Note: Song mentioned is Stop Children What's That Sound by Buffalo Springfield, if anyone wants to hear it. :) I did a little research on the time period and radio stations, but I understand there still might be some inconsistencies. Hopefully, they're not too bad. Background info: Steve Covall is Richie's boss at the radio station. I think in the book, they mention Eddie left Derry first, so I'm keeping that here. Anyway, hope you enjoy!
It became a self-deprecating cycle. Every night shift something happened and every morning Rich pushed it down, rationalized it away, calling himself a dumb child the whole time. Nothing shook him enough to consider requesting a schedule change from the (still fuming) Steve until June 15th, or rather the 16th at 2:30 AM.
Saturday nights were always busy, but surprisingly only a few people called in that night-one complaining of hearing odd, stuttering static behind the music, "like someone groaning, really," she had said, before flirting with him and requesting some song or another. He gracefully managed to flirt back and set the song to go, before crashing back into his chair.
There were more and more calls like that lately. He'd mentioned it to the other DJ's who brushed him off and told him to get some rest. Rich didn't know what was worse, that some of the calls didn't show up on the machine that automatically recorded them all or that some did.
Rich was popping in another request, some ancient tune by today's standards when he was struck by the compulsion to gaze into the glass window that separated him from the rest of the radio equipment. That small closet where some tech would usually sit during the day was always empty at night. The dark room with its dark window reflecting those few lights
("Don't look at them!" a voice echoed in his mind)
came to the forefront of his consciousness as the familiar song's synth guitar reverbed in his ears. Rich could feel his head lifting despite his thoughts screaming at him to stop as the first verse played,
'There's something happening here.'
His eyes widened madly as they slowly moved to face that window. It seemed to take an eternity of him resisting the movement and still following through with it as the song played mercilessly on.
'Stop, he-ey, what's that so-ound,
Everybody look what's going do-ownn'
When his eyes finally lighted on the glass-black in the darkness, he almost laughed when his own wide-eyed stare was the only thing he saw. Rich chuckled under his breath as his hands relaxed. He watched the blinking lights for a moment, comforted by the semblance of normalcy.
'Paranoia strikes deep,'
Rich set the next song up to keep the music playing, but his eyes were drawn to the window again perhaps by a masochistic curiosity or a morbid compulsion to make sure nothing was reflected there. At least nothing besides him staring stupid and wide-eyed at a thin piece of glass.
'Into your life it will creep,'
Immediately, he was comforted by his lonely reflection before he saw something shift behind it. Rich blinked his eyes hard, but still felt he could see something moving in that small closet.
'It starts when you're always afraid,'
Suddenly, the blurry shape moved, cleared, and snapped toward Rich who took half a step back from the monstrous visage he couldn't quite remember later. A hand shot out from the records box grabbing hold of his wrist.
'You step out of line,'
Rich screamed, trying to pull his hand back. There was some give behind the arm as if it wasn't properly attached to anything, yet the hand remained firm. His struggles only managed to help… whatever it was farther out of the box.
'the man come and take you away.'
A body rose from the box, head down, the arm distorted and obviously broken. Rich began hyperventilating as the chorus rolled in again to repeat until the end of the song.
'Stop, he-ey, what's that so-ound,'
The head rose last, face pale and familiar, a whistling noise grating through the air. The face was frozen in pain, in terror, but still not as disturbing as the bloody hole replacing its other arm.
"Richie," the lips parted dryly, a hoarse voice escaping. In cold horror, Rich thought, hadn't he once touched those lips with reverent fingers as a child?
'Everybody look what's going do-ownn'
"Why did you leave me?" Eddie's corpse-it was his corpse, it had to be his corpse-asked, voice breaking and Richie felt tears sting his eyes.
Yes, Richie thought, numbly. I was going to kiss him when his mom decided to move. I wanted him to know I didn't want him to leave, I wanted you to know I loved you just as much-more than Bev. I just-I just didn't…
The chorus grew more distorted in the background, as Richie choked on a reply, his mind already attempting to make him forget. Not Eddie, please, don't make me forget Eds, not again.
"I-"Richie started, a lump forming in his throat as the room seemed to grow darker. Eddie's washed out face was still moving toward him and Richie attempted to move back. Only there was something solid blocking his way back to his chair. He didn't have to turn around to know what it was, his thumping heart in his throat could do that for him.
Eddie's face leered at him as hands settled heavily on his shoulders.
"Speechless for once, Richie?" the thing hissed from behind him. "Why did you leave poor Eddie down there with me? I thought you at least cared about him." The music graveled on in a minor key rendition of the melody.
"Why didn't you kiss him-me that day?" Terrifyingly, the corpse and It spoke at once, voices deep and rumbling through Richie's chest.
"I-I—" The fear constricted Richie's throat for a moment. "Ay didn' wanna tain' ya purty lil mouth wuth ma germs, yessur!" The Voice came unbidden, almost in response to his fear. It was enough that the hands left his shoulders, but he was unsure if it would even work on Eddie. Didn't they kill It? Weren't these hallucinations a product of his guilt? If he never got over it, would they ever end?
Eddie's eyes narrowed, but cleared somewhat. "I never cared about your germs, Richie," he whispered in a voice that was only his own, a voice that haunted Richie's nightmares-nightmares he could rarely even remember.
'wh-ha-at-t's go-oin-ng do-ow-own…'
The song should have ended by now. Worst of all, Eddie continued moving closer to him, the room growing darker, "and if it means anything at all, I wanted to kiss you that day too."
Tears fell unbidden down Richie's face as the room continued to darken. He could see the apparition still moving closer to him and dimly, numbly he let it come.
