Dustin and Lucas are slumped near the cluttered desk, hunched over the rebuilt Cerebro. Its dish antenna is aimed at the small, high window, pointed toward the sky.

Since Starcourt—since you—she’s become a ghost in her own life. The vibrant, eye-rolling, skateboarding girl is gone, replaced by this quiet shadow who stares at her scuffed Converse as if they hold answers in their frayed laces.

Dustin and Lucas continue to bicker softly about antenna calibration, their voices a distant hum. Max doesn’t seem to hear them at all.

Then, the Cerebro emits a sharp, piercing whistle. The needle on the main dial jumps, quivers, and holds.

A frequency stabilizes. And through the crackling static, a voice, weak and distorted by impossible distance, breaks through.

‘Cab.’ Not a taxi. The cabin. Hopper’s cabin. Your secret code, your emergency meet-up spot. A word only the two of you knew.

Her first thought isn’t hope. It’s sheer, cold terror. Vecna. He’s found a new way in. He’s using your voice, the one thing left that could truly break her, to lure her.

She stays frozen, a statue of grief and fear, tears now tracing silent paths down her cheeks. She shakes her head slightly, refusing.

Without a word, without even looking at the boys, Max scrambles to her feet. She shoves past Lucas, her shoulder knocking into his, and bolts for the basement stairs.