WHISTLEBLOWER | ❝It only gets stranger...❞
Hawkins has never looked back on the events of November 1983. They know the surface-level story. 'The boy who came back to life.' Will Byers is alive and well, while the futile search for Tonya McCarth...
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SUNDAY 4th NOVEMBER, 1984
THOMAS can't remember a time when Bob Newby wasn't somewhere in his life. They had met when Bob was the new kid from Maine, bouncing into Third Grade with an irresistible joy about him. When he met the cautious, shy Thomas on the walk to school, their destiny to be best friends was sealed. As they grew older, old friends came and went, lost touch or moved away — but Bob never left. He was always there, even if just in the background like the sun behind the clouds...
But now, just like that, the sun is gone.
Bob's violent, unforgiving death has taken its toll on the whole group — an inconsolable Joyce has wrapped herself in an old blanket in Will's room. Even those who weren't there when it happened sit and grieve. The other kids hang their heads at the kitchen table, Steve letting out a weak-spirited sigh. Jonathan sits by the couch where Will sleeps, stroking his brother's hair as Nancy watches.
Hopper, meanwhile, makes an aggravated phone call to get reinforcements: "Sam Owens. Dr. Sam Owens... I don't know how many people are there! I don't know how many people are left alive... I am the Chief of Police! Chief Jim Hopper!... Yes, the number I gave you, yes..."
When he hangs up, not everyone is pleased. Mike immediately pries from the kitchen table. "They didn't believe you, did they?"
"We'll see."
"We'll see?" Mike echoes his words incredulously, slamming his hands on the table. "We can't just sit here while those things are loose!"
"We stay here, and we wait for help," Hopper insists through gritted teeth.
Thomas just sits there in the living room and listens. It's hard to know how he feels. He has experienced loss in his life, a number of times he doesn't like to count. But times like this, where you don't even get to say goodbye... it leaves him hollow. Like something has been surgically removed from his beating heart, leaving a patch of cold instead. And then there is what he witnessed — he will never get that image out of his head. The ripping, the screaming, the blood. And perhaps always the insatiable guilt that Thomas could have done more.
He felt that way when Martha died the way she did. Helpless.
There is a difference this time though, with Bob's death. He isn't alone. Thomas sits sandwiched between his two daughters, who have been nothing but consoling through their grief. Cath's arm is hooked through his, her hand gently resting on his bicep, while Daphne's head nestles comfortably on his shoulder. It might as well be two beams of sunlight thawing him from either side. For now, Thomas can hold onto this feeling — just the quiet comfort that he has the two most important people in his life safe and sound.
