[ Location: The Byers' Residence ]
"We're gonna need a bigger boat," I muttered, standing in the middle of Joyce's living room.
Or, what used to be a living room. Now, it was a paper factory explosion.
Hundreds of pages of drawing paper were taped to the walls, the floor, the furniture. Black scribbles. Twisting, dark lines that looked like veins. Or roots.
Will was sitting on the floor, frantic, drawing another page. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week.
Joyce was pacing. "He says he sees it. In his 'Now Memories'."
"Now Memories?" Mike asked. "Like... happening right now?"
"It's like a spyglass," I whispered, rubbing my temples where a dull ache from the Mind Flayer's handshake still lingered. "He's seeing what It sees. But he doesn't know what it is."
'He's drawing the tunnels.'
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
We all jumped. Joyce looked terrified. "Who is that?"
"It's okay," I said, checking my Remote Viewing (Level 5 - 92% Mastery). "It's just the Superhero."
Joyce opened the door.
Bob Newby stood there, holding a stack of VHS tapes and a pumpkin. He was smiling that wholesome, oblivious smile that doomed men usually wear in horror movies.
"Happy Halloween!" Bob chirped. "I brought Mr. Mom!"
He stepped inside. He saw the drawings. He saw the chaos. He saw Will shaking on the floor.
Bob's smile faltered. "Did... did I miss something? Is this... an art project?"
"Bob," Joyce started, her voice shaking. "We... Will isn't feeling well."
Bob walked over to a wall. He looked at the scribbles. He tilted his head.
"Huh," Bob said. "It's not just scribbles, is it?"
"It connects," Bob traced a line with his finger. "Look. This line here... it matches this one over there."
He pointed to a page on the coffee table.
"It's a puzzle," Bob realized, his eyes lighting up. "I love puzzles."
"We need to put it together," Mike said. "To see what it is."
"Okay," Bob clapped his hands. "Let's get taping. Joyce, where's the scotch tape?"
We spent the next hour turning the Byers' house into a giant map.
I helped. A lot.
'Telekinesis: Subtle Assist.'
[ Ability Active: Telekinesis (Multitasking). ]
Every time Bob reached for a page, I'd subtly nudge the correct connecting page toward him. When the tape roll started to slide off the table, I held it in place with my mind.
"Wow," Bob laughed, grabbing a sheet I'd floated closer to his hand. "I'm on a roll tonight! Look at this efficiency!"
"You're a machine, Bob," I deadpanned, taping a sheet to the ceiling lamp.
[ System Notice: Telekinesis Proficiency Increased. ]
[ Current Mastery: Level 5 (93%) ]
'Grinding XP during arts and crafts time. Efficiency is key.'
Finally, it was done.
We stood back. The entire house was covered.
The black lines weren't random. They formed a pattern. A sprawling, twisting network.
"It looks like... vines?" Joyce asked.
"No," Bob frowned. He walked from the kitchen to the living room, tracing the air. "It's not vines. It's... wait."
He pointed to a specific junction. "That looks like Lake Jordan."
He ran to the hallway. "And this... this looks like the Eno River."
"It's a map," Mike breathed. "Of Hawkins."
"But there are no rivers there," Joyce argued.
"Not rivers," I said darkly. "Tunnels. Under the ground."
Bob looked at me. "Under the ground? Like... mines?"
"Like roots," I corrected. "Spreading. Rotting the soil. Killing the pumpkins."
Suddenly, Bob snapped his fingers. "The pumpkin patch! Merrill's farm! That's right... here!"
He pointed to a dense cluster of black lines.
"That's where it starts," Bob said. "X marks the spot."
Joyce grabbed her coat. "I have to find Hopper. He's not answering his radio."
"I'll drive," Bob offered.
"No," Joyce said. "Stay here with the boys. Vivan, you're in charge."
"Wait, me?" I blinked.
"You're the most responsible," Joyce said (which was hilarious considering I was a dimension-hopping anomaly). "Don't let them leave the house."
She ran out.
I looked at the map. I looked at the spot Bob had pointed to.
'Hopper is there. He's in the tunnels. And he's trapped.'
"So," Bob clapped his hands, looking at me, Mike, and Will. "Who wants to watch a movie? I have Mr. Mom. It's hilarious."
Will was staring at the map. He looked... cold.
"He's cold," Will whispered.
"Who?" Mike asked.
"Him," Will pointed to the map. "He likes it cold."
I shivered. The "Him" wasn't the Mind Flayer. It was the Spy.
[ Location: Henderson Residence ][ Time: 9:00 PM ]
While we were playing puzzle master, Dustin was playing Gremlins.
He had come home to find his cat, Mews, missing. He found Dart eating it.
Dart wasn't a pollywog anymore. He was a Demo-dog. About the size of a large dog, with a face that opened like a fleshy flower.
"Dart?" Dustin whispered, terrified.
Dart roared.
Dustin ran. He lured Dart into the storm cellar and slammed the doors shut.
Now, he was sitting in his room, putting on hockey pads.
"I am so dead," Dustin muttered into his walkie-talkie. "Lucas? Mike? Vivan? Code Red! Code Red!"
Static.
"Damn it!"
[ Location: The Byers' Residence ][ Time: 9:30 PM ]
Bob was explaining the plot of Mr. Mom to a very bored Mike.
I was sitting in the corner, "meditating" (recharging Mana).
'I need to check on Hopper. I can't leave him there.'
I closed my eyes.
'Remote Viewing. Target: Jim Hopper.'
[ Ability Active: Remote Viewing (Level 5). ]
Darkness. Slime. Heavy breathing.
Hopper was tangled in vines. The air was thick with floating spores. He was coughing, his flashlight flickering.
The vines were tightening around his legs. They were moving. Alive.
'He's suffocating.'
I tried to reach out with Telekinesis, but the distance was too great. Even at Level 5, physical interaction via Remote Viewing was weak over miles.
'I can't pull him out. Joyce has to find him.'
I snapped back to reality.
"Bob," I said abruptly. "Did you say X marks the spot?"
"Yeah," Bob nodded. "Right there. Merrill's farm."
"We need to tell Joyce exactly where to dig," I said. "Mike, use the Supercom. Try to reach the Chief's radio. Maybe Joyce is close enough to hear the static."
"On it," Mike grabbed the radio.
I stood up and walked to the window.
The sky was pitch black. But I could feel it. The pressure.
The Mind Flayer knew we were mapping it. It knew we were watching.
And it was watching back.
Will suddenly gasped. He stiffened on the couch.
"He's angry," Will whispered.
"Who?" Bob asked, confused.
"The Shadow," Will said, his voice dropping to a monotone that didn't sound like a twelve-year-old boy. "He knows you know."
I gripped my wand in my pocket.
'Game on.'
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