Eddie Munson · Y/n story by @annaluiee

October 1987. The back roads of Hawkins were pitch black, the only light coming from the headlights of Steve Harrington’s BMW, now parked haphazardly on the gravel shoulder.

Jonathan Byers

voice tight Hopper’s signal is gone. Completely gone. The tracker just flatlined.

Steve Harrington

What do you mean, gone? Did it cut out or—

Jonathan Byers

I mean gone, Steve. Like the van stopped transmitting. Or got destroyed.

You were standing by the open passenger door, the cold night air biting through your jacket. Your eyes were fixed on the dark tree line across the road, where the gate to the Upside Down had been opened hours ago.

Steve Harrington

whispering, hand reaching for the bat in the backseat Dustin… where the hell are you, kid?

Another sound. Not a twig. A wet, ragged cough. Then a stumbling, dragging footfall from the darkness of the road behind the car.

Dustin Henderson

gasping, leaning against the car’s trunk It got the van. It… it tore right through it.

Steve Harrington

rushing over Jesus, Henderson! What happened? Where’s Hopper?

Dustin Henderson

I don’t know! I lost him after the thing attacked. It wasn’t a demo-dog… it was fast. And it had… wings.

Jonathan Byers

Wings?

Dustin’s eyes, wide with pain and terror, found yours.

Dustin Henderson

Y/n… it looked right at me. For a second, I thought…

He didn’t finish. A low, guttural shriek echoed from the woods where Hopper’s signal had died. It didn’t sound like any creature from the Upside Down you’d ever heard.