Chapter Text
More than twenty-four hours had passed since Jonas arrived in this unfamiliar town. Day and night alike, the thrum of helicopters echoed constantly overhead. From the cover of the woods, he watched the distant highway and saw residents fleeing in their cars, while military forces steadily moved in to occupy the town. He knew it was time to begin interacting with people carefully, gathering whatever information might prove useful. The current time and location. The direction of government’s response. The growing military presence reminded him of Winden after the apocalypse.
The town was still in the early stages of post-disaster displacement. Most displaced residents had gathered at temporary shelters in the city center. The authorities had little spare attention to devote to unfamiliar faces, and volunteers were too busy offering aid to remember any one person in particular. Out of caution, Jonas decided to make his way to the city center on foot.
As he approached the temporary shelter, he became increasingly certain that he was in a small American town sometime in the 1980s, judging by the exaggerated, voluminous hairstyles of the people passing by. The shelter had been set up in a school gym. Above the entrance, a sign read: “Hawkins High School, Home of the Tigers”. Nearby, long lines formed in front of white tents marked Indianapolis Blood Center. Several vintage cars were parked alongside them, and volunteers hurried to unload brown paper boxes filled with supplies from open trunks.
Jonas deliberately avoided the government officials stationed nearby. After once more ensuring that the scar on his neck was hidden beneath the collar of his coat, he stepped inside the gym.
Everyone was moving quickly, mending their own business. Most people were either sitting on hastily assembled cots or walking back and forth handing out food. The whiteboards along the walls were covered with missing-person notices, while volunteers carried boxes filled with donated supplies, squeezing their way through the narrow gaps between the cots. A news broadcast mounted high on the gym wall described the situation in Hawkins as a magnitude 7.4 earthquake. Jonas knew for certain that the fissures he had seen could not have been caused by any so-called unprecedented natural disaster.
He carefully avoided the stacked boxes at his feet, making sure not to knock anything over and draw attention to himself. Eventually, he found himself standing in front of a girl who was spreading peanut butter onto slices of bread, working alone.
“Sorry,” Jonas said quietly. “What’s the date today?”
“Oh, yeah. The ground ripping open will do that to you,” the girl shrugged, talking fast. “It’s March 27th. Wednesday. I guess time’s still moving forward. At least that’s what my watch keeps telling me.”
Jonas paused for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. With the military continuing to pour into town, I imagine everyone’s feeling a bit disoriented right now.”
The girl raised an eyebrow at him. “The military’s a whole different thing. I heard they’re planning to cordon off part of downtown and set up patrols nearby.”
Then she let out a small gasp. “Oh, sorry. You’re here to get food, right? I got carried away talking and completely forgot what I was supposed to be doing. My friend Vickie went to grab more bread. There should be a fresh tray of sandwiches out any minute.”
Jonas had not yet answered when a sudden commotion rippled through the gym. Both he and the girl turned toward the noise. Outside, the once-clear sky was being swallowed by thick black clouds, faint flashes of lightning flickering within them. Black particles drifted through the air, falling like ashen snow.
“Holy shit. What is that?” the girl said, moving around the table to look out the window along with everyone else.
Jonas, however, found the sight painfully familiar. It looked just like Winden after the nuclear power plant disaster. He drew in a slow breath, turned away from the crowd gathering at the windows, and quietly took a loaf of bread left on the table. Without drawing attention to himself, he left the gym and made his way back to the cabin by the quarry.
From the ash-like particles drifting down from the sky, Jonas was certain the military would soon begin sealing off Hawkins and the surrounding areas. Based on what the girl had said, he assumed the perimeter would be guarded, with regular population checks inside the restricted zone to prevent anyone from slipping out. That meant he would likely need to keep searching for more reliable temporary hiding places.
Jonas let out a quiet sigh. For now, he could only hope the military would finish clearing the trailer park as soon as possible so he could retreat to one of the warmer trailers. A place that had just been inspected would be a relatively safe refuge. The drafty cabin by the quarry, with half its roof missing, offered little protection against the chill of spring nights.
Each day, he cautiously monitored military activity from the surrounding woods. The perimeter walls were already halfway constructed, and every night the boundary was brightly lit. At the same time, soldiers began welding massive steel plates together, attempting to seal the fissures tearing through the ground. The strange dust suspended in the air did not linger for long, which brought Jonas some relief. There might be other radioactive substances present, but their effects did not appear comparable to nuclear radiation. People were still going about their daily lives, and the town had not descended into complete anarchy. That made it easier for him to move unseen through the woods.
He had also spotted an abandoned parking lot, but Jonas quickly realized it had been claimed by a girl and her father. Observing them through his binoculars, he understood that the area served as the girl’s training ground. After making a mental note to steer clear of the place, he returned to the area near the quarry.
There shouldn’t have been anyone there. And yet he saw a tall, thin boy standing at the edge of the quarry cliff, looking as though he might topple at any moment.
Jonas’s breathing quickened sharply. His mind flashed back to the dark attic at home, to his father swaying at the end of a rope.
He squeezed his eyes shut hard, forcing the image away.
He shouldn’t reveal his presence. He knew that. But he couldn’t stop himself. He could not watch someone else choose to end their life in front of him. Not again.
He heard his own voice rise, hoarse and unsteady.
“You might not want to stand so close to the edge.”