Apocalypse, Steve Harrington

Chapter Sixty-Four. 6.62607004

SIXTY-FOUR
— 6.62607004

      SHE DOESN'T REALLY BELIEVE IN GOD.

      She wants to, though. She sees the affect that religion has on other people, and how those people are probably a lot happier than she is, and how it probably feels nice to have a higher-power to put your faith in. It's not that she just doesn't believe in God — she doesn't believe in anything. Bad things wouldn't happen if someone like God existed. Good people wouldn't die. She's seen too much to believe someone is protecting her, making this part of her purpose. It can't be true. But, right now? — she's praying. Lucy is praying to God, to the fucking stars, to anyone or anything that will listen. She's sitting in the passenger seat of the Todd-Father, and her eyes are screwed shut, and her hands are folded like a little kids at church, and she is saying that god-damn prayer with her entire being.

      When she opens her eyes, they're halfway to Starcourt. Steve is going over a hundred.

      "Hey, so," Robin, from the back, leans between the driver and passenger seat, "what's the plan, again?"

      What's the plan? Her mind goes blank. She's the one that started down the hill first, that led Steve and Robin to the Todd-Father and insisted that they check on Danny, and El, and Nancy, and everyone else back at the mall. Her mouth is suddenly gross and dry, and it hurts to breathe the humid July air. A broken "Um," is forced from her throat, and she glances at Robin in the rearview mirror.

      "We need to make sure they're okay," Steve cuts in. "Danny, and El, and Nancy — all them back at the mall. Something could be wrong."

      It's like he read her mind.

All she smells is burnt rubber. Her seatbelt digs into the soft-skin of her thighs and leaves a mark, red and throbbing, a remainder of what's keeping her strapped down to the Todd-Father. To the yellow Cadillac her father stole, that they are now one mistake away from absolutely wrecking. She's nervous. Should she pray again?

      "What if the Mind Flayer is there?" she says, almost on impulse. The thought has been plaguing her mind since she saw the flickering lights from above Weathertop, but she's voicing her concerns, now. "What do we do if the Mind Flayer is already there?"

      He's quiet. He takes his eyes off the road, only for half-a-second, just to catch a glance at her in the passenger seat. It makes him feel sick — her eyes are all big and sad, wide and worried, glazed over with anxiety. Steve is hit with adrenaline — time and time again, he's reminded of what he would do for her. What he'd do to take that look off her face, to take the pressure off her chest, to make sure that for once in her entire life, things don't go to shit.

      "Hey," he says. Steve waits until she looks at him to continue, "we'll just — I'll make sure they're safe. Okay?"

She nods as they turn into Starcourt.

It looks the same as when they left — no total destruction. The mall is a calm flash of neon-purple, and she's starting to feel a little stupid. Did she rush them there for nothing? The lights aren't even flickering, anymore. The reflection of the giant STARCOURT MALL sign bounces off the Todd-Father, and she's finally settling back in her seat, a little. That's when she sees it, parked at the entrance of the mall, doors open — Nancy's station wagon is abandoned. "Where are they?"