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9.

NINE.

❝THEY'RE ALL LIKE
BAD DREAMS.❞

RUNING THROUGH THE BUSHES and trees, yelling—from what I could tell was Bowers' gang—grew near. We arrived at the river and at the parallel side to us, was Mike lying on the rocks, his face shoved down in meat of some sort.

Beverly quickly took notice and grabbed a large, grey rock. She launched it over to the bullies and managed to knock Henry right in the head. "Nice throw," complimented Stanley, obviously intimidated by it.

We all picked up the bigger rocks as Mike crawled towards us through the water. "You losers are trying to hard. She'll do you, you just gotta ask nicely, like I did. But I guess you got two hookers now?" He smiled, grabbing his crotch, trying to taunt us.

Ben let out a booming war-cry before flinging a rock towards his head, hitting him harshly. "What the fuck." They all stumbled back and we started to hurl rocks at them. They crouched down, trying to grab rocks as well but they were largely outnumbered.

"Rock war!" Richie yelled before getting hit in the head with a smaller rock. Rocks of all sizes were flying across the river at both groups. Kids were dodging rocks and throwing them as best as they could.

Bowers quickly realised that there was too many of us as we slowed advanced towards them. Belch and Victor cowardly ran off, leaving Henry lying on the rocks bleeding out from his head.

Henry rose slightly, leaning on his elbows and found himself without his friends. We panted and started to leave the banks of the river but I saw Richie stand, still facing Bowers.

"Go blow your dad, you mullet wearing asshole!" He cursed before raising both hands and giving him the finger. "Come on, Rich," I laughed before pulling his arm along and leading him down the path with the others.

He had a small cut from when he screamed and got a rock thrown at him and drops of crimson blood oozed out of it. "You're bleeding," I frowned, touching the side of his head, making sure he was okay. His face turned a tinge of pink but I didn't bring it up. "Thanks, Y/n. But I'm fine," he assured and sent a half smile my way.

We were now walking through tall green grass, not going anywhere in particular. "Thanks guys, but you shouldn't have done that," Mike told, "They'll be after you guys too now."
"Oh, no, no, no. Bowers? He's always after us," Eddie said to him. "I guess that's one th-th—thing we all have in common," chimed Bill.
"Yeah, homeschool. Welcome to the Losers Club."

AFTER THE ROCK FIGHT, and walking through the tall weeds and grass of the barrens, we all headed back home.

It was now the day after. We all decided to meet in town to celebrate the 4th of July. People walked through the streets, eating ice-cream, holding balloons and having a good time. Red, white and blue was hung everywhere as the American flag was waved around.

Loud giggles came from me as I saw that Richie stole some guy's trumpet. He attempted to play it but it failed terribly before the owner yanked it back. I stopped laughing as Stanley nervously spoke, staring at the missing poster. "They say they found his hand all chewed up near the standpipe."  His voice shook as he spoke and his lip quivered yet it wasn't cold out.

"He asked to borrow a pencil once." Ben informed. Bill walked up and lifted the missing poster, revealing another one underneath it. "It's like she's been f-forgotten because Corcoran's missing," he sighed. "Is it ever going to end?"

"What the fuck?" Richie furrowed his eyebrows at the trumpet boy. He walked back over to the group, taking his ice-cream from Eddie. "Give me a bit, Rich," I asked, then took a huge chunk of his soft serve. "Hey! That was so much," he complained, throwing his hands up and nearly dropping the cone. "Shut up, Richie," I laughed.

"I actually think it will end, for a little while." Ben squinted his eyes due to the beaming sun. "What do you mean?" asked Beverly. He explained what he meant, "So, I was going over all my Derry research, and I charted out all the big events. The Ironworks explosion in 1908, the Bradley gang in '35 and the Black-Spot in '62. And now kids being . . ." He paused, looking for what to say, before continuing. "I realised this stuff seems to happen-"
"Every 27 years." Ben and Bill both said aloud at the same time.

"We should find somewhere to sit," I told. My legs ached from trudging around town all day and from standing in this spot, they desperately needed somewhere to sit.

We found a good place to settle on some green benches close by the lumberjack statue. "Okay, so, let me get this straight," Eddie said, "It comes out from, wherever, to eat kids for like a year?" He confirmed. "And then what? It goes back into hibernation?"

"Maybe it's like . . what do you call it? Cicadas. You know, those bugs that come out once every 17 years." Stanley theorised but Mike told what he believed. "My grandfather thinks this town is cursed. He says that all the bad things that happen in this town are because of one thing. An evil thing that feeds off the people of Derry," he finished.

"But it can't be one thing," Stanley furrowed his brows, trying to figure out what's happening. "We all saw something different,"
"Maybe. Or maybe it knows what scares us most and that's what we see."
"I-I saw a leper. It was like a walking infection," Eddie confessed. "But you didn't, because it isn't real. Not Eddie's leper, or Bill's Georgie or the woman I keep seeing-"
"She hot?" Richie stared at Stanley, dumbfoundingly as he talked. "No, Richie. She's not hot. Her face is all messed up." He angrily stared Richie down, giving a scolding look with his eyes. "None of this makes any sense. They're all like bad dreams."

The air turned cold and I felt nervous about this thing that seemed to be haunting the town. "I don't think so. I know the difference between a bad dream and real life, okay?" Mike replied. "What did you see? You saw something too?" Asked Eddie.

"Yes." Mike hesitated before continuing. "Do you guys know that burned down house on Harris Avenue? I was inside when it burned down." He paused and it was easy to see this was hard for him to talk about. "Before I was rescued, my mom and dad were trapped in the next room over from me. They were pushing and pounding on the door, trying to get to me." He had a skip in his tone as he recalled the day of the house fire. "But it was too hot. When the firemen finally found them, the skin on their hands had . . melted down to the bone. We're all afraid of something." Mike's story left an ache in my heart, thinking about hearing his parents beg for help from him when he knew he couldn't do anything to get them.

"Got that right," Richie agreed. I looked to my left at him as he slightly shivered upon seeing the clown on stage. "Why, Rich, what are you afraid of?"
"Clowns," he replied, visibly shaking.