Time After Time (a Stranger Things fanfiction)

Take Me Home Tonight

"Take Me Home Tonight"

Let's find the key and turn this engine on

- Eddie Money

Much to Joyce's surprise, Yuri's directions brought them back to that same silent little snow-shrouded village and to the church where he kept all his plunder.

They had, somewhat reluctantly, agreed to untie him, and he was the first one out, pushing the van doors open and breathing deeply in the cold air. He led them to a ramshackle shed. "Heh. Come on, this way."

Enzo was at his side as soon as he was out of the van, warning him in Russian.

Yuri responded in Russian, fiddling with the padlock on the shed door. Then he dropped it and turned to Hopper, saying in English, "You were trapped in a cell with this dull man and you didn't take opportunity to smother him."

Joyce was having second thoughts about this whole plan. They really should have left Yuri gagged. She liked him better that way.

But at least this time when he took hold of the lock, he stuck a key in it, and opened the shed door. Inside, he walked toward what looked like some kind of helicopter, arms in the air, singing to it, of all things. He turned to the rest of them. "Beautiful, yes?"

"Please tell me this is another poor joke," Murray said.

Joyce marched toward Yuri, shaking her finger at him. "You said you had a plane." She smacked him on the arm for good measure. And because she just generally wanted to smack him. "A plane!"

"No, no, no," he protested. "I ... I told you I could fly us home. And Katinka can fly us home, little bird." He gestured at the helicopter thing with a startling amount of pride and affection. Grinning at all of them, he added, "She is named Katinka after my first lover. Katinka also had very beautiful, very round buttocks. Uh, much ... much like this." Turning back to the helicopter thing, he wrapped his arms around it as far as they would go and laughed in delight.

Hopper glared at him.

Next to Joyce, Enzo was looking at the helicopter thing as skeptically as Joyce was. "This cannot fly us to America."

"Why not?" Yuri asked. "As long as winds are not too strong and your military friends do not shoot us out of sky, we can make it to the coast. There, while we refuel, we skinny dip in ice-cold water and wash off this muck."

Joyce closed her eyes. This was sounding worse all the time.

"Then we fly her rest of the way," Yuri finished, like it was easy. "Happy ending."

This rusty bucket of bolts didn't look like it could get off the ground, much less all the way across the ocean. "Okay, what is the furthest ... Katinka has ever flown?"

Yuri gave that one some thought. "For me, she is still a virgin." More laughter. "Uh, not real Katinka," he added over the sounds of disgust and disappointment the rest of them were making. "Goodness, no. That Katinka, no."

As Yuri laughed some more, Joyce and Hopper's eyes met over his head, Hopper's widening in a way that did not bode well for Yuri's continued good health.

"But this Katinka—pretty much unspoiled." Yuri nodded. "But I'm sure she will soar when given a chance. She just need ... little tune-up." And he turned to a toolbox lying nearby, grabbed some piece of metal, and started banging at the helicopter thing.

Murray turned to look at Hopper resignedly. "I did warn you, Jim."

Enzo sighed heavily. "Okay. Should I shoot him now? Or later?" It was clear he was hoping for now.

Joyce was frantically thinking of anything they might be able to do to get themselves out of this situation. Murray was the only person she knew who spoke Russian. She didn't know anyone in the government ... Wait, no, she did, too. She knew someone who was the head of a secret government program. "What about Owens?" she said desperately. "He—he's got to have contacts or ... spies here that can help us."

Hopper turned his head in her direction, caught by the new idea. He approached Enzo. "Can we do that? Can we make a call to the States?"

Enzo tilted his head in a way Joyce took to mean 'yes, but'. Of course it would be tricky.

Leaving Yuri to his tinkering, contentedly banging away at ... Katinka while humming what was no doubt a very dirty song in Russian, the four of them went into the church, searching Yuri's stash until they found what Enzo had suspected must be there—a red telephone that had an actual dial tone when you picked up the receiver.

They let Enzo dial first, and waited tensely while he spoke into the phone in Russian. He turned to Joyce. "The number."

"It's 775 ... 305 ... 3450," she said, Enzo translating the numbers into the phone as she spoke. She was so glad she had taken the time to memorize it, always worried that something might happen to El when they were in a place or situation where she couldn't take the time to look for the number.

To her surprise, Enzo spoke into the phone again and put the receiver down.

"What are you doing?"

"How exactly do you think this works? They will make the call for us, and then they will call us back."

"How long's that going to take?" Hopper demanded.

"Five minutes. Five hours. Five days. Who knows?" He said it with a calm acceptance that told Joyce a lot about what life was like in Russia. "And when we do get the call, assume the KGB will be on the other line, listening to everything you say. So. I suggest talking in code. Say the wrong thing and they will be on us like flies on shit. Welcome to the Soviet Union."

Hopper and Joyce stared at him as he left the building, heading for the shed to watch over Yuri and make sure he didn't run out on the rest of them. Then they turned to each other. Joyce wasn't sure who to be more worried for—themselves, or the kids.