Beverly looked over at the six of you who remained in the garage, giving you all a pleading look. "Guys..."
Letting out a quiet sigh, without a word, you walked over to your bike, grabbing the handles and kicking the kickstand up before turning to look at the others expectantly. They just stared back at you, dumbfounded.
"We can't let him go alone," you stated the obvious and looked over at Beverly, who sent you an appreciative smile.
Throwing a leg over your bike, you turned to look back at the others one last time and, as if they were marionettes, they all moved forward together to grab each of their bikes. It was at that moment that you remembered Stanley's bike was propped up next to yours.
In order to spare both yourself and him from any awkwardness, you hastily pushed your foot off of the ground to propel yourself forward. You set off on the path to the house on Neibolt street with Beverly following behind you, and the others not long after.
Beverly, who picked up speed on the way and had gone a little ahead of you, spotted Bill just as he was beginning to walk up the steps to the rickety old house.
"Bill!" she called out frantically, causing him turn around to look at her. "Bill, you can't go in there."
When she made it to the old fence, she climbed off of her bike and let it fall to the ground before walking up to him. The rest of you copied her actions (with the exception of Stanley, who, of course, used the kickstand on his bike).
"This is dangerous, Bill," you tried to reason with him. "Someone could get hurt."
"Look, you don't have to come in with me," Bill said. "But what happens when another Georgie goes missing? Or another Betty? Or another Ed Corcoran? Or one of us?"
You and Stanley shared a fleeting look.
"Are you just gonna pretend it isn't happening like everyone else in this town?" Bill asked. "Because I can't. I go home and all I see is that Georgie isn't there. His clothes, his toys, his stupid stuffed animals, but he isn't. So walking into this house, for me, it's easier than walking into my own," he finished. Without waiting for a response, he turned back around and trudged up the rest of the stairs.
"Wow..." Richie spoke quietly.
"What?" Ben asked.
"He didn't stutter once."
Everyone except for Beverly and Stanley began to move to the stairs, but the latter's "Wait!" made you all turn back to look at him.
"Um..." He looked mildly uncomfortable with everyone's attention on him. "Shouldn't we have some people keep watch?" When silence followed, he hastily added, "You know, just in case something bad happens?"
All of you looked up at Bill to see his answer, almost like the seven of you had come to an unspoken agreement that he was your leader in this terrifying adventure.
"Wh-wh-who wants to stay out here?" Bill asked, brows furrowed.
At once, everyone's hands flew up in the air, including your own. At least, everyone's except for Beverly's.
What? You weren't some valiant heroine in an acclaimed horror movie. This was a killer clown you were talking about. You were allowed to be scared.
Slightly embarrassed that all of your hands were raised, you hastily lowered yours. Mike did the same, followed by Richie, Eddie, Ben, and Stanley.
"Fuck," Richie sighed.
—————
The door of the well house creaked loudly as Bill lightly pushed it open, revealing its incredibly mucky interior. When you walked in after him, you couldn't help but scrunch your face up in utter disgust as you surveyed your surroundings.
The house reeked— of what, you had no clue, but it made you want to vomit. The entire floor was littered with dirt and dead leaves, and there wasn't a clean spot anywhere. There were actually plants (yes, plants) growing inside of the house, their roots extending across the floor to who-knew-where. The hallways seemed to stretch on for miles, and the rickety stairs to your left looked like with one misstep, you could fall right through.
A thick layer of dust covered every piece of furniture in the room to your right, which you supposed was the living room, and you could spot a cobweb everywhere your eyes darted to. In the middle of the room, a rusty old bike was overturned, like it had been abandoned for decades.
"I can't believe I pulled the short straw," Richie said, seemingly half irritated, half frightened. "You guys are lucky we're not measuring dicks."
"Richie?" you said.
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
As the four of you walked in further, you found yourself subconsciously moving toward Bill for protection, well-aware that he was the most courageous one in your quartet.
"I can smell it." Eddie's voice shook when he spoke, referring to the awful stench.
"Don't breathe through your mouth," Richie warned.
"How come?"
"Because then you're eating it."
Beside you, Eddie gagged, hurriedly unzipping his fanny pack and pulling out his inhaler. He brought it up to his mouth and inhaled sharply.
On the other side of you, Richie seemed to be distracted by something in the room to your left and began wandering over to it. He pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper that was tucked into the branches of a plant that appeared to be growing from the ceiling.
Bill and Eddie took notice of Richie not long after you did, and the three of you walked into the room he was in with slow, careful steps.
"What?" Bill questioned as you neared Richie.
"It... it says I'm missing." Richie sounded like he was about to cry.
"What?" you said in disbelief, walking closer to him to peer over his shoulder and look at the paper. Sure enough, there was a picture of him on it, with all of his information at the bottom.
"Y-y-you're not missing, Richie," Bill tried to reassure him as Eddie took another puff from his inhaler.
"'Police department, City of Derry,'" Richie frantically read off of the paper. "That's my shirt. That's my hair. That's my face."
"Calm down, this isn't real," Bill tried again.
"That's my name. That's my age! That's the date!"
"It can't be real, Richie!" Bill tried to grab the paper from him, but he wrestled it back, unwilling to let go.
"No, it says it! What the fuck?"
Bill succeeded in pulling the paper away from him and quickly threw it off to the side. He then took hold of Richie's arms in an attempt to get him to stop panicking.
"Am I missing? Am I gonna go missing?" Richie asked, clearly still distraught. "What the fuck?"
"Calm down. Calm down. Look at me, Richie. Look at me." Bill grasped his hands to make him focus on him, and it worked. Richie quieted down and Bill pointed at the paper on the floor. "That... that isn't real. It's playing tricks on you."
Before Richie could open his mouth to respond, you heard an eerie "Hello?" coming from upstairs, causing all of your muscles to tense up and your heart to begin beating erratically. "Hello?" it repeated.
Bill bravely walked over to the stairs, and despite your overwhelming urge to run out the front door to Stanley like the coward you were, you followed him.
Why did it have to be you who pulled the shortest straw of them all?
"Help me, please!" the voice begged.
With a sense of foreboding, the four of you began trudging up the stairs, with Bill leading, then Richie, then Eddie, then you. You reached forward and grabbed onto the back of Eddie's shirt for safety, and he made no move to remove your hand, perhaps wanting your protection too.
Like the front door, the stairs creaked loudly with every step you took. When you made it to the landing, you spotted a squeaking rat quickly scurrying across the floor to hide in a tent of dead leaves. Bill and Richie stopped dead in their tracks when they walked over to the hallway. You and Eddie came to a halt behind them, your hand releasing Eddie's shirt out of shock from the sight before you.
At the very end of the hallway was a door, open wide enough just so that you could see a girl with matted curly brown hair lying on the floor. She was gasping and coughing uncontrollably before she turned her head to look over at the four of you. Upon closer inspection, you saw blood all over her mouth.
"Betty?" Her name left your mouth in a whisper.
"Ripsom?" Richie continued.
She stared at you for a brief moment before she was yanked backward by an unseen force, a guttural scream escaping from her as she disappeared from sight.
You gasped, and even though you didn't think it was possible, your heart managed to thump even quicker than before. With shaky breaths, you walked ever so slowly toward the door, moving so that you were now in front of Eddie and closer to Bill and Richie.
You approached the door with apprehension, and when Bill opened it all the way, you saw that the room inside was just as much of a mess as downstairs, if not worse. Along with dirt and dead leaves, window panes were on the floor and the walls were peeling from old age. There was a single mattress lying against the wall.
"She was just here," Richie said, looking around. "Where the fuck did she go?"
Suddenly, you heard the loud slam of the door behind you.
And when you turned around, Eddie wasn't there.