Time After Time (a Stranger Things fanfiction)

Ring of Fire

"Ring of Fire"

Went down, down, down

And the flames went higher

And it burns, burns, burns

- Johnny Cash

On the ground, Hopper tried not to get distracted by the Demogorgon's trail of destruction. He needed fire; the damned lighter had to work. He kept flicking it at, sure that the next flick had to catch, while the monster roared, bodies crunched against concrete, and men cried out in pain and fear.

Antonov was screaming something in Russian at the few remaining men, who were falling back, trying to get as far as they could from the thing before it ate them. There was nowhere far enough, Hopper could have told them. Russia wasn't far enough away from Hawkins to get away from this shit. But it was too late, and knowing wasn't going to help them.

Next to Joyce, Murray was screaming at the Warden in Russian. The Warden, unmoved, responded calmly. Joyce took that to mean he wasn't going to stop this horror that was unfolding in front of her. All she could see was Bob, in her mind's eye, reaching for her. And Hopper, just below her, minutes from being torn limb from limb while she stood here helplessly. She had crossed an ocean to get here and arrived just minutes too late to save him.

Murray grabbed the Warden, sticking the gun into his back, and marched him off the deck and into the control room. Tearing her eyes away from the carnage below her, Joyce followed them. Maybe she could help Hopper this way; standing here wasn't getting any of them anywhere.

Shouting through his gag, Yuri hurried after all of them.

At last the lighter caught, the fabric wrapped around Hopper's makeshift spear flaming brightly. He shouted in triumph. Antonov rushed the Demogorgon, screaming, and made solid contact with the side of its head. Hopper had to give it to him—most men wouldn't have had the stones to run toward that thing.

The Demogorgon roared, moving toward Antonov, who fell back at Hopper's shouted command. Thrusting the flaming spear into the Demogorgon's line of sight, Hopper pressed it back towards the doors. If they could only get the damned doors open, they could push the thing back inside and maybe live another day.

"Get back!" he screamed at it. "Get back!" It roared in response, holding its position, and he shouted again. "Get the hell back!"

Frantically looking around, it darted around the flaming spear and up a wall, catching one of the prisoners who was trying to escape using the stairs, knocking him back into the arena, and leaping on top of him.

In the control room, Murray put a gun to the Warden's head, calling out to the rest of the Russian soldiers in their own language. They held up their hands and started putting their guns down on the floor. Joyce picked one up and trained it around the room, trying to watch everyone for any movements that might be dangerous.

Murray was shouting at the soldier who sat in front of the controls in Russian. The soldier sat frozen, not sure what to do.

The Warden spoke calmly but firmly, and that settled the soldier. He shook his head, even when Murray gripped the Warden more tightly and shouted again.

In the arena, only a few men were left alive. Hopper and Antonov fell back to the doors the Demogorgon had come through. Hopper still had the flaming spear; Antonov had picked up a pickaxe. While Hopper held the Demogorgon at bay with the fire, Antonov began trying to pry the doors open.

The creature took out another of the prisoners. Hopper hoped maybe that would buy them enough time to get the doors open ... but he didn't actually believe it. In his heart, he was certain suddenly that they would die here, that the creature would win, that El and the others were doomed.

Murray spoke again to the soldier at the controls, and he responded firmly, despite his obvious fear. Joyce didn't have to understand the language to know that he had refused.

Laughing bitterly, Murray said in English, "I gotta hand it to you Commies ... you're committed." Then he pushed the Warden away and chopped him on the back of the head with the butt of the gun, so he fell heavily to the floor. Enraged, Murray started kicking and punching and shouting until all the soldiers were on the floor.

One more prisoner was finished off, leaving only Antonov, prying at the doors, and Hopper with a dying flame. "Stay back!" he shouted even as the Demogorgon was leaping toward him. "Back! Back! Get back!" He and the Demogorgon did a little dance with the fire. "Get away!"

With all the soldiers down, Murray rushed to the controls. "Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay."

"What are you doing?" Joyce shouted. He wasn't touching any buttons. How was Hopper going to be saved if Murray didn't touch any buttons?

"I have no idea. There's a lot of buttons here. I can't see. I need my glasses. Gimme a second." He got up and snatched his glasses off of Yuri's face.

"Running out of time here!" Hopper shouted at Antonov, swiping ineffectually at the Demogorgon. The flames were almost out, and once the flames died, so would they.

"I'm trying!" But even as he said it, the pickaxe splintered in his hands.

While Murray was distracted, Joyce started turning knobs and punching buttons all along the control panel. She didn't care what they did—one of them had to open the damn door.

"No, no, no! Joyce, we have no idea what these buttons do," Murray protested. "You can't just press away like that!"

But Joyce had found it. On the top right corner, a big red button. She slammed her hand down on it.

"Get back!" Hopper screamed, thrusting the lance at the Demogorgon's face one more time. This was it. Just him and a lance and Antonov and a broken handle. They were out of time.

"Joyce, just relax," Murray said, even as she was studying the control panel. The red button had done something, she was sure of it. She turned a key, then hit a black button.

Murray looked at the screen. "That did it! That did it!"

"American!"

Hopper risked a glance over his shoulder at Antonov's shout. Somehow, some way, the doors were opening. This might not be the end after all. He followed Antonov into the darkness.