resonance

02

The sound of the television woke you up with a jolt. The static-filled warble added to the migraine you had been blessed with this morning, it seemed.

You'd been placed on a couch in a decently-sized, albeit weathered, cabin. Based on the array of shadows you saw streaming in from outside, it was located somewhere in the forest.

Weird, you thought, peering blearily at the strange amount of vintage-looking decor around the space, wondering if you were in some new Airbnb. I've never seen a cabin in these woods before. You'd walked to and from the lab for years now without stumbling upon anyone.

A wave of hunger overcame you at the smell of bacon that was wafting in from the kitchen. Ignoring the pang you felt at the thought of food, you wondered if you'd be able to split before anyone noticed you had woken up. Overstaying your welcome wasn't in your nature, and as a thank you to the man and his kid (who you assumed was who brought you here) for not killing you in your sleep, it was probably time to leave.

You were still required to visit the lab today and Melissa wasn't the type to excuse tardiness, especially not from you.

Sitting up, you pushed a thick blanket off your legs, overhearing what sounded like a man and woman arguing quietly in the kitchen.

Must be the guy's wife, you thought. Wondering why he brought a random teen into their home.

You noticed your backpack placed neatly beside the TV, which drew your attention away from the hushed conversation. The old, vintage-looking set making you pause with what was showing on the screen.

It looked like a retro Coke commercial was playing, the graphics every bit as aged as the furniture itself.

Strange.

You slowly stood up, wincing at the pain, presumably the aftermath of last night. You felt like you had gotten hit by a truck and then thrown off a cliff. What did that guy do to me?

Sparing another glance at the TV, you couldn't help but think of how accurate it looked to the 1980s. Must be a new nostalgic campaign they're running. You wrinkled your nose at the terrible pixelated visuals. Well, they really nailed it.

Trying to stretch out your sore muscles, you groaned, your body practically pulsing. The couch, apparently another genuine relic of the past, groaned with you as you left it.

"That you, kid?" A male voice called out from the kitchen.

"Yeah," you answered after clearing your throat, padding into the room in your socks.

Smirking a little at the thought of the screech you knew your mother would emit if she saw you in yesterday's clothes, you were greeted by the sight of the two people from earlier as well as a petite, wide-eyed woman, who smiled hesitantly at you.

The girl sat at the table with a massive plate of waffles, staring at you unblinkingly. "You're awake."

"I am," you replied, a little uneasy at her stare. "Surprised I'm not dead, to be honest. Feels like it."

"You had one hell of a morning, I'm surprised you're walking." The guy poured a cup of coffee into a weathered-looking mug and snorted. "Coffee?" He gestured to the old Sunbeam coffee machine in the corner. "Might be too late in the day for it, though."

Jesus, they really like vintage stuff, don't they?

He handed you a Hawkins Sheriff's Office mug with a faded "1982" on it.

Quirking an eyebrow at the cabin's theming, you thanked him quietly and poured a cup, dumping an unhealthy amount of sugar into it. He pointed to the empty seat at the small round table, across from the girl. "Feel free to sit."