Will's POV:
Will pedalled steadily down the empty road, the cool night air brushing against his face.
The backpack felt heavier than before.
Not unbearably heavy.
Just… noticeable.
He smiled to himself.
Erica really had packed half her room in there.
He still didn't understand why she had been so strangely protective of it.
"Don't let them open it."
"Only if you're ever in danger."
He shook his head.
She was weird.
Funny.
But weird.
The road curved towards the stretch of woods the boys had proudly named Mirkwood.
Everything was quiet.
Too quiet.
Then…
A figure appeared in the middle of the road.
Will slammed on the brakes.
His bicycle skidded sideways before crashing onto the asphalt.
"What…?"
The figure didn't move.
It simply stood there.
Watching him.
Fear shot through his entire body.
Will abandoned the bike without another thought and sprinted into the trees.
Branches whipped across his face as he ran.
His lungs burned.
His heart hammered against his ribs.
Behind him…
Something moved.
Fast.
He didn't dare look back.
His house.
If he could just reach his house—
He burst out of the trees and into the clearing behind his home.
The shed.
Dad's rifle.
He yanked the door open and threw himself inside, slamming it shut behind him and locking it.
Without thinking, he shrugged Erica's backpack off his shoulders, letting it crash onto the wooden floor beside him.
His shaking hands grabbed the old .22 calibre bolt-action rifle hanging on the wall.
Silence.
Nothing.
Maybe…
Maybe he'd lost it.
The lightbulb above him flickered once.
Twice.
Then it began glowing brighter.
And brighter.
And brighter.
Will slowly turned around.
Something stood behind him.
His breath caught.
"No…"
His finger instinctively squeezed the trigger.
Bang!
The deafening gunshot echoed through the tiny shed.
The bullet struck the creature.
It didn't even hesitate.
Not for a single second.
The Demogorgon crashed into him, knocking him onto his back before one of its long arms clamped around him.
The rifle slipped from his grasp, skidding across the wooden floor.
"No!"
The creature began dragging him towards the impossible darkness opening behind it.
Will clawed desperately at the floorboards, his fingers scraping uselessly across the wood.
"No! Let me go!"
His hand finally reached the rifle again.
He grabbed it with both hands and instinctively reached for the bolt.
His trembling fingers fumbled.
He couldn't cycle it while being dragged.
With a desperate cry, he swung the rifle like a club.
The wooden stock slammed into the Demogorgon.
It didn't even flinch.
Still clinging desperately to the rifle, his free hand searched blindly for anything else within reach.
His fingers brushed against Erica's backpack.
The wooden handle sticking out of the top.
The baseball bat.
Without thinking, he grabbed it tightly.
And then—
The light exploded.
The darkness swallowed the shed.
Will.
The rifle.
And Erica's backpack.
Vanished without leaving a single trace.