What stood out about Hawkins was how it acted so still.
Something shifted without sound. Silence marked its change instead of shouts. Pressure built slowly, not sudden bursts. A quiet tightening took place. Much like skies grow heavy before rain falls. Each moment stacked on the last, unnoticed. Until the load revealed itself. Heavier than expected.
Before the first bell rang, Eli already sensed something was off.
Quiet instead. A pause, nothing more.
Pressure.
It showed up quietly. How Marcy tested the door locks each morning before heading out. The radio playing past its normal time. Hopper's patrol car circling back a second time when he usually went by just once. Not loud things. Just patterns piling up. A steady hum beneath ordinary days.
Pressure builds across the globe. Tightening control takes hold everywhere.
In classrooms, their tone gave it away.
Voices grew sharper among teachers. Hushed tones spread through students. The normal noise in corridors sank lower, like an unspoken rule had settled in. Bullies moved slower too, meanness shadowed by a weight beyond idle trouble.
Funny how Mike saw that as well.
"Can you sense it?" he whispered to Eli, standing quiet by the classroom door.
Eli nodded. "Yeah." "What is it?"
Maybe he could twist the truth. Ease it a bit. But that idea slipped away.
"People are scared," he said. "They just don't know what to do with it yet."
Mike swallowed. "Great." Dustin leaned over. "On the bright side, fear statistically increases caution."
Lucas snorted. "You read that somewhere?"
"No," Dustin said. "I made it up. But it feels right."
Eli almost smiled.
Almost.
⸻
That day, after lunch, nobody went looking.
It wasn't a choice they made - instead, constant disruptions got in the way.
Close to the school entrance, a patrol vehicle rolled to a stop. Questions came once more when a teacher took Mike by the arm. From across town, Lucas got a call telling him to come back. With every breath, Dustin's mother watched close, as though he might slip away.
When Eli got off the bus by his block, the sky wore a dull gray weight, pressing down like silence before rain.
His steps dragged more than they normally did.
He wasn't yawning due to exhaustion.
He paid attention. That is why.
Out of nowhere, leaves skittered across the ground despite still air. One sharp bark broke from a dog, then nothing followed. In the distance, a siren rose - cut short mid-cry.
Eli stopped walking.
Hold still. For one breath.
His gaze shifted, just a little, toward the row of trees on the opposite side. Stillness held there. Not a flicker of motion. Silence filled the space between.
Still.
Still moving forward, yet that sensation lingered through every step toward his door.
⸻
Far ahead, Hopper stood waiting.
Odd by itself.
The engine ticked softly, cooling under the quiet sky. Inside, footsteps echoed before silence took over again.
Folded arms held firm by Marcy at the counter. Against the fridge, Hopper slouched, his hat set aside, tension lining his jaw.
His name hung in the air. Eyes turned toward him without a word. One glance followed by another. Silence stitched the moment together.
"What?" Eli asked.
Hopper paused, eyes on the man. Not doubt in his look - just quiet calculation. A stillness that weighed things without words.
"You notice anything weird today?" Hopper asked.
Eli hesitated. Then nodded. "Yeah."
Marcy stiffened. "What kind of weird?"
"The quiet kind," Eli said. "The kind that doesn't announce itself."
Hopper let out a long breath. It made sense
Marcy frowned. "That's not reassuring."
"No," Hopper agreed. "It's not."
Standing tall, his focus locked onto Eli. "Time to move forward," he said
Muscles in Eli's back pulled tight. He asked about the search
"And training," Hopper said. "Not harder. Different."
Out came Marcy's voice. Hopper lifted his palm. "We're okay. Everything's held."
Her eyes moved from one to the other. A pause came before she spoke. "This isn't something I enjoy." She let the words hang there
"I know," Hopper said. "Neither do I."
⸻
That place wasn't where they ended up.
Off went Hopper, steering beyond the last houses, following a forgotten track swallowed by trees too dense for light. A dip in the land marked their stop - rough earth, tangled with roots, waited under bare sky.
This won't turn into a battle," Hopper told them while stepping outside. "At least not right now."
Eli frowned. "Then what is it about?"
Hopper pointed at the ground. "Moving when your body doesn't want to."
They started simple.
Not jogging in a line. Twists instead. Pauses without warning. Hills rising where footing shifted under Eli each step. Hopper stayed quiet. Just stood there observing.
Fifteen seconds into the climb, Eli's thighs ached. Then came the sting in his calves.
Breathing changed when he passed twenty.
Thirty came. Then the weight did too - deeper, focused tight.
Hopper spoke up once more, though Eli believed it was over.
Tightening his teeth, Eli tried once more.
Fifty meters into lap two, Hopper tried a different move.
A stone left his hand, flying through the air.
Close to Eli, just not right at his spot.
A noise ripped through the still air - Eli turned fast. One step too close to an old tree root tripped him up. Balance wavered, arms swung wide, yet he held upright just in time.
Right away, Hopper appeared. "Keep going," he said
"I almost fell," Eli snapped.
"And you didn't," Hopper replied. "That's the point."
They kept going.
A few extra stones appear. A sharp sound cracks through the air. While moving fast, Hopper yells out something urgent.
"What do you do if you can't see?"
Onward he pushed, Eli gasping out the words.
"What if you're wrong?"
"Adjust."
"What if there's no time?"
Eli didn't answer.
Still, his body shifted.
Falling to the ground, he lay there breathless, his eyes blurring with every heartbeat.
Beside him, Hopper squatted low. A question came - "Can you sense it?"
He gave a small nod. "Right."
"That's your limit pushing back," Hopper said. "Not breaking. Pushing."
Fog pressed down on Eli's face. That thought sat heavy - was it truly enough?
Hopper stayed silent, just for quite some time.
Then: "Good." ⸻
Darkness stretched long after Eli closed his eyes. Sleep stayed far away.
It wasn't due to pain - even if pain was there.
A restlessness lived deep within his bones. It refused to quiet down.
Darkness behind his lids brought it back each time. Weight pressed down, uneven, unrelenting. When thoughts froze, something deeper stepped forward instead. That moment never left him.
It bothered him.
It wasn't fear that stopped him.
Because it worked.
Up in bed he stayed, eyes on his hands under faint glow. A small tremor ran through them - not because of fright, yet leftover tightness held on, as if muscles missed hearing they could let go. Stillness had not arrived.
"I'm not enough," he whispered.
The words surprised him.
Stillness held him. Not a rush in his breath.
He was assessing.
Faster progress came through training. Because judgment improved, results followed. With sharper awareness, things began shifting. Small gains added up over time.
If a thing ever reached them - truly saw them - Eli would recognize it right away.
Stillness could not hold it back.
Fear didn't matter in the end.
Leadership definitely wouldn't.
A different option might need to come into play.
Whatever it turned out to be…
Still nowhere in sight.
Eli lowered himself onto his back, eyes fixed upward. The ceiling held every thought he couldn't name.
Far off, a gust stirred - first in hours - and snapped twigs clattering, like old skeletons brushing close.
Beneath the chaos, a change took root. Quietly, movement began where silence ruled before.
Not close.
Not far.
A touch, barely there. Yet noticeable when it arrives.
Breathing slowed as Eli shut his eyelids, not for rest, yet to catch every sound around him.
This time, something felt different since he reached Hawkins. He wasn't only thinking about what might arrive next.
Would he be prepared when the moment came? That thought stayed with him.