Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

ZERO

Hawkins, Indiana
The Wheeler House
1978

The sun first slipped behind the low buildings of Hawkins, painting the sky in beautiful shades of orange and pink, and then disappeared below the horizon entirely, leaving the moon in its place.

Eighteen-year-old Benjamin "Ben" Byers sat on the steps of the Wheelers' porch, angled so that the warm glow of the wall lamps fell across the textbook he held in one hand. In the other, a lit cigarette rested, which he occasionally brought to his lips, pressing it between his thin lips. Just above the left corner of his mouth was a small mole—his younger brother Will had one in the same spot.

"Damn it, when am I supposed to use which formula?" Ben muttered after another drag. Physics had always been difficult for him—and this year, he'd developed a real hatred for spring problems. When should he use Hooke's law, and when should he calculate potential energy? Some problems involved not just one spring, but several, connected either in parallel or series, which changed the spring constant formula depending on the setup.

"I could really use a nanny, just for schoolwork," the older Byers brother clicked his tongue and rubbed his temple with his thumb, almost singeing his bangs with the cigarette still clutched in his calloused fingers. Physical work came easier to him than mental work, but unfortunately, it didn't get you very far—just ask his father, Lonnie, a mechanic whom Ben sometimes helped out in the backyard.

Headlights lit up the street: Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler were home.

Ben set the textbook aside, stubbed out his cigarette on the worn sole of his sneaker, and went to meet them. Watching thirty-year-old Karen, breathtaking in a fitted pastel dress, step out of the car, Ben felt acutely aware of his own unpolished appearance. His dyed blonde hair was tousled; his black tank top had faded and thinned; his oversized jeans, taken from Lonnie after his own pair had been given to Jonathan, were cinched with a belt that cut into his waist. But Ben simply shoved his hands into his pockets, pretending none of it bothered him.

"Ah, Ben!" Ted exclaimed. To his irritation, Ben realized he still hadn't caught up to Mr. Wheeler in height—and probably never would. "Thanks for helping out. Here's your money." Ted patted Ben on the shoulder and headed into the house.

Ben clutched the bills in his hand before tucking them into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Mrs. Wheeler," he nodded to Karen.

"Ben," she replied with a smile. Her brown hair was styled in soft curls that fell over her shoulders. Unlike Ben's mother, Joyce, she knew how to do her hair beautifully.

"How are the kids? I hope they didn't wear you out."

Unlike her husband, she always asked about the children. She was a good mother, and despite some rumors, a capable homemaker too.

"They're fine," Ben assured her. "I have two younger brothers; I know how to handle kids. Nancy and Mike had eaten rice with meat and vegetables and were asleep by nine. No incidents." He didn't mention that Jonathan and Will operated by a completely different set of rules—Ben doubted he'd find them peacefully sleeping when he returned home. Joyce probably hadn't even made dinner yet.

"Thank you, Ben. I don't know what we'd do without you."

Ben didn't take Karen's words seriously. They'd probably just hire another babysitter.

She placed a hand on his bare shoulder and gently squeezed—a gesture meant to be reassuring. Ben held back a sigh, ready to escape, and turned to look at her hand. Her skin was soft, without a hint of calluses; a delicate bracelet adorned her wrist.

Everything about her is perfect, Ben thought, from the tips of her fingers to the top of her head.

On impulse, he placed his hand over hers. Karen didn't pull away immediately. Come to think of it, she never said "no" outright, which gave Ben hope. But when he looked back at her, he noticed her smile had grown indulgent. Finally, she gently withdrew her hand from his grip.

"Goodnight, Ben. Say hi to Lonnie and Joyce for me."

She walked past him toward the house. The quiet was broken only by the click of her heels and the chirping of crickets. Ben's hand still felt the warmth of her touch.

She's playing with me. She just likes the attention.

But all women liked attention—being admired, loved, and praised. All the things Karen lacked in her marriage, things Ted denied her. So Ben wasn't angry at Karen for her ambiguity and inconsistency. He was eighteen—he had nothing to his name. It wasn't surprising she didn't take him seriously. Karen would be foolish to choose him over the stable Ted—and she wasn't a fool. But Ben was patient, and Karen was married: she wasn't going anywhere, right?

"You look irresistible tonight, Mrs. Wheeler!" he called over his shoulder.

"Go home, Benjamin Byers!" she replied, holding back a laugh.

Ben shook his head like a dog, flicking his bangs from his eyes, and trudged up the street. Streetlights flickered, and dogs barked in the distance. But Ben was too lost in thoughts of Karen to notice anything strange.

ONE

The Byers House

Light shone from the kitchen window of the Byers' house—even before he reached the front door, Ben could hear his parents shouting.

At least something's consistent, he rolled his eyes before hopping onto the low porch and stepping inside.

Tonight, no furniture was getting damaged: his dad wasn't trying to dent the walls, and his mom wasn't grabbing at plates. But they were so absorbed in their argument that they weren't paying attention to anything around them.

The noodles in the pan started to burn, filling the kitchen with the smell to match. Squeezing between Lonnie and the row of kitchen cabinets, Ben turned the heat down and poured a cup of tap water into the pan.

The loud hiss finally got Joyce's attention. Gasping but still throwing Lonnie an accusing look, she rushed over to the stove. Ben stepped aside, raising his hands like, "I did my part," and headed to his younger brothers' room.

As he passed Lonnie, his dad ruffled his hair hard—Ben didn't have time to dodge.

"Damn, cut it out!" Ben muttered irritably, smoothing his bangs.

"They were already messy," Lonnie called after him.

His parents cooled off as quickly as they flared up, so Ben had learned to ignore their fights. Jonathan and Will, on the other hand, weren't exactly unflappable. Like Lonnie, Ben thought they were too sensitive—sometimes you just had to take things easier, or at least pretend to.

Ben grabbed the doorknob and thought about his negative feelings toward Ted.

"Yeah, at least pretend," he muttered to himself.

He swung the door open to find the light off, and the boys curled up on their beds, wrapped in blankets like caterpillars in cocoons.

"I know you're not asleep," Ben immediately called out, leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms crossed. "I can hear your stomachs rumbling from a mile away. Dinner's ready—maybe even a little overdone, I'd say. So get out of bed and get to the kitchen."

Without waiting for a response, he returned to the kitchen.

"What about Jonathan and Will?" Joyce asked.

"They'll come when they're hungry," Ben waved as he sat down to the right of his dad. Seeing his mom purse her lips slightly, he realized that wasn't the answer she wanted.

Outwardly, Ben looked like Joyce, but personality-wise, he was more like Lonnie, and his mom didn't like that—at least not when she was angry at her husband.

"They won't die if they skip dinner once," Lonnie smirked, backing his son up.

You're only making it worse, Ben thought irritably, elbowing his dad in the side.

As expected, Joyce shot them a pointed look and got up from the table to call Jonathan and Will.

Lonnie shook his head.

"How long is she planning to babysit them?"

"Will's only seven," Ben weakly objected. Honestly, he agreed with his dad, but he couldn't forget his mom's expression. What was he doing wrong? No, what was he and his dad doing wrong?

"Jonathan's eleven. And since that hunting trip a few months back, Joyce refuses to let him go with us. I guess they think meat grows on trees."

"If trees like that existed, we couldn't afford them," Ben muttered, leaning back in his chair. Damn, all this talk about meat made him hungry. He remembered the smell of the beef patties Karen had cooked, which he had reheated in the microwave that evening for Nancy and Mike. Ben wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "Let's go hunting this weekend. Or I can go by myself—no big deal."

"My guys say there are suspicious people in uniforms wandering the woods," Lonnie frowned. "So better if we go together. I'll keep an eye on you and blow off some steam at the same time."

Their conversation about hunting died down when Joyce returned to the kitchen with the kids. She kissed Jonathan and Will on the tops of their heads, then gently nudged them to sit at the table.

At least dad treats all of us the same, Ben thought, staring gloomily at his plate before shaking his head.

Will sat next to his dad—who ruffled his hair—while Jonathan slid into the space between his younger brother and mom. They dug into their food.

"How are Ted and Karen?" Joyce asked after a while, knowing about her eldest son's side job.

Instead of Ben, Lonnie rolled his eyes and answered, "Great—how else could they be? Six-figure income, two-story house, new car. Oh, and my son babysits their kids."

"You forgot to mention Ted plays golf every weekend—that's also a sign of wealth," Ben muttered.

"Mr. Wheeler for you, Ben," Joyce corrected before turning back to her husband. "And we should be thankful to them for this opportunity. They pay Ben twice what's necessary, the work's easy, and he still has time to study."

Well, Ben agreed with that. He also got to see Karen, on top of the times Will came to play with friends in the Wheeler basement, and Ben volunteered to go with him instead of Jonathan.

"As you say, honey," Lonnie didn't argue, though he didn't look convinced.

"What about Mike?" Will chimed in. "Did he ask about me?"

"Aren't you seeing him at school tomorrow?" Ben rolled his eyes. You'd think Will hadn't seen Mike in forever, when in reality it was just the weekend.

"But tomorrow is tomorrow, and today is today," Will objected. "A lot can change in one day. Take November twenty-second, sixty-two: Kennedy was alive in the morning and gone by the afternoon."

What eloquence, Ben snorted. What do the kids call him? Will the Wise?

"Well, Mike Wheeler's alive—I can promise you that. By the way," he glanced at their parents in turn, "maybe we should update our wardrobe? I can't keep walking around school in this or my dad's clothes that basically hang off me."

"Joyce, maybe I'll take another loan?" Lonnie suggested. "Buy the boys new clothes and a few dresses for you—can't have Karen wearing them all. And if you keep wearing my clothes like Ben does, one morning you'll look in the mirror and see my face instead of your own."

Ben and Jonathan snorted. Will giggled.

"Lonnie, no!" Joyce objected. "We're still paying for the house and the car; we can't handle another loan."

"Fine, fine," Lonnie rolled his eyes, leaning back. "I was just suggesting. No need to get mad. Damn."

Damn, Ben agreed with his dad, gripping his fork tighter. Moments like this made him hate being poor. That's why he worked so hard in school. He had to get into college—something his parents hadn't done—and he couldn't count on their financial help.

TWO

Hawkins High School

The bell rang for the last period, and the seniors poured out of the classrooms. Instead of following the herd, Ben lingered to ask the physics teacher a few questions about the previous homework.

"Ah, Ben!" smiled thirty-year-old Mr. Clark. He was tall and thin, with dark brown hair and eyes. "Do you have questions from today's lesson? It's always nice to see young people eager to learn."

Ben felt a twinge of irritation at the condescension in the teacher's voice. Scotty, as the seniors called him behind his back, was only a year older than Karen, but he carried himself like some kind of Gandalf—green or blue, Ben never remembered which.

I spend so much time with the kids that I sound like them already, Ben shook his head. Speaking of the kids: today, they had a D&D session scheduled. He needed to pick them up from Hawkins Elementary and bring them back to the Wheeler house. And I'll see Karen…

It had been three days since their last meeting: today was Wednesday. Would she be in a dress or jeans? Ben didn't know what suited her best—she could pull off anything. Though in jeans, her backside looked especially tempting.

"Ben?" Scotty called.

Reluctantly, Ben returned to reality. After asking Scotty his homework questions and getting thorough answers, he didn't leave right away.

"Anything else?" Mr. Clark asked with a smile.

This guy really loves his job, Ben thought, seeing his teacher's endless enthusiasm.

"Actually, yes. Could you write me a recommendation letter? I already have one—from Mrs. Smith. Now I need a second."

"Are you gathering materials for college applications?" Mr. Clark asked understandingly. "Write me a short paper on any topic, and I'll consider your request."

Unlike other Hawkins teachers, Scotty had a few papers under his belt, so Ben had expected something like that. He scratched the back of his head with his pen, considered possible topics, said goodbye, and left.

"I kind of suspected you were into guys, Byers," Abby Jones called from the parking lot. He had broken up with her a few weeks ago. "But trading me for Scotty? That's just too much."

If Abby had been a guy, Ben wouldn't have thought twice about hitting her. But she was a girl, so he limited himself to flipping her off as he walked past her and her friends. Lonnie hadn't taught them to hit women. His dad mixed truth with lies, shifted blame, resorted to verbal abuse, broke furniture—but he never laid a hand on their mother. He wasn't a good man, but he wasn't a complete asshole either.

THREE

The Wheeler House

After Ben brought Will and his friends into the Wheeler house, he let them drag him down to the basement, because otherwise Karen would have cheerfully shut the door in his face.

"Will, why does your brother hang out with us in the basement all the time but never plays D&D?" Lucas asked matter-of-factly.

"Kid, haven't been hit on the head in a while?" Ben shot back irritably.

"He means that if you have something to say, say it to his face," Will translated his brother's words as if nothing had happened.

Ben half lay on the three-seat couch, buried under pillows, cutting elf ears drawn by Will out of cardboard—they were part of Nancy the Beautiful's costume, the druid elf.

Karen's eleven-year-old daughter sat on a pouf next to him, pretending to be interested in the process. Her dark blue eyes kept flicking back to the boys sitting at the square table, who were discussing something heatedly.

When he was done, Ben helped Nancy put on the elf ears, and she twirled in front of him like she was wearing a ball gown. Ben smiled involuntarily and shook his fist at Mike, who pretended to be sick. Nancy sat down at the table, and the game began.

After half an hour with the kids, Ben left the basement to see if Mrs. Wheeler needed help with dinner. Just before the door closed behind him, Dustin's shout reached him,

"Nancy, you're our healer! Don't waste your turn turning into a wolf!"

Ben rolled his eyes: the kids were taking the game way too seriously.

"Nancy? Mike?" Karen called, hearing the creak of the floorboards. She was standing behind the bar counter, her brown hair pulled up in a high style, wearing a pink plaid shirt and blue jeans, chopping vegetables. A yellow apron was tied around her waist.

No, jeans are definitely better than a dress, Ben thought, reluctantly tearing his eyes from her hips.

Karen looked up and smiled.

"Ah, Ben. There's soda in the fridge if you want a drink."

"No, actually, I came upstairs to see if you needed any help," he said, hands in his pockets and shrugging.

"That's very sweet of you, but…" she started slowly, then sighed and smiled. "You know what? I could really use the extra hands. You can finish chopping the vegetables while I marinate the fish."

"You like fish?" Ben asked, taking her spot at the counter. The knife handle still held the warmth of her hand. After a pause, he gripped it more firmly and began cutting vegetables.

"Nancy likes it. Mike will eat any kind of meat, and I prefer rabbit."

"I thought women found rabbits cute and all that," he smirked, but filed the information away.

Karen laughed.

"Common misconception," she finally said. "We do like cute things. But that doesn't mean we won't eventually eat the cake or throw the flowers in the trash."

"Or skin the rabbit," Ben nodded.

"Or skin the rabbit," she agreed with a smile. "We also like dangerous things. I remember when I was a kid, I really wanted to shoot my dad's rifle."

Ben couldn't resist looking at her.

"And did you?"

At first, it was hard for him to imagine neat, proper Karen holding a rifle, but once he did, the image seemed surprisingly fitting.

"I did. Secretly. Turns out I have pretty good aim," she smiled, remembering, and began squeezing lemon juice onto the fish. "What about you, Ben? Any trouble when you were a kid?"

Ben shrugged.

"Not more than any other boy."

Then he thought about his younger brothers. Unlike him, who always came home with swollen knuckles, they were quiet and non-confrontational.

The conversation trailed off, and they continued their tasks in comfortable silence.

The kitchen was ridiculously spacious. Ridiculously, because between Ben, still at the counter, and Karen at the stove, there was room for several more people. If the kitchen had been smaller, they would have accidentally bumped into each other—shoulders, elbows, hips…

"Are you done chopping the vegetables?" Karen asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Yeah."

Holding the cutting board with the chopped vegetables, Ben stood behind Karen—close enough to see the tiny hairs on her neck and catch the scent of her perfume. He wanted to bury his face in her hair, then lean down and pepper her neck with kisses, feel the pulse under his lips…

Karen seemed to sense his desire—the hairs on her neck stood on end.

Mike appeared in the doorway,

"Mom!"

Karen spun sharply and pressed her back to the counter, hands on the surface,

"Yes?"

"We're out of cookies! Are there more?"

"Take some from the cabinet above the coffee maker," she said with a forced smile.

"I'll get them," Ben said hoarsely. His throat had gone dry.

After Mike grabbed the cookies, he disappeared back into the basement. Ben rubbed his neck, not looking at Karen. Her discomfort did not escape his attention.

"I should probably go," he finally said. "I take it the boys are staying over tonight, so I'll come by in the morning to walk them to school."

"Ben…"

"It’s fine," he cut her off, sharper than he intended. She knew his intentions and feelings, but didn't seem angry, just uneasy. Ben was afraid she'd start comforting him like a child.

If you saw me as a man, you'd be outraged, not looking at me with that guilty expression.

And he left.

FOUR

Hawkins Woods

The Winchester Model 70 felt like an extension of his own hands, military boots crunching the grass beneath him. Ben walked through the woods, more following Lonnie than actively tracking game. His father noticed.

"Hey," Lonnie clapped him on the shoulder as he slowed down. "Thinking about some girl, huh?"

"Maybe I am," Ben replied irritably, brushing his dad's hand away.

"You thinking about going back to that Jones girl?" Lonnie scratched his stubbled chin. "Ever since you dumped her, I had to end things with Roy. The guy's protective of his daughter."

"No, I like someone else," Ben muttered.

"You like, huh?" Lonnie laughed. "Son, you don't pick the one you like—you pick the one who likes you. Trust me, that makes married life a lot easier."

"Well, glad to know you and Mom like each other," Ben rolled his eyes.

His father shrugged.

"Where there's love, there'll be arguments."

"How did you meet?"

"Late '50s. She was your age then, finishing high school, producing some silly play," he grimaced, as if remembering something unpleasant.

"So you were twenty-five," Ben estimated.

Well, that's encouraging, he thought.

"What, the age difference bothers you?" Lonnie raised an eyebrow teasingly.

"I didn't say that," Ben protested.

"Back then, it was acceptable for a man to be 5–10 years older than a woman," his father continued, ignoring him. "Even now, it's not unusual."

You couldn't say the same about relationships between older women and younger guys.

Ben pictured Karen's beautiful face in his mind.

"Why can't a woman be older?" he asked, unable to help himself.

"Because a woman should be young to have healthy kids. And besides, it's just not right," his father replied casually, then raised his hand like he was greeting someone.

Ben followed his gaze and saw his father's old friend, Phil Larson—a tall, strong man in a brown jacket and blue jeans. His black hair was streaked with gray, and he had a bushy mustache.

"Ben!" the man greeted with a wide smile. One arm went around Ben's shoulders, the other ruffled his brown hair dyed blond.

"I'm not a kid anymore, you know…"

"When I do that, he always ends up fighting me," Lonnie clicked his tongue. "Double standards, huh?"

"I'm just charming," Phil laughed, finally letting go of Ben.

No, you're just a giant, Ben thought, gripping the rifle in one hand and brushing his bangs with the other.

"You're in twelfth grade, right, Ben?" Phil asked. "Plans after graduation?"

"College," Ben replied, not looking at Lonnie.

Phil blinked in surprise, whistled, and slapped Lonnie on the back,

"Well, isn't he something? First Byers to go to college. You must be proud, Lonnie."

"Sure," Lonnie shot Ben a meaningful glance.

After Lonnie and Phil shot a few animals, Ben helped them load the carcasses into Phil's pickup.

"I'll drop your game off at your place, then head home," Phil said, leaning out the truck window.

"Joyce will meet you," Lonnie nodded.

Ben watched Phil's truck drive off, then felt his father's hand on his shoulder.

"So you still haven't given up on this college idea? Thinking you'll study there, get a good job, and rake in money? No, son, it doesn't work that way. These days, a decent job comes from connections," he spat on the ground.

Ben thought of Ted Wheeler, who, as Lonnie had correctly noted, had it all: a high-paying job, a big house, a nice car. And most importantly, he had Karen.

"No, Dad, that's exactly how it works," Ben finally said. "People with college degrees get jobs. Those who finish high school at most—well, they get nothing."

"Just like your mother," Lonnie rubbed his neck irritably. "She had big dreams too: go to college, get out of Hawkins…"

But beneath the irritation, there was something else in his voice.

"I'm not leaving for good," Ben argued. "I'll come back once I finish college."

"That's what you say now. And where are you going to get the money for college?"

"The Basic Educational Opportunity Grant will cover tuition, and I'll earn the rest this summer. Listen, I'm going to college, and I don't need your blessing or permission," Ben snapped, turning and marching back into the woods.

"And what about that girl you like?" Lonnie called after him. "Think she'll wait patiently for you? No, she'll marry the first guy who asks and have a few kids before you even finish college."

She's already married with kids, asshole, Ben thought.

"Where are you going?" his father called again.

"To blow off some steam," Ben muttered. Today, his absent-mindedness had cost him every shot. Better to fix that before he ends up killing his own father. "You can head home on your own. Though Mom probably won't like that."

Lonnie swore under his breath.

FIVE

Hawkins Woods

"Shit!" Ben's curse was drowned out by the sound of the river flowing a dozen steps away. The bullet missed the rabbit, burying itself in the dirt, and the animal disappeared into the trees.

Today, everything seemed to slip through his fingers. Maybe his father was right, don't marry a woman who occupies your thoughts every second. It would be easier that way.

But Ben didn't want it easier. Ben wanted Karen. And Karen was married with children.

"Damn it," Ben muttered, feeling like an idiot.

The rifle suddenly felt heavier, and he decided to take a break. Kneeling by the river, Ben set the weapon down beside him and began scooping water with his hands to drink. The river water quenched his thirst and cooled his head a little.

Time to stop playing hunter and head home; that secondary research for Scotti won't write itself.

At that moment, something at the edge of his vision caught his attention. Looking across the river, he saw a dark figure on the bank.

It was a bear.

Ben's heart stopped, then began pounding twice as hard. He slowly reached for his rifle. Before he could grab it, the bear charged across the river straight at him, sending up a spray of water.

Ben grabbed the rifle and ran, hearing the bear growl behind him. His hands suddenly went clumsy; he couldn't load the gun, and the bear was closing in. Then he saw a dark-skinned child in a hospital gown far ahead, completely throwing him off balance.

Ben tripped over a tree root, fell, rolled onto his back, and, lifting the rifle, pulled the trigger. The shot rang in his ears, and pain shot through his shoulder. The bear, already on top of him, growled again, this time in pain, as the bullet struck somewhere in its chest.

Seeing the bear about to crush him, Ben dropped the gun and rolled to the side. The animal collapsed heavily to the ground, not yet dead, and, almost without thinking, Ben drew his hunting knife from his belt and began stabbing the bear in the side like a madman.

The warmth of the blood on his face sobered him slightly. Finally stopping, he tossed the knife aside and crawled away from the bear.

"Fuck, almost didn't make it…"

Remembering the strange child, he looked around until his gaze settled on a small figure curled up on the ground.

Ben scrambled to his feet. Reaching the boy, he crouched and began examining him.

"Hey, you okay? Hey!" he called louder, roughly tapping the boy's cheeks. Blood ran from the child's nose, but there were no visible injuries on his shaved head.

The boy frowned, keeping his eyes closed,

"Need… to run…"

He had a strange accent, English maybe. And he looked like an immigrant, dark-skinned but not black, with large ears and full lips.

"Run from what?" Ben frowned in return. He thought of the dead bear, but then the sound of shouting people and barking dogs reached him.

"No one!"

"The dogs smell something!"

The boy suddenly opened his large black eyes and grabbed Ben by the collar.

"Need. To run."

A tattoo reading 008 darkened his thin wrist.

SIX

Hawkins Woods

Ben stood in the middle of the forest, gripping the hunting knife and scowling at the gutted bear, when someone grabbed his shoulder, turning him around.

"Hey, you!" a man in uniform shouted, holding a barking dog on a leash. "Seen a kid around here?"

"No."

The uniformed man frowned slightly, noticing the blood on Ben.

"Leave him alone, Frank," a second man said, nodding toward the carcass. "The boy's clearly been through enough."

"The trail ends here," Frank replied, turning to his partner. "The boy should have seen something, but for some reason, he's not saying."

He looked at Ben again, now squinting.

"Maybe you should listen to your partner and leave, Frank?" Ben asked sarcastically. "Seems like he's the smart one in your duo."

Frank grabbed him by the collar,

"What did you say? Say it again if you've got guts."

Instead, Ben spat in his face.

"Frank, no!"

But Frank had already shoved Ben to the ground and loosened the leash just enough for the dog to climb on him, barking in his face.

"Ben? Ben!" he heard his father's voice shouting. "Hey, what the hell are you doing to my son?!"

Frank yanked the dog back. Lonnie shoved the men aside and dropped to his knees next to Ben, roughly checking him for injuries.

"I'm fine!" Ben shrugged off his father's hands. "It's not my blood…"

Lonnie finally noticed the bear's carcass. Realizing what had happened, he smacked Ben on the back of the head,

"Blowing off steam, huh? More like letting out the spirit. Alright, we'll deal with this at home…"

While his father argued with the uniformed men, threatening them with lawsuits, Ben took the chance to catch his breath.

"Assholes," Lonnie spat on the ground, watching Frank and his partner leave. Looks like he wasn't able to get any money out of them.

Ben habitually ignored his father's outburst and crouched by the bear. There was nowhere to hide in this patch of forest; the trees were sparse. Even if there were hiding spots, the dogs would smell the boy. So Ben pulled out the bear's innards, and the child hid inside. Madness, but it worked.

Ben frowned, noticing the corpse's belly had slightly sagged. He dug around with his bare hands and confirmed the boy wasn't there. He looked around but didn't see the child. How had he escaped unnoticed? Some kind of magic. Or maybe Ben imagined it all. He shook his head.