Clean cut American kid ~ Stranger things

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Dirt and mud rips through the air and hits me like spall in the face. It fills my mouth, nose and eyes, and sends me blindly tumbling to the ground. The overwhelming rot fills my every sense and I can't breathe. My nausea eats me and I roll over on all fours to throw up. As the first bit of air makes its way to my lungs I try to climb to my feet and open my eyes to orient myself.

"Hopper?" I cough out through the stubborn dirt.

"I'm okay." His voice is muted as if he's talking through a thick wall. I force my eyes to open so I can realise what is going on. I'm off to the side in a giant dirt pit, Hopper is nowhere to be found. I carefully step towards the middle depths of the pit where to ground looks different. The brown dirt fades into a cold dark black, and the texture gets coarser. It looks like roots. I nudge them with my foot and the intertwined roots retracts with an anguished wail. My footing is lost against a slimy coating and I slide into the black hole. I manage to grab ahold of a vine near the opening I'm now through. I hold on as I open my eyes and look around. The air feels different. It's cool to the skin and thin to breathe. The vines are covering every surface, and the space looks like a tunnel system.

"Hopper?" I squeak again. He's standing ahead of me, looking around the same way I am.

"We're in the upside down," he mumbles distraught as he continues to look around, just loud enough for me to hear. I try to jump down from where I'm hanging when I realise I'm stuck. I look up to find a vine curling around my left wrist. And it's tightening.

"Hopper!" I groan frantically as I struggle to break loose. The vine continues to cut my circulation and I start to panic. I hear a crack but can't tell if it's from the root or my wrist. I've lost contact with my hand, if it's broken I can't feel the pain through the adrenaline. At last Hopper stabs the shovel upon the vine. It lets go and I fall onto my feet.

"Shit it's closing." Hopper curses and I look up at the opening to see that he's right. The vines are slowly weaving together. "Are you okay?" He asks and looks down at me. I nod my head yeas and hold my hand down my side. There's no time for that now so I can't focus on it. "There's no way I'll be able to get up through that but I think I can lift you up so you can climb out."

"Okay." I lean onto his shoulders and he has me step onto his interwoven hands. He uses it to heave me up. I dig my fingers into the ground on the right side of the portal and with a final push under my feet from Hopper I roll onto the brown dirt. I climb to my feet and watch as the roots knit together and the portal closes with Hopper on the wrong side.

"Hopper!" I scream frantically at the ground.

"Get help!" I hear his strangled voice through the ground, muted as if he's far away again. I have no idea if it's the distance or not but it sounds like he's suffocating. "Get Joyce!"

I climb out of the trench and start running in the direction of Hopper's car. I clumsily course through the muddy field, stumbling with every step as the distance grows smaller between me and the car, but greater between me and the chief of police, who's stuck in another dimension. Possibly without a lot of air to breathe. I'm so focused on getting to the car that I don't pay attention to when the edge of the pumpkin patch fades over to regular hard ground. The change in texture comes as a surprise to my feet and I fall forward. I catch myself with my hands and a sharp pain explodes through my left arm. The scream breaks through my throat by bodily instinct, hailing for the help I know is nowhere near.

I roll over in the ground while clutching to my wrist. Somehow feeling like I'm helping it hold together and keep it from falling apart. This is the worst time for this. I don't have time. Hopper might be dying. I raise to my feet and stumble when the pain in my hand cause my vision to go spotty. I blink to try to clear my vision and after a while make it to the driver side of the car. I take a seat behind the wheel and look around the dashboard. It's been years since I drove a car. I got my license at the same time as Steve but I never got my own car like he did, so he ended up driving me everywhere instead me driving myself. I turn the key in the ignition and set the car in reverse. I clumsily back out from the farm and onto the road extending into the small town.

I keep my right hands fingers wrapped securely around the wheel as I start to take notice in my left hand. I can barely use my fingers and the smallest movement feels like an axe chopping my hand from my arm. As I drive through town I get a sight of my hand in the street light. It is bloodcurdling. My fingers are swollen, and there's a deep dark purple bruise wrapped around my wrist. I can almost see how it's pounding with blood through the damaged veins. My wrist is soft and tender to the touch. I'm so sickened that I almost pull over and throw up again but I force myself to continue on my quest. The pain continues to be blinding and I have to keep blinking spots from my vision as I swerve down the road like a maniac on my way to Joyce Byer's house.