Experiment - BYLER + REDDIE

➵ chapter three

➵ amnesia (another escape)

November 11th, 1985

Derry, Maine

Will was only half conscious.

That's sort of what happens when you get hit by a car.

He could hear someone shouting in the distance, then a face appeared above him. It was a boy, probably around WIll's age, and he looked very worried.

"Hey, can you stand up?" the boy asked, then shook his head. "Sorry, you obviously can't stand up, you're bleeding out of your ears. Oh holy shit you're bleeding out of your ears! We need to get you to a hospital."

Will could feel the boy's arms underneath him, and the sky started spinning, and the lights were all so bright, but then they were all so dark, and then-

—

Mike was never one to leave someone alone when they needed help. He was just a good person like that.

So when he saw the frail-looking boy in a sweater and hospital gown get hit by a car, he immediately dropped his bike and ran to help. Bowers and his gang were still yelling in their car, all the way down the street, about how many points they got for hitting him. Mike just rolled his eyes and sat on the road, leaning over the boy.

"Hey, can you stand up?" he asked, then shook his head. "Sorry, you obviously can't stand up, you're bleeding out of your ears." Mike's eyes widened as he looked at the boy's ears which were very very bloody. "Oh holy shit you're bleeding out of your ears! We need to get you to a hospital."

Mike moved his bike to a safe place, grabbed the boy's bag, which he had dropped, and scooped the boy up effortlessly, then started walking down the road to the hospital.

The boy passed out almost immediately, but after about ten minutes of walking, they arrived. The doctors immediately asked Mike what happened, listened to the story, and rushed the boy back into a room for tests, telling Mike to remain seated for the time-being. Mike sat nervously in the waiting room. He really cared about what happened to the boy, even though they had only just met. He immediately jumped to his feet when a doctor emerged from Will's room.

"Hello, Mr. Hanlon," the doctor said, smiling kindly. "Unfortunately, we were unable to find out the boy's name, but he is stable now. He had quite a bit of a head injury, and will definitely have severe amnesia when he regains consciousness. He has a broken rib and lots of scratches on his torso, but we patched him up and he should heal quickly. No other broken bones, which is good, but we did find some... odd things in his bloodstream."

Mike frowned. "Like what?"

"Very rare drugs. They're used to wipe memories, while enhancing brain activity. In some countries, doctors use them in experiments, but they're illegal in North America. He shouldn't have been able to get them at his age..." the doctor trailed off, then shook her head. "Anyway, we've guessed that he's about fourteen, give or take, and he has a surprisingly healthy immune system, the healthiest I've ever seen, actually, so he'll be better soon. In the meantime, you should go home. We'll give you a call if we have any news, if you'll just fill this contact form out."

Mike filled out the form, thanked the doctor, and began his walk back to his bike — which was still stranded on that road — his mind still swarming with questions. He was intrigued by the boy, and he wanted to find out more.

Mike especially wanted to find out how a thirteen year-old had managed to get a tattoo, and what 013 meant.

—

When he regained consciousness, he had no idea where he was, when he was, or who he was.

The room was dark, but light at the same time. There was a constant beeping coming from the machine next to him, and he was wearing a large shirt with ribbons on the back. He opened his mouth to call for help, but no noise came out. He realized then, he didn't know how to speak. His inner monologue was perfectly fine, he could think coherently, but whenever he tried to speak, the only words he could think of were simple, like yes and no.

What the hell is happening? He thought as he swung his legs out of bed, pulling the various tubes and needles and monitors out of his arms. The beeping machine played a constant beep, but he just unplugged it.

He didn't know why, but the room scared him. Like, really scared him. He felt as though he was being suffocated in the building, and he knew he needed to leave.

He gathered the bag of clothes and other things from the chair in the corner of the room — he assumed they were his, but he would have taken them even if they weren't — and slipped out the door, looking both ways before running down the hallway, searching aimlessly for the front doors. After a few minutes, he ran into a man in a white coat, who frowned at him.

"What are you doing up?"

He blinked, searching his mind for something to say, then settled on miming throwing up. Sure enough, the doctor stepped out of his way and let him continue running.

Eventually, he found the doors and escaped into the night. It was pouring rain, he was shivering, and he still didn't know who he was, but at least he was out of that suffocating building.

He was walking for a while, not exactly knowing where to go, and not exactly caring. He was too busy panicking to care. It's kind of normal to panic when you wake up and don't know who you are.

In fact, he was panicking so much that he almost fell over when he ran into a boy on the sidewalk, about ten blocks away from the hospital. He wasn't sure why the boy would be out so late, but again, he was too panicked to care. But before he could walk away, the boy grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"Woah, are you okay? You look like shit," the boy said, voice filled with concern.

He couldn't say anything. He just stared at the boy.

The boy gently pulled him up the driveway of the house they were standing in front of and to a side door. "Come inside, you can dry off."

The two boys stepped into the basement, one shrugging off a raincoat, the other shivering violently. The dry boy went to the corner, the laundry room, and came back out with a dry outfit, handing it to the shivering boy.

"I'm Richie," he said with a grin. "Richie Tozier. What's your name?"

He still couldn't say anything. He just looked down at his hands, and that was when he saw it. The tattoo.

Apparently, Richie had seen it too.

"Is that your name? Thirteen?"

He hesitated, but nodded. Good enough for now.

"Well, Thirteen, we're gonna need to think of a name for you that's not a number." Richie grinned and pointed to a door across the basement, which was just barely open. "There ya go, that's the bathroom. Just go ahead and take a shower to warm up, I'll be waiting when you get back out, I just need to make a call really quick."

Thirteen nodded and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door as Richie dialed a number into the phone, which had been mounted on the wall, and began to speak.

"Hey, Eddie... yeah, I know I'm late, I actually can't come... I know, I'm sorry. Something came up... I'll explain at school tomorrow, I promise. We can have a sleepover some other time. I know you can't resist me... Well even if you can resist me, I know for a fact that your mother can't... Fine, fine. See you tomorrow, Eds... Okay. Goodnight, sleep tight."

—

➵ word count: 1340

AUTHOR NOTE:

Sorry if this makes, like, no sense and is really short, it's 2am so... yeah okay I'll write more tomorrow, but for now, goodnight!