Hawkins woke up quieter the next morning.
Not peaceful just subdued, like the town itself was holding its breath.
Thomas noticed it the moment he stepped outside. Cars moved slower. Neighbors spoke in lowered voices. Even the air felt heavier, thick with something unspoken.
The news vans were still there.
He saw them parked near the quarry road, antennas raised like skeletal fingers. A police cruiser idled nearby. People gathered in small clusters, whispering, pointing, shaking their heads.
They've accepted it already, Thomas thought.
Or they're being taught how to.
At school, no one said Will Byers' name out loud.
They didn't have to.
Empty desks had a way of speaking for themselves.
Mike sat rigid in his chair, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the front of the classroom. Dustin fidgeted beside him, tapping his pencil too fast. Lucas sat apart from them, arms crossed, staring out the window like he was daring the world to argue with him again.
Eleven wasn't there.
Thomas felt the absence like a missing note in a chord subtle, but wrong.
Between classes, whispers followed them down the halls.
"They found his body."
"My mom said it was an accident."
"He drowned."
Thomas kept his head down.
Truth didn't need volume. Lies did.
By afternoon, the school released them early. No one complained.
Outside, Thomas spotted Jonathan Byers leaning against his car, cigarette trembling between his fingers. His eyes were red. Hollow.
Joyce Byers stood near him, locked in conversation with Sheriff Hopper. Her hands moved constantly grasping her sleeves, her purse, the air itself like if she stopped moving, something inside her would shatter.
Thomas slowed his steps.
He knew this moment.
Hopper said something low. Joyce shook her head violently.
"No," she said — loud enough for Thomas to hear. "You're wrong. You're all wrong."
Hopper didn't raise his voice. That was worse.
"They're preparing a funeral," Dustin whispered behind Thomas.
Mike stiffened. "There's no body."
Lucas muttered, "They say there is."
Thomas said nothing.
He watched Hopper's face carefully. The way his jaw tightened. The way his eyes flicked, not to Joyce — but to the road leading away from town.
He knows, Thomas realized.
Or he's starting to.
That night, Thomas couldn't sleep.
Neither could Hawkins.
Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance. The kind that didn't rush — just circled, reminding everyone they existed.
Around midnight, Thomas heard a knock.
Soft. Careful.
When he opened the door, Mike stood there, walkie-talkie clutched in his hand.
"It happened again," Mike said quietly.
They didn't need to say Will's name.
In Mike's room, Dustin and Lucas waited. Eleven sat on the floor, knees drawn to her chest, pale and exhausted.
"The walkie started buzzing," Dustin explained. "Not words. Just… noise."
Eleven nodded. "Cold noise."
Thomas crouched near the window, listening.
Static filled the room, uneven and restless.
"Will?" Mike said softly. "If you can hear us… just make a sound."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the walkie-talkie hissed not loud, not clear but deliberate.
Three short bursts.
Dustin's eyes widened. "That's not random."
Lucas exhaled slowly. "That's him."
Thomas felt a familiar tightening in his chest.
The Upside Down didn't scream. It whispered.
"He's hiding," Thomas said finally.
All eyes turned to him.
"Not running," he added. "Not moving much. He's conserving energy."
Mike swallowed. "Can you tell where?"
Thomas shook his head. "Not yet."
He didn't add I know where this leads.
Because knowing and proving were two very different things.
Across town, Sheriff Hopper sat alone in his truck, staring at paperwork that refused to make sense.
The quarry report was too clean.
The photos were wrong.
And the weight in his gut wouldn't go away.
He started the engine.
At Hawkins Lab, lights burned long past midnight.
Monitors flickered with static and shadow.
A technician frowned at his screen. "Sir… the signal is spiking again."
Dr. Brenner didn't look surprised.
"Let it," he said calmly. "Fear makes people predictable."
Outside, the town of Hawkins slept.
And beneath it just beneath something listened.
[ System Update – Butterfly Effect Detected]
[SYSTEM ALERT]
[Anomaly Detected: UNREGISTERED SURVIVOR]
[Subject: Barbara Holland]
[Status: ALIVE]
[Condition: HIDDEN / CRITICAL]
[Canon Divergence Level: MINOR → ESCALATING]
Thomas felt the notification settle into his thoughts like a cold realization.
Barb… alive?
That wasn't supposed to happen.
He didn't feel relief only tension.
Because if someone who was meant to die was still breathing, then the board had already shifted.
And once the butterfly moved its wings the monster wouldn't follow the same path.