Chapter Text
The world had almost ended many times for Will Byers, but this once, this new version seemed to be more set in stone.
The mid November wind brushed stray hairs from his slightly grown and more layered bowl cut to tickle over his eyes, his plaid makeshift scarf from an old flannel that had been too far gone wrapped around his neck in a way that covered the lower half of his face. There weren't any given signs of an upcoming spore storm, but he remained covered just in case.
His shotgun shifted with each step, its strap across his chest rubbing against his dark blue jacket that had a worn red hood and matching colored cuffs. Will was on a supply run, making his usual discreet path to the middle of Hawkins in order to remain as unseen as possible.
He didn’t trust to find safety from anyone, knowing that if a majority of the town’s original population still managed to survive; they’d recognize him. Will couldn’t risk a target on his back, whether the person had disdainful assumptions of him or not.
When Vecna had opened the gates, there was no way they could have prepared for this. Instead of attacking with usual demogorgons, he fought through an illness carried and transported by the floating particles of the Upside Down. The first hour of the breakout was something of pure science fiction and R-rated comic books.
He’d been separated from the others, once again left alone to fight against the supernatural; except this time was different. From what he’s observed over time, different people have different reactions once inhaling the spores. For some, you get the reaction as if a severe allergy; throat closing up and eyes swelling. These people are the fastest to turn if not handled, from vein and living flesh–to mangled rot and mindless meandering, that is. They deteriorate even once in this condition, dying for good not too long afterwards.
Others have more immunity to this disease when they come in contact, but survive without any effects. Once they die to a separate cause, then they turn. Will considers himself one of those few, since he’s inhaled quite a bit from the first time he’d gotten stuck in the Upside Down and from when this apocalypse of sorts first started. He wasn’t willing to test that theory in order to find out, though.
He travels from behind the buildings of the local stores, getting an overview of the road’s scenery every time he passes an alleyway. It was empty as it often was, though it still always brought him an unsettled eerie feeling in his stomach. Will hears a faint whirring, gripping his gun before jumping and turning to hide behind the wall.
His knuckles whiten against the weapon and keeps it close to his chest as a military truck appears closer, Will’s breath catches as if they would be able to spot him by his breathing. He hastily lifts his watch, one that matched another’s who he was unsure if this person -who may or may not be dead- still even wore, in order to clarify his confusion.
They shouldn’t be on routine right now… so why were they?
Constantly Will has to remind himself that curiosity kills the cat whenever he gets stupid ideas, especially in a moment like this as he watches the machine drive by. He shakes his head, but then again, this cat has survived through a round trip to hell and back. With this, Will decides that he may as well still have at least some of his nine lives remaining when he scampers behind the cover of the buildings after the car.
The pace is steady and easily followable from a distance, getting a reappearing view after each store he passes to be able to get a head count of two—no, three soldiers. They seemed to be searching for something from the seats of the vehicle, which was unusual as they normally had a driver while the other ones marched the streets with their gear. Will concludes that it wasn’t supplies that they were after from this detail, so then it had to be a person.
They only did this a few times during the beginning in order to rescue survivors, until they decided they had enough people back at their refugee camp. There was where they had doctors, scientists, and more military. Will didn’t like doctors. He didn’t want to be ‘saved’, Will had come to the resolution long ago that he didn't need ‘fixed’.
The engine cuts to a stop, bringing Will to a halt in his tracks. He hears chatter between the soldiers, leaning forward against the brick wall in order to bring his ear closer.
One with a crooked nose huffed an annoyed breath, “she’s nowhere to be found, even if she did make it this far—the brat would be dead by now.”
“It’s just one kid, I'm sure it'd be fine if we stop the search parties. Not our fault, the family can get over it.” Another said from the passenger seat, nudging the driver who clenched the steering wheel.
“I just have a feeling,” the other two share a look, “that someone is nearby. Watching.”
Will clenches his jaw, shifting a step back into a shadow.
The man in the passenger seat shivers, “Jesus—why do you gotta be so creepy.”
Crooked nose warily glances around, “fuck that, lets get out of here then,” tightening his grip on his gun.
The passenger agrees, causing a sigh from the driver before he starts the vehicle back up.
“Fine, but I'm not the one breaking the news to the family—or the boss.”
The car rolls on and Will releases the breath he had been holding onto, relaxing his tense stance.
What the hell was that about…
He waits for the coast to clear, before moving on to locate the green sign of Melvald’s.
Will props the shotgun up, kicking the unlocked door open with the tip of his scuffed shoe. The barrel is swiftly pointed in varying directions between isles and the space behind the checkout before being lowered towards the ground. Glass far too broken to make any alarming sounds crunch under his shoes, movement slow as he clicks his tongue at the scarcening supply.
Walking with a mission, he casually grabs a can of beans as he conveniently passes; stopping once he reaches the wall with the batteries. His finger grazes over the hung items, pausing and picking up the type he needed. Will reaches an arm behind himself into his backpack, shuffling around and pulling out a walkie talkie. The packaging rips with the force of his teeth, the back of the walkie opens, the previous batteries clattering to the floor as he places the new ones inside.
Checking his watch, it reads 12:29. Just in time. He messes with the settings of his walkie, switching it to a specific channel and allowing voices through from some other side.
“—and thanks to those of you just tuning in, not that I can tell since this is a—besides the point.”
With his free hand, he collects the remaining stock left of the battery brand and shoves them inside his bag as he listens to the woman’s voice.
“Recent news for those of you with enough sanity to not read the community bulletin board, the search of H—” the machine statics which causes Will to hit the side of it, “—er continues as of today, best of regards to her family.”
“On a lighter note, the mysterious meat stew has officially been removed from the menu! Peace has been restored as the world rejoices… and so do the bathrooms.”
Will hums an amused sound, wandering the isles now that he had his one item checked off the list. Something slips by unnoticed by the boy, a smaller figure of something making its stealthy way through the entrance of Melvalds. It scampers behind the checkout desk as Will spins on his heel with his gaze looking at the items scattered on the floor, those of which that were mostly unusable.
“To volunteers that are stationed on wall watch, make sure to be on the lookout… I guess that’s pretty obvious—and know that even if you don't find anything, your hours of contribution are highly appreciated for the efforts of keeping the camp safe!”
He makes his way with slow strides of outstretched legs towards the counter, fingers grazing its surface. The creature unbeknownst to him snakes past, making its way for a nearby door as Will curiously opens the cashier. He scoffs at the few bills inside, grabbing a nickel to examine before tossing it behind himself.
“Sorry that I didn’t have much juicy gossip for those of you leaving feedback to make these broadcasts more interesting, not much locker room talk happens during the apocalypse.”
The supply closet creaks behind him, Will attaches the device to his belt and quickly lifts his gun.
“Make sure to tune back in by the end of the day for any updates on the search, yours truly, Rockin’ Robin.”
The channel silences to a low empty static as Will inches his way closer to the slightly open door, poking the barrel through the crack in order to slowly open it. With sudden force, he kicks it all the way prepared for whatever may be on the other side.
A terrified squeal is given, he immediately lowers the weapon in an off guard motion and pulls the scarf from his face in response.
Well he certainly wasn’t expecting that.