Chapter 7: Hiding
Andy struggled forward on the forest trail, surrounded by the four boys.
With every step, a sharp pain shot from the gunshot wound in his left arm, and his headache hummed continuously like background noise.
He could feel his strength draining rapidly, but what unsettled him even more were the incessant questions from those around him.
"Do you have your parents' phone number?" Mike asked, leading the way and looking back occasionally to make sure Andy was keeping up.
"What happened to your hair? Do you have cancer?"
"Did you run away from home?"
"Are you in some kind of trouble?"
The group took turns firing questions at Andy.
"You've lost so much blood, are you okay?" Mike looked back again, frowning at the bloodstains on Andy's clothes.
Questions pelted him like raindrops, but Andy just walked with his head down, occasionally shaking his head or letting out a vague "mm."
How was he supposed to explain?
Tell them he had no parents, only "Papa," Dr. Brenner?
Tell them his hair was like that for the convenience of experiments?
Tell them he hadn't run away from home, but had escaped from a human experimentation lab?
Tell them his trouble wasn't ordinary trouble, but a superpowered murderer and a mad scientist who wanted to drag him back for experiments?
His headache intensified.
Every time he tried to organize his thoughts, a sharp sting flared deep in his brain, as if warning him not to think too much.
His abilities hadn't fully recovered yet; at this moment, he was even more fragile than an ordinary child.
Finally, when they reached a small creek, Will pulled something wrapped in aluminum foil out of his backpack.
"Are you hungry?" Will asked softly, handing the item to Andy.
Andy stopped, looked at the foil package, and then stared at Will.
Will's emotions were gentle, lacking the pressure of curiosity or suspicion from the others, radiating only pure concern.
Andy hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
He was indeed hungry; he hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday, and so much had happened since then.
Will carefully peeled back the foil, revealing a burger.
It wasn't the kind of bland, nutritionally calculated "health meal" from the Lab, but a real burger—the bun slightly squashed, a lettuce leaf peeking out, and sauce soaking into the wrapper.
Andy's eyes widened.
He had "seen" burgers before—while reading the memories of townspeople, he'd seen images of them eating burgers in restaurants and knew what they were.
But seeing the real thing and smelling that aroma of bread, meat patties, and sauce was a completely different experience.
He instinctively reached out and grabbed the burger, forgetting even to say thank you before stuffing it into his mouth and taking a huge bite.
The flavors exploded in his mouth: the juice from the meat, the crunch of the pickles, the tang of the yellow mustard, and the richness of the cheese.
All these flavors were new, intense, and almost overwhelming to him.
He let out a satisfied grunt, like a hungry animal.
The other boys watched him wolf it down, exchanging surprised glances.
"He must be starving," Dustin whispered.
"Looks like he hasn't eaten in days," Lucas added, the suspicion in his voice softening slightly.
Mike waited for Andy to finish the last bite before speaking carefully, "What's your name?"
Andy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at the expectant faces of the four boys.
In the Lab, he only had one name—012. But a name was more than that. It signified identity and individuality, signifying that you weren't just a number.
But now, in front of these strangers who might help him, he needed a name that didn't belong to the Lab, a name that was his own.
"Andy," he finally said, his voice muffled by chewing.
"Okay, Andy," Mike nodded, as if this simple answer had established some level of trust. "Do you know your home address or phone number? We can help you contact your family."
Andy shook his head in silence.
Home? Was the Lab his home?
Phone number? Brenner's phone number was highly classified; even most researchers didn't know it.
"Alright," Mike thought for a moment. "Maybe we can go to the police station to help look up your information. The police can—"
His words were cut off by Andy's sudden movement; the boy grabbed Mike's sleeve so hard his knuckles turned white, pure terror flashing across his face.
"No," Andy's voice was urgent and firm. "We can't go to the police."
The four boys were stunned. Not go to the police? Why? Unless...
"Did you run away from home?" Lucas asked, suspicion rising again. "Or... did you do something you weren't supposed to?"
Andy opened his mouth to explain, but then closed it.
How could he explain? That the police might send him back to Brenner? That the Lab had enough influence to make the entire system cooperate with them? That any official channel was unsafe?
Before he could come up with a suitable answer, crisis struck.
Further down the trail, two tall men rounded a bend and came face-to-face with them.
Andy's heart nearly stopped, not because they were wearing dark uniforms, but because of the familiar aura they radiated: a trained alertness, eyes that assessed the forest environment, and... the instant recognition when their gaze landed on Andy's face.
Without hesitation, one of the men drew a pistol from his waist. The barrel wasn't pointed at Andy, but at the boys beside him.
"Holy shit!" Dustin screamed.
"Run!" Mike shouted, instinctively pulling Andy back.
Chaos erupted. The boys turned to flee, but the trail was narrow and the trees dense; they jostled one another like panicked animals.
Andy was dragged along for a few steps before he broke free from Mike's grip and turned to face their pursuers.
He saw the gun barrel rise, aiming not at him, but at Will, who was running at the back.
In that moment, time seemed to slow down.
Andy didn't think, acting only on instinct; he raised his hand and gave a violent shove.
Telekinetic force slammed into the backs of the four boys like an invisible wall, knocking them forward onto the ground and into the bushes.
Almost simultaneously, a gunshot rang out.
Bang—Bang—
Two gunshots overlapped, shaking the forest and startling a flock of crows, their black wings flapping as they took to the sky.
But the bullets didn't hit anyone.
They stopped in mid-air, hovering just inches from where Will had been, spinning slightly like insects frozen in amber.
Everyone was stunned.
The two pursuers stopped in their tracks, staring in disbelief at the suspended bullets.
They knew Twelve had superpowers—the report listed "Telepathy and rudimentary Telekinesis"—but this wasn't just "rudimentary Telekinesis"; this was a precise, powerful, and instantaneous reaction.
The boys scrambled up from the ground and looked back to see the eerie scene: two bullets hanging in the air, their metal casings reflecting cold light in the sunbeams filtering through the leaves.
Then they saw Andy's face.
The boy who had been wolfing down a burger and was so weak he could barely stand just moments ago had completely changed.
His body was still frail, and the blood on his face hadn't dried, but his eyes—those pale, almost transparent eyes—were now burning with a cold fury.
Andy looked at the two men, images of the Lab flashing through his mind: men in identical uniforms escorting children to tests, researchers approaching expressionlessly with syringes, guards standing coldly outside the Rainbow Room... and Henry.
When Henry killed those guards, he had that same look, that same calmness, that same resolve.
Rage had taken over his consciousness—a pure, searing rage directed at all the harm, all the imprisonment, and everyone who viewed children as experimental subjects.
These men had just shot at Will without hesitation—at an innocent boy who only wanted to help him.
Just as they had killed those siblings who tried to escape without hesitation.
Andy's head tilted slightly, an almost imperceptible movement.
Crack—
The sound of two necks snapping was terrifyingly clear in the silent forest.
The expressions on the two men froze, their eyes widening before their bodies slumped to the ground, pistols slipping from their loosening fingers.
Everything happened within three seconds.
Then silence returned, broken only by the cawing of crows in the distant trees and the boys' ragged breathing.
"Whoa..." Dustin was the first to make a sound, but it wasn't fear; it was pure, unbelievable wonder.
The four boys looked at Andy, looking at the kid who had just killed two people with superpowers.
Their expressions were complex: Mike was shocked and confused, Lucas was fearful and wary, Will was worried and sympathetic, and Dustin was... excited?
Andy turned to face them.
His face was even paler than before, and blood gushed from under his nose once again.
That momentary burst of power had exhausted his remaining strength; he now felt the world spinning, and the edges of his vision began to darken.
"Run," he said with difficulty, his voice trembling with weakness. "They'll come looking again."
Then, like a machine losing power, his eyes rolled back, and his body collapsed forward.
"Andy!" Mike rushed over and caught him before he hit the ground.
The four boys stood in a circle, looking at the unconscious Andy, then at the two corpses not far away, and then at each other.
"What do we do?" Will looked up at Mike. "We can't leave him here."
Lucas shook his head vigorously. "What else can we do? Run, obviously! Did you see what just happened? He killed two people! And who knows how many more like them will come after him—and after us!"
He pointed at the bodies on the ground. "These people shot without hesitating! If we run into more of them, we're dead!"
"But we can't just leave him like this," Mike said, his brow furrowed.
"He saved us. If it weren't for him, Will might have..."
He didn't finish, but everyone understood. Those two suspended bullets proved everything.
"The point is," Dustin chimed in, his eyes shining, "did you see what he just did? He's like the X-Men! Like a mutant from the X-Men comics! He can stop bullets in mid-air, and... and kill like that!"
"It's not funny, Dustin!" Lucas snapped. "This is real! And it's dangerous!"
"I know it's dangerous!" Dustin retorted. "But it's also... a scientific miracle! Superpowers are real! And they're right in front of us!"
"So is that why those people are hunting him?" Will asked softly.
"Obviously," Mike said. "They recognized him the moment they saw him and pulled their guns immediately. They're not police, FBI, or CIA; their uniforms have no insignia. They're from some organization, an organization that wants to catch Andy."
He looked deep into the forest: "And we have nowhere to take him. We can't go to the hospital; they'll call the police. We can't go to any public place; those pursuers could be anywhere."
"Not my house," Lucas said immediately. "My dad would ask a million questions and then definitely call the police."
"Not mine either," Dustin said. "My mom would freak out."
Will bit his lip: "My house... my mom is often not home, but I don't know how to tell my brother..."
Mike took a deep breath and made a decision: "My basement."
The other three boys all looked at him.
Mike continued, "We can hide him there, at least for now. My parents rarely go down there, and they're going to a community meeting tonight and won't be back until late."
"But Mike," Lucas said, "if we get caught harboring a... a..."
"A psychic? A boy being hunted?" Mike finished for him.
"We're already in this, Lucas. If those people find out we were here, and those two men happened to die here, they'll definitely come looking for us."
This sentence silenced everyone. The forest seemed to grow darker and colder.
Finally, Lucas nodded reluctantly. "Fine. But only temporarily. Once he wakes up, we have to figure out how to handle this."
"Agreed," Dustin said, already bending down to help Will support Andy.
The four boys, propping up Andy, carefully made their way through the forest, avoiding the main road and following the familiar trails toward the Wheeler house.
As they passed, the forest returned to silence, save for the sound of the wind through the treetops and the faint, distant sound of sirens—someone might have heard the gunshots and called the police.
A few minutes after they left, another group of people wearing the same uniforms arrived at the scene. They checked the two bodies, reported over the radio, and began tracking the trail left by the boys.
When Andy woke up again, the first thing he felt was softness; he was lying on an old sofa, covered with a blanket that smelled of laundry detergent.
Then came the dim light; the place he was in had only a small desk lamp, illuminating a limited space: stacked cardboard boxes, old furniture, hanging winter coats.
And four faces, almost pressed against his, watching him intently.
"Whoa!" Andy was so startled he sat up immediately, his head nearly hitting Dustin's chin.
The four boys were also startled and jumped back in unison.
"You're awake!" Mike said with a sigh of relief.
"How do you feel?" Will asked, handing over a glass of water.
Andy took the water and took a careful sip while quickly assessing his condition: his headache had lessened but was still there.
The wound on his left arm had been simply bandaged—the wrapping looked unprofessional—and some of his strength had returned, but his abilities... He tentatively extended his perception and found his mental power slowly recovering, like a dried-up spring starting to seep water again.
"Where am I?" he asked, his voice still raspy.
"My basement," Mike said. "Safe for now."
Andy looked around. This space was completely different from the white rooms of the Lab.
It was cluttered, crowded, and full of traces of life.
Cardboard boxes were labeled "Christmas Decorations," "Old Textbooks," "Mike's Baby Clothes." Faded posters were on the walls, and board game pieces were scattered on a table. The air was thick with the smell of dust and old books.
This clutter gave him an inexplicable sense of peace.
In the Lab, everything was orderly, everything was so... cold.
"Those people hunting you," Lucas asked bluntly, "who are they? Why do they want to catch you?"
Andy looked at the four boys. They had saved him, hidden him, and cared for him. He owed them an explanation—at least part of one.
But could he trust them? Completely?
As he hesitated, Mike said softly, "You don't have to tell us everything. But we need to know... how much danger are we in?"
This was a practical question, and Andy nodded.
"They're from Hawkins National Laboratory," he finally said, choosing a safe starting point. "I... grew up there."
"A lab?" Dustin's eyes lit up. "Like a science lab? Were they doing experiments on you? Is that how you got superpowers?"
Andy nodded. "They study... special children. Children with special abilities. I'm one of them."
"Like Number Eleven?" Mike asked suddenly.
Andy looked up sharply, his heart racing. "You know Eleven?"
Mike shook his head: "No, just... while you were unconscious, you said something. You said 'Eleven, hold on.' Who is Eleven?"
"She's my... sister. In the Lab, she's still trapped there."
"Where is the Lab?" Lucas asked. "We can tell the police—"
"No!" Andy's voice turned sharp. "The police are useless. The Lab has... influence. They'll make the police send me back and leave Eleven there."
He paused, then added in a lower voice, "And right now, the Lab might be... dangerous. Something bad happened."
"The explosion last night?" Dustin asked. "The news said there was an 'industrial accident' at Hawkins Laboratory, but everyone was evacuated and there were no reports of casualties. That was a lie, right?"
Andy closed his eyes.
Industrial accident? Evacuation? No casualties? Brenner was covering it up.
He was covering up Henry's massacre, covering up the dead children, covering up the truth.
"It's a lie," he said softly. "Many people died. The children... my brothers and sisters..."
He couldn't go on; tears welled up again, and this time he didn't try to suppress them.
The four boys watched him cry, exchanging uneasy glances.
They were still children; Mike, the oldest, was only twelve.
They were facing things beyond their understanding: superpowers, secret labs, murder, life on the run.
"Okay," Mike said finally, his voice more mature than usual. "You stay here for now. We'll bring you food and water and keep you safe. But we need to make a plan. You can't hide here forever."
"And you need medical attention," Will pointed to Andy's arm. "My bandaging is only temporary."
Andy nodded, wiping away his tears.
He looked at these four strange, odd, kind boys and felt a long-lost warmth.
It wasn't the conditional relationship he had with Brenner, nor the complex entanglement with Henry, but simple, direct kindness.
"Thank you," he said, his voice sincere.
Dustin grinned: "You're welcome. But... can you show us your power again? Not the killing kind, just... moving something?"
"Dustin!" the other three boys said simultaneously.
Andy, however, smiled slightly. It was the first time he had truly smiled since escaping the Lab.
He held out his hand, palm up. A chess piece by the lamp, a white knight, began to tremble, then slowly rose, spun once in the air, and landed gently in his palm.
The four boys' eyes widened; even having seen more startling things, this close-up, calm display was still breathtaking.
"Whoa..." Dustin whispered.
"That's so cool," Lucas admitted, despite trying to stay calm.
Mike looked at the chess piece in Andy's palm, then at Andy's face. "We'll help you," he said, as if making a promise, "help you hide, help you recover, and then... maybe help you rescue your sister."
Andy felt his throat tighten. He wanted to say it was too dangerous, that they shouldn't get involved, that Brenner and Henry were opponents they couldn't fight.
But he didn't say it.
Because in this dim basement, among these four strange, outcast children who were willing to help a stranger with superpowers, he felt for the first time that maybe he wasn't completely alone.
Maybe, in this strange world, he could still find allies.
Maybe, he could still save Eleven.
He gripped the chess piece in his hand, feeling the texture of the plastic, the slowly returning mental power, and a new, fragile hope.
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