas.
The three of them rode through the misty night, heading for the road Will usually took home. The clouds above rumbled with thunder as they approached the barricades and stopped their bikes.
Lucas muttered, "Ah man. This is it."
They got off their bikes, eyes scanning the tree line. Rain started falling, slow but steady.
---
John was still in the woods.
He heard the thunder and felt the first drops of rain hit his jacket. Then more. He knew this wasn't going to be a light shower. It was going to pour.
Most of the volunteers began heading back, Hopper included. It was 4:00 a.m., and they had already covered a large portion of the forest.
John didn't follow. He made his way deeper toward the area with the three drainage dots he remembered from earlier. The rain intensified.
Dumb kids, John thought, realizing Mike and his friends must have snuck out. Brave or just too dumb to know the difference.
---
Back on the trail…
Mike, Lucas, and Dustin moved past the barricade and into the woods. They were soaked in minutes. The canopy above offered little cover.
Dustin tried to reason with them, but Mike and Lucas were determined.
"Come on," Mike said. "We're close."
Eventually, Dustin gave in, muttering, "This is stupid," before following them anyway.
---
At the Byers residence…
Joyce and Jonathan sat on the floor going through Jonathan's photos.
Jonathan suddenly began to sob quietly.
Joyce looked up, concerned. "Hey… What is it? What is it, honey?"
"Nothing," he said.
"Tell me. Come on."
"No."
"You can…"
"It's just… I should've been there for him."
Joyce pulled him into a hug. "No. Oh, no. You can't do that to yourself. This wasn't your fault. Do you hear me? He is… close. I know it. I feel it in my heart."
She pointed at one of the pictures.
"Look at this one," she said. "That's the one, right?"
Jonathan nodded, wiping his face. "Yeah."
They laughed softly together.
Then the phone rang.
Joyce stood immediately and rushed to pick it up. "Hello?"
Static. Shallow breathing.
"Lonnie? Hopper? Who is this?" Her voice shook. "Will? Is it you? Give me back my son!"
Suddenly, the phone sparked with a loud pop and fried in her hand. Smoke curled from the receiver.
Jonathan rushed to her side. "Mom?!"
Joyce sat on the floor, stunned and sobbing.
"Who was it?" Jonathan asked.
"It was him," she whispered.
"Was it Will?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"He just… breathed." Her voice cracked as she cried. "I know it was his breathing."
---
Back in the woods…
Mike and the boys trudged through mud, yelling, "Will!" into the darkness.
Then—movement to their right. A tall figure.
They froze as thunder cracked above them.
The figure stepped closer.
A familiar voice cut through the rain: "What the hell are you kids doing out here?"
"Uh—I—we…" Mike stammered. The others did the same.
John sighed and walked toward them, soaked to the bone. His sweater clung to his frame.
"Come on," he said. "I'm bringing you home."
Mike pleaded, "Please, John. Just let us look a little longer?"
John looked at their hopeful faces.
"Fine. But only for a short while."
The boys grinned and resumed the search, calling for Will every few steps.
Dustin made a comment about comic books before stopping. "I think we should head back now."
Lucas rolled his eyes. "Seriously? It's been, like, ten minutes."
Dustin said, "Be realistic. Look at the weather."
"You're just being a sissy."
"Did it ever cross your mind that maybe Will ran into something bad? And we're walking into the exact same spot? With no weapons?"
John cut in, "You're wrong. I've got a weapon."
Dustin asked, "Where?"
John pulled out a switchblade and tossed it to him.
"Whoa… is this real?" Dustin examined it with his flashlight.
"Yeah," John said simply.
"Why do you have it?"
"It comes in handy."
Suddenly—snap. Rustling to their left.
Mike aimed his flashlight the wrong way.
John facepalmed and looked the correct direction—just in time to see a small girl in a yellow shirt, barefoot and soaked.
Dustin followed John's gaze. "Guys…"
All eyes turned.
The girl didn't speak. Just stood there, shivering.
John approached slowly, removed his sweater, and draped it over her shoulders. She tensed at first but quickly relaxed.
"She's freezing," John said. "Let's go."
"But—" Lucas started.
"No buts," John said. "She's in no condition to be out here."
He looked down and saw her bare feet, then gently picked her up.
The girl startled, but stayed still. She was too tired to fight. Her head rested against his shoulder.
"Don't fall asleep," John told her. "You need to warm up first."
She nodded, eyes fluttering.
John picked up his pace, forcing the boys to jog behind him.
---
Back at John's car…
Eleven sat in the front seat, heater blasting. The warmth soaked into her bones.
John asked, "Where are your bikes?"
Mike pointed. "Ditch. Just up ahead."
John retrieved them and loaded them into the trunk. Then he drove—lights off as they pulled into his street.
---
In the Wheeler basement…
Eleven sat on the couch, the boys gathered around her.
"Where's your hair?" Dustin asked. "Do you have cancer?"
Lucas eyed her shirt. "Is that blood?"
Mike shoved his hand away. "Stop! You're scaring her."
"She's scaring me," Lucas said.
"She's not deaf," Dustin added, clapping.
John stepped in. "Enough. She's uncomfortable."
Mike left and returned with a clean shirt and sweats. "Here," he said gently.
Eleven stood and began to lift her shirt.
"Whoa!" John turned. "Not here."
Mike led her to the bathroom and cracked the door. "We'll leave it like this, okay?"
"Yes," Eleven replied.
---
Back in the basement…
Dustin said, "That was mental."
"At least she can talk," Mike said.
"She said two words," Lucas grumbled.
"She just started taking off her clothes," Dustin added.
"She's an escapee," Lucas insisted. "Probably from Pennhurst."
"It's a mental hospital," John confirmed. "Kerley County."
"She's a psycho," Lucas said.
"She's not crazy," John replied calmly. "Just… odd."
Lucas wasn't convinced. "We should've left her."
Mike asked, "Out there? In the storm?"
"We were looking for Will—not picking up strays."
"We're past that," John said. "She's here now."
Dustin said, "We should tell your mom."
Lucas agreed.
Mike said, "That'll get us grounded. All of us."
Lucas groaned. "Our houses become Alcatraz."
Mike nodded. "Exactly."
John added, "You're forgetting what matters. Her safety's more important than you getting grounded."
Mike thought. "I have a plan…"
---
Mike said, "She sleeps here for the night."
Dustin blinked. "You're letting a girl—"
"Just listen!" Mike cut in. "Tomorrow morning, she sneaks around the house, rings the doorbell like she just showed up. My mom finds her, freaks out a little, does the responsible mom thing and calls whoever she needs to. Social Services. Boom. No one knows we were out tonight, no one gets grounded, and we're still free to look for Will."
John arched an eyebrow. "So… your grand plan is to run a fake found-child operation?"
Mike nodded. "Exactly."
John shook his head, impressed despite himself. "You've got guts, Wheeler."
Lucas crossed his arms. "We're really doing this?"
Dustin shrugged. "Better than getting locked down for the rest of the year."
John said, "Still think we should tell someone, but I get it. One night. That's it."
Lucas turned to John. "Wait—why can't she just crash at your place?"
John smirked. "Too much foot traffic."
Lucas blinked. "What foot traffic?"
"I have girls over all the time. I'm just sneaky about it."
Dustin looked up, awestruck. "Dude."
Lucas nodded slowly. "He really is the King of Hawkins High."
Mike looked surprised. "How come I've never seen any girls going in?"
John gave him a look. "That's because I don't get caught."
He turned toward the stairs. "All right. I've done enough babysitting for one night. See you dorks later. Don't burn the house down."
Dustin called after him, "Hey—your knife!"
John waved without looking back. "Keep it. I've got more."
Dustin looked down at the knife with a glimmer in his eye. Upstairs…
John stepped onto the landing—and ran right into Nancy.
She raised an eyebrow. "John? What are you doing here?"
John blinked. "Just talking to Mike."
Nancy glanced past him toward the basement door. "At four in the morning?"
"What are you doing up?"
"I was getting a snack."
John nodded. "Well. Mission accomplished then."
Nancy gave him a small smile, a little flustered. "Yeah… guess so."
John offered a nod. "See you around, Nancy."
He walked toward the front door, rain still trickling outside.
Nancy watched him go, eyes briefly drifting down his back as his soaked shirt clung to his frame. Her face flushed a little. She turned quickly, bag of chips in hand, and rushed up the stairs to her room.
She locked the door quickly, then she set the chips down on her side table.
She pracrically jumped into her bed and pulled down her pants.
Nancy's fingers delved between her slick folds, her mind wandered to thoughts of John.
She remembered the way his shirt clung to his broad shoulders, the way his biceps flexed with each step. A shiver ran through her, and she rubbed herself faster, imagining it was his hands touching her.
Her moans grew louder, mingling with the thumping bass of the music. She plunged two fingers deep into her tight heat, fantasizing about John's cock filling her instead. Her hips rolled shamelessly, taking her digits deeper with each thrust.
"That's it, John," Nancy panted, lost in her fantasy. "Fuck me just like that. Oh god, you're so big."
She scissored her fingers inside herself, stretching her walls to prepare for his size. Her other hand reached up to pinch and tug at a stiff nipple, sending jolts of pleasure straight to her core.
The bed creaked beneath Nancy as she writhed, completely lost to the sensation of being fucked by her unrequited crush. She could almost feel his weight on top of her, his hard body pinning her down as he pounded into her.
"Harder, John," she begged, even though he wasn't really there. "I want to feel you for days."
Her orgasm built quickly, fueled by her filthy daydreams. She worked her fingers furiously, pumping in and out of her sopping cunt, trying to chase that perfect release.
...
In the basement, Mike was setting up a space inside the old blanket fort he had built a couple days ago—now repurposed into a safe place for El.
The soft glow of a nightlight lit up the makeshift tent, casting shadows on the blankets. Lucas and Dustin had left a while ago, leaving Mike and Eleven alone.
Mike knelt beside her. "Hey, um… I never asked your name."
Eleven didn't speak, but gave a faint smile. Then she rolled up the sleeve of her oversized shirt and held out her wrist, revealing the small, faded tattoo: 011.
Mike leaned in, surprised. "Is that real?"
She pulled her arm back quickly, startled.
"Sorry," Mike said quickly. "I just… I've never seen a kid with a tattoo before."
He looked closer. "What does it mean? Eleven?"
She pointed at herself and held his gaze.
"That's your name?" he asked.
She nodded, slow at first, then more confidently.
"Eleven… Okay," Mike said, thinking. "Well, my name's Mike. Short for Michael."
He paused, then added, "Maybe we can call you El. Short for Eleven."
She tilted her head, then nodded again.
Mike smiled. "Cool. Um… okay. 'Night, El."
"Goodnight, Mike," she said softly.
Mike hesitated a second longer, then pulled the blanket flap down to give her some privacy. He climbed the stairs and quietly left the basement.
---
Alone now, El lay inside the fort. Her body curled tightly under the blanket. Thunder rumbled softly in the distance, making the walls of the house seem to hum.
Her breath hitched.
Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.
She tried to keep quiet.
But she couldn't stop remembering—Benny falling. The blood. The suddenness of it. The sound. Then the other men. The ones she threw against the walls. The screams. The way it felt.
She saw their faces.
She saw the fear in their eyes.
El buried her face in the pillow, trying to push the memories away. But every time she closed her eyes, they came back—harder.
She lay there trembling, exhausted, but still unable to sleep.
Then, slowly, her body began to calm. The warmth of the blanket. The quiet thrum of the house. Her new name. El.
Finally, her eyes closed.
And sleep came.
In her dreams, flickers of strange images floated through her mind—machines, lights, screaming. And for a brief second, she saw the face of a girl she didn't recognize. Dark skin, bright eyes, reaching for her through a fog of static.
But by morning, it was gone.
Forgotten.