Evan looked up at the sky, his phone to his ear, listening to the ringing as he attempted a second call to Murray. Despite their slightly rocky start, Evan knew he could trust Murray with this information, or at least trust that he'd take it as seriously as Evan was. At least these were Evan's hopes because telling anyone else about what he had found out seemed too risky. He wasn't sure if he trusted the other locals — and aside from Nancy or Suzie, there weren't many he'd openly call up and talk to as though he had any semblance of a reason to. Murray, though — perhaps the mystery was enough.

He'd been up to the university by now and shaken hands with most of the biology department. It wasn't hard to get in but it was hard to have a favor done discretely, because discrete meant something novel and academics love novelties. It meant side-stepping pointed questions and raised eyebrows when the subject at hand brought up no results. As in — no results in the living or known world in which they live.

The subject happened to be a small vial of the goo that covered the boat Luke had been washed up on shore in. Evan had transferred it from an empty mint container to a proper vial and then, in the front seat of his car, to the university. Well, the university hundreds of miles away because Hawkins was a middle-of-no-where kinda small town. No offence.