A promise made twenty-eight years ago calls seven adults to reunite in Derry, Maine, where as teenagers they battled an evil creature that preyed on the city’s children. Unsure that their Losers Club had vanquished the creature all those years ago, the seven had vowed to return to Derry if IT should ever reappear. Now, children are being murdered again and their repressed memories of that summer return as they prepare to do battle with the monster lurking in Derry’s sewers once more.
Авторы: King Stephen Edwin
She opens the magazine again, but finds herself looking at her jagged nails instead of the article on the pleasures of New Orleans. There are purple blood-blisters under too of them. In her mind she hears Tom screaming down the stairwell: ‘I’ll kill you, you bitch! You fucking bitch!’ She shivers, cold. A bitch to Tom, a bitch to the seamstresses who goofed up before important shows and took a Beverly Rogan reaming for it, a bitch to her father long before either Tom or the hapless seamstresses became part of their lives.
A bitch.
You bitch.
You fucking bitch.
She closes her eyes momentarily.
Her foot, cut on a shard of perfume bottle as she fled their bedroom, throbs more than her fingers. Kay gave her a Band-Aid, a pair of shoes, and a check for a thousand dollars which Beverly cashed promptly at nine o’clock at the First Bank of Chicago in Water tower Square.
Over Kay’s protests, Beverly wrote her own check for a thousand dollars on a plain sheet of typing paper. I read once that they have to take a check no matter what it’s written on,’ she told Kay. Her voice seemed to be coming from somewhere else. A radio in another room, maybe. ‘Someone cashed a check once that was written on an artillery shell. I read that in The Book of Lists, I think.’ She paused, then laughed uneasily. Kay looked at her soberly, even solemnly. ‘But I’d cash it fast, before Tom thinks to freeze the accounts.’
Although she doesn’t feel tired (she is aware, however, that by now she must be going purely on nerves and Kay’s black coffee), the previous night seems like something she must have dreamed.
She can remember being followed by three teenaged boys who called and whistled but didn’t quite dare come right up to her. She remembers the relief that washed over her when she saw the white fluorescent glow of a Seven-Eleven store spilling out onto the sidewalks at
an intersection. She went in and let the pimply-faced counterman look down the front of her old blouse and talked him into loaning her forty cents for the pay phone. It wasn’t hard, the view being what it was.
She called Kay McCall first, dialing from memory. The phone rang a dozen times and she began to fear that Kay was in New York. Kay’s sleepy voice mumbled, ‘It better be good, whoever you are’ just as Beverly was about to hang up.
