Even over the roar of the water and the bellowing wind, Harold could hear the Kcars little sewingmachine engine cranking and cranking and cranking as smooth black water ran rockerpanel high on both sides of it. Then, with a deep thundering cry, the Kenduskeag poured out of its banks and swept both the Canal MiniMall and Roger Lernerds bright red Kcar away. Harold began climbing again, grabbing onto branches, roots, anything that looked solid enough to take his weight. Higher ground, that was the ticket. As Andrew Keene might have said, Harold Gardener was really into the concept of higher ground that morning. Behind him he could hear downtown Derry continuing to collapse. The sound was like artillery fire. 4 Bill Beverly! he shouted. His back and arms were one solid throbbing ache. Richie now seemed to weigh at least five hundred pounds. Put him down, then, his mind whispered. Hes dead, you know damn well he is, so why dont you just put him down? But he wouldnt, couldnt, do that. Beverly! he shouted again. Ben! Anyone! He thought This is where It threw meand Richieexcept It threw us fartherso much farther. What was that like? Im losing it, forgetting ... Bill? It was Bens voice, shaky and exhausted, somewhere fairly close. Where are you? Over here, man. Ive got Richie. He got... hes hurt. Keep talking. Ben was closer now. Keep talking, Bill. We killed It, Bill said, walking toward where Bens voice had come from. We killed the bitch. And if Richies dead Dead? Ben called, alarmed. He was very close now... and then his hand groped out of the dark and pawed lightly at Bills nose. What do you mean, dead? I ... he ... They were supporting Richie together now. I cant see him, Bill said. Thats the thing. I cuhcuhhan t suhsuhsee him! Richie! Ben shouted, and shook him. Richie, come on! Come on, goddammit! Bens voice was blurring now, becoming shaky. RICHIE WILL YOU WAKE THE FUCK UP? And in the dark, Richie said in a sleepy, irritable, justcomingoutofit voice All rye, Haystack. All rye. We doan need no stinkin batches.... Richie! Bill screamed. Richie, are you all right? Bitch threw me, Richie muttered in that same tired, justcomingoutofsleep voice. I hit something hard. Thats all ... all I remember. Wheres Bewie? Back this way, Ben said. Quickly, he told them about the eggs. I stamped over a hundred. I think I got all of them. I pray to God you did, Richie said. He was starting to sound better. Put me down, Big Bill. I can walk.... Is the water louder? Yes, Bill said. The three of them were holding hands in the dark. Hows your head? Hurts like hell. What happened after I got knocked out? Bill told them as much as he could bring himself to tell. And Its dead, Richie marvelled. Are you sure, Bill? Yes, Bill said. This time Im really shuhhure. Thank God, Richie said. Hold onto me, Bill, I gotta barf. Bill did, and when Richie was done they walked on. Every now and then his foot struck something brittle that rolled off into the darkness. Parts of the Spiders eggs that Ben had tromped to pieces, he supposed, and shivered. It was good to know they were going in the right direction, but he was still glad he couldnt see the remains. Beverly! Ben shouted. Beverly! Here Her cry was faint, almost lost in the steady rumble of the water. They moved forward in the dark, calling to her steadily, zeroing in. When they finally reached her, Bill asked if she had any matches left. She put half a pack in his hand. He lit one and saw their faces spring into ghostly beingBen with his arm around Richie, who was standing slumped, blood running from his right temple, Beverly with Eddies head in her lap. Then he turned the other way. Audra was lying crumpled on the flagstones, her legs asprawl, her head turned away. The webbing had mostly melted off her. The match burned his fingers and he let it drop. In the darkness he misjudged the distance, tripped over her, and nearly went sprawling. Audra! Audra, can you hhhear mme? He got an arm under her back and sat her up. He slipped a hand under the sheaf of her hair and pressed his fingers against the side of her neck. Her pulse was there a slow, steady beat. He lit another match, and as it flared he saw her pupils contract. But that was an involuntary function; the fix of her gaze did not change, even when he brought the match close enough to her face to redden her skin. She was alive, but unresponsive. Hell, it was worse than that and he knew it. She was catatonic. The second match burned his fingers. He shook it out. Bill, I dont like the sound of that water, Ben said. I think we ought to get out of here. How will we do it without Eddie? Richie murmured. We can do it, Bev said. Bill, Bens right. We have to get out. Im taking her. Of course. But we ought to go now. Which way? Youll know, Beverly said softly. You killed It. Youll know, Bill. He picked Audra up as he had picked Richie up and went back to the others. The feel of her in his arms was disquieting, creepy; she was like a breathing waxwork. Which way, Bill? Ben asked. I dddont (youll know, you killed It and youll know) Well, ccome on, Bill said. Lets see if we cant find out. Beverly, gruhgruhhab these. He handed her the matches. What about Eddie? she asked. We have to take him out. How ccan wwe? Bill asked. Its... BBeverly, the pluhhace is ffalling apart. We gotta get him out of here, man, Richie said. Come on, Ben. Between them they managed to hoist up Eddies body. Beverly lit them back to the fairytale door. Bill took Audra through it, holding her up from the floor as best he could. Richie and Ben carried Eddie through. Put him down, Beverly said. He can stay here. Its too dark, Richie sobbed. You know... its too dark. Eds ... he ... No, its okay, Ben said. Maybe this is where hes supposed to be. I think maybe it is. They put him down, and Richie kissed Eddies cheek. Then he looked blindly up at Ben. You sure? Yeah. Come on, Richie. Richie got up and turned toward the door. Fuck you, Bitch! he cried suddenly, and kicked the door shut with his foot. It made a solid chukking sound as it closed and latched. Whyd you do that? Beverly asked. I dont know, Richie said, but he knew well enough. He looked back over his shoulder just as the match Beverly was holding went out. Billthe mark on the door? What about it? Bill panted. Richie said Its gone. 5 Derryl1030 A.M. The glass corridor connecting the adult library to the Childrens Library suddenly exploded in a single brilliant flare of light. Glass flew out in an umbrella shape, whickering through the straining, whipping trees which dotted the library grounds. Someone could have been severely hurt or even killed by such a deadly fusillade, but there was no one there, either inside or out. The library had not been opened that day at all. The tunnel which had so fascinated Ben Hanscom as a boy would never be replaced; there had been so much costly destruction in Derry that it seemed simpler to leave the two libraries as separate unconnected buildings. In time, no one on the Derry City Council could even remember what that glass umbilicus had been for. Perhaps only Ben himself could really have told them how it was to stand outside in the still cold of a January night, your nose running, the tips of your fingers numb inside your mittens, watching the people pass back and forth inside, walking through winter with their coats off and surrounded by light. He could have told them... but maybe it wasnt the sort of thing you could have gotten up and testified about at a City Council meetinghow you stood out in the cold dark and learned to love the light. All of thats as may be; the facts were just these the glass corridor blew up for no apparent reason, no one was hurt (which was a blessing, since the final toll taken by that mornings stormin human terms, at leastwas sixtyseven killed and better than three hundred and twenty injured), and it was never rebuilt. After May 31st of 1985, if you wanted to get from the Childrens Library to the adult library, you had to walk outside to do it. And if it was cold, or raining, or snowing, you had to put on your coat. 6 Out1054A.M., May 31st, 1985 Wait, Bill gasped. Give me a chance... rest. Let me help you with her, Richie said again. They had left Eddie back in the Spiders lair, and that was something none of them wanted to talk about. But Eddie was dead and Audra was still aliveat least, technically. Ill do it, Bill said between choked gasps for air. Bullshit. Youll give yourself a fucking heart attack. Let me help you, Big Bill. Hows your hhhead? Hurts, Richie said. Dont change the subject. Reluctantly, Bill let Richie take her. It could have been worse; Audra was a tall girl whose normal weight was one hundred and forty pounds. But the part shed been scheduled to play in Attic Room was that of a young woman being held hostage by a borderline psychotic who fancied himself a political terrorist. Because Freddie Firestone had wanted to shoot all of the attic sequences first, Audra had gone on a strict poultrycottagecheesetunafish diet and lost twenty pounds. Still, after stumblestaggering along with her in the dark for a quarter of a mile (or a half, or threequarters of a mile, or who knew), that one hundred and twenty felt more like two hundred. ThThanks, mmman, he said. Dont mention it. Your turn next, Haystack. Beepbeep, Richie, Ben said, and Bill grinned in spite of himself. It was a tired grin, and it didnt last long, but a little was better than none. Which way, Bill? Beverly asked. That water sounds louder than ever. I dont really fancy drowning down here. Straight ahead, then left, Bill said. Maybe we better try to go a little faster. They went on for half an hour, Bill calling the lefts and rights. The sound of the water continued to swell until it seemed to surround them, a scary Dolby stereo effect in the dark. Bill felt his way around a corner, one hand trailing over damp brick, and suddenly water was running over his shoes. The current was shallow and fast. Give me Audra, he said to Ben, who was panting loudly. Upstream now. Ben passed her carefully back to Bill, who managed to sling her over his shoulder in a firemans carry. If shed only protest... move... do something. Hows matches, Bev? Not many. Half a dozen, maybe. Bill ... do you know where youre going? I think I dddo, he said. Come on. They followed him around the corner. The water foamed about Bills ankles, then it was up to his shins, and then it was thighdeep. The thunder of the water had deepened to a steady bass roar. The tunnel they were in was shaking steadily. For awhile Bill thought the current was going to become too strong to walk against, but then they passed a feederpipe that was pouring a huge jet of water into their tunnethe marvelled at the whitewater force of itand the current slacked off somewhat, although the water continued to deepen.It I saw the water coming out of that feederpipe! Saw it! HHHey! he shouted. Can yyyou guys see aanything? Its been getting lighter for the last fifteen minutes or so! Beverly shouted back. Where are we, Bill? Do you know? I thought I did, Bill almost said. No! Come on! He had believed they must be approaching the concretechannelled section of the Kenduskeag that was called the Canal ... the part that went under downtown and came out in Bassey Park. But there was light down here, light, and surely there could be no light in the Canal under the city. But it brightened steadily just the same. Bill was beginning to have serious problems with Audra. It wasnt the currentthat had slackenedit was the depth. Pretty soon Ill be floating her, he thought. He could see Ben on his left and Beverly on his right; by turning his head slightly, he could see Richie behind Ben. The footing was getting decidedly odd. The bottom of the tunnel was now heaped and mounded with detritusbricks, it felt like. And up ahead, something was sticking out of the water like the prow of a ship that is in the process of sinking. Ben floundered toward it, shivering in the cold water. A soggy cigar box floated into his face. He pushed it aside and grabbed at the thing sticking out of the water. His eyes widened. It appeared to be a large sign. He was able to read the letters AL, and below that, FUT. And suddenly he knew. Bill! Richie! Bev! He was laughing with astonishment. What is it, Ben? Beverly shouted. Grabbing it with both hands, Ben rocked it back. There was a grating sound as one side of the sign scraped along the wall of the tunnel. Now they could read ALADDI, and, below that, BACK TO THE FUTURE. Its the marquee for the Aladdin, Richie said. How The street caved in, Bill whispered. His eyes were widening. He stared up the tunnel. The light was brighter still up ahead. What, Bill? What the fuck happened? Bill? Bill? What All these drains! Bill said wildly. All these old drains! Theres been another flood! And I think this time He began to flounder ahead again, holding Audra up. Ben, Bev, and Richie fell in behind him. Five minutes later Bill looked up and saw blue sky. He was looking through a crack in the ceiling of the tunnel, a crack that widened to better than seventy feet across as it ran away from where he stood. The water was broken by many islands and archipelagos up aheadpiles of bricks, the back deck of a Plymouth sedan with its trunk sprung open and pouring water, a parkingmeter leaning against the tunnel wall at a drunken slant, its red VIOLATION flag up. The footing had become almost impossible nowminimountains that rose and fell with no rhyme or reason, inviting a broken ankle. The water ran mildly around their armpits. Mild now, Bill thought. But if wed been here two hours ago, even one, I think we might have gotten the ride of our lives. What the fuck is this, Big Bill? Richie asked. He was standing at Bills left elbow, his face soft with wonder as he looked up at the rip in the roof of the tunnelexcept its not the roof of any tunnel, Bill thought. Its Main Street. At least it used to be. I think most of downtown Derry is now in the Canal and being carried down the Kenduskeag River. Pretty soon itll be in the Penobscot and then it will be in the Atlantic Ocean and good fucking riddance. Can you help me with Audra, Richie? I dont think I can Sure, Richie said. Sure, Bill. No sweat. He took Audra from Bill. In this light, Bill could see her better than he perhaps wanted toher pallor masked but not hidden by the dirt and ordure that smeared her forehead and caked her cheeks. Her eyes were still wide open... wide open and innocent of all sense. Her hair hung lank and wet. She might as well have been one of those inflatable dollies they sold at the Pleasure Chest in New York or along the Reeperbahn in Hamburg. The only difference was her slow, steady respiration... and that might have been a clockwork trick, no more than that. How are we going to get up from here? he asked Richie. Get Ben to give you ten fingers, Richie said. You can yank Bev up, and the two of you can get your wife. Ben can boost me and well get Ben. And after that Ill show you how to set up a volleyball tournament for a thousand sorority girls. Beepbeep, Richie. Beepbeep your ass, Big Bill. The tiredness was going through him in steady waves. He caught Beverlys level gaze and held it for a moment. She nodded to him slightly, and he made a smile for her. Give me ten fingers, BBBen? Ben, who also looked unutterably weary, nodded. A deep scratch ran down one cheek. I think I can handle that. He stooped slightly and laced his hands together. Bill hiked one foot, stepped into Bens hand, and jumped up. It wasnt quite enough. Ben lifted the step he had made with his hands and Bill grabbed the edge of the brokenin tunnel roof. He yanked himself up. The first thing he saw was a whiteandorange crash barrier. The second thing was a crowd of milling men and women beyond the barrier. The third was Freeses Department Storeonly it had an oddly bulgedout, foreshortened look. It took him a moment to realize that almost half of Freeses had sunk into the street and the Canal beneath. The top half had slued out over the street and seemed in danger of toppling over like a pile of badly stacked books. Look! Look! Theres someone in the street! A woman was pointing toward the place where Bills head had poked out of the crevasse in the shattered pavement. Praise God, theres someone else! She started forward, an elderly woman with a kerchief tied over her head peasantstyle. A cop held her back. Not safe out there, Mrs. Nelson. You know it. Rest of the street might go any time. Mrs. Nelson, Bill thought. I remember you. Your sister used to sit George and me sometimes. He raised his hand to show her he was all right, and when she raised her own hand in return, he felt a sudden surge of good feelingsand hope. He turned around and lay flat on the sagging pavement, trying to distribute his weight as evenly as possible, the way you were supposed to do on thin ice. He reached down for Bev. She grasped his wrists and, with what seemed to be the last of his strength, he pulled her up. The sun, which had disappeared again, now ran out from behind a brace of mackerelscale clouds and gave them their shadows back. Beverly looked up, startled, caught Bills eyes, and smiled. I love you, Bill, she said. And I pray shell be all right.  Thuhhank you, Bewie, he said, and his kind smile made her start to cry a little. He hugged her and the small crowd gathered behind the crash barrier applauded. A photographer from the Derry News snapped a picture. It appeared in the June 1st edition of the paper, which was printed in Bangor because of water damage to the Newss presses. The caption was simple enough, and true enough for Bill to cut the picture out and keep it tucked away in his wallet for years to come SURVIVORS, the caption read. That was all, but that was enough. It was six minutes of eleven in Derry, Maine. 7 DerryLater the Same Day The glass corridor between the Childrens Library and the adult library had exploded at 1030 A.M. At 1033, the rain stopped. It didnt taper off; it stopped all at once, as if Someone Up There had flicked a toggle switch. The wind had already begun to fall, and it fell so rapidly that people stared at each other with uneasy, superstitious faces. The sound was like the winddown of a 747s engines after it has been safely parked at the gate. The sun peeked out for the first time at 1047. By midafternoon the clouds had burned away entirely, and the day had come off fair and hot. By 330 P.M. the mercury in the Orange Crush thermometer outside the door of Secondhand Rose, Secondhand Clothes read eightythreethe highest reading of the young season. People walked through the streets like zombies, not talking much. Their expressions were remarkably similar a kind of stupid wonder that would have been funny if it was not also so frankly pitiable. By evening reporters from ABC, CBS, NBC, and CNN had arrived in Derry, and the network news reporters would bring some version of the truth home to most people; they would make it real... although there were those who might have suggested that reality is a highly untrustworthy concept, something perhaps no more solid than a piece of canvas stretched over an interlacing of cables like the strands of a spiderweb. The following morning Bryant Gumble and Willard Scott of the Today show would be in Derry. During the course of the program, Gumble would interview Andrew Keene. Whole Standpipe just crashed over and rolled down the hill, Andrew said. It was like wow. You know what I mean? Like Steven Spielberg eat your heart out, you know? Hey, I always got the idea looking at you on TV that you were, you know, a lot bigger. Seeing themselves and their neighbors on TVthat would make it real. It would give them a place from which to grasp this terrible, ungraspable thing. It had been a FREAK STORM. In the days following, THE DEATHCOUNT would rise in THE WAKE OF THE KILLER STORM. It was, in fact, THE WORST SPRING STORM IN MAINE HISTORY. All of these headlines, as terrible as they were, were usefulthey helped to blunt the essential strangeness of what had happened... or perhaps strangeness was too mild a word. Insanity might have been better. Seeing themselves on TV would help make it concrete, less insane. But in the hours before the news crews arrived, there were only the people from Derry, walking through their rubblestrewn, mudslicked streets with expressions of stunned unbelief on their faces. Only the people from Derry, not talking much, looking at things, occasionally picking things up and then tossing them down again, trying to figure out what had happened during the last seven or eight hours. Men stood on Kansas Street, smoking, looking at houses lying upside down in the Barrens. Other men and women stood beyond the whiteandorange crash barriers, looking into the black hole that had been downtown until ten that morning. The headline of that Sundays paper read WE WILL REBUILD, VOWS DERRY MAYOR, and perhaps they would. But in the weeks that followed, while the City Council wrangled over how the rebuilding should begin, the huge crater that had been downtown continued to grow in an unspectacular but steady way. Four days after the storm, the office building of the Bangor Hydroelectric Company collapsed into the hole. Three days after that, the Flying Doghouse, which sold the best kraut and chilidogs in eastern Maine, fell in. Drains backed up periodically in houses, apartment buildings, and businesses. It got so bad in the Old Cape that people began to leave. June 10th was the first evening of horseracing at Bassey Park; the first pace was scheduled for 800 P.M. and that seemed to cheer everyone up. But a section of bleachers collapsed as the trotters in the first race turned into the home stretch, and half a dozen people were hurt. One of them was Foxy Foxworth, who had managed the Aladdin Theater until 1973. Foxy spent two weeks in the hospital, suffering from a broken leg and a punctured testicle. When he was released, he decided to go to his sisters in Somersworth, New Hampshire. He wasnt the only one. Derry was falling apart. 8 They watched the orderly slam the back doors of the ambulance and go around to the passenger seat. The ambulance started up the hill toward the Derry Home Hospital. Richie had flagged it down at severe risk of life and limb, and had argued the irate driver to a draw when the driver insisted he just didnt have any more room. He had ended up stretching Audra out on the floor. Now what? Ben asked. There were huge brown circles under his eyes and a grimy ring of dirt around his neck. Im ggoing back to the Town House, Bill said. GGonna sleep for about suhhixteen hours. I second that, Richie said. He looked hopefully at Bev. Got any cigarettes, purty lady? No, Beverly said. I think Im going to quit again. Sensible enough idea. They began to walk slowly up the hill, the four of them side by side. Its ooover, Bill said. Ben nodded. We did it. You did it, Big Bill. We all did it, Beverly said. I wish we could have brought Eddie up. I wish that more than anything. They reached the corner of Upper Main and Point Street. A kid in a red rainslicker and green rubber boots was sailing a paper boat along the brisk run of water in the gutter. He looked up, saw them looking at him, and waved tentatively. Bill thought it was the boy with the skateboardthe one whose friend had seen Jaws in the Canal. He smiled and stepped toward the boy. Its all right nnnow, he said. The boy studied him gravely, and then grinned. The smile was sunny and hopeful. Yeah, he said. I think it is. Bet your aaass. The kid laughed. You ggonna be careful on thuhhat skateboard? Not really, the kid said, and this time Bill laughed. He restrained an urge to ruffle the kids hairthat probably would have been resentedand returned to the others. Who was that? Richie asked. A friend, Bill said. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. Do you remember it? When we came out before? Beverly nodded. Eddie got us back to the Barrens. Only we ended up on the other side of the Kenduskeag somehow. The Old Cape side. You and Haystack pushed the lid off one of those pumpingstations, Richie said to Bill, because you had the most weight. Yeah, Ben said. We did. The sun was out, but it was almost down. Yeah, Bill said. And we were all there. But nothing lasts forever, Richie said. He looked back down the hill they had just climbed and sighed. Look at this, for instance. He held his hands out The tiny scars in the palms were gone. Beverly puguer nands out; Ben did the same; Bill added his. All were dirty but unmarked. Nothing lasts forever, Richie repeated. He looked up at Bill, and Bill saw tears cut slowly through the dirt on Richies cheeks. Except maybe for love, Ben said. And desire, Beverly said. How about friends? Bill asked, and smiled. What do you think, Trashmouth? Well, Richie said, smiling and rubbing his eyes, Ah got to thank about it, boy; Ah say, Ah say Ah got to thank about it. Bill put his hands out and they joined theirs with his and stood there for a moment, seven who had been reduced to four but who could still make a circle. They looked at each other. Ben was crying now too, the tears spilling from his eyes. But he was smiling. I love you guys so much, he said. He squeezed Bevs and Richies hands tighttighttight for a moment, and then dropped them. Now could we see if theyve got such a thing as breakfast in this place? And we ought to call Mike. Tell him were okay. Good thinnin, senhorr, Richie said. Every now an then I theenk you might turn out okay. Watchoo theenk, Beeg Beel? I theenk you ought to go fuck yourself, Bill said. They walked into the Town House on a wave of laughter, and as Bill pushed through the glass door, Beverly caught sight of something which she never spoke of but never forgot. For just a moment she saw their reflections in the glassonly there were six, not four, because Eddie was behind Richie and Stan was behind Bill, that little halfsmile on his face. 9 OutDusk,August 10th 1958 The sun sits neatly on the horizon, a slightly oblate red ball that throws a flat feverish light over the Barrens. The iron cover on top of one of the pumpingstations rises a little, settles, rises again, and begins to slide. PPPush it, BuhBen, its bruhbreaking my shoulder The cover slides farther, tilts, and falls into the shrubbery that has grown up around the concrete cylinder. Seven children come out one by one and look around, blinking owlishly in silent wonder. They are like children who have never seen daylight before. Its so quiet, Beverly says softly. The only sounds are the loud rush of water and ine somnolent hum of insects. The storm is over but the Kenduskeag is still very high. Closer to town, not far from the place where the river is corseted in concrete and called a canal, it has overflowed its banks, although the flooding is by no means seriousafew wet cellars is the worst of it. This time. Stan moves away from them, his face blank and thoughtful. Bill looks around and at first he thinks Stan has seen a small fire on the riverbankfire is his first impression a red glow almost too bright to look at. But when Stan picks the fire up in his right hand the angle of the light changes, and Bill sees its nothing but a Coke bottle, one of the new clear ones, which someone has dropped by the river. He watches as Stan reverses it, holds it by the neck, and brings it down on a shelf of rock jutting out of the bank. The bottle breaks, and Bill is aware they are all watching Stan now as he pokes through the shattered remains of the bottle, his face sober and studious and absorbed. At last he picks up a narrow wedge of glass. The westering sun throws red glints from it, and Bill thinks again Like a fire. Stan looks up at him and Bill suddenly understands it is perfectly clear to him, and perfectly right. He steps forward toward Stan with his hands held out, palms up. Stan backs away, into the water. Small black bugs stitch along just above the surface, and Bill can see an iridescent dragonfly go buzzing off into the reeds along the far bank like a small flying rainbow. A frog begins a steady bass thud, and as Stan takes his left hand and draws the edge of glass down his palm, peeling skin and bringing thin blood, Bill thinks in a kind of ecstasy Theres so much life down here! Bill? Sure. Both. Stan cuts his other hand. There is pain, but not much. A whippoorwill has begun to call somewhere, a cool sound, peaceful. Bill thinks That whippoorwill is raising the moon. He looks at his hands, both of them bleeding now, and then around him. The others are thereEddie with his aspirator clutched tightly in one hand; Ben with his big belly pushing palely out through the tattered remains of his shirt; Richie, his face oddly naked without his glasses; Mike, silent and solemn, his normally full lips compressed to a thin line. And Beverly, her head up, her eyes wide and clear, her hair still somehow lovely in spite of the dirt that mats it. All of us. All of us are here. And he sees them, really sees them, for the last time, because in some way he understands that they will never all be together again, the seven of themnot this way. No one talks. Beverly holds out her hands, and after a moment Richie and Ben hold out theirs. Mike and Eddie do the same. Stan cuts them one by one as the sun begins to slip behind the horizon, cooling that red furnaceglow to a dusky rosepink. The whippoorwill cries again, Bill can see the first faint swirls of mist on the water, and he feels as if he has become a part of everythingthis is a brief ecstasy which he will no more talk about than Beverly will later talk about the brief reflection she sees of two dead men who were, as boys, her friends. A breeze touches the trees and bushes, making them sigh, and he thinks This is a lovely place, and Ill never forget it. Its lovely, and they are lovely; each one of them is gorgeous. The whippoorwill cries again, sweet and liquid, and for a moment Bill feels at one with it, as if he could sing and then be gone into the duskas if he could fly away, brave in the air. He looks at Beverly and she is smiling at him. She closes her eyes and holds her hands out to either side. Bill takes her left; Ben her right. Bill can feel the warmth of her blood mixing with his own. The others join in and they stand in a circle, all of their hands now sealed in that peculiarly intimate way. Stan is looking at Bill with a kind of urgency; a kind of fear. SwuhSwear to muhme that youll ccccome buhback, Bill says. Swear to me that if IhIhIt isnt dddead, youll cuhhome back. Swear,  Ben said. Swear.  Richie. YesIswear. Bev. Swear it, Mike Hanlon mutters. Yeah. Swear. Eddie, his voice a thin and reedy whisper. I swear too, Stan whispers, but his voice falters and he looks down as he speaks. II swuhswuhswear. That was it; that was all. But they stand there for awhile longer, feeling the power that is in their circle, the closed body that they make. The light paints their faces in pale fading colors; the sun is now gone and sunset is dying. They stand together in a circle as the darkness creeps down into the Barrens, filling up the paths they have walked this summer, the clearings where they have played tag and guns, the secret places along the riverbanks where they have sat and discussed childhoods long questions or smoked Beverlys cigarettes or where they have merely been silent, watching the passage of the clouds reflected in the water. The eye of the day is closing. At last Ben drops his hands. He starts to say something, shakes his head, and walks away. Richie follows him, then Beverly and Mike, walking together. No one talks; they climb the embankment to Kansas Street and simply take leave of one another. And when Bill thinks it over twentyseven years later, he realizes that they really never did all get together again.


Four of them quite often, sometimes five, and maybe six once or twice. But never all seven. Hes the last to go. He stands for a long time with his hands on the rickety white fence, looking down into the Barrens as, overhead, the first stars seed the summer sky. He stands under the blue and over the black and watches the Barrens fill up with darkness. I never want to play down there again, he thinks suddenly and is amazed to find the thought is not terrible or distressing but tremendously liberating. He stands there a moment longer and then turns away from the Barrens and starts home, walking along the dark sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, glancing from time to time at the houses of Derry, warmly lit against the night. After a block or two he begins to walk faster, thinking of supper... and a block or two after that, he begins to whistle. DERRY THE LAST INTERLUDE The ocean, in these times, is a perfect fleet of ships; and we can hardly fail to encounter many, in running over. It is merely crossing, said Mr. Micawber, trifling with his eyeglass, merely crossing. The distance is quite imaginary.  Charles Dickens, David Copperfield June 4th, 1985 Bill came in about twenty minutes ago and brought me this bookCarole found it on one of the tables in the library and gave it to him when he asked for it. I thought Chief Rademacher might have taken it, but apparently he didnt want anything to do with it. Bills stutter is disappearing again, but the poor man has aged four years in the last four days. He told me he expects Audra to be discharged from Derry Home Hospital (where I myself yet tarry) tomorrow, only to take a private ambulance north to the Bangor Mental Health Institute. Physically shes fineminor cuts and bruises that are already healing. Mentally... You raise her hand and it stays up, Bill said. He was sitting by the window, twiddling a can of diet soda between his hands. It just floats there until someone puts it down again. Her reflexes are there, but very slow. The EEG they did shows a severely repressed alpha wave. Shes cccatatonic, Mike. I said, Ive got an idea. Maybe not such a good one. If you dont like it, just say so. What? Im going to be in here another week, I said. Instead of sending Audra up to Bangor, why dont you take her to my place, Bill? Spend the week with her. Talk to her, even if she doesnt talk back. Is she... is she continent? No, Bill said bleakly. Can youI mean, would you Would I change her? He smiled, and it was such a painful smile that I had to look away for a moment. It was the way my father smiled the time he told me about Butch Bowers and the chickens. Yes. I think I could do that much. I wont tell you to take it easy on yourself when youre obviously not prepared to do that, I said, but please remember that you yourself agreed that much or all of whats happened was almost certainly ordained. That may include Audras part in this. I shshould have kept my mouth shut about where I was ggoing. Sometimes its better to say nothingso thats what I did. All right, he said at last. If you really mean it I mean it. Theyve got my housekeys down at the Patient Services Desk. Theres a couple of Delmonico steaks in the freezer. Maybe that was ordained, too. Shes eating mostly soft foods and, uh, luhliquids. Well, I said, holding onto my smile, maybe therell be cause for a celebration. Theres a pretty good bottle of wine on the top shelf in the pantry, too. Mondavi. Domestic, but good. He came over and gripped my hand. Thank you, Mike. Any time, Big Bill. He let go of my hand. Richie flew back to California this morning. I nodded. Think youll stay in touch? MMaybe, he said. For awhile, anyway. But ... He looked at me levelly. Its going to happen again, I think. The forgetting? Yes. In fact, I think its already started. Just little things so far. Details. But I think its going to spread. Maybe thats best. Maybe. He looked out the window, still twiddling his can of diet soda, almost surely thinking about his wife, so wideeyed and silent and beautiful and plastic. Catatonic. The sound of a door slamming shut and locked. He sighed. Maybe it is. Ben? Beverly? He looked back at me and smiled a little. Bens invited her to come back to Nebraska with him, and shes agreed to go, at least for awhile. You know about her friend in Chicago? I nodded. Beverly told Ben and Ben told me yesterday. If I may understate the case (grotesquely understate the case), Beverlys later description of her wonderful fantastic husband, Tom, was much truer than her original one. Wonderful fantastic Tom kept Bev in emotional, spiritual, and sometimes physical bondage for the last four years or so. Wonderful fantastic Tom got here by beating the information out of Bevs only close woman friend. She told me shes going to fly back to Chicago the week after next and file a missingpersons report on him. Tom, I mean. Smart enough, I said. No ones ever going to find him down there. Or Eddie either, I thought but did not say. No, I suppose not, Bill said. And when she goes back, Im betting Ben will go with her. And you know something else? Something really crazy? What? I dont think she really remembers what happened to Tom. I just stared at him. Shes forgotten or forgetting, Bill said. And I cant remember what the doorway looked like anymore. The ddoorway into Its place. I try to think of it and the craziest thing happensI get this ihimage of gggoats walking over a bridge. From that story The Three Billy Goats Gruff. Crazy, huh? Theyll trace Tom Rogan to Derry eventually, I said. Hell have left a paper trail a mile wide. Rentacar, plane tickets.  Im not so sure of that, Bill said, lighting a cigarette. I think he might have paid cash for his plane ticket and given a phony name. Maybe bought a cheap car here or stole one. Why? Oh, come on, Bill said. Do you think he came all this way to give her a spanking? Our eyes met for a long moment and then he stood up. Listen, Mike ... Too hip, gotta split, I said. I can dig it. He laughed at that, laughed hard, and when he had sobered he said Thanks for the use of your place, Mikey. Im not going to swear to you itll make any difference. It has no therapeutic qualities that Im aware of. Well ... Ill see you. He did an odd thing then, odd but rather lovely. He kissed my cheek. God bless, Mike. Ill be around. Things may be okay, Bill, I said. Dont give up hope. They may be okay. He smiled and nodded, but I think the same word was in both of our minds Catatonic. June 5th, 1985 Ben and Beverly came in today to say goodbye. Theyre not flyingBens rented a great big Cadillac from the Hertz people and theyre going to drive, not hurrying. Theres something in their eyes when they look at each other, and Id bet my pensionplan that if theyre not making it now, they will be by the time they get to Nebraska. Beverly hugged me, told me to get well quickly, and then cried. Ben also hugged me, and asked for the third or fourth time if I would write. I told him I would indeed write, and so I will ... for awhile, at least. Because this time its happening to me, as well. Im forgetting things. As Bill said, right now its only small things, details. But it feels like the sort of thing thats going to spread. It could be that in a month or a year, this notebook will be all Ill have to remind me of what happened here in Derry. I suppose the words themselves might begin to fade, eventually leaving this book as blank as when I first picked it up in the schoolsupplies department at Freeses. Thats an awful thought and in the daytime it seems wildly paranoid... but, do you know, in the watches of the night it seems perfectly logical. This forgetting... the prospect fills me with panic, but it also offers a sneaking sort of relief. It suggests to me more than anything else that this time they really did kill It; that there is no need of a watchman to stand and wait for the cycle to begin again. Dull panic, sneaking relief. Its the relief Ill embrace, I think, sneaking or not. Bill called to say he and Audra had moved in. There is no change in her. Ill always remember you. Thats what Beverly told me just before she and Ben left. I think I saw a different truth in her eyes. June 6th, 1985 Interesting piece in the Derry News today, on page one. The story was headed STORM CAUSES HENLEY TO GIVE UP AUDITORIUM EXPANSION PLANS. The Henley in question is Tim Henley, a multimillionaire developer who came into Derry like a whirlwind in the late sixtiesit was Henley and Zitner who organized the consortium responsible for building the Derry Mall (which, according to another piece on page one, is probably going to be declared a total loss). Tim Henley was determined to see Derry grow. There was a profitmotive, yes indeed, but there was more to it than that Henley genuinely wanted to see it happen. His sudden abandonment of the auditorium expansion suggests several things to me. That Henley may have soured on Derry is only the most obvious. I think its also possible that hes in the process of losing his shirt because of the destruction of the mall. But the article also suggests that Henley is not alone; that other investors and potential investors in Derrys future may be rethinking their options. Of course, Al Zitner wont have to bother; God retired him when downtown collapsed. Of the others, those who thought like Henley are now facing a rather difficult problemhow do you rebuild an urban area which is now at least fifty percent underwater? I think that, after a long and ghoulishly vital existence, Derry may be dying... like a nightshade whose time to bloom has come and gone. Called Bill Denbrough late this afternoon. No change in Audra. An hour ago I put through another call, this one to Richie Tozier in California. His answering machine fielded the call, with Creedence Clearwater Revival music playing in the background. Those machines always fuck up my timing somehow. I left my name and number, hesitated, and added that I hoped he was able to wear his contact lenses again. I was about to hang up when Richie himself picked up the phone and said, Mikey! How you be? His voice was pleased and warm ... but there was an obvious bewilderment there as well. He was wearing the verbal expression of a man who has been caught utterly flatfooted. Hello, Richie, I said. Im doing pretty well. Good. How much pain you having? Some. Its going away. The itch is worse. Ill be damn glad when they finally decide to unstrap my ribs. By the way, I liked the Creedence. Richie laughed. Shit, that aint Creedence, thats Rock and Roll Girls, from Fogartys new album. Centerfield, its called. You havent heard any of it? Huhuh. You got to get it, its great. Its just like ... He trailed off for a moment and then said, Its just like the old days. Ill pick it up, I said, and I probably will. I always liked John Fogarty. Green River was my alltime Creedence favorite, I guess. Get back home, he says. Just before the fade he says it. What about Bill? He and Audra are keeping house for me while Im in here. Good. Thats good. He paused for a moment. You want to hear something fucking bizarre, ole Mikey? Sure, I said. I had a pretty good idea what he was going to say. Well ... I was sitting here in my study, listening to some of the new Cashbox hot prospects, going over some ad copy, reading memos... theres about two mountains of stuff backed up, and Im looking at roughly a month of twentyfivehour days. So I had the answering machine turned on, but with the volume turned up so I could intercept the calls I wanted and just let the dimwits talk to the tape. And the reason I let you talk to the tape as long as I did was because at first you didnt have the slightest idea who I was. Jesus, thats right! How did you know that? Because were forgetting again. All of us this time. Mikey, are you sure? What was Stans last name? I asked him. There was silence on the other end of the linea long silence. In it, faintly, I could hear a woman talking in Omaha .... or maybe she was in Ruthven, Arizona, or Flint, Michigan. I heard her, as faint as a spacetraveller leaving the solar system in the nosecone of a burnedout rocket, thank someone for the cookies. Then Richie said, uncertainly I think it was Underwood, but that isnt Jewish, it it? It was Uris. Uris! Richie cried, sounding both relieved and shaken. Jesus, I hate it when I get something right on the tip of my tongue and cant quite pick it off. Someone brings out a Trivial Pursuit game, I say Excuse me but I think the diarrheas coming back so maybe Ill just go home, okay? But you remember, anyhow, Mikey. Like before. No. I looked it up in my address book. Another long silence. Then You didnt remember? Nope. No shit? No shit. Then this time its really over, he said, and the relief in his voice was unmistakable. Yes, I think so. That longdistance silence fell againall the miles between Maine and California. I believe we were both thinking the same thing it was over, yes, and in six weeks or six months, we will have forgotten all about each other. Its over, and all its cost us is our friendship and Stan and Eddies lives. Ive almost forgotten them, you know it? Horrible as it may sound, I have almost forgotten Stan and Eddie. Was it asthma Eddie had, or chronic migraine? Ill be damned if I can remember for sure, although I think it was migraine. Ill ask Bill. Hell know. Well, you say hi to Bill and that pretty wife of his, Richie said with a cheeriness that sounded canned. I will, Richie, I said, closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead. He remembered Bills wife was in Derry... but not her name, or what had happened to her. And if youre ever in L.A., you got the number. Well get together and mouth some chow. Sure. I felt hot tears behind my eyes. And if you get back this way, the same thing goes. Mikey? Right here. I love you, man. Same here. Okay. Keep your thumb on it. Beepbeep, Richie. He laughed. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Stick it in your ear, Mike. Ah say, in yo ear, boy. He hung up and so did I. Then I lay back on my pillows with my eyes shut and didnt open them for a long time. June 7th, 1985 Police Chief Andrew Rademacher, who took over from Chief Borton in the late sixties, is dead. It was a bizarre accident, one I cant help associating with what has been happening in Derry... what has just ended in Derry. The combination policestationcourthouse stands on the edge of the area that fell into the Canal, and while it didnt go, the upheavalor the floodmust have caused structural damage of which no one was aware. Rademacher was working late in his office last night, the story in the paper says, as he has every night since the storm and the flood. The Police Chiefs office has moved from the third to the fifth floor since the old days, to just below an attic where all sorts of records and useless city artifacts are stored. One of those artifacts was the trampchair I have described earlier in these pages. It was made of iron and weighed better than four hundred pounds. The building shipped a quantity of water during the downpour of May 31st, and that must have weakened the attic floor (or so the paper says). Whatever the reason, the trampchair fell from the attic directly onto Chief Rademacher as he sat at his desk, reading accident reports. He was killed instantly. Officer Bruce Andeen rushed in and found him lying on the ruins of his shattered desk, his pen still in one hand. Talked to Bill on the phone again. Audra is taking some solid food, he says, but otherwise there is no change. I asked him if Eddies big problem had been asthma or migraine. Asthma, he said promptly. Dont you remember his aspirator? Sure, I said, and did. But only when Bill mentioned it. Mike? Yeah? What was his last name? I looked at my address book lying on the nighttable, but didnt pick it up. I dont quite remember. It was like Kerkorian, Bill said, sounding distressed, but that wasnt quite it. Youve got everything written down, though. Right? Right, I said. Thank God for that. Have you had any ideas about Audra? One, he said, but its so crazy I dont want to talk about it. You sure? Yeah. All right. Mike, its scary, isnt it? Forgetting like this? Yes, I said. And it is. June 8th, 1985 Raytheon, which had been scheduled to break ground on its Derry plant in July, has decided at the last minute to build in Waterville instead. The editorial on page one of the News expresses dismay... and, if I read correctly between the lines, a little fright. I think I know what Bills idea is. Hell have to act quickly, before the last of the magic departs this place. If it hasnt already. I guess what I thought before wasnt so paranoid after all. The names and addresses of the others in my little book are fading. The color and quality of the ink combine to make those entries look as if they were written fifty or seventyfive years before the others Ive jotted in there. This has happened in the last four or five days. Im convinced that by September their names will be utterly gone. I suppose I could preserve them; I could just keep copying them. But Im also convinced that each would fade in its turn, and that very soon it would become an exercise in futilitylike writing I will not throw spitballs in class five hundred times. I would be writing names that meant nothing for a reason I didnt remember. Let it go, let it go. Bill, act quickly... but be careful! June 9th, 1985 Woke up in the middle of the night from a terrible nightmare I couldnt remember, got panicky, couldnt breathe. Reached for the callbutton and then couldnt use it. Had a terrible vision of Mark Lamonica answering the bell with a hypo ... or Henry Bowers with his switchblade. I grabbed my address book and called Ben Hanscom in Nebraska... the address and number have faded still more, but they are still legible. No go, Joe. Got a recorded phonecompany voice telling me service to that number has been cancelled. Was Ben fat, or did he have something like a club foot? Lay awake until dawn. June 10th, 1985 They tell me I can go home tomorrow. I called Bill and told him thatI suppose I wanted to warn him that his time is getting shorter all the time. Bill is the only one I remember clearly and Im convinced that Im the only one he remembers clearly. Because we are both still here in Derry, I suppose. All right, he said. By tomorrow well be out of your hair. You still got your idea? Yeah. Looks like its time to try it. Be careful. He laughed and said something I both do and dont understand You cant be cccareful on a skuhhateboard, man. How will I know how it turned out, Bill? Youll know, he said, and hung up. My hearts with you, Bill, no matter how it turns out. My heart is with all of them, and I think that, even if we forget each other, well remember in our dreams. Im almost done with this diary nowand I suppose a diary is all that it will ever be, and that the story of Derrys old scandals and eccentricities has no place outside these pages. Thats fine with me; I think that, when they let me out of here tomorrow, it might finally be time to start thinking about some sort of new life ... although just what that might be is unclear to me. I loved you guys, you know. I loved you so much. EPILOGUE BILL DENBROUGH BEATS THE DEVIL (II) I knew the bride when she used to do the Pony, I knew the bride when she used to do the Stroll. I knew the bride when she used to wanna party, I knew the bride when she used to rock and roll. Nick Lowe You cant be careful on a skateboard, man. some kid 1 Noon of a summer day. Bill stood naked in Mike Hanlons bedroom, looking at his lean body in the mirror on the door. His bald head gleamed in the light which fell through the window and cast his shadow along the floor and up the wall. His chest was hairless, his thighs and shanks skinny but overlaid with ropes of muscle. Still, he thought, its an adults body we got here, no question about that. Theres the pot belly that comes with a few too many good steaks, a few too many bottles of Kirin beer, a few too many poolside lunches where you had the Reuben or the French dip instead of the diet plate. Your seats dropped, too, Bill old buddy. You can still serve an ace if youre not too hung over and if your eyes in, but you cant hustle after the old Dunlop the way you could when you were seventeen. You got lovehandles and your balls are starting to get that middleaged dangly look. Theres lines on your face that werent there when you were seventeen.... Hell, they werent there on your first author photo, the one where you tried so hard to look as if you knew something ... anything. Youre too old for what youve got in mind, Billyboy. Youll kill both of you. He put on his underpants. If wed believed that, we never could have ... have done whatever it was we did. Because he didnt really remember what it was they had done, or what had happened to turn Audra into a catatonic wreck. He only knew what he was supposed to do now, and he knew that if he didnt do it now, he would forget that, too. Audra was sitting downstairs in Mikes easy chair, her hair hanging lankly to her shoulders, staring with rapt attention at the TV, which was currently showing Dialing for Dollars. She didnt speak and would only move if you led her. This is different. Youre just too old, man. Believe it. I wont. Then die here in Derry. Big fucking deal. He put on athletic socks, the one pair of jeans he had brought, the tank top hed bought at the Shirt Shack in Bangor the day before. The tank was bright orange. Across the front it said WHERE THE HELL IS DERRY, MAINE? He sat down on Mikes bedthe one he had shared for the last week of nights with his warm but corpselike wifeand put on his sneakers... a pair of Keds, which he had also bought yesterday in Bangor. He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror again. He saw a man pressing middle age dressed up in a kids clothes. You look ludicrous. What kid doesnt? Youre no kid. Give this up! Fuck, lets rock and roll a little, Bill said softly, and left the room. 2 In the dreams he will have in later years, he is always leaving Derry alone, at sunset. The town is deserted; everyone has left. The Theological Seminary and the Victorian houses on West Broadway brood black against a lurid sky, every summer sunset you ever saw rolled up into one. He can hear his footfalls echoing back as they rap along the concrete. The only other sound is water rushing hollowly through the stormdrains 3 He rolled Silver out into the driveway, put him on the kickstand, and checked the tires again. The front one was okay but the back one felt a little mushy. He got the bike pump that Mike had bought and firmed it up. When he put the pump back, he checked the playing cards and the clothespins. The bikes wheels still made those exciting machinegun sounds Bill remembered from his boyhood. Good deal. Youve gone crazy. Maybe. Well see. He went back into Mikes garage again, got the 3in1, and oiled the chain and sprocket. Then he stood up, looked at Silver, and gave the bulb of the oogahhorn a light, experimental squeeze. It sounded good. He nodded and went into the house. 4 and he sees all those places again, intact, as they were then the hulking brick fort of Derry Elementary, the Kissing Bridge with its complex intaglio of initials, highschool sweethearts ready to crack the world open with their passion who had grown up to become insurance agents and car salesmen and waitresses and beauticians; he sees the statue of Paul Bunyan against that bleeding sunset sky and the leaning white fence which ran along the Kansas Street sidewalk at the edge of the Barrens. He sees them as they were, as they always will be in some part of his mind ... and his heart breaks with love and horror. Leaving, leaving Derry, he thinks. We are leaving Derry, and if this was a story it would be the last halfdozen pages or so; get ready to put this one up on the shelf and forget it. The suns going down and theres no sound but my footfalls and the water in the drains. This is the time of 5 Dialing for Dollars had given way to Wheel of Fortune. Audra sat passively in front of it, her eyes never leaving the set. Her demeanor did not change when Bill snapped the TV off. Audra, he said, going to her and taking her hand. Come on. She didnt move. Her hand lay in his, warm wax. Bill took her other hand from the arm of Mikes chair and pulled her to her feet. He had dressed her that morning much as he had dressed himselfshe was wearing Levis and a blue shell top. She would have looked quite lovely if not for her wideeyed vacant stare. Cuhcome on, he said again, and led her through the door, into Mikes kitchen and, eventually, outside. She came willingly enough... although she would have plunged off the back porch stoop and gone sprawling in the dirt if Bill had not put an arm around her waist and guided her down the steps. He led her over to where Silver stood heeled over on his kickstand in the bright summer noonlight. Audra stood beside the bike, looking serenely at the side of Mikes garage. Get on, Audra. She didnt move. Patiently, Bill worked at getting her to swing one of her long legs over the carrier mounted on Silvers back fender. At last she stood there with the package carrier between her legs, not quite touching her crotch. Bill pressed his hand lightly to the top of her head and Audra sat down. He swung onto Silvers saddle and put up the kickstand with his heel. He prepared to reach behind him for Audras hands and draw them around his middle, but before he could do it they crept around him of their own accord, like small dazed mice. He looked down at them, his heart beating faster, seeming to pump in his throat as much as in his chest. It was the first independent action Audra had taken all week, so far as he knew... the first independent action she had taken since It happened ... whatever It had been. Audra? There was no answer. He tried to crane his neck around and see her but couldnt quite make it. There were only her hands around his waist, the nails showing the last chips of a red polish that had been put on by a bright, lively, talented young woman in a small English town. Were going for a ride, Bill said, and he began to roll Silver forward toward Palmer Lane, listening to the gravel crunch under the tires. I want you to hold on, Audra. I think... I think I may go sort of fffast. If I dont lose my guts. He thought of the kid he had met earlier during his stay in Derry, when It had still been happening. You cant be careful on a skateboard, the kid had said. Truer words were never spoken, kid. Audra? You ready? No answer. Had her hands tightened the tiniest bit across his middle? Probably just wishful thinking. He reached the end of the driveway and looked right. Palmer Lane ran straight to Upper Main Street, where a left turn would take him onto the hill running downtown. Downhill. Picking up speed. He felt a tremor of fear at the image, and a disquieting thought (old bones break easy, Billyboy) ran through his mind almost too quickly to read and was gone. But... But it wasnt all disquiet, was it? No. It was desire as well ... the feeling hed had when he saw the kid walking along with the skateboard under his arm. The desire to go fast, to feel the wind race past you without knowing if you were racing toward or running away from, to just go. To fly. Disquiet and desire. All the difference between world and wantthe difference between being an adult who counted the cost and a child who just got on it and went, for instance. All the world between. Yet not that much difference at all. Bedfellows, really. The way you felt when the rollercoaster car approached the top of the first steep grade, where the ride really begins. Disquiet and desire. What you want and what youre scared to try for. Where youve been and where you want to go. Something in a rockandroll song about wanting the girl, the car, the place to stand and be. Oh please God can you dig it. Bill closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the soft dead weight of his wife behind him, feeling the hill somewhere ahead of him, feeling his own heart inside him. Be brave, be true, stand. He began to push Silver forward again. You want to rock and roll a little, Audra? No answer. But that was all right. He was ready. Hold on, then. He began to pedal. It was hard going at first. Silver wobbled alarmingly back and forth, Audras weight adding to the imbalance... yet she must be doing some balancing, even unconsciously, or they would have crashed right away. Bill stood on the pedals, hands squeezing the handlegrips with maniacal tightness, his head turned skyward, his eyes slits, the cords on his neck standing out. Gonna fall splat right here in the street, split her skull and mine (no you aint go for it Bill go for it go for the son of a bitch) He stood on the pedals, revolving them, feeling every cigarette hed smoked over the last twenty years in his elevated bloodpressure and the race of his heart. Fuck that, too! he thought, and the rush of crazy exhilaration made him grin. The playing cards, which had been firing isolated shots, now began to clickclock faster. They were new, nice new Bikes, and they made a good loud sound. Bill felt the first touch of breeze on his bald pate, and his grin widened. I made that breeze, he thought. I made it by pumping these damn pedals. The STOP sign at the end of the lane was coming up. Bill began to brake... and then (his grin still widening, showing more and more of his teeth) he began to pump again. Ignoring the STOP sign, Bill Denbrough swept to the left, onto Upper Main Street above Bassey Park. Again Audras weight fooled him and they almost overbalanced and crashed. The bike wavered, wobbled, then righted itself. That breeze was stronger now, cooling the sweat on his forehead, evaporating it, rushing past his ears with a low intoxicating sound that was a little like the sound of the ocean in a conch shell but was really like nothing else on earth. Bill supposed it was a sound the kid with the skateboard was familiar with. But its a sound youll fall out of touch with, kid, he thought. Things have a way of changing. Its a dirty trick, so be prepared for it. Pedaling faster now, finding a surer balance in speed. The ruins of Paul Bunyan on the left, like a fallen colossus. Bill shouted Hiyo Silver, AWAYYYYY! Audras hands tightened around his middle; he felt her stir against his back. But there was no urge to turn and try to see her now ... no urge, no need. He pedaled faster, laughing out loud, a tall skinny bald man on a bike crouched over the handlebars to lessen the windresistance. People turned to look as he raced alongside Bassey Park. Now Upper Main Street began to incline toward the cavedin center of town at a steeper angle, and a voice inside whispered to him that if he didnt brake soon he would find himself unable; he would simply go sweeping into the sunken remains of the threeway intersection like a bat out of hell and kill both of them. Instead of braking he began to pedal again, urging the bike to go even faster. Now he was flying down Main Street Hill and he could see the whiteandorange crash barriers, the smudgepots with their smoky Halloween flames marking the edge of the cavein, he could see the tops of buildings which jutted out of the streets like the figments of a madmans imagination. Hiyo Silver, AWAYYYYYYY! Bill Denbrough cried deliriously, and rushed down the hill toward whatever there would be, aware for one last time of Derry as his place, aware most of all that he was alive under a real sky, and that all was desire, desire, desire. He raced down the hill on Silver he raced to beat the devil. 6 leaving. So you leave, and there is an urge to look back, to look back just once as the sunset fades, to see that severe New England skyline one final timethe spires, the Standpipe, Paul with his axe slung over his shoulder.


But it is perhaps not such a good idea to look backallthe stories say so. Look what happened to Lots wife. Best not to look back. Best to believe there will be happily ever afters all the way aroundandso there may be; who is to say there will not be such endings? Not all boats which sail away into darkness never find the sun again, or the hand of another child; if life teaches anything at all, it teaches that there are so many happy endings that the man who believes there is no God needs his rationality called into serious question. You leave and you leave quick when the sun starts to go down, he thinks in this dream. Thats what you do. And if you spare a last thought, maybe its ghosts you wonder about ... the ghosts of children standing in the water at sunset, standing in a circle, standing with their hands joined together, their faces young, sure, but tough ... tough enough, anyway, to give birth to the people they will become, tough enough to understand, maybe, that the people they will become must necessarily birth the people they were before they can get on with trying to understand simple mortality. The circle closes, the wheel rolls, and thats all there is. You dont have to look back to see those children; part of your mind will see them forever, live with them forever, love with them forever. They are not necessarily the best part of you, but they were once the repository of all you could become. Children I love you. I love you so much. So drive away quick, drive away while the last of the light slips away, drive away from Derry, from memory ... but not from desire. That stays, the bright cameo of all we were and all we believed as children, all that shone in our eyes even when we were lost and the wind blew in the night. Drive away and try to keep smiling. Get a little rock and roll on the radio and go toward all the life there is with all the courage you can find and all the belief you can muster. Be true, be brave, stand. All the rest is darkness. 7 Hey! Hey mister, you look out! Damn fools gonna Words whipped by in the slipstream, as meaningless as pennants in a breeze or untethered balloons. Here came the crash barriers; he could smell the sooty aroma of kerosene from the smudgepots. He saw the yawning darkness where the street had been, heard sullen water rushing down there in the tangled darkness, and laughed at the sound. He dragged Silver hard left, so close to the crash barriers now that the leg of his jeans actually whispered along one of them. Silvers wheels were less than three inches from the place where the tar ended in empty space, and he was running out of maneuvering room. Up ahead the water had eroded all of the street and half the sidewalk in front of Cashs Jewelry Store. Barriers closed off what was left of the sidewalk; it had been severely undercut. Bill? It was Audras voice, dazed and a little thick. She sounded as if she had just awakened from a deep sleep. Bill, where are we? What are we doing? Hi yo, Silver! Bill shouted, pointing the rushing gantry that was Silver directly at the crash barrier jutting out at right angles to the empty Cash show window. HI YO SILVER AWAYYYYY! Silver struck the barrier at better than forty miles an hour and it went flying, the centerboard in one direction, the Ashaped supports in two others. Audra cried out and squeezed Bill so tightly that he lost his breath. Up and down Main Street, Canal Street, and Kansas Street, people stood in doorways and on sidewalks, watching. Silver shot out onto the bridge of undercut sidewalk. Bill felt his left hip and knee chip the side of the jewelry store. He felt Silvers rear wheel sag suddenly and understood that the sidewalk was falling in behind them and then Silvers forward motion carried them back onto solid roadway. Bill swerved to avoid an overturned trashcan and barrelled out into the street again. Brakes squealed. He saw the grille of a big truck approaching and still couldnt seem to stop laughing. He ran through the space the heavy truck wound up occupying a full second before it got there. Shit, time to spare! Yelling, tears squirting from his eyes, Bill blew Silvers oogahhorn, listening to each hoarse bray embed itself in the days bright light. Bill, youre going to kill us both! Audra cried out, and although there was terror in her voice, she was also laughing. Bill heeled Silver over, and this time he felt Audra leaning with him, making the bike easier to control, helping to make the two of them exist with it, at least for this small compact moment of time, as three living things. Do you think so? he shouted back. I know so! she cried, and then grabbed his crotch, where there was a huge and cheerful erection. But dont stop! He had nothing to say about it, however. Silvers speed was bleeding away on UpMile Hill, the heavy roar of the playing cards becoming single gunshots again. Bill stopped and turned to her. She was pale, wideeyed, obviously scared and confused... but awake, aware, and laughing. Audra, he said, laughing with her. He helped her off Silver, leaned the bike against a handy brick wall, and embraced her. He kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth, her neck, her breasts. She hugged him while he did it. Bill, whats been happening? I remember getting off the plane at Bangor, and I cant remember a thing after that. Are you all right? Yes. Am I? Yes. Now. She pushed him away so she could look at him. Bill, are you still stuttering? No, Bill said, and kissed her. My stutter is gone. For good? Yes, he said. I think this time its gone for good. Did you say something about rock and roll? I dont know. Did I? I love you, she said. He nodded and smiled. When he smiled he looked very young, bald head or not. I love you too, he said. And what else counts? 8 He awakens from this dream unable to remember exactly what it was, or much at all beyond the simple fact that he has dreamed about being a child again. He touches his wifes smooth back as she sleeps her warm sleep and dreams her own dreams; he thinks that it is good to be a child, but it is also good to be grownup and able to consider the mystery of childhood ... its beliefs and desires. I will write about all of this one day, he thinks, and knows its just a dawn thought, an afterdreaming thought. But its nice to think so for awhile in the mornings clean silence, to think that childhood has its own sweet secrets and confirms mortality, and that mortality defines all courage and love. To think that what has looked forward must also look back, and that each life makes its own imitation of immortality a wheel. Or so Bill Denbrough sometimes thinks on those early mornings after dreaming, when he almost remembers his childhood, and the friends with whom he shared it. This book was begun in Bangor, Maine, on September 9th, 1981, and completed in Bangor, Maine, on December 28th, 1985. Grateful acknowledgment is made for permission to reprint excerpts from the following copyrighted material. The acknowledgments are in the order in which the excerpts appear in the book. My Town by Michael Stanley.  1983 by Bema Music Co.Michael Stanley Music Co. The Return of the Exile from Poems by George Seferis. Translation copyright  1960 by Rex Warner. Reprinted by permission of David R. Godine, Publisher, Inc. My My Hey Hey by Neil Young and Jeff Blackburn.  1979 Silver Fiddle. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Paterson by William Carlos Williams. Copyright  1946, 1948, 1949, 1951, 1958, 1963 Florence Williams. Reprinted by permission of New Directions Publishing Corporation. No Surrender, Glory Days, and Born in the U.S.A. by Bruce Springsteen.  1984 Bruce Springsteen. ASCAP. All rights reserved. I Heard It Through the Grapevine words and music by Norman Whitfield and Barrett Strong.  1966 Jobete Music Co., Inc. Used by permission. International copyright secured. All rights reserved. The RubberbandMan by Tom Bell and Linda Creed.  1976 Mighty Three Music. Administered by the Mighty Three Music Group. Splish Splash by Bobby Darin and Jean Murray.  1958 Unart Music Corp.  renewed 1986 CBS Catalogue Partnership. All rights controlled and administered by CBS Unart Catalog Inc. All rights reserved. International copyright secured. Used by permission. Books of Blood, Volume I, by Clive Barker. Copyright 1984. Reprinted by permission of The Berkeley Publishing Group. Summertime Blues by Eddie Cochran and Jerry Capehart.  1958 WarnerTamerlane Publishing Corp., Rightsong Music, Elvis Presley Music and Gladys Music. Used by permission of WarnerTamerlane Publishing Corp. All rights reserved. Earth Angel.  1954, renewal 1982 by Dootsie Williams Publications. Recorded by the Penguins, Dootone Records. DoReMi by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II. Copyright  1959 by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II. Williamson Music Co., owner of publication and allied rights throughout the Western Hemisphere and Japan. International copyright secured. All rights reserved. Used by permission. Mean Streets, a film by Martin Scorsese.  1973 Warner Bros. Inc. All rights reserved. Dont It Make You Wanta Go Home by Joe South. Copyright  1969 by Lowery Music Co., Inc., Atlanta, GA. International copyright secured. All rights reserved. Used by permission. Heres to the State of Richard Nixon by Phil Ochs.  1974 Warner Bros. Inc. ASCAP. All rights reserved. Used with permission. Whole Lot of Shakin Goin On by David Curlee Williams. Used by permission. Rock and Roll Is Here to Stay by David White. Published by Golden Egg MusicSingular Music. By permission of American Mechanical Rights Agency Inc. Bristol Stomp words and music by Kal Mann and Dave Appell.  1961 Kalmann Music, Inc. Its Still Rock and Roll to Me by Billy Joel.  1980 Impulsive Music  April Music Inc. All rights controlled and administered by April Music Inc. All rights reserved. International copyright secured. Used by permission. Light My Fire words and music by The Doors.  1967 Doors Music Company. All rights reserved. Used by permission. My Toot Toot by Sidney Simien.  1985 Flat Town Music Company and SidSam Publishing Company. All rights reserved. Used by permission. Tutti Frutti by Dorothy La Bostrie and Richard Penniman.  1955, renewed 1983 Venice Music Corp. All rights controlled and administered by Blackwood Music Inc. under license from ATV Music (Venice). All rights reserved. International copyright secured. Used by permission. Diana by Paul Anka. Copyright  1957, 1963, renewed 1985 by Spanka Music Corp.Management Agency and Music Publishing, Inc. International copyright secured. All rights reserved. Reproduced by permission. High School Confidential by Ron Hargrave and Jerry Lee Lewis. By permission of Penron Music. Travelogue for Exiles from Collected Poems 19401978 by Karl Shapiro. Copyright 1942 and renewed 1970 by Karl Shapiro. Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc. You Got to Lose words and music by Earl Hooker.  Copyright 1969 by Duchess Music Corporation. Rights administered by MCA Music, a division of MCA Inc., New York, N.Y. Used by permission. All rights reserved. The Girl Cant Help It If the Menfolks Stop and Stare words and music by Robert W. Troup.  1956 Twentieth Century Music Corp., renewed 1984 Robert W. Troup. Assigned 1984 Londontown Music, Inc. Dont Back Down by Brian Wilson.  1964 Irving Music, Inc. (BMI). All rights reserved. International copyright secured. Surfin U.S.A. music by Chuck Berry, words by Brian Wilson. Copyright  1958, 1963 by Arc Music Corporation. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. ShBoom (Life Could Be a Dream) by James Keyes, Claude Feaster, Carl Feaster, Floyd F. McRae, and James Edwards. Copyright  1954 by Progressive Music Publishing Co., Inc. Copyright renewed, assigned to Unichappell Music, Inc. (Rightsong Music, Publisher). International copyright secured. All rights reserved. Used by permission. I Knew the Bride When She Used to Rock n Roll by Nick Lowe.  Anglo Rock Inc. Used with permission. a cognizant original v5 release november 13 2010