xii. trouble

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THE BATTLE OF HAWKINS JUNKYARD

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in which a band of preteen outcasts help two grown adults make a magical bath so they can communicate with their dead friend

or something like that

trouble | the bathtub

〖 got so much to lose, got so much to prove - god, please don't let me lose my mind 〗

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got so much to lose, got so much to prove - god, please don't let me lose my mind

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"RANDOLPH ROAD is here - the fence starts here," Lucas pointed to the stick he was using as a substitute for the fence as he relayed he and Caleb's findings to their friends, "and goes all the way around. And this is the Lab right here. The Gate's gotta be in there somewhere. It's gotta be."

"I told you, it is." Caleb grimaced, holding his hand to his aching stomach as he gestured to the can that was supposed to represent the Lab. "It's deep down. Maybe underground. But it's in there - I'm telling you, I can feel it."

"So who owns Hawkins Lab?" Dustin questioned suddenly, the gears in his head turning to form a hypothesis before he even got his reply.

"The sign says Department of Energy." Lucas sighed, rocking back and forth on his knees anxiously.

"Department of Energy - what do you think that means?"

"Government." Caleb and Mike chroused, sharing a knowing look. "Military."

"Then why does it say energy-"

"Just trust me, okay? It's military, my dad told me before." Mike insisted.

"Mike's right.' Lucas nodded in agreement, his shoulders sagging in exhaustion. "There's soldiers out front."

"Do they make like, lightbulbs or somethin'?" Dustin asked innocently, his puzzelment only increasing when Caleb let out a small laugh at his words.

"No, they make weapons - to fight the Russians and Commies and stuff." Mike divulged, all eyes immediately falling on the girl leaning against Caleb's shoulder.

"Oh, Jesus, this is bad." Dustin breathed, running a hand over his face and glancing around for any reassurance, his worries only strengthening when his friends failed to disagree with him.

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