The van had been parked across the street since morning.
Alex noticed it while unlocking the shop, the key still turning slowly in his fingers as his eyes tracked the dull green paint, the lack of markings, the way the windows reflected just enough light to hide whoever might be inside.
It wasn't the kind of van that belonged in Hawkins.
Too clean. Too patient.
He finished unlocking the door and stepped inside like nothing was wrong, letting the bell ring cheerfully behind him. Only once the door was closed did he allow himself a quiet breath.
"So," he murmured, setting his jacket down. "That didn't take long."
SYSTEM NOTICE
Surveillance probability: High
Source: Government-affiliated
Recommendation: Maintain normal behavior. Do not provoke.
Alex rolled his shoulders and powered on the lights. The shop came alive in its usual way—soft hum of electricity, faint smell of solder and dust, the comforting normalcy of routine. If someone was watching, this was what they needed to see: a kid running a repair shop, nothing more.
Still, the air felt tighter than usual.
The first customer came in around ten. Mrs. Caldwell, clutching a broken toaster and complaining loudly about "manufacturing standards these days." Alex listened, nodded, and fixed the problem in under five minutes. She left satisfied, unaware that two men across the street had just written something down.
The second customer wasn't from Hawkins.
He came in just after noon, tall, broad-shouldered, hair cut too neatly for the town. His clothes were plain—almost aggressively so—but they fit him too well. The kind of fit you got when you didn't buy off the rack.
"Afternoon," the man said, voice calm, neutral. "You Alex Harper?"
Alex looked up from the counter. "Depends who's asking."
The man smiled faintly. Not amused. Not friendly. Just practiced. "Name's Owens. I work with logistics and communications. Heard you're good with electronics."
That was a lie. No one in Hawkins used words like logistics.
"People say a lot of things," Alex replied. "What can I help you with?"
Owens set a small radio on the counter. Military-grade. Old, but meticulously maintained.
"It's picking up interference," he said. "Only in certain parts of town."
Alex didn't touch it.
He met Owens' eyes instead.
"I see," Alex said evenly. "Funny. That seems to be going around."
Owens' gaze sharpened just a fraction. "So I've heard."
They stood there in silence, the hum of the lights suddenly much louder than before. Alex felt the system coil tighter in the back of his mind—not alarmed, but attentive.
SYSTEM ALERT
Subject trained. Psychological pressure detected.
Threat level: Moderate. Social engagement advised.
Alex picked up the radio at last, turning it over slowly. "You from Indianapolis?" he asked casually.
Owens didn't answer immediately. "I get around."
"Yeah," Alex said. "Me too."
He powered the radio on. Static filled the shop—but not the quarry-static from the night before. This was cleaner, more controlled. Artificial.
Alex adjusted a dial, listening carefully. There—beneath the noise—a faint, repeating pulse.
Not a message.
A test.
"You're broadcasting," Alex said. "Low power. Mapping interference zones."
Owens watched him closely. "That a problem?"
"Depends who's listening," Alex replied.
Owens smiled again. This time, there was something colder behind it. "You catch on quick."
Alex shut the radio off. "Your equipment's fine. Interference isn't coming from the device. It's environmental."
Owens leaned forward slightly. "Environmental how?"
Alex met his gaze without flinching. "Old infrastructure. Faulty grounding. Hawkins is full of it."
It was a believable lie. Close enough to the truth to pass inspection.
Owens straightened. "If we needed your help again?"
Alex slid the radio back across the counter. "Then you'd ask. And I'd decide."
Another pause. Then Owens nodded once. "Fair enough."
He turned to leave, stopping with his hand on the door. "You're a bright kid, Alex. Bright kids do better when they don't go looking for things they don't understand."
Alex smiled politely. "I fix what's broken," he said. "That's all."
Owens left.
The van across the street pulled away five minutes later.
Alex didn't relax until it was gone.
Claire came in just before closing.
She looked tired. Not physically—mentally. Like someone who'd spent the day pulling threads that refused to unravel.
"You were right," she said without preamble, dropping into the chair across from the counter. "About things reacting. About sound."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "Good evening to you too."
She huffed a short laugh. "Sorry. I've had a day."
She slid a folder across the counter. Inside were clippings, notes, names—missing pets, power outages, unexplained sinkholes, dating back years. Patterns forming where none were supposed to exist.
"I think Hawkins is being monitored," she said quietly.
Alex didn't pretend surprise. "Congratulations. You've caught up."
She stared at him. "You knew."
"I suspected."
"How calm are you allowed to be about this?" she demanded.
Alex leaned back. "Calm is a skill. Like cooking. Or lying."
Her mouth twitched despite herself. "So that van outside earlier—"
"—wasn't here for me," Alex said smoothly. "Officially."
Unofficially, the system hummed with restrained amusement.
SYSTEM UPDATE
Deception successful
Social bond stability: Increased
Claire rubbed her temples. "This town is sick," she said. "Not dying. Just… infected."
Alex nodded slowly. "That's a good way to put it."
She looked at him then, really looked. "You're not scared."
"I am," he said. "I just don't let it drive."
Silence settled between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.
Finally, Claire stood. "If something happens again," she said, "I want to know."
Alex didn't answer immediately.
Then: "If it happens again," he corrected gently, "you'll be with me."
She hesitated, then nodded.
Outside, night fell over Hawkins, calm and unassuming. Somewhere beneath it, systems adjusted. People watched. Signals tested the dark.
Alex locked the door behind her and leaned against it, exhaling.
Men who didn't ask questions were always the first sign.
The storm wasn't close.
But it had a direction now.