"Uh, Steve's not gonna believe this," he muttered.

"Hello, little Henderson," the thing said through Mike's mouth. "You think the gate is closed? I'm not in the Upside Down anymore. I'm in the signal . And you just invited me into 1985."

Dustin looked at the tape. Then at Robin. Then at the red glow seeping under the mall's emergency exit door.

On the screen, a future version of Mike Wheeler, older, with tired eyes and a beard, sat in a dimly lit bunker. Behind him, a clock was melting into a grandfather clock shape—not from heat, but from something wrong .

Summer, 1985. Hawkins, Indiana.

"One more download, and I'm out. See you in Starcourt. The flesh is weak... but bandwidth is forever."