68. "I can't let them hurt you." 👀
Nancy Wheeler is a lot of wonderful things, especially in Robin’s eyes. What she is not, however, is invulnerable.
No matter how much she thinks she is.
“Get out of here,” Nancy grits out. She’s still standing, barely, sort of, on a technicality, that technicality being the utility pole she’s currently leaning all of her weight against.
The power lines cut a strip through the woods, creating a perfectly neat little clearing, wide enough to let the moon shine through and illuminate the blood soaking through Nancy’s shirt.
“We’re not that far from the road,” Robin says. She has no idea if it’s true—probably not, by the way Nancy’s mouth twists into a frown—but she’ll say anything, make any excuse, lie through her teeth over and over before she agrees to leave Nancy behind.
“Bullshit,” Nancy says, but she’s breathing too hard for there to be any bite in it.
“Okay, maybe not, but Hopper’s truck can get through here.” She looks around them, taking in this clear strip of land that stretches beyond her vision in both directions. The grass is trimmed short, which is an advantage when it comes to spotting the demodogs chasing after them, and a disadvantage when it comes to hiding from them, but mostly it makes her wonder who the hell is out here mowing the grass in the middle of the woods while Hawkins is in a mid-apocalypse military lockdown.
Hopper’s truck can get through here. That one’s not a lie. They could get help. The only problem is figuring out where here is so that help can actually find them.
“Not fast enough,” says Nancy. “You need to go.”
“You need to shut up.” Robin pulls her walkie from her bag. “This is Robin and Nancy, we need a pick-up. Does anyone copy? Over.”
“Robin.” Nancy’s voice strains around her name.
“I said shut up.” Then, into the walkie again, “Does anyone copy? Over.”
“For fuck’s sake, Nancy, I would rather die out here than leave you behind! So will you for once in your life take a step back and let me call for help?”
“No.” The word is firm, even though her voice is so low Robin barely hears it. “I can’t let that happen.”
“And I can’t let them hurt you.” She lowers the walkie again and steps toward Nancy.
She looks so small, half-collapsed against the pole, her arm curled around her midsection, blood seeping through her clothes to stain her skin. Her face is pale and her hair is wild and sweat drips from her forehead, but her eyes burn as steadily as ever as she juts her chin out and stares, steely, at Robin.
Robin exhales, her chest heaving around a breathless sob.
“I can’t let them hurt you,” she whispers. “I can’t let you die.”
“No.” Robin drops the walkie, closes the distance between them, and takes Nancy’s face in her hands. “I refuse.”
“Don’t do this.” Tears fall against Robin’s fingers. She shakes her head and wipes them away.
“We either both get out of this, or we both stay here. Those are your options.”
Nancy stares up at her, her lashes wet, that steel breaking into something desperate and terrified.
“I love you too much to leave you.”
She sobs against Robin’s hands, just once, the sound so small Robin could almost believe she imagined it. Nancy brings one hand up to intertwine with Robin’s.
“Then try them again, because I’m not letting you die, either.”
Robin bends to pick up the walkie. “This is Robin and Nancy—Nance is hurt, does anyone copy?”
“We hear you,” comes Hopper’s gruff voice. “Where are you?”
“East of Mirkwood, by the power lines.” Robin presses the walkie to her forehead, praying that it’s enough.
“We’re close—hang tight, watch each other’s backs, I’m on my way.”
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