"I killed him," Eddie said to no one in particular. Henry Bowers had chuckled maliciously, then left him alone. He wondered what it would feel like to be the only guy left. Would you feel like you'd killed all the others, even if you hadn't?

"No, you didn't." Richie's voice. "Eddie, you didn't kill anybody. I don't think you could hurt a fly."

"You don't get it! I killed him! I thought he could just put the cream on his foot and then get up, and because I misjudged it, he's dead!"

"Eddie, look at me." Eddie did. "If there was no Walk and you were just on the street and you ran into that Corcoran guy and his foot was hurting and you gave him your cream, do you think he would've died? Absolutely-fucking-not. You didn't kill him. You didn't put the guns to his head. And the Long Walk's voluntary, for crying out loud! We got ourselves into this!" Richie sounded the most afraid Eddie had heard him yet. "It's a mass suicide!" He put on The Major's deep, husky voice. "But remember, gentlemen, keep hint 13 in mind and don't drop dead!"

"You're going to get yourself killed," Eddie said, his voice sounding hoarse. "You shouldn't make fun of him like that. You're going to get yourself killed."

"Regardless of The Major, you didn't kill Corcoran, Eddie. There's no time to regret it. What's done is done."

"Richie, I...I didn't come here because I wanted to commit suicide. Did you?"

"Of course I didn't. I came because why the hell not? What the hell was stopping me? I'm a reasonably fit young man of fifteen to eighteen. I'm perfect for the Walk. So why the hell not?"

Something in his tone made Eddie not believe him. Stan interrupted them before Eddie could ask Richie why he lied so much. "We're almost two miles in and no crowds! I'm thrilled. I can concentrate a lot better when people aren't watching me. I don't know what I'll do when the crowds come."

"Imagine them in their underwear," Richie said wryly. "Especially the pretty girls." Stan gave him a half-hearted glare.

As though Stan had predicted it, when they rounded the next bend the beginnings of a crowd lined the sides of the road. There were boys in jerseys and cheerleader girls with big, red pom-poms. Henry Bowers whistled at a few of them. Their tall, basketball player boyfriends drew arms around them as though they were marking them as possessions. Eddie had always hated guys like that. They thought everybody who so much as looked at their girl was trying to steal her. He'd always wanted to shout at them "She isn't that great anyways! Why're you trying to smother her?!"

Stan's beige skin had paled a little and he was swallowing hard. "I don't like it," he said. "Everybody watching me. What if I have to take a shit?"

"You just do it," Richie said cryptically. "There's no right or wrong way. Just do it and be done with it."

"You say that like you've taken a shit in front of half the population of Maine before."

"Maybe I have." Richie said this with a totally serious expression. Eddie snorted. He realized that he'd almost forgotten Eddie Corcoran. He'd died in front of their eyes no more than twenty minutes ago and Eddie had almost forgotten all about him. He felt ill.

Somebody in the crowd called out Bill's name. That roused a few others to join in-no pretty girls, all mostly adults. Somebody had a sign with 'BILL DENBROUGH' on it. Bill lowered his head, his face somewhat red. "Isn't he a lucky guy?" Richie said, a twinge of jealousy in the question.

"I think it's sick," Eddie said. "I don't want anybody to have my name up on a sign."

"Why not? If we're out here to die, we'd might as well die with people knowing our names."

"Just shut up, will you?" Eddie said tiredly.

"Of course. I aim to please, Eds."

Eddie drew his attention to the boys ahead of him. Ben was walking by himself now, his brow furrowed and his eyes focused ahead of him. It was like he was wearing blinders so he couldn't look at the crowd. But they were imaginary ones. He looked like he was fighting not to look at them.

"You okay, Ben?"

"Yeah. I just don't want to look at all those high schoolers, kids that like, could have been in this with us. It's making me feel sick."

Eddie decided he'd try some of the food on his food belt. He stuck his hand into a pouch on his right hip. He pulled out a little energy bar wrapped in silver plastic, unwrapped it and stuck it in his mouth. It was pretty tasteless, but it felt good to eat something. He put the wrapper back into the pouch. He wasn't about to litter, not even now.

He then took his canteen and sipped it experimentally. The water was sweet and cold, but there was a slight metallic taste to it. He swallowed it and coughed. He felt fine. He felt pretty good, actually. No foot pain, no asthma attack, no hunger. He felt like he was on a morning walk to the supermarket, not the Long Walk.

But then he remembered Eddie Corcoran. He looked around at the boys walking near him. Would one of them be next? Would the next person who got a cramp or stubbed his toe be Richie, or Ben, or Stan? Or him?

"So, we all joined with the Prize in mind, am I right?" Richie broke him out of his train of thought. "What does everybody want?"

"A zoo. Named after me. With a lot of cool animals for little kids to look at," Stan said. "And a ton of money to charity. I'm Jewish so it'd look bad if I didn't put a little into charity, but I want some money to go to some Jewish organizations to help kids or something."

"I think I'd use it for somebody else." Ben didn't elaborate.

"A fancy typewriter," Bill said. "And sp-speech therapy."

Eddie considered it. "I don't know."

"Oh, come on, you guys could have anything and you want that stuff?"

"Well, what do you want, Richie?" Stan asked pointedly.

"I'm waiting to see what I want at the end of the Walk. If you stay alive long enough, maybe I'll tell you later." He winked. Eddie found himself a little afraid of Richie and a little afraid of himself. The thing that scared him most was that he had forgotten there even was a Prize before now.

Well.