1985 (Jim Hopper II)

His Name

A/N: this is the shortest chapter in EXISTENCE, but you guys deserve a small update. Life's fucking crazy and I haven't had time to come back, but I want to and I have a whole third book planned. I also plan on updating very soon, with a longer chapter than this, obviously. Enjoy. Short as fuck.

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MURRAY BAUMAN?! YOU'VE BEEN LIVING WITH THE REPORTER THAT BROKE US UP?! WE'VE KEPT IN CONTACT FOR YEARS AND YOU NEVER THOUGHT TO SAY HI?!"

"BROKE US UP?! YOU WENT PSYCHO ON US FOR SHIT THAT EXISTED! ALSO, YOU TWO KEPT IN TOUCH FOR YEARS AND HE NEVER TOLD ME?! THAT DIRTY LITTLE-" I spewed, my eyes suddenly meeting the rear view mirror, and as I glared between it and Hoppers red face, I noticed Joyce sitting quietly in the back, the man of the hour beside her looking amused.

"Hop why are we mad at each other? That's Murray's fault but- but he does speak Russian. You know as well as I do he was basically... well... born for this very specific situation."

Hoppers chest continued to heave up and down but he soon just nodded with a grunt and slumped back into the drivers seat, eyes suddenly geared toward the road.

The trip felt sort of like hours, but really only about one had passed, but that's when we heard it, the slow lull of the engine and the clunking of metal from underneath the hood.

"No... no no no no!" Hopper shouted as the car began to stall.

"Hop?" Joyce called from the back and before we knew it, we were completely stopped.

Hopper slammed his door shut, hard, and bolted off into the woods nearby us.

"I-I'm gonna go find him." Joyce whispered softly, patting our hostages thigh before running off to find my, idk at this point, boyfriend?

"So... what's your name?"

The man was silent.

"Name? Don't you know a lick of english?" I ask as I watch him shrug, a small smirk on his face.

I roll my eyes as he mutters out, "Alexei."