October 31st, 1984
Hawkins, Indiana
Billy hadn't stopped the car since dropping Max off at home.
He drove aimlessly, his foot pressed harder on the accelerator than necessary. The roar of the engine was the only thing that managed—if only slightly—to drown out Max's voice echoing in his head.
Stop.
Billy, please.
He clenched his jaw and jerked the steering wheel, forcing himself to focus on the road.
Nothing had happened.
He told himself that over and over again.
When he finally got far enough away, he slammed the car into a parking spot. He turned off the engine, and the silence collapsed on him like an uncomfortable weight. He pulled out a cigarette with clumsy movements.
His hands were shaking.
"Fuck…" he muttered, trying to light it.
He failed once.
Twice.
Frustrated, he hurled the lighter against the dashboard with a sharp crack and shut his eyes, breathing deeply—as if that would be enough to regain control.
*It was nothing,* he told himself.
*Just a damn coincidence.*
On the third try, the cigarette finally lit. He took a deep drag, holding the smoke in his lungs longer than necessary. When he stepped out of the car, he did it roughly, channeling his frustration into every movement.
He checked the front.
The engine.
Everything seemed to be in place.
"Great…" he muttered, about to get back in.
Then he saw it.
A dent on the side—too small to be real damage, but too precise to be an accident.
Billy froze.
He stepped closer, running his fingers over the dent as if he couldn't quite believe it was there. He knew this car better than anyone. That damage hadn't been there before.
The images came back—this time without the noise or the rage:
the steering wheel jerking suddenly,
the boy's body in the road,
and that strange sensation… like something had shoved the car from the outside.
He frowned.
"No…" he murmured, more in denial than certainty.
He straightened slowly. His expression was no longer angry—it was something far more dangerous. A cold certainty that *something else* had happened.
"That little brat…" he muttered through clenched teeth.
He took another drag from the cigarette and let the smoke escape slowly.
Max hadn't been wrong. This place wasn't going to be completely boring.
And that kid… James… wasn't normal.
Billy smiled faintly—a tight smile, empty of humor.
He crushed the cigarette and got back into the car.
This time, he didn't start it right away.
---
It took James several hours to calm down, and when he finally checked the time, he realized there were only thirty minutes left until seven.
He showered quickly and put on his costume: a simple Cobra Kai gi that Murray had sent him for the occasion.
Once ready, he grabbed his keys, a pillowcase, and walked toward Max's house.
The streets were filled with children and teenagers in costume. Monsters, celebrities, and fictional characters blended together as they went door to door asking for candy.
When he reached Max's house, the first thing he saw was Billy stepping out the front door.
"I remember telling you to stay away from Max," Billy said, not even looking at him.
"And I remember you nearly killing me a few hours ago," James replied coldly.
A heavy silence fell between them.
Billy finally glanced at him.
"You walked away," he said flatly. "Be grateful."
James stared at him, jaw tight. Billy looked away again, his indifference bordering on contempt.
"Whatever…" Billy added, finishing his cigarette. "I've got better things to do."
James didn't answer. He watched as Billy got into his car and drove away.
"James!"
Max's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
There was something different about her tone. It wasn't just surprise—it was a fragile mix of relief and guilt she was trying to hide. She looked at him as if she needed to make sure he was really there.
James gave her a half-smile, the kind he used when he didn't know what to say without making things worse.
He didn't speak. He walked toward her slowly, as if any sudden movement might break something. Max took a small step back—out of habit more than fear—but James didn't stop.
When he was close enough, he hugged her without warning.
Max stiffened for a second… then let herself lean into him, burying her face against his shoulder.
"I don't blame you," James whispered. "Not for any of it."
The words hit Max like a soft blow. She tried not to cry—but she came close. She clutched his jacket as if letting go meant losing him.
They stayed like that for a moment, in silence.
For Max, that hug meant she wasn't alone.
For James, it was impossible not to feel anger toward Billy. No one should be able to break Max like that.
"Are you planning on holding me all night?" she murmured at last, trying to recover her usual tone.
"Maybe," James replied with a small smile.
He let go carefully.
That was when he noticed the costume.
"Michael Myers," he said, pointing at the mask. "Now you're actually scary."
"That's the idea," Max replied.
"We should watch *Halloween* later."
Max rolled her eyes, but a smile slipped out before she could stop it.
"Sure… because today hasn't been traumatic enough."
She turned and started walking.
"Come on. The nerds are waiting for us."
James followed her.
"Were you invited too?" he asked. "I thought I'd have to convince you."
"Dustin and Lucas invited me after recess," she replied. "You?"
"Will."
Max was quiet for a second.
"They might be nerds," she finally said, "but they're not bad."
James smiled. He knew exactly what she meant.
The atmosphere between them was still a little tense, like they were walking over something fragile—but little by little, they started talking normally again.
"Do you see them anywhere?" James asked.
"No, but it shouldn't be hard to spot four Ghostbusters."
In the distance, they heard an argument about how nougat was the best candy of all time.
Max gestured for him to stay quiet and ducked behind some bushes. James watched, amused, as she scared them.
Lucas's scream was the cherry on top.
"Oh my God, you should've seen your faces," Max laughed. "Do you seriously scream like that?"
James laughed with her. Seeing her like this—confident and joking—confirmed she was better… though not completely okay.
The group went from house to house, led by Dustin and Lucas toward the best routes.
Will and Mike walked a little behind. The silence between them was uncomfortable.
"Did you agree to let them come with us?" Mike asked.
"I figured you wouldn't mind," Will replied cautiously.
"You still should've asked me."
"I invited James," Will said.
Then, quieter but firm: "You don't get to decide everything, Mike."
Mike stopped, stunned. Will took the opportunity to move ahead and rejoin the group.
For a while, everything was normal—laughter, jokes, candy.
Will even allowed himself to feel calm… until a chill ran down his spine.
The sensation grew, crawling through his body, until the world changed.
The street darkened. The people vanished. Vines covered everything.
He dropped the camera and began walking, confused.
In the distance, a massive shadow advanced toward him.
Fear froze him in place.
And then… everything vanished.
"Will, are you okay?" James asked, shaking him gently.
Will looked at him, terrified. He tried to speak, but only incoherent sounds came out.
Mike arrived immediately and shoved James aside.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Get away from him."
But when he saw Will, he knew it wasn't time for questions. He said a quick goodbye and took him home.
"What just happened?" Max asked, staring at the spot where they disappeared.
James took a second before answering.
"I don't know," he said. "But it wasn't good."
Max nodded. She didn't ask anything else.
They stood side by side, sharing a worry neither of them knew how to name yet.
_____________________________
The next day
"Hey, guys," James greeted Lucas as he arrived at school. "Do you know how Will's doing?"
"Hey, James," Lucas replied with a smile. "Mike told us Will's better."
"I still don't understand what happened yesterday," James said quietly.
"Well… I don't know how much you know about what happened last year," Lucas replied carefully.
"Not much," James admitted.
Lucas told him how Will had gone missing in the woods the year before—and how all of Hawkins believed he had died after a decomposing body similar to his had been found.
"So everyone thought he was dead?" James asked, shocked.
"Yeah. It was all over Hawkins," Lucas replied. "Anyone you ask will tell you the same thing."
He paused.
"Just don't ask Will about it. He's really sensitive about that."
After that hallway conversation, they reached Mr. Clarke's classroom. The lesson began with Dustin notably absent.
Halfway through the explanation, the door burst open.
"Dustin!" Mr. Clarke exclaimed. "Nice of you to join us. Take a seat."
Dustin apologized quickly and sat down. As soon as he did, he started signaling his friends to meet him in the AV club during recess.
James was surprised to see himself included—it seemed both he and Max were starting to become part of the group.
______________________________
Later.
They all crowded into the AV club as Dustin excitedly began talking about his new discovery.
"I found it in my trash can," he said, pulling a small green slug out of his Ghostbusters trap. "I named him D'Artagnan. Dart for short."
"What the hell is that?" James exclaimed, stepping back.
"You're saying it was in your garbage?" Lucas asked.
"Yeah! Isn't it awesome?"
"If *that* is awesome to you, I'm worried about your sanity," Max said.
"So what do you think it is?" Mike asked.
Dustin lifted Dart and placed it in his palm.
"At first, I thought it was a tadpole," he explained. "But tadpoles are aquatic."
"Aren't there land tadpoles?" James asked.
"Yes—well, no," Dustin said, rummaging through his backpack. "Hold Dart for a minute."
Out of reflex, Max reached out—but instantly recoiled.
"Gross, gross, gross!"
Lucas took it next.
"Oh my God. It's super slimy."
James stepped aside immediately, making Will the next victim.
Will said nothing. He got rid of Dart as quickly as possible.
Mike ended up holding it the longest.
Meanwhile, Dustin flipped through a book.
"Here!" he said. "There are no such things as land tadpoles. Every known tadpole is aquatic."
"Could it be a reptile?" Mike asked.
"I thought that too," Dustin admitted. "But Dart can't handle heat or light. He's extremely sensitive to it."
Will stared at the creature.
He'd seen that movement before.
Carefully, he aimed the lamp at Dart.
The reaction was immediate.
A sharp, wet screech filled the room. Dart writhed away from the light.
Everyone jumped.
Everyone but Will.
*It hates the light.*
"As I said," Dustin continued, switching the lamp off, "it's super sensitive to light. You know what that means?"
He grinned.
"Guys… I think I've just discovered a new species."
Will swallowed.
That thing didn't belong in Hawkins.
The group hurried toward Mr. Clarke's classroom. Dustin was convinced he had discovered a new species, and the only person who could confirm his theory was his favorite teacher.
They moved quickly through the hallways, arguing animatedly over whether the names Dustin had in mind for his new species were good or not.
Will, however, didn't share the group's enthusiasm. He had remained silent since leaving the AV club. His expression was that of someone afraid to acknowledge what he was seeing… because, deep down, he already knew.
Before reaching Mr. Clarke's classroom, Will gathered his courage and stopped Mike in the hallway.
"What's wrong, Will?" Mike asked when he noticed his expression. "Are you feeling sick?"
Will stayed quiet for a few seconds, taking a deep breath, as if finding the words was harder than saying them.
"What Dustin showed us…" he said at last, his voice breaking, "it's not a new species."
Mike frowned.
"I think it's connected to the other side."
He swallowed.
"I know it is."
Mike froze.
Everything clicked at once—the light, the sound, the way Dart moved. The color drained from his face as the weight of Will's words settled in.
Without saying anything else, they both broke into a run toward Mr. Clarke's classroom.
When they arrived, Dustin hadn't revealed Dart yet. Mike reacted on instinct: he rushed forward, grabbed the Ghostbusters trap, and spun toward the door.
Everything happened so fast that no one had time to stop him.
"It was just a joke, Mr. Clarke!" Mike said hurriedly as he left. "I tried to convince them not to do it!"
And just as quickly as he'd entered, he was gone.
"Hey!" Dustin shouted. "Give me back my trap!"
Everyone ran after Mike. Mr. Clarke simply watched them go, convinced it was just another childish prank.
Mike didn't stop until he reached the AV club again. Will was already there, waiting for him.
The others arrived only seconds later.
"Mike, what is wrong with you?" Dustin demanded, out of breath.
"Dart isn't what we think," Mike said, motioning for them to come inside.
But before James and Max could step through the doorway, Mike blocked them.
"This is for club members only," he said, shutting the door in their faces.
"You shouldn't be here."
"What the hell is wrong with that idiot?" James muttered, taking a step back.
"This isn't funny, guys," Max said, pounding on the door.
"It's for members only," Mike repeated from inside.
James and Max sat down by the door, trying to hear what was happening inside. When they couldn't make out anything, they ended up leaning back against it.
"Why do they invite us if they're just going to shut us out?" Max asked, frustrated.
"No idea," James replied flatly. "Though I don't know why you're complaining… you've got Lucas and Dustin wrapped around your pinky. Smile and ask, and they'll probably tell you everything."
Max stared at him in disbelief.
"Excuse me?" she snapped. "As far as I know, the only person I've manipulated into doing things for me is you."
"You manipulate me?" James said with a grin. "Trust me, Max… it'd take more than a smile."
The exchange eased the tension slightly, but Max quickly lost her patience.
"Enough. I'm not staying here any longer," she said, trying the door.
"This isn't a movie, Max," James scoffed. "A latch isn't going to open a—"
The door swung open.
James, who had been leaning fully against it, fell backward.
Everything happened in seconds.
The moment James hit the floor, Dart scurried over him. It no longer had just two front legs—it was walking on four.
"Oh my God!" James shouted in disgust.
"What did you do?! You let it escape!" Mike yelled, furious, glaring at Max.
He didn't wait for an answer. He bolted after Dart.
"Don't hurt it!" Dustin shouted. "Don't hurt it!"
The group scattered throughout the school in search of Dart. Fortunately, the hallways were already empty.
After several laps around the courtyard, James decided to head toward the football field. Since it connected to the parking lot, it seemed like a good place to check.
When he arrived, he saw Will in the distance.
Something was wrong.
Will's body was shaking violently, as if he were having a seizure.
"Will!" James shouted. "Call an ambulance!"
He ran toward him—and the moment he touched Will's shoulder, everything changed.
One second he was on the field.
The next, he was standing in a barren wasteland.
The sky was choked with black clouds. Reddish lightning struck around him, and the ground looked dead, as if life itself had been drained away.
James barely had time to process it when a voice spoke behind him.
"It's time."
He startled and turned.
A figure was approaching him. Its features shifted constantly—an adult man, a young man, a child—until they finally settled on the shape of a teenager.
"Time for what?" James asked, trying to sound steady, though his voice faltered.
"There's no time to explain," the boy replied. "Just remember this: you are a legacy."
James frowned.
"The legacy of the—"
"The number—"
The words began to distort, swallowed by static until they became incomprehensible.
"You have to find the others and stop—"
And just like that, James was ripped away.
He was back on the football field, but his attention snapped elsewhere immediately. A burning pain began to spread across his side.
It felt as if something were being carved into his skin with fire.
He couldn't think of anything else.
Through the pain, a single image rose clearly in his mind:
Murray's house.
The world began to blur. One moment he was on the field; the next, somewhere else entirely.
Until a voice cut through the chaos.
"James!"
Murray stared at him in horror as his protégé appeared out of nowhere inside the safe house. He rushed toward him, seeing him writhe in pain.
Before James lost consciousness, he heard Murray say:
"It's far too soon…"