Shadows of the Night •a Stranger Things story•

Looking for Peace and Quiet

•
•
•

Robbie pulls his car into the parking lot of a Big Buy grocery store. He cuts the engine and sighs to himself, staring at the steering wheel. "I'm looking for a girl with a shaved head. Has the number eleven tattooed on her arm. About yea high." Robbie shakes his head. "Fucking idiot." Robbie gets out of the car and heads inside the grocery store.

It's busy on Saturday morning. The weather is nice enough for just a jacket and maybe a hat. Robbie cuts across the aisle, ignoring the workers trying to promote their sales. Robbie grabs a bag of potato chips from the row of snacks near the back. He makes his way back to the front of the store, noticing how still and silent it's gotten.

"Call the police," a store worker calls.

Robbie frowns to himself, moving across the aisles has people whisper and stare. Robbie notices a worker trying to speak to someone.

"Excuse me. Young lady! You know you have to pay for those!"

Robbie drops his bag of potato chips when he sees a girl in a blue jacket and pink dress stride out of the store with boxes of Eggos in her arms.

"Hey! Stop right—" El pushes a woman and her cart in front of the worker with her mind. The woman gasps in fright and the man steps aside her. Robbie hurries after El and the worker. "You have to pay for those!"

"Here! Here!" Robbie takes two small bills out of his wallet and shoves it at the man just as El shatters the glass of the sliding doors. Robbie ignores the clamoring of people and workers. He runs after Eleven, who doesn't look back. Robbie grabs her by the arm, causing her to startle.

"Easy there. Don't break my ribs this time."

El relaxes, staring up at Robbie with dark eyes. Robbie gestures to his car. "Come on, a lot easier to run when you have wheels." El follows Robbie to his car.

Hopper knocks on the front door framed in decorative glass. Joyce and Ronda stand to the other side of him. Ronda plays with the zipper on her jacket as they wait for someone to answer the door. She stares out at the area behind her. It's near the edge of the city; a lot of dead or hibernating trees surround the small house. The porch underneath their feet is rotting away slowly. The old treehouse by the street looks like it'll blow over any second.

A young woman pushes back the curtain covering the window. She stares at the three of them. Hopper and Joyce wave. She unlocks the door and opens it. "Can I help you?"

"Hi, we're looking for Terry Ives. Does she live here?" inquires Hopper.

The woman stares at the three of them skeptically. "Who's asking?"

"The Hawkins chief of police." Hopper removes his badge and shows it to the woman.

She eyes Hopper close, folding her arms. She leans against the threshold. "And you want to talk to my sister?"

"Well, if your sister's Terry Ives, then, yeah, we do," pipes up Ronda.

The woman's eyes flicker over to Ronda. She sighs. "Okay, well, you can come in, but if you want Terry to tell you anything, you're about five years too late."

The young woman leads them into the house. The once-white walls are scuffed and beige from lack of care. The hallway is narrow and stuffy. The TV plays in the living room, but the noise is indistinct.

"Terry, you have some visitors." The woman shows them the room. Ronda, Joyce, and Hopper move over to Terry Ives; she's sitting in a rocking chair. She's absently staring at the TV. She's wearing a dress and sweater. Her long blond hair is hanging off of one shoulder.

"Hello. My name's Joyce Byers." Joyce stares at Terry, who watches her mildly. Joyce holds a piece of paper in her hand tightly. "Uh, this is Hopper and Ronda. We drove over from Hawkins. Um, you see, uh, my son he's been missing for almost a week now, and, um, we were wondering if we could talk to you about your daughter, Jane?" Terry closes her eyes slowly. "If there's anything that you could tell us about when she was taken..."

Hopper leans against the archway. "What was your relationship with Dr. Brenner? You guys keep in touch?"

Joyce steps forward, holding out the poster of Will. "This is, uh this is him. This is Will. Uh, you may have seen him on—on the news."

Ronda turns to the woman. "What's wrong with her?"

The woman rubs her nose. "I told you, you're wasting your time."

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, Chris tries her best to sink into the dying, sun-dried grass. She is lying in the grass, letting the sun do little to warm her body. She has her eyes closed, hands flat against the brittle, yellow grass. Chris tries to block out the sound of everything around her. Drowning out the noise has always been a struggle for her. She is born to live in a small town and die in a small town.

Moving to New York when she was younger was a big struggle for her. Sara loved it. Sara could fall asleep to the sounds of cars and horns and people shouting through the windows at night like there was no noise at all.

Everything is always so loud to Chris; she finds solace in reading and writing. It's quiet. She always seems to be able to focus when there's ink on a page. The idea of reading seems to work on calming the sixteen year-old. Her breathing is even and slow. Her eyes grow heavy.

A car engine shakes the ground as the car revs itself up and pulls into the makeshift gravel driveway in front of the Hopper trailer-home.

Chris's eyes snap open wide. Her heartbeat races angrily. Chris sits up, watching as Steve's maroon BMW pulls to a stop just feet to the left of her. Chris glares at the car; Steve's red-and-white Nike shoes are the first thing she sees.

"Hopper? What are you doing on the ground?"

Chris jumps to her feet, shoving him away from her. "I was looking for some goddamn peace and quiet, asshole."

Steve cowers away, blocking her hands with his arms. "Jeez. If you're looking for quiet why the hell are you outside?" Steve shuts the door to his car loudly, causing Chris to flinch.

She exhales loudly, her shoulders dropping. "I wasn't expecting Steve Harrington to drop by."
Chris folds her arms. "What do you want?"

"I can't just see you?" he wonders.

"Not anymore." Chris notices Steve frown. Chris gestures between them. "Steve, we're not friends anymore. What about that don't you understand?"

"Why?" he questions, almost begging rather than demanding.

"Because my sister died," she replies bluntly. "And you started hanging out with people that aren't like you." Chris gives him a confused look, wondering what he'll say next.

Steve opens his mouth. "Let me help. You need somewhere quiet? My parents are gone. You can stay at the house with me for a little bit. Nice and quiet." Steve watches doubt cross her features. "And you can make sure I don't do anything stupid like hunt down Byers and punch his teeth in."

Chris rolls her eyes. "I—" An idea pops into her head. She closes her mouth, then adds, "Fine. Let's go, Harrington."