Over the years nightmares have been a frequent friend in the Hopper house. Chills and a scream lodged in the back of her throat is the only way that Christine Hopper knows how to wake up. Her father tries hard to believe his daughter has a handle on...
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Joyce, Hopper, and Chris stare at the piles of drawings that Will has made. A lot of it looks the same. Reds, purples, blacks, and blues flood Chris's eye sight. She can't make anything out of it. Joyce flips through a few pages. "This is more of the same. Oh, it's nothing. It's just scribbles."
"Wait!" gasps Chris, connecting a couple of the pictures together.
"What? What?" Joyce and Hopper surround her.
"Wait. These black lines, see?" Chris holds the pictures up. "Look, they connect."
Joyce and Hopper share a surprised look. "They connect."
The three of them hastily get to work taping down the pages of drawings around the floor, some of them spreading over the walls, rugs, and chairs. Once they're finished, the three of them step back to take a look at their work.
Hopper peers at it. "Does this mean anything to you?"
"No." Joyce sighs impatiently. "I mean, is it some sort of maze or a road?" she stammers. "I mean, it's sort of forking and branching like — like lightning."
Hopper carefully steps around the drawings taped the the floor. "You think it's that storm?"
"No, the storm he drew was completely different. He used red. And this is all blue and it has some weird dirt color. I mean, maybe it's roots. 'Cause remember, he was saying it was spreading and—"
The connection dawns on Hopper. "Killing. He said they were killing. Vines." Hopper whirls around, staring down at the floor. Hopper hurries toward the front door, grabbing his coat as he leaves. "He's drawing vines."
Chris was hit with a massive headache as soon as she reached the trailer home after her father left late in the afternoon. She crashes on the beige couch and instantly submerges into the Void, where Nine is waiting for her.
Groaning, Chris turns to face him. "I wish there was an easier way to do this." Nine stares up at her passively. "Is everything okay?" She steps closer to Nine, her movements causing ripples in the reflection below them. "Nine, talk to me."
"She says there's a letter," Nine says. "From, Lisa."
"A letter? For me?" Nine nods, his curls bouncing slightly. "Who's Lisa? Will this letter tell me where I can find you?"
"She says to read the letter," Nine says, tilting his head, as if listening. "And then you'll talk."
"Can she hear me?" Nine nods again. "How do I know this isn't a trick, Lisa?" wonders Chris aloud. Nine watches her speak. "Huh?"
"She says read the letter." The little boy reaches forward, grabbing Chris's arm. White hot-pain flashes behind her eyes, and she's filled with visions of a young woman in a lab coat. She's got smooth pale skin and incredibly blond hair. From all the images Chris sees, this woman takes care of Nine, checks his vitals, keeps him alive and healthy.
"Lisa," comments Nine, pulling away from Chris. She pants a little, gripping her forearm in pain. She shakes out her arm, sucking in air. This will leave a mark when she wakes up, and she knows it'll be hard to hide from Steve.
Chris frowns deeply. "You burn people."
Nine bobs his head, brown eyes wide with sadness. "Hurt." He slowly starts to disappear in a cloud of smoke, leaving a confused and impatient Shadow Walker behind.
