Apocalypse, Steve Harrington

Chapter Fifty-Three. Operation Child Endangerment

FIFTY-THREE
— operation child endangerment

      "THIS IS. . . FUCKING UNREAL."

       All she had ingested in the past-twelve hours was strawberry ice-cream and a poorly made Orange Julius (she made it). Goosebumps stood on the surface of her arms, her hair ran down her exposed back, and the swirling nighttime air prompted a stuffy-nose. She hadn't been paying attention, fully, to the "Saving Hawkins" plan, but she gathered the following: they couldn't get into the secret-Russian-backroom without the keycard, Robin snagged Starcourt blueprints, they could enter the bunker through air-ducts, and Dustin's shoulders weren't bendy enough. With a furrowed brow and her tongue poking at the flesh of her cheek, she hummed, "it seems like child-endangerment."

      Early, she had claimed a family emergency, and called off early from work. In regular clothes, now— dressed out of her Orange Julius tee— she kneeled against the gravelly-roof of Starcourt Mall. It was cold, and dark, and the only light-source was the neon outer-lights of the mall and a single lamppost. Erica Sinclairs voice glitched from the walkie-talkie, and she cringed— getting a ten-year-old involved made her stomach hurt. It could have been the crappy Orange Julius, though.

      After-all, she was doing it for America, "you nerds in position, or what?"

      "Yeah, we're in position," Robin said, "it's all quiet here, you've got the green-light."

      Erica hummed, "green-light, got it," she said. "Commence operation 'Child Endangerment'."

Robin winced, "can we maybe. . . not call it that?"

The younger-girl scoffed, "Babysitters Club said it first," Erica said, referencing Lucy, "see you on the other-side, nerds."

Her shoulders were tense. She could hear Erica straining through the walkie-talkie, the palms of her hands clawing at the metal-interior of the air-duct. Mindlessly, she picked at her cuticle, and thought back to her brother. . . had they, as he said, exorcised Billy? He said he'd pick her up from work, would he show up, and she'd be in that secret-room? She was pulled from her thoughts, at Erica's simple words: "alright, nerds. I'm here."

The dirty-blondes eyebrows leaped, "any guards?"

"Negative," the younger-girl hummed.

Lucy quirked a brow, and moved close to the walkie-talkie, "booby-traps?"

A scoff caught in her throat, "if I could see them, they'd be pretty shit traps," Erica said. "Wouldn't they?"

Her lips twitched into a frown, "I guess," she said, lowly.

A grunt, metal clanging against metal, and a heavy exhale. Then, the two anticipated words from Erica: "I'm in."

She sighed, her chest falling simultaneously with Steve's. He moved to run his hands through his hair, eyes wide, "oh, God."

The double-doors opened, a dull light beaming down on Erica's small figure. She came into view, one hand on her hip, and the other pointing in their direction. "Free ice-cream," she started, "for life."