He had been in the Upside Down for what felt like years, though the chimes on the broken clock tower outside Mirkwood never moved past 8:15. His fingers, raw and trembling, clutched the shotgun he'd found in a rotting patrol car. It wasn't loaded. The Demogorgon didn't know that.
He scrambled forward, his knees sinking into the soft, rotten wood. He grabbed the walkie-talkie. The plastic was cold, but the speaker hummed with Mike’s voice. stranger things season 1