Apocalypse, Steve Harrington

Chapter Twenty-Seven. The Case of Their Missing Father

TWENTY-SEVEN
— the case of their missing father

    

      HER HEART WAS beating at a million miles an hour. Lucy felt the tenseness in her body, and she was literally at the edge of her seat. With a knot in her stomach and an ache in her chest, she pushed at her brothers shoulder. "Jesus, drive faster!" she shouted. "Step on it!"

    He wasn't that stressed— not until his sister started screaming directly in his right ear. "I'm going as fast as I can!" Danny's voice cracked when he yelled. "I'm pushing sixty-five in a forty zone!"

    Lucy took a long, heavy, exasperated breath through her nostrils. With wide eyes, she slowly turned to face Daniel. "Driiiive!" she dragged the word, displaying her urgency.

"You're stressing me out, god!" Danny stomped on the gas, hands shaking slightly as he gripped the wheel tighter. He made a sharp left turn, one that caused his sister to go flying into the door. "Seatbelt, please."

    They were on their way to the Byers— where there father was, according to the note stuck on the refrigerator. She had a set plan for when she saw Jim: One - Apologize profusely for storming out the night previous. Two - Tell him she'd never do it again. Three - Scream at him for hiding that stupid box from her. And, it would happen precisely in that order.

    He pulled into the Byers driveway, tires squeaking. "What's your plan, Luce?" Danny sighed. "Are you just gonna, what, scream at him for hiding those boxes?"

She looked at him through her peripheral, hesitated, and inhaled shapely. "Yeah." Danny's face fell, and she saw it— "Oh," he muttered, blinking.

The BMW's door slammed behind her. She took a heaving breath out, nearly tripped on her way towards the house, and balled her hand into a fist. She knocked. She knocked again, and again— no response. Danny chimed in from behind her. "Did you try the doorbell?"

    "Did you try the doorbell?" she mocked, rolling her eyes— then, she tried the doorbell. Through the wooden door, Lucy could hear shuffling. She picked at the skin on her thumb, shifted on her feet, and contemplated knocking again— the door flung open.

    Joyce Byers peeked her head through. She smiled, almost nervous. "Lucy, Danny," the woman nodded.

    "Hi," Lucy gulped, stepping back. "Is our dad here? It's just, he left a note on the fridge, and it's really important."

    Danny nodded. "She's kinda freaking out—"

    Joyce cut him off. "He left about an hour ago, I'm sorry," she spoke, watching their faces fall. The woman took a step closer, and lowered her tone. "But, Lucy... it's Will. He's been asking for you." With that, she hesitantly let the teenagers into her cluttered home.

    Her eyes went wide. Lucy looked down at the feeling of something below her feet— she was stepped on paper. Heaps of paper, all with drawings on them, taped around the house, from ceiling to floor. "Um," Danny let out a sigh in disbelief, carefully running his fingertips over one of the drawings, and he could feel the waxiness of the crayon. It was clear they had been drawn recently.