Heatwaves

Dead Girl Walking

"I was born lost and take no pleasure in being found."
-John Steinbeck

I opened my eyes to a clear sky and the throbbing pain of a headache. My back rested uncomfortably against the cold, hard ground. Slowly, I pushed myself up to my knees, the gritty texture of the dirt beneath me adding to my disorientation. I scanned my surroundings with growing unease. The abandoned train track I had hoped to find was now a stark and unsettling reality, stretching out before me in the fading light.

I shivered in a tattered hospital gown, the thin fabric doing little to ward off the biting cold. Dirt caked my arms and legs, and bruises marred my skin like a grim testament to some forgotten ordeal.

How did I end up here?

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing thoughts. With a shaky resolve, I rose to my feet and began walking. I had no clear direction, but I hoped that by moving forward, I might eventually find a main road. The crunch of leaves and branches underfoot was a small comfort, offering a momentary distraction from the chill that seeped into my bones.

After what felt like hours of trudging through the wilderness, I finally emerged onto a main road. A wave of relief washed over me, though it was quickly tempered by the emptiness of the road—no cars in sight. A sign up ahead read, "Hawkins 3 miles." I sighed internally but pressed on, my determination outweighing my exhaustion.

My mind was a whirlwind of confusion, desperately trying to piece together how I ended up in this grim state. I knew my name was Ember Zhen Sterling, I was sixteen years old, but beyond that, my memory was a blank slate, an impenetrable fog.

Lost in thought, I barely noticed the honking of a car behind me. I turned to see it had pulled over. A woman emerged from the vehicle, her face etched with concern.

"Are you alright, honey? Do you need a ride somewhere?" she asked, her voice kind but laced with worry.

I nodded, shivering. She quickly handed me her sweater, and with a gentle but firm hand, guided me to the passenger side of the car. She opened the door and waited as I climbed in. The warmth from the air vents was a welcome relief, easing the chill from my bones. She slipped into the driver's seat and started the car, glancing at me occasionally as she attempted to make small talk.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Ember," I replied, my voice hoarse.

Her face went pale, and she fell silent, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. The car sped up, and we reached the town of Hawkins in what felt like no time. She parked outside a police station, and we both got out. The cold air hit me again, contrasting sharply with the warmth of the car's interior.

"Hey, follow me, sweetie. We're going to get you some help," she instructed.

I followed her into the police station. Inside, the atmosphere was chaotic—phones rang incessantly, and officers in navy uniforms rushed about, their voices blending into a cacophony of urgent activity. The woman led me to another woman who was on the phone. The woman on the call ended it abruptly when she saw us approach.

"Hi Flo, is Hopper here?" the woman asked.

"No, Mrs. Barnes, you just missed him," Flo replied, her gaze shifting between Mrs. Barnes and me with growing curiosity.

"Well, is there any way you could get him to come back? It's urgent," Mrs. Barnes pressed.

Flo and I exchanged a glance, and Mrs. Barnes turned to me.

"Tell her what you told me, hon."

I looked at Mrs. Barnes, then at Flo. "My name is Ember?"

Flo's eyes widened, and she immediately began typing furiously on the phone. She turned to Mrs. Barnes. "Take her to Hopper's office. I'll see if I can get him to come back."