Chapter 3

"I don't understand why Stan just couldn't stand to keep up with the rest of us." Eddie commented as he and Richie trudged through the sewers, the light from their flashlights darting here and there, off walls, and reflecting off the shimmering green surface of the sewer water.

Richie felt Eddie squeeze his hand tightly, as if it was some sort of comfort to him. He rolled his eyes and with his free hand he adjusted his glasses. "Eddie Spaghetti, I swear that if you squeeze my hand one more time..."

"Sorry, Richie, sorry! I guess that I'm just scared is all."

"And I'm not?!"

Eddie looked down, slightly ashamed by what he considered to be baby behavior. "Sorry, Richie." he repeated.

Richie shook his head. "Yeah, well don't be. I'm sorry, Eds, it's just that, well, can ya believe it? Can ya believe that I'm scared?"

"Well, what do you think I am?"

Richie shrugged as he guided Eddie down through the sewers, his flashlight pointed at the ground beneath them. "Stuffed and cooked with ham?" He said this offhandedly, knowing that it sounded absurd, but it was the only nearly witty comeback that he could think of, so he said it anyway.

Eddie didn't seem to see a problem with it, though. He just laughed quietly and whispered, "Beep, beep, Richie."

"Yeah, beep bee—OW!!!" and in an instant Richie had tripped and fallen onto the damp concrete that the sewer water rushed over. Immediately his open mouth was filled with the foul-tasting water, and before he could think of what to do, he felt the ground shake under him and he heard Eddie let out a frantic scream.

Richie gasped as he broke the surface of the water, his glasses foggy and dripping, and tried to get to his feet. He heard the voice of Henry Bowers yell, "Belch, you idiot, I told you to keep him under the water!"

Richie grasped in the darkness for his flashlight and felt the handle. He quickly switched it on and was surprised to see Henry Bowers restraining Eddie. He shined the flashlight a ways away, to where Belch Huggins stood. The idiot had an oblivious look on his face as Henry yelled at him once more, "Damn it! Can't you do anything right?!"

" 'M sorry, Henry." was all that he could say.

Richie stared in horror as Henry shoved Eddie at Belch and strode over to him. Richie felt his muscles tense, as if he were some wild animal waiting to pounce his prey, but when he tired to move he found that he was rooted to the spot, totally petrified and immobile. Only when one of Henry's clunky boots collided with the side of his face did he snap back to reality and begin realize the severity of the situation.

The flashlight rolled out of his hand, but Belch leaned over and picked it up. He shined it over to where Richie was lying on the ground in a heap, his glasses cracked and lying at an odd angle on his face. Henry stood above him, laughing. It was then that Eddie began to sob, his whole body shaking. Belch glanced down at him, a slightly concerned look on his stupid face. His once dull eyes now lit up.

"Hey there!" he said almost tentatively, "Stop that!" the command was a weak one, one full of remorse for being spoken, yet it also had a hint of deliverance to it. Mostly it was just brimming with concern as Belch shifted his gaze back to his friend. "Henry, what're you--"

"Shut up and hold him!" Henry yelled as he pulled the glimmering knife from his pocket. With a click the blade popped out, so shining and beautiful that it almost hurt Henry's eyes in the unfamiliar light from the flashlight.

He reached down to where Richie lay, his face immersed in rancid sewer water, and pulled him to his feet. "Hey, kid! Stand up!"

Richie shakily stood his ground, ignoring the weakness in his knees and the pain that was still screaming in his brain from Henry's kick. Another command pierced his brain, this one more insistent than the last.

"Open your eyes, you little pansy! Open your eyes so I can see you die!"

Can't he do that with my eyes closed? Richie thought. He had to fight the urge not to laugh as he dared to open his eyes. Henry was glaring down at him, his knife raised and ready. Pure, unfiltered rage shined in his black eyes. His face was twisted in a sort of sick smile that was gradually fading as he stared at Richie.

"What, you think that this is funny?! You think that I'm joking? You little shit...you little..."

In the back of his head he heard Eddie's distant and nearly inaudible sobs of fear and grief and—was Richie imagining it?—anger. He's angry because he can't help me...he's angry because he can only just stand there and watch Henry have his fun.

Eddie's teary eyes met Richie's own and for one instant they shared a moment of knowing and acceptance. Just that one moment was enough to put a sort of peace in Richie's heart, so that when Henry forced back Richie's head, further exposing his neck in all its vulnerability, he felt no fear. Not even as the cool blade of the knife, already stained with Stanley's blood, forced its way to his neck did Richie allow a flicker of fear to pierce his heart.

No, instead he thought, Sure, I don't wanna die, but surely this has to be the best way to go, even better than getting killed by It. I just hope that Eddie Spaghetti can get away or...no, I hope that he goes quickly too. I hope that--

With sickening ease, Henry slid the knife across Richie's throat, applying just enough pressure so that the skin and vessels were slit. Only when Richie's neck had been slit from end to end and there was a nice, bloody hallow spot exposing his inner throat, did Henry release his hold on Richie and back away. The boy's body fell to the ground with a slosh, sending ripples of water over Henry's boots, washing off some of the blood. With little care he wiped some of the blood off on the knife and onto pants before turning to Belch and Eddie, a satisfied smile plastered on his face.

Eddie looked absolutely horrified as he stared at the bleeding body of his friend. There was so much blood, but there was also something else. In Richie's open and utterly lifeless eyes, Eddie could just see an almost happy look. This was perhaps personified by the fact that Richie's mouth was curled in a slight, perhaps nonexistent, smile, and that the gory, hallow slit across his throat was curved, almost appearing to be a grotesque grin. Eddie felt as if he were about to vomit as Belch took a step away from Henry, dragging him along.

"What we doin' now, Henry? We getting outta here and going home?"

Henry laughed at this, a cold, penetrating sound that almost reminded Eddie of nails running across a chalkboard. In the laugh there was something more, something that sounded like the comical voice of Pennywise, but it was soon lost as Henry began to speak. "Hell no, Belch. No, first I'm gonna kill that squirt right there and then the rest of 'em."

Belch hesitated for a second before asking, "But why? They's just a buncha stupid, dumb kids, Henry. I don't think that they ever did you that much harm..."

"You don't think? You don't think?" Henry retorted. "I didn't think that you thought to begin with, Belch. Now c'mon and stop fucking around. Throw me the squirt and we can move on." he raised his knife. "I'm ready to get it over with."

Eddie looked up and peered into Belch's eyes with one final and silent plead; Please, please, please don't! Please!

And Belch stared down at his pale, tear-stained face and then back at Henry. It was no contest. In Belch's mind he figured that he was either going to let Henry kill the squirt, or try to save the squirt and get killed by Henry, and if he did that they would probably both die. With those thoughts in his head, he made his decision, and with surprisingly much remorse in his eyes he pushed Eddie away from him and towards Henry.

Henry smiled and said, almost as if he had read Belch's mind, "Good choice, Belcher." then he turned his attention to Eddie, his knife dripping crimson droplets of blood into the water at his feet. Henry chuckled coldly and whispered, "Oh yeah, we're gonna have a lotta fun, squirt..."