Of course he didn't make it out of the mall. He knew he wasn't going to get clear of the blast in time. Joyce had to blow the whole thing right then and there, knowing he was going to die, because if she waited even just one more second, the Russians would have stopped her from doing it, stopped her from closing the gate that absolutely had to close if El and Will and the rest of the world, Steve included, were going to be safe.
Hopper raised a hand to his fat, swollen, bloodied lip. Hurt like a motherfucker, but he touched it anyway, using the pain to ground himself. "I need a god damn drink. Do you know where I can get a drink in this hell hole, Steve?" Hopper asked. Because it was easier to focus on that particular desire, than the reality of where he was and what was happening.
He was dead, which meant Steve must be dead too. He was in hell, he'd never doubted he would end up in the bad place. Would have been nice if he could have gone to Heaven and maybe reunited with his daughter, but he had blown his chances of eternal salvation when he was a teenager. He'd atoned for some of his stupidity by serving his country, and his community, but he was a shit cop and he knew it. He was an impulsive, indulgent, unrepentant drunk. And by god, he needed a drink.
Apparently that thirst didn't go away in the afterlife.