Chapter 44: Dustin's Dart
Dustin
The creature in my trash can was the coolest thing I'd ever found.
Slug-like body, about four inches long, skin that shimmered between gray and brown. It made soft clicking sounds, almost like purring. I'd been studying it for two days, feeding it Three Musketeers bars (its favorite), documenting its growth rate.
Definitely Upside Down related. Had to be. Nothing from Earth looked like this.
But I couldn't tell Steve yet. He'd want to destroy it immediately, and this was a scientific goldmine. If we could study one of these creatures safely, learn their biology, maybe find weaknesses...
The terrarium on my desk held my little discovery. I'd named him D'Artagnan—Dart for short. He'd grown significantly in forty-eight hours, now the size of a softball, developing tiny legs that made him look like a mutant salamander.
"Hey buddy," I whispered, dropping another candy bar into the tank. "Hungry?"
Dart's face split open. Four petal-like segments peeled back, revealing rings of teeth.
I jumped back.
"Okay. That's new."
He ate the candy bar in three bites, crushing it with disturbing efficiency. Then those face-petals closed, and he was cute again.
This is fine, I thought. Totally fine. Just a weird biological adaptation.
That's when I heard Mom calling for Mews.
Oh no.
Dustin
I found what was left of Mews in the basement.
Not much left.
Dart had escaped the terrarium—I'd forgotten to lock the lid properly. He'd grown again, now the size of a small dog, and apparently decided cats were better than candy.
My stomach churned. Mews had been with us since I was six.
Dart stood over the remains, face-petals open, covered in blood. He made that clicking sound—friendly, almost affectionate.
Like he wanted praise for hunting.
"No," I said firmly. "Bad. Very bad."
Dart cocked his head, confused.
I grabbed the empty terrarium, my bike helmet, and thick gloves. Corralled Dart back into the cage after ten minutes of chasing, locked it properly this time, and made a decision.
Steve needed to know. Immediately.
Steve
Dustin burst into the bunker carrying a locked box that clicked ominously.
"I messed up," he panted. "I messed up really bad."
Everyone stopped working. Bob paused mid-calculation. Lucas and Mike looked up from the tunnel map. Will stirred on his cot.
"What did you do?" I asked.
Dustin set the box on the floor. "Okay, so you know how I found this really cool specimen two days ago?"
"No. Because you didn't tell me."
"Right. Well. I found something. In my trash. I thought it was a new species. I was going to document it scientifically before reporting."
"Dustin—"
"It ate Mews."
Silence.
He opened the box.
Dart emerged—demo-dog juvenile, unmistakable. Small dog size, wrong-jointed legs, face that peeled open to show concentric tooth rings. It clicked at me, friendly as a puppy.
My blood went cold.
"That's a baby demogorgon," I said flatly.
"Baby demo-dog," Dustin corrected. "And yes, technically, but—"
"It ate your cat."
"Yes, but that's instinct! He didn't know better!" Dustin positioned himself between me and Dart protectively. "Steve, we could study him. Learn weaknesses. Figure out their biology before we have to fight dozens of them."
"It. Will. Eat. You."
"Not if we contain him properly!"
I stared at the creature. In canon, Dart had saved Dustin's life in the tunnels, proved himself different from the hive mind. But that was later, after growing larger, after some kind of developmental shift.
Right now? This was a monster in infant form.
Fight Master calculated threat levels. One demo-dog, juvenile size—I could kill it in seconds. Should kill it. But Dustin's face held desperate hope, scientific curiosity warring with guilt.
Dr. Owens
I'd been monitoring from the lab when Steve called me in.
The specimen was extraordinary.
"Dema-canis juvenilis," I murmured, circling the cage. "Juvenile stage. Pre-full metamorphosis." I pulled out a measurement tool. "Approximately forty-eight hours old based on development markers."
"Can we kill it?" Steve asked bluntly.
"Can we study it first?" I countered. "This is unprecedented access to Upside Down biology. Living specimen, contained environment. The intelligence we could gather—"
"It's dangerous."
"So are nuclear reactors. We study those safely." I met his eyes. "Steve, every piece of information gives us advantages. Weaknesses, behavioral patterns, biological vulnerabilities. This creature could save lives."
Dustin nodded eagerly. "Exactly! Scientific approach!"
Steve looked between us—the kid who'd endangered everyone through curiosity, the government scientist seeing opportunity, the monster clicking happily in its cage.
His corrupted face twisted with indecision.
"Fine," he said finally. "Containment protocols. Reinforced cage, sedation for examinations, remote monitoring only. No one enters the containment area alone. And Dustin—" He grabbed the kid's shoulder. "If it escapes, if it hurts anyone, I'm killing it immediately. No debates. Understood?"
Dustin deflated slightly but nodded. "Understood."
Dustin
They moved Dart to a reinforced containment cell in the bunker's sub-level. Steel walls, locked door, surveillance cameras. Like a tiny prison.
I watched through the one-way glass as Dart explored his new home. He seemed confused, kept returning to the door, clicking softly.
"He doesn't understand why I'm not visiting," I said.
Steve stood beside me, arms crossed. "It's not a pet, Dustin. It's a weapon the Mind Flayer created."
"He's a living thing."
"That ate your cat."
"Animals kill animals. That's nature."
"This isn't nature. This is dimensional contamination." Steve's voice held exhaustion, not anger. "You know what bothers me? Not that you found it. Not that you kept it. But that you didn't tell anyone immediately. That's how people die, Dustin. Secrets in crisis situations."
Guilt hit me like a punch. He was right.
"I'm sorry."
"I know. But sorry doesn't help if something goes wrong." He watched Dart circle the cell. "In the show—in my knowledge—Dart becomes different. Breaks from the hive mind. Protects you. But I don't know when or how that happens. Until then, it's too dangerous."
"You knew about Dart?"
"Knew there'd be one. Didn't know you'd find it this early." He rubbed his corrupted temple. "Everything's shifting. Timelines fracturing. Your Dart might not become the hero version. Might just stay a killer."
"Or he might surprise us."
"Maybe." Steve turned away from the glass. "But we can't bet lives on maybe."
Steve
Bob approached with data on Dart's growth rate, cellular composition, dietary requirements. His analytical mind treating the creature like a fascinating puzzle.
"Growth rate suggests exponential development," Bob explained. "Full maturity within a week. But there's something interesting—this specimen's neural patterns differ from the tunnel organisms. Less connected to the hive."
"Explain."
"The tunnels pulse in rhythm with the Mind Flayer's consciousness. This creature doesn't. It's... independent."
I thought about canon—Dart recognizing Dustin in the tunnels, letting them pass, dying to protect him from other demo-dogs.
"It might be special," I admitted. "Or it might just seem independent until it's not."
"Optimist," Bob noted dryly.
"Realist."
Dustin spent the evening by the observation window, talking to Dart through the intercom. Telling it stories, promising things would be okay.
The creature responded to his voice, pressing against the glass where Dustin's hand rested on the other side.
My chest tightened. Dustin was going to get his heart broken. Either Dart would turn monster, or we'd have to kill it, or—worst case—it would die protecting him.
No good endings in war.
Chrissy found me watching them. "You're going to let this play out, aren't you?"
"What choice do I have? Kill it now and Dustin hates me. Keep it and risk disaster. Either way, something breaks."
"You could tell him the truth. That you know how this ends."
"I don't know. That's the problem." I pressed my hand against the cold glass. "Canon is breaking. My knowledge has holes. Dart might be different here. Or exactly the same. I'm flying blind."
She leaned against me, solid and warm. "Then we deal with it together."
"Together."
Dart clicked from his cell, lonely sound that echoed through the bunker.
And somewhere beneath Hawkins, the tunnel network grew larger. Demo-dogs bred in darkness. The Mind Flayer counted down toward activation.
We had thirty hours.
Maybe less.
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