CHAPTER FIVE
Bill practically flew down the deserted streets in Derry, running from It, running from the knowledge that he had almost certainly killed the strange girl, Sara, by running in the first place.
This time wasn't like others. There were never dreams to mark the passage of time every other time I had blacked out. And there was certainly nothing as real as this.
He almost stopped several times to turn around and go back, but each time, a voice whispered for him to keep going, that she was safe.
He leaned far right, just barely making a tight corner, having to lean so close to the ground that he could have run his fingers along it had he chosen to do so. Despite what he had just seen and gone through, he actually started to enjoy the ride. He had ridden Silver less and less after they had left It to die.
And anyways, It was probably still back at his house, wondering why the hell she didn't seem to be afraid of anything. This thought brought a smile to his face, and then he broke out laughing.
Everything was fine now, why shouldn't he laugh? She was certainly safe; whatever doubts he'd had of that had suddenly passed. And he was going to see his friends again, not as casual friends, as they had been in the years after they went into the sewers, but as real friends, bound by fear, bound by It; bound so deeply that it became difficult to sort out one person from another, with casual habits being passed around like colds.
He dismounted Silver to walk it down the bank and into the Barrens, and then remounted and kept riding. But as he approached, he saw something terribly wrong. It was already here waiting, grinning Its terrible clownish grin.
Bill knew that It, although nearly immortal, still took time to move from place to place. But here It was, grinning its vicious grin, ready to tear him to pieces.
Bill began to circle around the clearing, and it followed him, cutting off his way into the clubhouse and safety.
I was watching all this from some bird-eye view. I flew down (as you can in dreams such as this one) and into the clubhouse. Ben and Beverly were sitting in their clubhouse, oblivious that their leader was less then thirty feet away, in need of help. 'Open the hatch!' I shouted. They seemed oblivious to my yells. 'For Bill!' I shouted. 'Open it for Bill!' Ben only looked up, but Beverly stood up and threw the door open.
Outside, Bill saw the door open, and considered how he was to get in. He stared at It, still incomprehensive on how it had managed to move so fast, faster, even, then Silver. He didn't see another one closing in behind him, the other taking the shape of a corpse, one with the biggest knife I had ever seen.
'Bill!' I shouted. 'Move!'
Bill glanced over his shoulder, though, and saw the other. When he did, the one he had been staring down lunged forwards. Bill heard the movement and started peddling furiously towards the clubhouse. He took a sharp turn just when he would have plowed into It, and his back tire rammed into Its leg. His bike whirled into several turns on the loose gravel.
He managed to stay on it until he hit the door, where he was thrown violently from his bike to the other side of the clubhouse, where he lay flat on his back, one hand reached over his shoulder to firmly grasp the frame of the door. He lay there, his head cut and bleeding, and watched as both of them advanced towards him like wolves.
Beverly grabbed his hand and began pulling him in, just as they both lunged at him. They wanted Bill just as much as Beverly did; but they wanted him dead.