It was a beautiful, warm, blue sky that looked down on Stanley Uris as his face hit the gravel. Tiny rocks stung his cheek. Before he could roll over a hand pressed on the side of his skull, embedding the rocks deeper in his face. Stanley kept his eyes scrunched to avoid looking into Bowers' snarling, spitting face.

"I've had it with you Fuckface," Bowers growled into his ear, "You and your fairy friends." Stan tried his best not to whimper, and tried to roll away, but Henry was on top of him now, straddling him, and his cronies were circling around like wolves waiting to jump on wounded prey.

"Leave me alone, I haven't done anything to you," he stammered. It was true. All Stanley had been doing was riding his bicycle sedately towards the barrens, where he was supposed to meet his friends. Bowers and his gang had shown up out of the blue and side rammed him off the bike, which now lay several paces away, the wheels spinning frantically, far from the ground. Stanley should have stayed with Eddie, who had offered to wait for him. But no, Stan had told him not to worry, and that he wouldn't take long.

"What should I do with this little bitch," Bowers pressed one knee down on Stan's chest and the air whooshed out of the skinny boy. Bowers pressed hard and Stan thought his ribs would crack from the strain. His cheeks felt wet, and to his humiliation, Stan realized he had started to cry. While a more sensitive member of the Losers' Club, Stan was also too grown up to cry, and crying in front of your tormenters was even worse.

"Look at him," Bowers said in disgust. "Haven't even given you something to cry about yet. There was an unmistakable crsnk of Bowers pocketknife. And Stan began to tremble. "What should I take boys? An eye, an ear…" Bowers ran the tip of the knife down Stan's earlobe. "I could fork his tongue," the teen cackled, and Stan's jaw was suddenly gripped so tightly, he just knew it was going to bruise. Hot breath plumed into his face, and he could feel spittle on his eyelids as Bowers tried to pry his jaw open.

"Uh, Bowers, are you crazy? If we maim him, we could get in trouble with the police." Belch said uncertainly. Stan's stuttering heart felt a flash of hope bubble inside it. Maybe the completely useless police force could be helpful for once.

Bowers wasted no time in dashing those hopes. "It doesn't matter. Once we're done, we can drop him in that ditch with his bike and no one will ever notice. Enough kids go missing here without anyone missing him." Stanley's chest felt like an icy hand was grasping his lungs. Bowers was right, they were just out of town, this particular ditch was very deep and full of water, which is why there was a rail along the roadside to protect cars from going over the edge, and down the short slope. But Bowers and his gang would have no problem tossing a 12-year-old and his bike over the edge. Stan was done for, and he would never see his friends again.

More hot tears sprung to Stan's eyes, he was having trouble breathing, and he wondered if he would faint before Bowers killed him. Bowers looked up from Stan's prone form to see that his gang wasn't totally on board.

"What are you waiting for Belch," he roared, "Toss his bike over!" Belch slowly walked over to Stan's bike and hefted it, taking it to the edge of the road and tossing it down. Stan heard it splash into the water. Bowers was back in his face now.

"what'll it be? He whispered to Stan. Stan couldn't even make a noise, he tried, but not a sound escaped only his raw, panicked breathing. Bowers tapped the knife on Stan's lower lip, drawing up blood that began to drip against the back up Stan's throat. It wasn't a large cut, until Bowers ran his knife back over it, and dug in his fingernails. Then a dry breathy sob escaped Stan.

Bowers licked the blood off of his fingertips.

"I think I'll start with the ear…" he let go of Stan's jaw and turned his head sideways, exposing the terrified boy's left ear. Then Henry cruelly pressed against his victim's skull, as the gravel crunched beneath the two of them.

Stan felt the sharp tip rest against the base of his ear. This was it; this was how he was going to go. Alone, and frightened, with the Losers probably thinking he hadn't bothered to show up and gone home. He wasn't as brave as the rest of them, and for a brief second, he wondered if anyone of them would actually miss him. There was a buzzing, shrill noise in his ears, almost blocking out the sound of Bowers and his gang.

Bill would miss him, that he was pretty sure of, or at least he would feel guilty about it. Bill was like that, taking responsibility for what happened to the others. Richie would probably miss him too, at least for the teasing target Stan provided. But would the others care?

He started to feel the blade slide through his skin, when he heard a terrible shout. There was a sound of something crunching nearby, and Belch grunted and then something knocked into both Bowers and Stan.

The pressure lifting off of his chest was incredible, and all Stan could think about was breathing for a while.

Later the Losers Club would all shudder at the thought of not deciding to head out and meet Stan on the way to the barrens. It had been Richie's idea. The group trash mouth had gotten bored of waiting and decided that they should go chivvy Stan along.

"He's probably pedaling like old Mrs. Denkroy." Mrs. Denkroy was an ancient teacher at their school, who cycled everywhere and was the source of never-ending frustration to every driver in Derry.

Mike rolled his eyes. Nothing moved fast enough for Richie. But he had to agree it didn't take that long to check with a teacher about an upcoming project. Bill seemed to share Mike's sentiment, because he got up and climbed onto Silver, with Richie following his lead.

There was only one road that the group used to get to their typical hangout, so there was no real danger of missing Stan, wherever he was. Mike tuned out Richie and Eddie's nattering and took a second to enjoy the beautiful sky. He hoped they wouldn't end up stuck indoors all day, investigating Derry. The weather was too wonderful to waste.

They had a sort of formation as they peddled along, with Bill in front, flanked by Richie and Eddie. With Beverly and Mike taking it in turn to protect the rear. Ben almost always ended up in the middle. As they rode along, Mike couldn't help but get the feeling that Bill was impatient to find Stan and get on with their day, Silver kept speeding up and Eddie and Richie's shorter respective legs were not catching up. Mike was about to loudly remind Bill they didn't all have big nice bikes and long legs to boot, when Bill started round the corner, and suddenly put on a burst of speed, leaning forward over the handlebars. Subconsciously, all the Losers put on a burst of speed to catch up, with Bev and Mike moving to the front. As they rounded the corner, the sight at the end of the road, would haunt the Loser's Club almost as much as Pennywise the Dancing Clown.

A good deal further down the road, where the barrier was up on the edge of the road. A small gathering of people were bunched together. They were clearly Bowers' gang, and as they drew closer, Mike saw that Bowers was sitting on someone, curled over them, and alongside the group a backpack lay broke open. Immediately, Mike knew who it was. Stan. About halfway between them and the gang, Bill was rocketing along on Silver.

"Come on!" Beverly shouted and put on a burst of speed and past him, speeding down the hill. Behind him he heard someone say

"Holy shit." And Richie belted past, his muttering of "shit, shit, shit, shit," fading away with him.

Mike shook off his initial shock that had frozen him, and immediately began peddling faster, leaving Ben and Eddie to catch up. Ahead of him, he saw Bill collide Silver into Belch, knocking himself, the bike, and bully to the ground. Leaving Belch tangled up with Silver, Bill threw himself at Bowers and Stan. At this point Beverly hit the fight, driving into another bully, where she fell off and landed on the bully, kicking and scratching. Richie missed his intended target, and whizzed past.

"Fuck," he shouted as momentum carried him away down the road.

Then Mike, Ben, and Eddie hit the scene. Belch had started to stand up, but Ben rammed into him shouting. Eddie bailed off his bike before it crashed into Belch, Ben, and Ben's bike. Mike went for the teen who'd dodged Richie. He didn't drive the bike into the kid, realizing that it was a dumb thing to do, but instead leapt off and began punching the teen. It was 4 against 6, once Richie ran back up the road. And the 4 bullies were taken by surprise. Beverly took a punch to the face and retaliated with a vicious kick to her opponents' groin. The guy doubled over with Richie kicking and swearing at him. Belch, whose heart hadn't been in the fight from the start jumped up, shook Eddie off his back and ran away, followed by Beverly and Richie's opponent.

The kid Mike was fighting, saw that his odds went from 1:1 to 1:3, (Eddie had rolled off the road). Realizing he was beat; the bully took off after his friends.

That left Bill and Henry, who were still fighting on the gravel road, kicking up dust. On any given day, Bill was much too small to have the upper hand with Bowers. Today, he had the advantage of pure rage, and the element of surprise. However, once Bowers recovered from his initial surprise, he began to gain the upper hand. Bill found himself pinned onto the ground with Henry punching him in the face. Mike and Richie rushed to the rescue of their leader, knocking Bowers down. Richie kicked him for good measure.

"Get lost Bowers, it's 6 against 1 here." Richie shrieked. Bowers, who had been about to get up and tackle Mike, when Richie's words shook out of the blood lust rage that was coursing through him. He looked up too see the Loser's Club closing ranks around him.

Bowers jumped up and spat blood onto the ground in front of them.

"Better be careful, all of you are fucked." He growled, backing away. "Hey Jew freak, next time I see you out alone, you're done for." And with that, the bully slunk away. Mike shook out his throbbing hand and ran over to the edge of the road to look for Eddie.

Bill's head was throbbing and as Ben and Beverly hauled him up from the pavement, he was pretty sure he was seeing double and he swayed slightly. Ben and Beverly steadied him. Blood was rolling down his chin, and he absently tried to wipe it away. Soft gasping behind him reminded Bill about his priority list: Kick Bowers ass, semi check, so next on it was Stan. The fight had only lasted a few minutes, and Stanley was still prone on the ground, with sobbing breath punching its way out of his lungs. All he had done was roll onto his side to spit out the blood that had filled his mouth up. Bill, Beverly, and Ben rushed to their friend side. Stan's eyes were still closed and he recoiled in fright when Beverly's hand landed on his shoulder.

"Hey Stan, it's us." Ben said in a soothing voice. Bill didn't say anything, he didn't trust himself to speak properly. Instead, he moved to Stan's other side and rubbed his back in soothing circles. Beverly and Ben continued murmuring to him and slowly Stan's eyes flickered open. The other 3 kids helped him sit up gently. Bill's tackle had saved Stan's ear, but it had not saved him a deep long cut from where Bowers' knife had run along his face, when tackled. It ran dangerously close to his left eye, and blood was starting to run into it.

Stan stared at them with big, wet eyes, and he began to cry. His 3 friends wrapped their arms around and let him cry out his pain and his relief. Over the top of Beverly's red curls, Bill saw Mike and Richie talking over the edge of the road to Eddie, who was shrieking blue murder about how he was going to catch a disease from the ditch, etc. Eddie shrieking cohesively was usually a sign that he was undamaged, so Bill left it up to the patient Mike Hanson to fish the pint-sized hypochondriac out of the ditch.

When Stan's sobs lessoned to stuttering breaths, Bill found that he could talk more properly.

"W-W-Where are you hurt?" He asked. If Stanley hadn't been so distraught, he might have made a jab that everything hurt, but instead he just gestured to his face then muttered,

"Ribs hurt." Bill nodded. Meanwhile, Mike and Richie hauled a soaking wet Eddie over the barrier. The tiny middle schooler was complaining a mile a minute.

"This is how I get tetanus, from all the scraps down there, they should make the barrier gaps smaller! My mom is going to lock me up for sure this time."

"Just don't go home until you dry out." Mike suggested, already climbing over the barrier to edge his way down into the ditch. Eddie and Richie walked over to join the huddle on the gravel.

Eddie stopped complaining when he saw Stan, and instead sat down next to Bill.

"Oh-oh, my gosh, are you okay, he-he's bleeding out—umph!" Bill elbowed him sharply. Eddie clamped his mouth shut and sat back on his heels.

"I'm sorry I left you Stan, I should have waited." He mumbled. Stan turned his head to look at his friend.

"No, I was fine, it's not your fault." He tried to reassure Eddie.

"L-l-let's get out of here." Said Bill,

"They came out of nowhere." Stan muttered. As Bill and Beverly helped him stand up. Mike had somehow dragged Stan's bike out of the ditch and swung it up and over the barrier.

Stan's eyes filled with tears when he saw what had become of his bicycle. Its front wheel was bent, and it was covered in water and gunk. The chain was unhooked and hanging limply. Beverly patted his shoulder.

"Don't worry Stan, we'll work it out." Stan nodded wordlessly. His head was killing him, and blood was still running down his face and chin. The wind was starting to cool it down, and now it was soaking into his collar.

He barely knew what was going on. He could feel Bill behind him, supporting him, and Beverly's gentle grip on his shoulder, and Ben's comforting presence too. He vaguely knew that in a normal mindset, he would be freaking out over his ruined bike. But right now, he didn't have the energy to do anything but cry. He felt himself sliding into a state where he didn't care at all. Exhaustion layered on him like the grime and blood he was covered in.

"Let's get him up." Bill's dim, far away voice said. Now he had been standing, he felt his balance take over, and he stood more firmly. Beverly guided his arms to go around Bill's waist as Bill climbed up onto Silver. Once Stan was perched on the back of the large bike, he buried his face in the back of Bill's shirt, the cut on his face burned, and his cheeks burned to, as if his subconscious was realizing that he should be embarrassed. Instead, he clung to Bill, and let more tears roll down his face as they started off up the hill. Fortunately, it wasn't a steep incline, and Mike was walking next to the bike, to stop it rolling backwards. Nevertheless, it was a long trip and Stan was thankful to block it out.

They had come and rescued him. He wasn't dead. All he could see in his mind was Bower's face over him, and the sound of his ragged breath whooshing into his ears. Dimly he heard Mike talking,

"We can take him back to my house."

"I think we should take him back to his parents."

"Yeah look the fuckin' state he's in."

"If we do that, they may never let him play with us again."

"He can do w-w-whatever he wants later, what matters is that he's o-okay."

I don't know if he'll ever be okay."

"Beep beep Richie."

Stan stopped listening, he grasped Bill's waist tighter. He didn't care what decision they would come to; they would look after him. Because he could depend on them.

Stan didn't know what he would do if the Losers ever left him.