𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

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𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

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𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄
NOVEMBER 3RD, 1984

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The trio sat in Steve's BMW, the rumble of the engine mingling with the soaring vocals of Queen's Hammer to Fall blaring from the speakers. The music filled the quiet spaces, but for Henry, it was just background noise. His head bobbed along to the rhythm, more out of habit than any real engagement, his thoughts miles away. As he stared out the window, his eyes traced the familiar, comforting blur of the passing trees, framed by the midnight sky that felt as vast and distant as the things swirling in his mind.

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It was always there, that underlying current of thought—Scarlette. Her name drifted uninvited into his mind, but now it stayed, settling in as if it had always belonged there. He could never seem to keep her out, especially now. He'd been wrestling with his thoughts for days, unsure if the tightness in his chest when he thought of her was guilt, anger, or something more dangerous. He felt restless, like his own skin had become too tight, like the car was too small, too stifling. He was done with silence.

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"Hey, Harrington?" Henry's voice cut through the Queen song, though he immediately felt a twinge of nervousness lacing his words. He wasn't sure why talking about her always made him tense. Maybe because it made everything real. Steve glanced at him through the rearview mirror, eyebrow raised in response.

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"What's up?" Steve's tone was casual, easy, but Henry's nerves were buzzing. He fiddled with the worn leather strap of his watch, fingers working out the nervous energy he didn't want to show. He even let his hair fall loose from the ponytail, as though the simple action could bring him some ease.

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"Have you heard from Scarlette?" The question came out fast, maybe too fast. He regretted it the moment it left his lips, as if voicing his concern would somehow make it obvious to everyone that he was thinking about her far too often.

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Steve didn't seem to notice. "Nope. She went to Will's the other day with Mike." He paused, glancing briefly at Henry through the mirror again.

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Mike. His name struck Henry like a sour note. There was something about how close Mike and Scarlette had gotten that gnawed at him. It wasn't just jealousy—it was the way Mike had wormed his way into her world when Henry still felt on the outside looking in. And worse, Mike and Scarlette had been fighting recently, and yet, they still seemed too comfortable around each other for Henry's liking. He nodded at Steve's words but offered no real reply, returning his gaze to the window as Steve and Dustin began their usual back-and-forth.

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He half-listened as Steve's voice rose above the music, asking, "Wait a sec. How big?" The topic had shifted back to Dustin's bizarre pet, Dart. Henry had heard it all before, but it never stopped Dustin from explaining, for what felt like the hundredth time, how enormous Dart had grown. Steve was visibly freaking out, but Henry just tuned them out. There was no room left in his head for anything but his growing exhaustion and the nagging desire to get home. Calling Dustin had been a mistake—tonight had started as a distraction, but now all he could think about was how he'd rather be anywhere else.

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They finally arrived at Dustin's house, the tires crunching on the gravel drive as they parked. Henry stepped out into the cool night air, stretching his legs as the trio made their way to the trunk. Steve popped it open with a casual flick of his wrist, revealing the infamous bat studded with nails—a weapon born of nightmares, yet it made Henry grin. "Badass," he muttered appreciatively, running a hand through his hair as they headed around the back toward the storm cellar.

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As they approached the darkened doors, a familiar feeling of dread settled into Henry's stomach. He didn't scare easily, but there was something about the cellar that unsettled him. Maybe it was the thought of what lurked beneath, or maybe it was just the staleness of the air—how it clung to him like a warning. "I swear to God, Dustin, if we die..." Henry began, his voice a sharp attempt at humor, but Dustin wasn't in the mood for it.

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"Holy shit, you're not going to die," Dustin snapped, his tone sharp and irritated, brushing off Henry's comment like a bothersome fly. But Henry's unease only deepened as Steve kicked at the cellar's side, trying to provoke something—anything—from the dark below. A shared glance between Henry and Steve was all it took to confirm what they were both thinking. Silence.

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"Dustin, if this is some Halloween prank..." Steve's voice trailed off, frustration clear as he flashed the beam of his flashlight into the cellar. The light flickered over the rusted metal doors, casting harsh shadows over Dustin's face as he rolled his eyes, batting the beam away.

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"It's not a prank!" Dustin shot back, squinting against the harsh light.

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Henry, still feeling the nervous tension in his chest, let his frustration spill over. "I'll kick your ass, Henderson," he growled, but Dustin was quick on his feet. "Oh, come on—with that broken nose?" Dustin's taunt stung, and Henry reacted instinctively, flinching toward him. "It's not even broken!" The movement was enough to make Dustin jump, eyes wide with surprise. Steve, always the peacekeeper, grabbed Henry by the chest before things escalated.

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"Enough!" Steve's voice was sharp, commanding, cutting through the tension as he held out a hand for the cellar key. Dustin muttered something under his breath as he handed it over, but Henry barely registered it. His focus was already on the yawning blackness as Steve threw the doors open.

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The darkness inside was suffocating, a thick, heavy nothingness that swallowed the flashlight's beam whole. Henry's stomach churned, a sick sense of foreboding crawling its way up his spine. His hands gripped the flashlight harder than necessary as he descended the cellar steps with Steve close behind. Every creak of the wood beneath his feet made him wince, every breath was shallow and slow.

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And then, the light caught something. Henry froze, eyes widening as he looked down. Something pale and thin littered the floor, like strips of fragile paper. His heart stuttered as recognition slammed into him.

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"What the fuck..." he whispered, his voice hollow with disbelief. He knelt slowly, his hand trembling as he traced the edges of the discarded skin. It was unmistakable—this wasn't just shed skin. It was something far more grotesque, something that made Henry's insides twist. Snake-like, but worse—larger, wetter. His stomach flipped, bile rising in his throat as Steve leaned down, using the bat to lift a strip of it. The sound of the skin peeling off the ground made both of them wince in disgust.

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Steve and Henry exchanged a glance, both pale, both realizing that whatever they were dealing with, it was far bigger—and far worse—than anything they'd imagined. Dart wasn't some oversized pet. It was something dangerous. Something monstrous.

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Steve walked back to the staircase and called for Dustin, the sharp edge of his voice cutting through the oppressive silence. A few expletives tumbled out of Dustin's mouth as he took in the sight—first, the shed skin, then the gaping hole in the wall, dark and foreboding. It stretched deep, like a tunnel, an invitation to something far worse than any of them wanted to confront. The three of them crouched down, peering inside the hole. The air smelled stale and metallic, thick with the residue of something unnatural.

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