Chapter 20

The truck disappears into the trees, headlights carving a path forward into the unknown. As Hopper pulls the truck into the Byers’ driveway, the vehicle barely rolls to a stop before the doors fly open.

The six of them scramble out in a flurry of limbs and backpacks, adrenaline still humming in their veins. As soon as they touch solid ground they’re hit by a human tidal wave.

“Mike! Oh my God, Mike!” Nancy’s voice pierces the night as she sprints across the lawn like she’s been shot from a cannon.

Mike barely turns before he’s enveloped in her arms.

“I was so worried about you,” she gasps, holding him like she might never let go.

Mike, frozen, awkwardly pats her back.

“Uh, yeah. Me too?” he offers.

Before he can fully recover, Nancy pulls away and turns to Maggie.

Her face crumples with emotion as she practically pounces, “And you! I called you like fifty times!”

Maggie grunts, staggering under the full force of Nancy’s hug. 

“Okay, wow. Did I get hit by a linebacker or is this just you?” she breathes.

Nancy just holds on tighter, “I thought something happened. I couldn’t reach you. I—”

“Hey,” Maggie cuts in gently, “I’m alright. Sorry, I was busy keeping these gremlins alive in the woods.”

Dustin throws his hands up from behind her, “She means us.”

“Yeah, I do,” Maggie smirks.

“Let’s not waste any time here,” Hopper grunts, already striding toward the door like a man on a mission, “Inside. Now.”

Maggie gives Joyce a quick, tight hug at the door, murmuring a soft, “You okay?” that earns a shaky nod in return. 

She flashes Jonathan a crooked smile, and he returns it with a flicker of relief in his eyes.

They all pour into the living room, the space suddenly much too small for the gravity of what they’re about to unpack.

“Tell us what you know,” Hopper orders, his tone brooking no argument.

Mike wastes no time. He grabs a marker and a sheet of paper, leaning over it as he starts to sketch a crude diagram. 

“Okay,” he says, voice steady despite everything, “So in this example, we’re the acrobat.”

He draws a straight line, then dots beside it, “Will and Barbara… and the monster… they’re the flea.”

Nancy stiffens at the sound of Barb’s name. Maggie subtly reaches out, brushing her fingers against Nancy’s arm.

Mike continues, drawing an arched line beneath the first, “And this is the Upside Down. It’s like a mirror of our world. Mr. Clarke said the only way to get there is through a tear in space-time.”

“A gate,” Dustin says eagerly.

“That we tracked to Hawkins Lab,” Lucas adds.

“With our compasses,” Dustin chimes in again, clearly proud.

Joyce tilts her head, confused, “Your compasses?”

Dustin leans forward eagerly, “Okay, so the gate gives off a super strong electromagnetic field and that can change the direction of a compass needle.”

“Is the gate underground?” Hopper asks sharply.

El, seated quietly beside Mike, nods once, “Yes.”

“Near a big water tank?”

“Yes,” she says again, eyes steady.

“How do you know all that?” Dustin asks, brow furrowing.

“He’s seen it,” Maggie interjects, gaze flicking to Hopper.

Joyce looks at El now, a desperate hope bleeding into her voice, “Is there… any way you could reach Will? Or talk to him in this—this place?”

“The Upside Down,” El supplies softly.

“Down. Right,” Joyce echoes, her voice barely more than a whisper, “Can you find him?”

El nods.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Nancy speaks, “And Maggie and I… our friend. Barbara. Can you find her too?”

At the mention of Barb’s name, Maggie’s breath catches. Her shoulders tense, and she doesn’t even try to mask the ache in her eyes.

She looks at El with hope curling in her chest. El’s gaze sweeps to hers. And she nods.

“Okay,” Hopper says, clearing his throat gruffly, “Then let’s find out what this girl can do.”

The eight crowd around the kitchen table, shoulder to shoulder in anxious silence. Joyce wrings her hands, Jonathan leans forward, and Maggie stands just behind Mike, arms crossed tightly like she’s trying to hold herself together.

El sits at the head of the table with the walkie talkie in front of her. Static crackles from the speakers. She closes her eyes, brows furrowing with focus. The room holds its breath.

The light above them sputters, dimming for a second. El’s eyes snap open, glassy with moisture.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Joyce immediately leans forward, urgency in her voice, “What? What’s wrong? What happened?”

El’s bottom lip trembles as she speaks again, this time with anguish sharp in her voice, “I can’t find them.”

A beat of silence crashes into the room. Maggie’s chest tightens. She swallows hard, forcing the rising lump back down.

El rises from the chair on shaky legs and mumbles something about the bathroom. Mike helps her as she stumbles off, looking more ghost than girl.

Maggie stares at the empty doorway El left behind.

“She gets weak when she uses her power,” Mike explains gently, glancing around at the adults.

“The more she uses it, the more it drains her,” Dustin adds.

“Like when she flipped the van earlier,” Lucas points out.

“That was awesome,” Dustin mutters with a grin, then glances around and shrinks a little, “But… yeah, she’s drained.”

“Like a bad battery,” he finishes quietly.

Joyce, still pacing slightly, turns to the group, “Well… how do we make her better?”

There’s a pause. The boys exchange glances, unsure.

Maggie shifts on her feet, eyes darting toward the hallway where El disappeared. Her fingers twitch at her sides, a tell she hasn’t quite learned how to hide. The lights flicker faintly above her as if responding to the strange tension growing in the room.

“I just… Maybe I could help with that,” she mutters, her voice low and reluctant, as if she’s said too much already.

Everyone, except the boys, who quickly exchange a look that says uh-oh, here we go, turns sharply to face her. Nancy crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes like she’s trying to read a secret off Maggie’s skin. Hopper leans forward just slightly, his cop instincts prickling. Joyce’s eyebrows shoot up in alarm, while Jonathan’s gaze sharpens, wary.

“What do you mean?” Joyce asks carefully, her voice a blend of concern and suspicion.

But before Maggie can formulate an answer, El reappears in the dining room doorway, still a little pale but visibly determined.

“The bath,” she murmurs, voice hoarse, “I can find them… in the bath.”

Dustin nearly jumps to his feet, “I have an idea!”

Everyone turns to him as he bolts to the rotary phone hanging crooked on the wall. He dials rapidly and waits.

“Mr. Clarke? Hi! It’s Dustin. I have a science question. Do you know anything about sensory deprivation tanks? Like, how to build one? Hypothetically.”

There’s a pause.

“Mr. Clarke, you always tell us to never stop being curious. To always open any curiosity door we might find. Why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?”

He turns to the table, grabs a notebook and starts furiously scribbling down notes as Clarke explains.

Once he hangs up, he snaps his fingers and points at Joyce, “Do you still have that kiddie pool we used to bob for apples in?”

“Uh… yeah. I think so,” Joyce replies, still slightly stunned.

“Perfect. Then all we need is salt. Like, a lot of it.”

“How much is a lot?” Hopper asks warily.

Dustin flips a page in his notebook, “About 1,500 pounds.”

Nancy looks with shock, “Where the hell are we supposed to get that much salt?”

“I think I know,” Hopper mutters, already moving for the door, “We gotta go.”

Maggie jumps up from her seat so fast she nearly knocks it over, “I CALL SHOTGUN!”

Two cars roll to a stop in front of the familiar brick building. The headlights cut through the low fog rolling across the parking lot. As the group splits up, Maggie follows Mike and Nancy toward a tool shed tucked behind the gym.

Inside, the three of them dig through coiled hoses, buckets, and old basketballs before hauling out what they need. Nancy heaves a bundle of green garden hose into a wheelbarrow, sweat gathering at her brow despite the chill.

“So,” Nancy says, glancing at the two over her shoulder as she walks, “What did she even eat? While she was… hiding, or whatever?”

Mike shrugs, adjusting his grip on a length of hose, “Candy. Leftovers. Eggos. She really likes Eggos.”

Nancy sighs and looks ahead, “I knew you were acting weird. I just… I thought it was because of Will.”

Mike shoots her a look, “I knew you were acting weird, too. I just figured it was about Steve.”

Nancy groans, “Let’s not talk about Steve.”

Nancy fixes her with a look, “And how did you know everything this whole time, Maggie?”

Maggie raises both hands in mock innocence, “Hey, I was just playing both sides. Like a double agent.”

Nancy stops and dumps the wheelbarrow in place, crossing her arms, “No more secrets. Okay? From now on, we tell each other everything.”

Mike grins, “Okay. So you and Maggie?”

Maggie chokes on her own breath, “Whoa, whoa, whoa—settle down there, Captain Angst. What are you on about?”

“Oh, come on,” Mike rolls his eyes dramatically, “You’re not that dumb.”

“It’s not like that,” Nancy insists quickly, voice rising a little too fast.

Mike nods slowly, mock-sincerely, “Sure. Got it. Not like that.”

Nancy narrows her eyes and turns the tables, “Do you like Eleven?”

Mike’s expression contorts, “What? Ew. No. Gross.”

Maggie raises a brow, “Right, and I’m the Queen of England.”

Mike stammers, but Nancy cuts him off with a small smirk, then grabs another coil of hose.

“Come on,” she says, “Let’s go save some people.”

Maggie gives her a sideways glance, “Look at us. Heroes with hoses.”

Mike snorts as they haul everything back toward the gym, the light of the building casting long shadows behind them.

The trio beginning hooking the hoses together and connected them to the water spouts, filling up the kiddie pool in the middle of the gym. Nancy controls the water temperature as Maggie, Lucas, Dustin, and Mike stand around the pool.

Lucas holds a thermometer into the water yelling out commands.

“Colder! Warmer! Right there!”

Across the gym, Hopper and Jonathan haul 50-pound bags of salt into the space, dropping them beside the pool with soft thuds. They slice the tops open with boxcutters and begin pouring, clouds of white mist rising with each dump into the swirling water.

“More,” Dustin urges, throwing in an uncooked egg that bobs to the surface, “We’re close. It needs to float just a little higher.”

Hopper grunts, hefting another bag, “This better work.”

Dustin squints at the pool, “It will.”

Mike positions a walkie-talkie next to the edge of the pool, turning the knob until static buzzes at full volume. El stares down at the tape-covered goggles in her hands, her expression unreadable.

“Hey,” Maggie says softly, crouching in front of her, “I’ll be right here. The whole time. If it gets too much, just reach for me, okay?”

El nods, her mouth a tight line. She slips the goggles on and walks slowly into the pool, her small frame wobbling slightly with each step. Water ripples outward from her legs. When she lies back, her body floats perfectly, eyes hidden, arms slightly outstretched like a corpse in a frozen lake.

The overhead lights flicker aggressively. Maggie plants herself between Joyce and Nancy on the gym floor, legs crossed, spine straight, every nerve wound tight. The tension in the room is like a taut wire.

El’s lips part. Her voice is distant and sharp all at once, “Barbara.”

Nancy surges forward before catching herself, gasping softly. Maggie grabs her hand out of instinct, her fingers ice-cold. El’s breathing quickens.

“What’s going on?” Nancy whispers, watching the girl’s body twitch slightly.

“I don’t know,” Mike replies, eyes wide.

“Is Barb okay? Is she okay?” Nancy pleads.

El’s head jerks slightly. Her voice trembles. 

“Gone. Gone.”

Nancy covers her mouth with one hand, shoulders folding inward like she’s trying to vanish. Maggie’s eyes sting with unshed tears, throat tight. She leans forward, placing a hand gently on El’s submerged fingers. Her own veins begin to glow faintly through her skin, silver-threaded light pulsing up her forearm. She draws out the fear. Not all of it, not enough to weaken the girl, just enough to steady her.

El breathes. Her fingers unclench.

Joyce crouches at the edge of the pool, cooing, “You’re doing good. You’re doing so good.”

“Will?”

Everyone freezes.

Joyce’s breath catches in her throat, “Oh my God.”

Jonathan stops moving. Maggie sits bolt upright, her eyes glued to El’s face.

“Tell him I’m coming. Mom is coming,” Joyce begs.

El echoes, soft and ghostly, “Mom… is coming.”

The walkie-talkie suddenly crackles. Will’s voice, “Hurry.”

Maggie inhales sharply. Nancy grabs her arm.

“Tell him to stay where he is,” Joyce pleads, “We’re coming. We’re coming, honey. Just stay there.”

Suddenly, El bolts upright in the water, yanking the goggles from her eyes and gasping. Joyce rushes forward, pulling her into a soaking hug as Maggie moves to her side, pressing a steady hand to El’s cheek.

“You’re okay, El. I’m right here. You did so good,” she whispers, even as her own body trembles. She breathes hard, blinking rapidly as she tries to fight off the flood of fear and exhaustion she’d taken on.

The boys are quick with a towel, Dustin and Lucas wrapping El up as Mike gently guides her to the bleachers. She shivers, but her eyes are focused.

Maggie follows them, perching on the bottom step, hugging her knees. She watches El like a hawk.

Across the gym, Hopper stands speaking lowly with Joyce and Jonathan. Their words grow more heated by the second.

Suddenly, Hopper stalks away, his boots echoing off the walls. Jonathan throws a desperate glance toward his mother and quickly follows. Maggie stands sharply.

“Stay here,” she tells the others. She breaks into a run across the gym floor, “Where are you going?”

Hopper doesn’t turn around, “Get back inside, all of you!”

“You’re kidding, right?” Joyce yells, “What, you think you’re going in there alone?”

“If something happens to me—if I don’t make it back—” Hopper starts.

“Then I’ll go,” Joyce interrupts, furious, “You stay! Are you kidding me?”

“He’s our family,” Maggie cuts in, stepping into their line of sight, arms crossed tight over her chest, “You’re not going without backup.”

Joyce turns to her and yanks her into a hug, holding her and Jonathan close, “Stay with the kids. Keep them safe.”

“No, Joyce,” Maggie says, her voice steady despite the chaos brewing under her skin, “I’m going. I can help stabilize Will when we find him. I can help. Don’t argue with me.”

Joyce opens her mouth, but Maggie is already turning on her heel, jogging to Hopper’s truck and swinging herself into the back seat.

Hopper turns, calling, “Joyce!”

The woman hesitates and then rushes to the passenger side, yanking open the door and climbing in.

“Fine,” she mutters.

Hopper slams the gas, the truck peeling out of the parking lot and disappearing into the night, its headlights splitting the darkness like a blade.

Hopper puts the truck in park with a low grunt as soon as they pull up to Hawkins Laboratory and grabs a pair of bolt cutters from the backseat.

“So this is the plan?” Maggie asks from the passenger side, “Illegally trespass into a government facility that’s probably crawling with armed men and diseases?”

“Worked for me before, didn’t it?” Hopper huffs, stomping through the brush toward the fence.

Joyce trails behind them, wringing her hands like she’s trying to keep her panic from spilling out. Her eyes flick rapidly, watching the tree line.

Maggie follows the other two, crunching through the leaves in boots that are entirely too loud for sneaking, “If I die, I’m haunting this place. I’m thinking a full-on Victorian ghost vibe. Lace. Rattling chains. Long monologues.”

“Shh,” Hopper snaps.

“Sorry,” she whispers, “Just saying, if I am a ghost by sunrise, I want a dramatic backstory. Maybe a tragic lover.”

He clips through the chain-link fence with practiced ease. The hole is barely big enough to crawl through, and Maggie makes it halfway before muttering, “This is terrible for my outfit.”

They don’t make it ten steps inside the perimeter before the night explodes with blinding white floodlights.

Maggie flinches, shielding her eyes, “Oh good. The welcoming committee.”