CHAPTER FIFTY EIGHT Somewhere on the Interstate, Indiana
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Dylan got the last shift driving. Jonathan was asleep beside her snoring and Argyle had already passed out in the back. She had punk rock music blasting over the dated van stereo but neither of the seemed to notice, they were passed out cold.
They had just crossed state lines into Indiana. Dylan had noticed the blue WELCOME TO INDIANA — THE CROSSROADS OF AMERICA about ten minutes back.
She was pushing 100 miles an hour and white-knuckling the steering wheel, unsure how far she could push the pizza delivery van's engine before it simply gave out. She also hoped she didn't get pulled over because that was a ticket she definitely could not afford.
She definitely wasn't tired anymore, she was anxious that she wasn't going to make it to Hawkins in time, no matter how fast she drove. The clock read 6:45AM on the dash but that was California time. It was almost 10AM back home.
Dylan noticed a cop car approach behind and slammed on the brake. On instinct, Dylan turned to look at the passenger seat to see if she had woken Jonathan up. But when she turned to the right, Dylan fell back into her seat in fright, almost swerving the van into the other lane of traffic.
Only for a split second, Dylan came face to face with her little sister. Her familiar cropped red hair, her big circle-rimmed glasses, a modest outfit Dylan would never wear—and a smile on her face. All things Dylan hadn't seen in almost three years.
"Barb?" Dylan said aloud.
Barb nodded.
"Hey, Dyl." Barb said, her smile only widening. Dylan was stunned into silence. "Where are you going? Is there another party you can't miss? Another date that's more important than your dear dead sister?"
At the mention of the word dead, Dylan was snapped back into reality. She closed her eyes and shook her head, figuring that sleep must've gotten too her after all, and she didn't feel tired because she had passed that point of tiredness into the type over-tiredness one didn't feel, the type of tiredness that made someone delusional instead of groggy.
When Dylan opened her eyes again and looked to the right, Jonathan was sleeping soundly slumped over in the passenger seat.
"Jesus Christ," Dylan mumbled only to herself. "Well, that was awful."
"Dylan?" Dylan heard her name come from the backseat.
She turned around, wary, to face Eleven with a concerned look on her face. She was the only one in the back of the van who was still awake.
"Yeah?" Dylan responded.
"Are you okay?" Eleven asked. "Did you see something?"
