❛ 𝔦 𝔡𝔬𝔫'𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔴𝔦𝔪 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯, 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔦𝔱'𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔦'𝔡 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔦𝔢. ❜
→ * . & ━━ a girl by the name
of sar, who can walk through dreams, finds
herself drawn to her hometown and into a
bigger m...
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SARA HAD ONLY GOTTEN 10 MINUTES OF SLEEP BEFORE THE BACKDOOR SLAMMED OPEN. She shot up in alarm, head ringing with pain. Black spots took up her vision quickly but began to dissipate. "Ah," she hissed, pressing the palm of her hand tight to her temples. Through her slitted eyes, she could see her father barging into the living room, followed by a trail of Joyce and Jonathan. Despite the pain ricocheting through her skull, Sara pulled up her legs and swung them over the edge of the couch, beginning a shaky journey to the table.
The group crowded around it, parting only to let her tired form in. She sidled between Nancy and Joyce. Nancy looked over at her softly and put an arm around Sar's shoulders in case she were to fall over.
"Is Will okay?" Nance asked for her.
Hopper slammed a piece of paper down on the table and pulled up a pen. "I think he's talking... just not with words." Her father was scribbling a short sequence of dots and dashes onto the scrap of paper.
"Hey, what is that?" Steve asked, peering over the chief's shoulder.
"Morse code," Sar said, familiar with the codes from the months of contacting Eleven. She slid the paper across to sit in front of her. Her fingers tapped on each of the symbols as she read them.
Katie appeared by her arm. "H, E, R, E," the girl recited, also trained for the purpose of El. She'd pulled her blonde hair out of her braids and it swayed around her shoulders.
"Here," the group said in unison.
Max scrunched her nose and looked between Mike and Lucas. "What does that mean?"
"It means Will's still in there," Hopper said, snatching the paper back, and Joyce let out a shaky sigh of relief. Sar lifted up a hand to calm her own dishevelled hair, resting her fingers against her skull. "He's talking to us." He dropped the pen and rolled it towards Sar. "Okay, Sar, you're in charge of translation. We'll contact you through the radio." Her father detached the radio from his belt and shoved it into Dustin's chest, who looked frightened at the new job he'd been assigned.
Sar pulled out a chair and sat down, though her head still thrummed slightly. She did her best to smooth out the frizzy knots of hair that had formed over her shoulder. When the first transmission came through, Lucas and Dustin repeated the message: "Dash, dot, dash, dot," and Sar wrote down a resounding 'C' on the paper. Steve knelt at one side, leaning on the desk and peering over her shoulder, and James stood at the other, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. Katie had taken her own position seated on the table, helping to state the letters whenever Sar's head got too fuzzy.
'CLOSE GATE.'
Sar lifted up the board and peered at it, and the others came to crowd around her. "Close gate," Steve murmured. "What does that mean?"
His words were punctuated by a high ringing sound of the Byers' phone. Though her head snapped up at the sound, it was Dustin who moved first. "Shit, shit, shit," he ran past them and took the phone off the hook, slamming it back down. By now, Sar was standing, and Steve was shoulder-to-shoulder with her, bat in his hands. He was turning it over nervously. The phone rang again and Nancy darted forward, ripping it from the wall.
