BILLIE JEAN ( eddie munson.. ) ✔

016. Just Died In Your Arms Tonight..

How do you explain the unexplainable?

Chief Powell looked at Anthony Carter as he floated off the ground. It happened right before his and half the Hawkins' station eyes. A couple of feet separated him from a scene which should have stayed on magician stages, where strings were an option and the horrifying tales of a deranged kid weren't being validated out of the blue.

What use do people like him have in front of what they cannot possibly begin to understand?

Chief Powell could have grabbed his gun, but who would the bullets be for? For Anthony? His head had leant back, by the tension shaking in his body, even without sounds, it was obvious he was already in pain. Or should the bullet be for him? Because finally, he saw clarity, that the world is filled with terrors against which he's but a tiny man, in a uniform, doing the bare minimum.

No. The gun wasn't going to help.

Perhaps nothing was.

Dozens of eyes looked up in utter loss, but once the Chief did a quick cross, at least half of the people there took his example and cowered. Jason started praying, mumbling to himself and shivering to close his eyes.

"Dad!" A voice stood out over the silence.

Sweating from head to toe, red in the face and about to add tears to the dust clogging the sight he should have bettered through his glasses, Barry fell off his stolen bicycle and walked the nasty fall off within the second. He scrambled to his feet, grappled the ground with his hands to help himself up then looked up, not for a second stopping from running.

"Leave my dad, alone!" He shouted towards the sky.

Chief Powell didn't understand the half of it. Perhaps he was starting to familiarize himself with the idea that he never will.

Then Barry's menacing eyes, filled with tears he was crying just to get them out of his way, met him with strength, with determination, bordering those badlands of maniac passion. The boy, as any son about to lose their father, was desperate. "Don't just stand there!" Barry shouted, tone throwing blame and seeding guilt.

Anthony's son dug both his hands into every pocket of his until he brought out another thing he had stolen, this time not from a yard, but from his dad's office: a cassette. He threw it at Chief Powell who almost didn't catch it.

Too stunned to even form words, he gaped his mouth at the boy and with an exasperated frown, Barry shouted, "Play the cassette, as loud as you can, fast!"

Perhaps Powell didn't have to understand what was happening in order to be able to help.

He stole another glance up at Mr. Carter.

"Now!" Barry's shout, filled with urgency, snapped him out of the terror trapped in his stare. Chief Powell turned around, disregarded the hat which fell off his head as a consequence of his running and scrammed to his car. He had a cassette player and an audio system making every drumstick hit the brain, every guitar chord strike near the heartstrings.

"Help me bring him down!" Barry delegated a few people by looking them in the eyes. Ultimately, his own gaze had to return to his father. It didn't help knowing he was probably seeing and feeling Hell creep up in his mind at that very moment.

Suspended several feet in the air, not even one on the shoulders of the other could the police officers reach for Anthony's legs to bring him down. Powell saw them struggling to grab his ankles so he entered his car keys in contact and hit the honk. His car dashed and with a creak he stopped his hood right under Mr. Carter, then pressed the button to play the cassette he had already smashed into the player prior to taking the initiative to help his colleagues get taller.