Chapter 18: The Vanishing
The call came at 8:47 AM.
Mike's voice, high and panicked: "Steve. Will didn't come home last night. His mom is freaking out. The police are at his house. Something happened."
I was already dressed, already moving. Had been since 6 AM, waiting for this exact moment.
"I'm coming. Stay at your house. Don't go looking for him alone."
"But—"
"Mike. Stay put. I'll handle this."
I grabbed my car keys and drove toward Mirkwood.
The bike was exactly where I knew it would be.
Crashed on the side of the road, front wheel bent, handlebar twisted. Skid marks in the dirt. And twenty feet away, partially hidden by underbrush—a circular patch of scorched earth about six feet in diameter.
The gate's burn mark. Physical evidence of dimensional breach.
I was first on scene. Had timed it perfectly—early enough that police hadn't arrived, late enough that Will was already missing for ten hours.
I pulled out my camera and documented everything.
The bike from multiple angles. The skid marks. The burned patch with its too-perfect circle and strange ash. The disturbed vegetation. The way the trees leaned away from that spot like they'd been pushed by explosion—except no explosion left ash this fine and gray.
I collected samples of the ash in plastic bags. Photographed the ground temperature differences visible even in morning light. Noted the complete absence of wildlife sounds within fifty meters.
Then I did the hardest thing: I disturbed nothing else. Left the bike where it lay. Left the scene pristine for police investigation.
Let them find it. Let them question what happened. But don't give them answers yet.
I returned to my car and made an anonymous call from a payphone two blocks away.
"Hawkins Police? Yeah, I found a crashed bike on Mirkwood Road near Kerley. Looks abandoned. Thought someone should check it out."
Hung up before they could ask questions.
Then I called Mike. "Emergency meeting. My house. Now. Get Lucas and Dustin."
The Party - 9:30 AM
They arrived within twenty minutes—three terrified twelve-year-olds who'd just lost their best friend.
Mike was shaking. Lucas stone-faced. Dustin's eyes red from crying.
I led them to the basement and closed the door.
"It started," I said without preamble. "What I've been warning about. Will encountered it last night."
"Encountered what?" Mike's voice cracked. "Where is he? Is he—"
"He's not dead." Probably. God, please don't let me be wrong. "But he's not here either. Something took him."
Dustin pulled out his notebook with trembling hands. "The dimensional breach. It actually happened. When?"
"Midnight. Small gate, temporary. But something crossed over."
"Something," Lucas repeated. "You mean a creature. From the dark dimension."
"Yeah."
Mike slammed his fist on the workbench. "You knew this would happen! You've been preparing for months—you could have prevented it!"
Yes. And if I had, something worse would have happened. But I can't explain that.
"I knew something would breach," I said carefully. "I didn't know it would be Will. I didn't know when or where exactly. All I could do was prepare all of you to handle it when it came."
"Well it came and Will is gone!" Mike's voice rose to a shout. "Your preparation didn't save him!"
"No. It didn't." I met his eyes. "But it's going to help us get him back."
Silence. Three kids processing the shift from preparation to crisis. From theoretical danger to actual loss.
Finally, Dustin spoke: "Okay. What's the plan?"
I pulled out my notes. "First, we figure out where he is. He's not in our dimension—that much is certain. But the dark dimension and ours are connected. There might be ways to reach him. Second, we gather information. I found evidence at the crash site—" I showed them the ash samples. "—that confirms dimensional activity. Third, we coordinate. This isn't just us anymore."
"What do you mean?" Lucas asked.
"Will's mom Joyce is going to investigate. She won't believe the official explanations. Hopper will get involved. Other people will start noticing strange things. We need to be smart about who we trust and what we reveal."
Mike pulled himself together. "Divide and conquer. Like you taught us."
"Exactly." I grabbed a marker, started writing on the whiteboard I'd installed months ago. "Mike, you stay near Will's house. Monitor Joyce. If she discovers something, you'll know first. Dustin, library research. Dimensional theory, myths about parallel worlds, anything that might explain how to communicate across the barrier."
"What about me?" Lucas asked.
"You scout the woods around the crash site. Map any strange occurrences—dead animals, strange sounds, weird temperature changes. Document everything. But don't go alone and don't approach anything dangerous."
"What are you doing?" Mike demanded.
"Leveraging adult connections. Hopper's going to want to talk to me since I found the bike. I'll see what the police investigation turns up. And—" I hesitated. "—I'll watch for other signs. The breach might have let through more than just the thing that took Will."
"Other things." Dustin's voice was faint. "Like an invasion."
"Like a scout. Testing our defenses. Seeing what crosses over and what doesn't."
The room felt heavy with new reality. This wasn't training anymore. Wasn't preparation. Will Byers—their friend, their party member—was gone. Taken by something impossible. And they were twelve years old being asked to help find him.
But they nodded. Accepted their assignments. Because I'd spent a year training them for exactly this.
"Remember the protocols," I said. "Check in every six hours. Don't investigate anything alone. Use the caches if you need supplies. And most importantly—trust each other. Trust the preparation. We're going to get Will back."
"Alive?" Mike asked quietly.
In the original timeline, yes. He survives. But this timeline is already different. Barb might still be alive in the original one—wait, no, she dies. I need to prevent that too.
"That's the goal," I said firmly. "Everyone comes home alive. Including Will."
They left through the back door, scattered to their assignments. Three kids trying to save their friend from dimensional horror.
I stood in the basement, surrounded by three years of preparation, and felt the weight of command settle onto my shoulders.
This is it. The test. Find out if everything I've built is enough.
Hawkins Police Station smelled like bad coffee and fluorescent desperation.
I walked in at 11 AM, approached the front desk. "I'm Steve Harrington. I called in the crashed bike on Mirkwood this morning."
The dispatcher—Flo—looked up. "Chief Hopper wants to talk to you. Wait here."
Five minutes later, Hopper emerged from his office. He looked worse than at the Halloween encounter—exhausted, worried, something in his eyes that suggested he knew this case was wrong.
"Harrington. Come with me."
His office was cramped and cluttered. Case files. Coffee mugs. Photo of a young girl on his desk—his daughter, the one who'd died. Sara.
Hopper gestured at a chair. "Tell me exactly what you saw this morning."
I recited the story. Driving past Mirkwood. Seeing the bike. Stopping to check. Finding it abandoned with strange marks on the ground. Calling it in anonymously because I didn't want to get involved.
Hopper watched me the entire time. Cop eyes. Reading micro-expressions.
"You seem very calm," he observed. "Kid goes missing, you find evidence, but you're not panicking. Not scared. Why is that?"
Because I've known this was coming for three years. Because I've prepared for exactly this scenario. Because I can't afford to panic when people need me functional.
"Shock, probably," I said instead. "Hasn't hit me yet."
"Right." Hopper didn't believe me. "You know Will Byers? He's one of the kids you've been mentoring."
"Yeah. He's a good kid."
"And you just happened to find his bike."
"I drive that road every morning. Going to school. Wrong place, right time I guess."
Hopper leaned forward. "Steve. I'm going to be straight with you. Something's wrong in this town. Has been for weeks. The lab is involved somehow. And you—you've been preparing for something. Training kids. Investigating the lab. Acting like you know disaster is coming."
"I don't know what—"
"Don't insult my intelligence." His voice went hard. "You knew something was going to happen. Maybe not this exactly, but something. So I'm asking you directly: what the hell is going on?"
Decision point. Trust him or lie.
The original timeline, Hopper becomes an ally. Fights with them. Protects Eleven. If I alienate him now, I lose a critical asset.
"I don't know what took Will," I said carefully. "But I know the lab is doing dimensional research. I know there have been strange occurrences around town—electromagnetic disturbances, animal deaths, reality feeling wrong in certain locations. I've been preparing because I thought something might breach. Something from another place."
"Another place." Hopper absorbed this. "Like another dimension."
"Yeah."
"And you know this how?"
Because I watched a TV show. Because I'm from another world. Because I've seen all of this before.
"Research. Pattern recognition. Connecting dots that most people ignore." I met his eyes. "Chief, I know this sounds crazy. But Will is missing. And if my theories are correct, he's not just missing—he's been taken somewhere. Somewhere the police can't follow with normal methods."
Hopper stared at me for a long moment. Then he pulled out a bottle from his desk drawer. Whiskey. Poured two fingers into his coffee mug.
"I should kick you out of here. Tell you to stay away from the investigation." He drank. "But you're the first person who's said anything that makes sense with what I've been seeing. So here's what's going to happen. You're going to share everything you know. Every theory, every piece of evidence, every suspicion. And I'm going to decide if you're crazy or if we're all in danger."
"Deal."
I spent the next hour telling him everything I could without revealing the transmigration. The dimensional weak points. The lab's activity. The evidence from the crash site. My suspicions about what had crossed over.
Hopper listened. Took notes. Asked sharp questions.
When I finished, he refilled his mug.
"If you're right," he said slowly, "then Will Byers is in hell. And we have no idea how to reach him."
"Not yet. But we'll figure it out."
"We."
"I'm not sitting this out, Chief. I've been preparing too long. And those kids—they trust me. They'll work with me. Use me or lose that resource."
Hopper studied me. Then nodded. "Fine. But you follow my lead. No cowboy shit. No putting those kids in danger. Understood?"
"Understood."
I left the station at 1 PM. Hopper was now an ally. The investigation was coordinated. The Party was deployed on research and surveillance.
And Will Byers was somewhere in the dark, hiding, surviving, waiting for rescue.
We're coming, kid, I thought. Just hold on a little longer.
The compass in my pocket pointed northeast. The gate was closed but not gone. Reality had been breached once. It could be breached again.
And in approximately thirty-six hours, Eleven would escape the lab. The girl who could open gates. The girl who could find Will.
The girl who would change everything.
I drove home to regroup and felt the weight of three years of preparation finally becoming action.
This is it. The test. Let's see if I'm ready.
Note:
Please give good reviews and power stones itrings more people and more people means more chapters?
My Patreon is all about exploring 'What If' timelines, and you can get instant access to chapters far ahead of the public release.
Choose your journey:
Timeline Viewer ($6): Get 10 chapters of early access + 5 new chapters weekly.
Timeline Explorer ($9): Jump 15-20 chapters ahead of everyone.
Timeline Keeper ($15): Get Instant Access to chapters the moment I finish writing them. No more waiting.
Read the raw, unfiltered story as it unfolds. Your support makes this possible!
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/Whatif0