22. Chances

Christine was not in control. She wasn't in control of the situation, she wasn't in control of her body, and she certainly wasn't in control of the children driving the car.

Later, when her head was clear, she would be embarrassed by how easily they'd tricked her; in the moment, she was in too much pain to care. Max had helped Christine drag Steve's body out of the house as gently as they could—which wasn't saying much. The way Christine's head was pounding, she could only move his body a few feet at the time before she started swaying on her feet and had to drop him. They made it as far as the driveway before Max made her sit down and went inside to get her some water. She returned with a water bottle and all three of the boys, which should have been Christine's first clue that things were about to go south, but she was too focused on Steve to notice what was going on.

After some whispering amongst the kids, Mike helpfully opened the door for her, clearing the way so she could drag Steve into the backseat. Dustin held Steve's legs to help fold him into the car. Then he climbed in and slammed the door shut, leaving Christine trapped between Dustin and Mike with Steve sprawled across her lap.

She'd barely gotten out the words "No, Dustin, I swear to God—" before the car was lurching forward. Max somehow had the car keys, and Lucas was shouting directions, and on top of the squeal of the BMW's wheels as they careened down the backroads, it was all Christine could do to stop herself from hurling onto the center console. Helpless, nauseous, and furious with herself, she sank down in her seat, hugging Steve's limp body to her chest and trying to focus on her breathing while she muttered under her breath.

"Oh God, I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna kill all of you. As soon as this is over, I'm gonna—"

"We get it," Mike snapped. "We kill the Mind Flayer, then you kill us. Can you shut up?"

"Mike," Dustin said disapprovingly, "she's in pain."

"She's annoying!"

"You're annoying!" Max accused from the driver's seat. "All of you shut up! I'm trying to concentrate!"

"You're trying to concentrate?" Mike accused from the backseat. "We're just trying to give you directions! If you can't concentrate and follow directions at the same time, you can't drive!"

"You are not giving me directions, Mike! All you're doing is being a little—"

"Chrissy…?"

Christine pried her eyes open as Steve began to stir in her arms. Dustin had shoved his feet to the floor a few minutes into the drive, leaving Steve slouched against Christine's chest with his legs twisted at an awkward angle. He groaned in pain and blinked up at her through eyes so bruised, they were purple.

Christine swallowed her pain and summoned a smile. "Hey there, Stevie Wonder. Take it easy."

She brushed his hair out of his face, but even that seemed to be painful. He groaned again and tried to touch his face, only for Dustin to force his hand back to his side.

"No, no, don't touch it," he said sweetly, as if he were talking to a toddler. "Hey, buddy! Sh, sh—it's okay, you put up a good fight. He kicked your ass, but you put up a good fight."

"Dustin," Christine hissed at him.

"What? It's true! He did good considering he almost died—but you're okay, Steve! You're okay."

"Okay, you're gonna keep straight for half a mile," Lucas instructed Max, "then make a left on Mount Sinai."

"Chris—s'what…?" Steve looked blearily around the car, trying to put the pieces together. "Wha's going on? Is this my…?"

"Steve," Christine said gently. "I just need you to breathe, okay? Just take it easy. I know it looks bad, but everything's fine."

The car swerved unhelpfully as Max looked back at them over her shoulder. Mike smacked the back of her chair, urging her to keep her eyes on the road, and Lucas yelped as he grappled with the handle over his head. The car jerked again as Max pressed too hard on the gas, then too hard on the brakes to compensate.

Christine could feel the exact moment Steve realized what was going on.

"Oh my God…" Steve went rigid against her, his fingers digging into her knee. "Chris—oh my God—"

"Relax, Steve," Dustin said calmly, "she's driven before."

"Yeah, in a parking lot," Mike sneered.

"That counts!" Lucas argued.

"Oh my God!"

"Steve, we had to get out of there," Christine pleaded. "I didn't want this either, but El needs our help and Billy was—"

"Oh—oho my God!"

"We promised you'd be cool!" Dustin said, raising his voice to be heard over Steve's panic. "We promised that you'd help if we took you with us, but you've gotta be cool!"

Steve was not being cool.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Why's she—why is Max driving my car?! Slow down!"

"We can't slow down!" Mike shouted. "Eleven needs us! Punch it!"

Max obliged and slammed her foot on the gas again. The Beemer surged forward, and Steve went into full-blown panic mode.

"Oh my God! No! Stop the car! Slow down!"

"Chrissy?" Max called back.

"Just keep going," Christine assured her. She tightened her arms around Steve, trying to restrain his flailing limbs. "Steve—ow! Steve, shut up!"

"Stop the car!"

"I knew he was gonna freak out!" Mike yelled.

"Of course he's freaking out!" Christine shouted back. "I'm freaking out!"

"Everybody shut up!" Max screeched. "I'm trying to focus!"

"W-wait, that's Mount Sinai!" Lucas called over the noise. "Make a left!"

"What?!"

"Make the left!"

Max yanked on the steering wheel and the car swerved dangerously again, veering off the road and onto the grass. With a crash, they collided with a mailbox, the post splintering immediately on impact. The box went flying, thumping and rattling over the hood of the car, but it was barely audible over the ear-splitting screams of everyone inside. Mike's string of curses were lost under Lucas's high-pitched squeal, and Dustin yelped as Steve repeatedly kicked him in blind terror, clinging to Christine like his very existence depended on it.

The rest of the ride wasn't easy, but it was short. The BMW plowed through the pumpkin-shaped sign at the start of the Merrill's Farm, slipping and skidding into the mud as Max drove headlong into the field. Steve was still shouting in protest, but everyone else had surpassed screaming and moved on to holding on for dear life. As the car rocketed toward the gaping hole in the ground, Max tugged the steering wheel one final time and pulled around into an abrupt but neat stop, jolting everyone in their seats. Steve's final scream died out as everyone attempted to catch their breath.

"Incredible," Mike panted, his voice full of admiration.

"Told you," said Max. "Zoomer."

The kids clambered out of the car and went straight for the trunk, where they began systematically unloading their supplies and donning their gear, leaving Christine stuck under Steve in the backseat. He was basically sitting in her lap, still too panicked to move. Christine bit her lip, hoping he'd come to and move off her before she had to say anything about the situation. When that took too long, she tried to wriggle out from under him without drawing attention to herself, but he was still so tense that it was hard to move his limbs. Finally, Christine took him by the hand and tried to ease him out of the car—but he was well beyond ease of any kind.

"Are you insane?!" he demanded, swatting away her helpful hands and pulling himself to his feet. "What the hell were you thinking?! I mean, are you actually insane?!"

"Hey, this was not my idea," she said. "You were unconscious, I was—well, I was managing until they took it upon themselves to trap me in the back. They were driving before I could do anything about it."

"Then you stop them!"

"She was driving your car, Steve! What did you want me to do? Hop the console and kick her out of a moving vehicle?"

Steve didn't have a response to that, so instead he rounded on the party. "Guys! All of you, stop! Hey, where—where do you think you're going?! What, are you deaf?! Hello!"

Christine grimaced as Steve began shouting again, spinning wildly as he tried to keep all the kids in sight, something that was difficult to do when he could barely stand. He slouched against the passenger door, reprimanding each kid as they ignored and passed him.

"We are not going down there right now! I made myself clear! I don't care what Chrissy said to you! There is no chance we're going into that hole, okay?! This ends right now!"

"Steve, just stop." Christine grabbed a fistful of his jacket and pushed him back against the car. "Look, you're pissed? I get it. You're scared? I get that too. All of us are. The fact is, Eleven needs to close the gate, and if she can't, all of us die. We need to make it as easy for her as possible. You didn't want me down there alone, and I don't want them up here alone. So it's in everyone's best interest if we stick together and get it done. Got it?"

Steve glowered at her. She knew he was upset, but it looked so much worse with the condition his face was in. The bruising around his eyes was already making them black and bloodshot, and his usually fluffy hair stuck out at odd angles from sweat. He looked deranged, but underneath all the damage, she could recognize his defeat.

"I'm sorry." She released her hold on his jacket, smoothed the fabric down, and rubbed his shoulder. "You can hate me later, but first…I need you to have my back. Please."

"Chris, obviously, I have your back," he croaked, bitterly shaking his head. "That doesn't mean you're not insane."

Christine smiled, opened her mouth, and was interrupted.

"Hey, Mom and Dad? That was—"

"Henderson, you call me 'dad' one more time, I'm leaving you in that hole."

Dustin held his hands up reproachfully. "Geez, I was just gonna say you were awesome back there. Grouchy, much?"

He shook his head and pulled his goggles down over his face before stalking away, carting a gallon of gasoline over to the pit where the rest of the party was funneling down supplies. Christine barely contained a giggle as Steve frowned after him.

"…Is he wearing a diving mask…?"

"Personal protective equipment," Christine supplied. "I'm not totally reckless, you know. Lab safety is very important."

"Of course." Steve closed his eyes and sighed. "I wanna roll my eyes at you, but even my eyeballs feel like they're swollen right now, so remind me to do it later."

"You got it."

Steve grudgingly let Christine support him back to the trunk of the car so they could grab their own goggles and bandanas. Christine left both of hers around her neck while she loaded her shotgun, but even after the gun was prepped and she'd secured a fanny pack of extra shells around her waist, Steve was still struggling with the elastic of his goggles.

"Come here," she offered, pulling them from his battered hands.

Steve fidgeted as Christine pushed his hair back, trying to stretch the band over his head without jostling his nose. Careful as she was, he still hissed in pain, and Christine rushed to apologize.

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry…God, you're lucky you didn't break your nose. We're gonna have to go to the hospital after this to get that looked at."

"If there is an 'after this,'" Steve said sourly. He straightened the goggles over his eyes as she started on his bandana. "How does Billy look?"

"Better than you. We left him back at the house, but he's unconscious. Not because of me," she added at Steve's bewildered expression. "It was Max. She drugged him with some of Will's meds. Saved my ass."

Christine gave him a half-hearted smile, wrapping the bandana around his neck so she could tie it in front. She kept her eyes resolutely on the knot, which was part of the reason she was so surprised when Steve brushed her cheek. He turned her head to get a better look and grazed his thumb over her cheekbone, where her own bruise was starting to blossom.

"I should've killed the sorry son of a bitch," he said darkly, his hand lingering on her jaw.

Christine swallowed hard and smirked at him. "To be fair, you did try. You're just not a very good fighter."

Steve snorted, then immediately groaned in pain. He leaned back on the car as his knees threatened to buckle, and even though Christine knew how serious the situation was, it was hard not to giggle.

"Smooth."

"I know," Steve wheezed, his eyes squeezed shut tight. "I've been told I'm very suave…"

He peeled one eye open to look at her. Christine pulled her bandana up over her face before any trace of blush could develop.

"Well, anyone who thinks that is insane."

She snapped her goggles into place, grabbed the shotgun, and marched off to avoid any follow-up questions.

How Chief Hopper had managed to dig the hole by himself was a mystery. The pit into the tunnel was several yards wide and it was about an eight-foot drop from the surface to the floor of the tunnel below. Mike, of course, hadn't batted an eye. He'd secured a length of rope to the front of Steve's car and jumped in without hesitation. He looked so small down there, calling up to them…

Christine's heart pounded in her ears as Lucas and Max climbed down next. Even though she was standing at the very edge of the hole, she felt far away, like she wasn't anywhere at all. This time, it wasn't just because of her head injury. The chill was already setting in, and she could practically feel the slime dripping down her hair, saturating her clothes until it left stains behind that a thousand washes couldn't get out. She didn't want to go down there. She didn't want to go back to the Upside Down.

"You okay?"

Christine jumped involuntarily as Dustin appeared at her side. The bandana obscured most of his face, but she could see the concern behind the plastic goggles. She hoped hers were doing a better job of hiding her expression.

"Yeah, I'm good. Hold this for me, will ya?"

Christine passed him the shotgun, grabbed ahold of the rope and, with one last deep breath of clean air, jumped into the tunnel.

It shouldn't have surprised her that the ground was uneven, but she still tripped when she landed. Demodog claws or semi-sentient vines, whatever had carved out the tunnel hadn't been concerned about smooth edges. Luckily, there was more headroom than the tunnel that left the Hendersons' cellar, which meant they could walk instead of crawling on their hands and knees; extremely lucky, considering they'd be running for their lives in a few minutes.

Dustin tossed the shotgun down to Christine before hopping down himself, followed shortly by Steve. Christine reached out to steady him, but it wasn't the uneven dirt that had his legs wobbling.

"Holy shit…" Steve looked up and down the length of tunnel in awe. "Yeah, we—we are all insane."

"Tell me about it," said Christine, passing him his backpack. "So much for 'no one goes in the creepy tunnel with the monster at the end.'"

He scoffed and pulled a flashlight his bag as Mike began calling out directions.

"Uh—yeah, I'm pretty sure it's this way!"

"You're pretty sure, or you're certain?" asked Dustin.

"I'm one hundred percent sure!" Mike snapped. "Just follow me!"

He went to storm ahead of the group, but Steve darted forward, wielding his flashlight like an interrogation lamp.

"Woah, hey—I don't think so!"

"What?" Mike asked in annoyance.

"If any of you little shits die down here, I'm getting the blame. Got it, dipshit?" He snatched the map out of Mike's hands with finality. "From here on out, I'm leading the way. Come on, let's go!"

He trotted off down the tunnel, instructing the kids to hurry up and hustle. The way he was shouting orders, he might've been leading the basketball team in a lap around the court, rather than wrangling a bunch of middle schoolers in a vast network of underground tunnels. Still, the party fell into line and followed his lead.

Christine assumed her usual spot at the back of the group. It was nearly impossible to do her routine headcount when they were marching single file in such an enclosed space, but at least at the end of the line, she could make sure there were no Demodogs sneaking up from behind. She kept checking over her shoulder, waiting for the shadows to start moving or for a hand to emerge from the wall. Whenever the hair stood up on the back of her neck, she'd hold the shotgun a little tighter and check her surroundings again, only to end up tripping because she couldn't see where she was going. Handling her gun and her flashlight at the same time was harder than she'd anticipated.

"Here, I got it."

Lucas fell into step beside her, taking the flashlight off her hands so she could focus on the shotgun.

Christine thanked him and sagged in relief. The free hand allowed her to settle the gun properly against her shoulder, keeping the barrel low but ready if any Demodogs tried something. She tilted her head back and forth, trying to work out the ache in her neck that was getting steadily worse.

"How's your face?" Lucas asked astutely. "It looked like he hit you pretty hard…"

"That's for sure," Christine groaned. "I feel like I've got whiplash. What about you? Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm…I'm fine. He just pushed me around, that's all." His face was already hidden by the bandana, but Lucas still ducked his head. "It's the same thing I always get from Troy and James—'you people,' and 'Midnight,' and all that crap."

Christine bit back a sigh. She wasn't surprised it was some racist bullshit that had led Billy to single out Lucas; it infuriated her, but it didn't surprise her. She hated to think Lucas was facing the same thing at school, especially after what had just happened. Troy and James were violent and, from what little Dustin had told her, they'd done their fair share of damage. At least they were only in middle school. Billy was practically an adult, both in size and strength. To make matters worse, he wasn't just violent, not just manipulative or mean; he was unhinged. It had been downright chilling watching him laugh as he fought Steve, even when he didn't have the upper hand. If Lucas had been on the other end of that instead…

She didn't want to think about that.

"Hey." She shifted the shotgun for a moment so she could pat Lucas on the shoulder. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Yeah, because of you and Max," he chuckled. "You guys were awesome back there. I mean, when you tackled Billy into the table? And it broke? That was crazy!"

"Well, you set up the shot," Christine reminded him. "It seemed like you were doing a pretty good job on your own. How'd you fight him off?"

"Oh, uh…I kneed him in the balls."

"Nice—up close and personal. Not bad for a long-range fighting class, Sir Lucas."

She grinned at him, but this time, Lucas didn't laugh. He looked farther down the tunnel, then let his eyes sink back to the ground. It took him a few tries to start his next sentence.

"Hey, uh…is Dustin…? Is he mad at me?"

Christine softened at once.

"He's not mad," she assured him. "He's just worried that you're mad."

"I am mad," said Lucas. "Or—I was mad. Am. What he did with Dart was stupid, and we all could've died because he was trying to domesticate a Demogorgon."

"I know that, Lucas."

"Yeah, but you also think I'm stupid for telling Max."

"Yes, I do."

Lucas groaned and kicked at the uneven dirt beneath them. They trudged along in silence, following the sounds of Steve's unnecessary shouting and Mike's loud complaints that he was drawing too much attention. Finally, Lucas sighed.

"I know it was stupid, but…we really hurt her feelings. We all thought she was really cool and—I couldn't believe that she wanted to hang out with us. Then all this stuff started happening with Will and Dart, and we couldn't tell her, and she got mad because we were shutting her out. So then I told her everything, but then she got mad because she thought I was lying, like I was making fun of her. And I wasn't! So, I know I shouldn't have done it, but…I didn't want her to be mad anymore."

"I didn't say you shouldn't have done it."

"What?" Lucas looked up in surprise. "Yeah, you did. You told me I was in trouble."

"Oh, you are. And—like, objectively, you should not have done it, but…your heart was in the right place. It was stupid, but it was sweet."

Lucas shifted awkwardly, unable to reply, and Christine raised an eyebrow at him.

"You get that it's the same for Dustin, right?"

"It's not," he scoffed. "Max is a living, breathing person, and Dart is a Demodog. Even if it wasn't, it's just a pet."

"It's someone that Dustin was trying to protect. You were trying to protect someone too."

She tilted her head to point down the tunnel, where Max was hissing for both Steve and Mike to shut up. It was too dark to see much, but Christine recognized the nervous way Lucas hunched his shoulders and ducked his head. She smiled, but didn't press the point.

"Look," she said instead, "I get why you're upset, but…this also seems like it's about more than Dart."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Lucas asked defensively.

"It means Dustin doesn't want things to change. That's what you told me at the arcade, right? So, sure, he's mad that you talked to Max, but more than that, he's worried that having her means that you don't need him. He knows he screwed up by lying and he terrified you'll throw him out of the party."

"We're not gonna throw him out of the party."

"Good. Tell him that."

"I tried! I tried to tell him, but he just got all defensive like, 'Now that Max is your girlfriend' and 'I saw you holding hands' and 'Oh, the electricity!' Whatever that means…"

"He'll get over it," Christine assured him. "Just give him some time. It's hard watching your crush choose someone else, especially when it's your best friend. You might fight, and jealousy sucks ass, but…it's not worth losing your friendship. Nothing is."

Lucas bobbed his head for a few moments, mulling it over. "Déjà vu, huh?"

"I don't know," Christine said slyly. "Does that mean you have a crush on Max?"

"W-what? No. No, that's not—shut up!"

"Oh, sorry. Am I being overbearing?"

"Oh my God! Will you drop it?! I know what it means!"

Lucas stormed off, taking the flashlight with him and leaving Christine to find her own her own way through the dark. She had to slow down so she didn't trip, but she still chuckled to herself as she walked. It would be rough for a while—teenage heartbreak always was, as her dad had said—but she had faith that the party would pull through. If she and Nancy could figure it out, so could Dustin and Lucas.

The rest of the journey was quiet, for the most part. At one point, Dustin began screaming at the top of his lungs, terrified when one of the walls spat a cloud of the mysterious floating particles directly into his face. Christine was at his side at an instant, ready to shoot the large, pustule-like shape in the ceiling, but Mike grabbed her before she could.

"No, no, no! It can't know we're here!"

"Mike, it just spat at Dustin! I think it knows we're here!"

"But we're not a threat! Right?! Otherwise the Demodogs would've come after us. It's a hive mind, remember? We've only got one chance at this!"

Christine glowered at the hole, her finger twitching on the trigger, but she knew that Mike was right. They only had one shot, and they needed to make it count. After she was certain Dustin hadn't choked or been poisoned by toxic gas, she shoved him to the front of the group so Steve could keep a closer eye on him. It wasn't long after that the party came to a halt.

"Alright, Wheeler," Steve announced, shining his flashlight around. "I think we found your hub."

A 'hub' was probably the best way to describe it. They'd come to the end of the tunnel, which emptied out into a large cavern, where another half-dozen tunnels branched out. Christine was glad that she had the bandana to cover her face; the smell was awful. Bones scattered the floor, stuck in patches of dirt and slime where the creatures they'd belonged to had been trapped and digested. Whatever the vines were, it looked like they needed to eat like Demogorgons. It was like standing inside a Venus flytrap.

Max moved forward, but Christine grabbed her shoulder.

"Hold on, okay? Just…everyone watch where you step. Don't trip and don't stand in one place for too long."

"Like quicksand," Max offered nervously.

"Sure," said Dustin. "Quicksand that'll eat you."

He tried to push past Steve, only for Steve to yank him back, less gently than Christine had.

"Woah, hold on. Let's think about this."

"Steve, we did think about it," Mike snapped. "We thought about it the whole way here, while you were unconscious."

"I mean the gas, dumbass. The last thing I need is you setting your hair on fire."

"He's right," Christine said, looking around the room. "If we're just throwing gasoline around, we'll end up wasting it and getting it all over each other. Just start—here, and we'll work our way around."

Even with clear instructions, everyone hesitated. They shared a nervous look until Mike took the first, deliberate step forward.

"Let's drench it."

Between the six of them, it didn't take long. The boys had gotten creative with their gear, pouring gasoline into everything from tanks to garden sprayers. They had to move quickly, in case the Mind Flayer caught on, but Christine managed to keep everyone in some semblance of order. She was the only one without a bucket, standing back to watch everyone's work, if only to make sure they didn't step in a puddle of gasoline and end up lighting their shoes on fire.

When the party had worked around the edges of the cave, saturating everything with gasoline and eventually circling back to the tunnel they'd entered from, Christine tugged them back one at a time, funneling them down the tunnel and urging them to get ready to run. When she tried to grab Dustin, he promptly shook her arm off so he could wait for Steve, who was bringing up the rear. Steve did one final sweep of the room, ensuring that there weren't any spots they'd missed. When he'd shaken out every last drop of gasoline in his can, he chucked it into the middle of the cavern and joined them in the tunnel.

"So," he sighed, turning to Christine. "Is that it?"

"That's it," she confirmed. "Now we just…set it on fire and run like hell."

"Simple. Yeah, no problem."

All of them turned to look dubiously at the hub. There were plenty of problems, just not a lot they could do about them.

"You got the map?" Christine asked; Steve nodded and pulled it from his pocket. "Good, then you go first."

"What? No." He glared at her, then winced at the way it made his nose move under the goggles. "No, I'm lighting the fire. You go first."

"Steve, I can't hold the map, a flashlight, and the gun. You're leading the way, remember?"

She held out her hand expectantly. For a few moments, Steve held his ground, staring her down and trying to look authoritative, but after the year they'd been through, he knew her better than that.

"God, I am in such deep shit." He clapped the lighter into her palm, but wrapped his fingers around her hand before she could pull away. "Hey, be careful, okay? Keep your thumb to the side and—"

"I do know how to use a lighter."

"Yeah, you…sure." Steve nodded and, after a few hesitant seconds, his hand slipped from hers. "Alright, you heard her, losers. Get ready to run."

He pushed through the rest of the kids to the front of the line, getting in position and orienting himself for the first few turns of the map. Dustin, Lucas, and Max followed, while Mike hung back at the end of the line with Christine.

"You ready?" she asked him, flipping the lighter open.

"Yeah," Mike said resolutely. "For El."

"For El."

Christine took a deep breath. She spun the sparkwheel with as much force as she could muster; even then, it took a few tries to get it right. Once she had a steady flame, she shared one last look with Mike and hurled the lighter into the cave.

The effect was immediate. Like a drop in a puddle, ripples of fire spread out across the floor, washing the whole space in light and heat. The flames sprang up high, then higher again, and it took her eyes a moment to understand why: the vines that had been curling across the floor, lying so dormant as they walked around, had finally come alive. They thrashed through the air like angry snakes, colliding with each other and spreading the fire up the walls and over the ceiling. Christine could almost hear them screaming.

"Chrissy!"

She tore her eyes from the blaze and bolted after Mike. They only had one shot, and they'd taken it.

It should have been a relatively straightforward trip back to the start, but the longer they ran, the more worried Christine became. The surface felt farther away now than when they'd first come down, the tunnels narrower, but she couldn't tell if Steve had taken a wrong turn or if her worries were getting the better of her. It was getting harder for her to keep up too, because with her attention split between the fire behind them and scanning every turn for Demodogs, it was impossible for her to watch her step.

Out of the corner of her eye, Christine saw something move. She whirled around and shot, blasting two holes into the wall of the tunnel; not a Demodog, but a vine slithering toward the floor. It seemed like a very real possibility that the tunnels were closing in on them, ready to digest them like the rest of its prey.

Christine turned to run again, but only made it two steps before she skidded to a halt. She was standing at a three-way intersection with no one else in sight.

"Fuck," she hissed, scrambling to reload the shotgun. "Guys! Hello?!"

"Chrissy?!" It was Mike's voice shouting back at her. "Chris, this way! Come on! We—agh!"

His scream echoed down the tunnel, and while the sound bounced around, she was almost certain it was coming from her left. She sprinted down the hall, leaping over every bump, vine, and obstacle in her path until she caught up to him.

The tunnels were definitely beginning to fight back. Mike was writhing on his back, one vine winding around each of his feet and pulling him deeper into the dirt below.

"Help! Chris—Chrissy, help!"

Without breaking stride, she fired off two more shots. The vines on the ground recoiled, bits and pieces of them flying in all directions. Mike shook off the fragments around his ankles and grabbed Christine's hand to get to his feet.

"T-thanks. That—"

"We have to move," Christine cut him off. "Like now."

"I know! That's why we—"

"No, like now."

"Mike?!" Lucas came running back down the tunnel, the others in tow. "You good? We heard—"

"No, go back!" Christine ordered, trying to shove them back in the opposite direction. "Keep going! We—"

"Chris, we heard the gun," said Steve, pushing his way through to her. "What happened? Are you—"

"We're fine! Please just—"

A screech ripped through the air, making all of them scramble back. Steve wasn't the only one who'd heard the gunshot; one of the Demodogs had finally tracked them down…and it was standing between them and the exit.

"Shit." Christine fumbled with her fanny pack, trying to pull two more shotgun shells out without taking her eyes off the creature. "Back! Everyone back, get behind—"

"No!" Dustin forced the gun down and stepped in front of her. "Look at his back. It—it's Dart."

"Dustin, we can't—"

"He's not gonna hurt me," Dustin assured her. "I got this."

Christine grabbed his sleeve, preventing him from walking any further. "Dusty, don't. Please get—"

"Just trust me, okay?"

He looked back at her over his shoulder, his eyes earnest under the dirty plastic of his goggles. His voice was so even, it actually made her falter. The hesitation was enough for him to slip through her fingers and, even as she reached for him again, Dustin maneuvered out of her grasp. Christine was prepared to tackle him to the ground if she had to, and she might've if she weren't so terrified of making the wrong move; one sudden move could set the Demodog off. Before she could go after him, Steve had her hand instead, tugging her back to his side as Dustin approached D'Artagnan.

"Hey, Dart," he said cautiously. "It's me. It's just your friend. It's Dustin. It's Dustin, alright?"

He knelt down on the ground, pushing his bandana down and his goggles up as if that might help Dart recognize him. Christine wasn't sure how it could without eyes, but the Demodog hadn't pounced yet. It treaded carefully toward Dustin, face to the ground like it was smelling him.

"You remember me?" Dustin asked. "Will you let us pass?"

Dart roared, his face opening up to bear rows upon rows of teeth. Christine bit back a scream and squeezed Steve's hand tight enough to break his fingers, but Dustin barely flinched. He sighed, raising his hands in surrender and continuing in the same placating voice he always used when Christine was mad at him.

"Okay, okay—I'm sorry. I'm sorry about the storm cellar. That was a pretty douche-y thing to do. Hey, are you hungry? Yeah?"

Dustin slid his backpack off his shoulders and began rummaging in the pockets. He didn't even watch as Dart crept closer to him, his sharp talons barely feet away, well within pouncing distance…

"He's insane," Lucas hissed, and Mike smacked him.

"Shut up!"

"I've got our favorite," said Dustin, pulling a candy bar out of his bag and holding it up for Dart's inspection. "See? Nougat."

There was no way D'Artagnan could see that it was nougat, but he seemed to recognize it somehow. He let out a watery grunt, front claws pawing at the ground like a cat waiting to be fed. Dustin hastened to open the wrapper and break the chocolate into pieces. He continued to talk in a soft, soothing voice as Dart took the last few steps forward and began picking at the candy in the dirt.

Christine was so stunned, she hardly noticed Dustin's frantic waving, urging them to pass around while Dart was distracted. Steve had to ease her into motion so they could creep along the wall, trying to make as little noise as possible. By the time they made it around, her brain had returned to a semi-functional state.

"Go," she whispered, pulling her hand from Steve's. "Get them out."

Steve gave her a resigned look and ushered the others farther down the tunnel, first Max, then Lucas, then Mike, leaving Christine behind with Dustin. She kept her eyes glued to him as he got solemnly to his feet, pulling his backpack on once more and stepping around Dart. Christine tensed as the Demodog stopped eating, but he merely lifted his head to Dustin and made a gentle trilling noise, then went back to eating the candy bar. He almost sounded happy.

"Goodbye, buddy," Dustin bid in a choked voice. He pulled his goggles back on, fixed his hat, then turned to Christine. "Okay, we…we can go now."

Christine laid a hand on his shoulder, rubbing his back as consolingly as she could while still petrified that Dart would change his mind. She steered Dustin in front of her as they continued on through the tunnel and, once all traces of Dart had faded behind them, she grabbed Dustin's hand so she could keep him close.

The journey was smoother after that. They didn't run into any more Demodogs and everyone was sure to pick up their feet so the vines had less time to take hold. Steve started shouting about hustling again, which everyone took as their sign that they were getting close to the end, but before they could round the final corner, the ground shifted under their feet. Christine's first thought was that the vines were trying to grab her, and she frantically stumbled forward in an attempt to escape their grip, but it wasn't the vines that were moving—and she wasn't the only one who'd tripped. Max and Dustin had both tumbled to the floor while Lucas was desperately holding onto the wall.

"Jesus!" Steve's arms windmilled around him as he tried to regain his footing. "Woah woah woah—is everyone okay?!"

"What was that?" Max asked as she got to her feet.

The question was almost lost under the noise of far-off roars. They didn't sound nearly as happy as D'Artagnan.

"They're coming," said Mike, stumbling back a few steps. "Run! Run!"

It was a mad dash back to the entrance, each of them shouting over each other as they ran. Finally, Christine caught a glimpse of a light in the distance, the rope hanging down from the surface above.

Christine stopped running. For a moment, she closed her eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath in an attempt to stop her hands from shaking. It made it easier to unzip her fanny pack, to pull out the fresh shotgun shells and load them one by one into the gun. She walked the rest of the way to the exit and counted the breaths in and out of her chest.

"Chrissy!" Dustin was screaming so desperately that the sound was barely getting out. Behind him, Steve was funneling the kids up through the hole to the surface. "Chrissy, let's move it! Come on! We have to go!"

"I'm coming, Dust."

She pumped the arm of the shotgun, reaching them just as Steve hoisted Lucas up over his head. Dustin should have been preparing to go next, but instead, he took a few steps away from the hole, staring at Christine.

"What are you doing?"

"Dustin, go," she ordered. "I'm right behind you."

"No! No, you're not!" He grabbed her sleeve and tried to drag her toward the rope. "You have to come with me!"

"Dustin—"

"NO!"

There was a rustle at the other end of the tunnel, making Christine, Dustin, and Steve all freeze. The sound was getting closer as what sounded like dozens of Demodogs stampeded toward them, each screeching and roaring…

"Steve—"

"I got him," Steve said before she could finish. "Come on, Henderson!"

"NO! NO, I WON'T—CHRISTINE! CHRISSY!"

Dustin kicked and screamed as Steve grabbed him around the middle and dragged him back toward the hole. Christine bit the inside of her cheek hard, fighting back tears as she turned her back on them. Steve would get Dustin out. She just had to buy them enough time.

Christine mounted the gun on her shoulder and focused on the far end of the tunnel. Shadows shot across the walls as the Demogorgons prepared to round the corner, and she could feel the vibrations in the dirt under her feet. Her eyes flicked around the tunnel, trying to gauge what distance would cause the most damage, mentally calculating how much time she had. It wouldn't be long, but the kids were shouting at Dustin now, yelling for him to grab their hands; that meant he was almost out. Steve was an athlete, so he wouldn't have a hard time climbing the rope. They wouldn't need long.

The first Demodog charged, followed by three more, and Christine opened fire. The Demodog squealed and staggered back, tripping the ones behind it. But for every monster that went down, another came around the corner. Ten yards, eight yards, five, three—

A pair of arms wrapped around her waist and yanked her off her feet. Christine screamed as she was whipped around, the gun flying from her hands, and before she could find her footing she was pulled forward again, her head tucked under someone's chin. She held on tight, her eyes clenched shut, bracing herself for impact.

The Demodogs flooded past them on both sides, moving so fast that Steve swayed in their slipstream, fighting to keep Christine upright. He still had a tight hold on her waist, squeezing them together so they took up as little room as possible in the ever-shrinking tunnel. Christine kept her face buried in his shoulder, too terrified to look up. The gurgling and screaming as the Demodogs galloped by was bad enough; she didn't want to see how many there were.

It was over in a matter of seconds. The ground stopped trembling and the rumble of the stampede faded into silence. Christine and Steve stayed right where they were, clutching each other and breathing hard, waiting for the next wave of monsters to appear or come running back to finish them off…but nothing happened. It seemed the Demodogs had more important things to worry about than two scared teens.

"Hey, you're okay, Chris," Steve whispered, one hand stroking over her hair. "I…we're okay…"

Christine tentatively lifted her head. She was still scared to move, and only managed to pull away a few inches. Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze climbing from Steve's chest, over his bandana, up to his goggles. His hand stilled in her hair as he stared at her, his bruised eyes as wide as the swelling would allow. Fleetingly, Christine imagined pulling his bandana away to see the rest of his face.

"Uh, can I get—oh shit! Shit, shit, shit!"

Dustin lost his grip on the rope and slammed into the ground. Steve and Christine both leapt to help him, each taking an arm and easing him back to his feet.

"Dustin," Christine scolded, "I told you to go!"

"I was trying! You can't expect me to climb a rope straight up! Who do you think I am? Spider-Man?"

"Nice one."

"Thank you."

"Jeez, Henderson," said Steve, shaking his head. "You know you have to climb the rope in gym, right? You gotta work on your upper body strength, man."

"You gotta work on your brain strength, man."

"Alright, listen, you little shit—"

"Steve—"

"He started it!"

Christine gave him a flat look and gestured to the hole above them. Steve moodily rolled his shoulders and picked Dustin up again. It took a lot of shoving to help him up the rope, and Steve only narrowly avoided having his nose further damaged by Dustin's flailing legs, but once Mike and Lucas got ahold of Dustin's arms, they were able to drag him out of the hole and back to the surface.

Steve cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. "Alright, uh…you're up, Walcott."

"Oh, no," she said quickly. "No, you uh…you go ahead."

"What, you worried I'm gonna drop you?"

"No, just…age before beauty, you know?"

"Excuse me?" Steve gave a performative scoff. "I'm beautiful!"

Christine grinned. "Your face looks like it's about to crack in half."

"Well, now you're just being rude."

After some more bickering, Christine agreed to go ahead of Steve, grateful when he offered her his linked hands to step on rather than wrapping his arms around her legs. She was already feeling unsteady, and she doubted further physical contact would help matters. Once she was safely topside, Steve passed up the shot gun and his bag before scaling the rope on his own; he made it look infuriatingly easy.

The party barely had the chance to catch their breath before another sound caught their attention: a warm, electric hum that was filling the air. All of them turned to look at Steve's car, where the engine was running and the headlights were shining bright; in fact, they were shining so bright that Christine had to shield her eyes so she didn't blind herself.

"The hell is that?" asked Steve, also flinching away from the high beams.

"It's Eleven," Mike said breathlessly. "It's gotta be! She's closing the gate!"

The electrical surge lasted for nearly thirty seconds; then the light faded, the humming dissipated, and they were left in silence once more. For a minute, nobody moved.

"Did…did it work?" asked Max.

Everyone in the party shared uneasy looks. There was no real way to tell if it had worked. Eleven must have stopped using her powers, but was that because she'd succeeded or because something else had gotten to her first?

"Only one way to find out," said Lucas.

"We need to go back to Will's," Dustin agreed.

"Now," finished Mike.

All of them sped for the Beemer, hurriedly discarding their scarves and goggles, carelessly balling up the rope that they'd tied to the front bumper of the car. Steve slammed the trunk closed when it was full and, before any of the kids could move, grabbed Max by the arm.

"Okay, hand 'em over, hot shot."

"What?" Max asked innocently. Steve held out his hand expectantly until she pouted and fishing the keys out of her pocket. "You probably shouldn't be driving in your condition, you know."

"You took out a mailbox and, I swear to God, if you screwed up the bumper, I'm sending you a bill." He plucked the car keys from her hands and spun them around his finger. "My car, my rules. I'll take my chances."