It

He began to fight now, but the tentacles drew him forward inexorably. His hand disappeared into that wet avid heat. His forearm. Now his arm was lunged into the Eye up to the elbow. At any moment the rest of his body would come against that sticky surface and he felt that he would go mad in that instant. He fought frantically, chopping at the tentacles with his other hand.
Eddie stood like a boy in a dream, hearing the muffled screams and sounds of struggle as his friends were being pulled in. He sensed the tentacles around him but none had as yet actually landed on him.
Run home! his mind commanded him quite loudly. Run home to your mamma, Eddie! You can find the way!
Bill screamed in the dark — a high, despairing sound that was followed by hideous squishings and slobberings.
Eddie’s paralysis broke wide open — It was trying to take Big Bill!
‘No! ‘ Eddie bellowed — it was a full-blown roar. One might never have guessed such a Norse-warrior sound could issue from such a thin chest, Eddie Kaspbrak’s chest, Eddie Kaspbrak’s lungs, which were of course afflicted with the most terrible case of asthma in Derry. He bolted forward, jumping over questing tentacles without seeing them, his broken arm thumping his own chest as it swung back and forth in its soggy cast. He fumbled in his pocket and brought out his aspirator.
(acid that’s what it tastes like acid acid battery acid)
He collided with Bill Denbrough’s back and slammed him aside. There was a watery ripping sound, followed by a low eager mewling that Eddie did not so much hear with his ears as feel with his mind. He raised the aspirator
(acid it’s acid if I want it to be so eat it eat it eat)
‘BATTERY ACID, FUCKNUTS!’ Eddie screamed, and triggered off a blast. At the same time he kicked at the Eye. His foot went deep into the jelly of Its cornea. There was a gush of hot fluid over his leg. He pulled his foot back, only dimly aware that he had lost his shoe.
‘FUCK OFF! CRAM IT, SAM! GO AWAY, JOSÉ! GET LOST! FUCK OFF!’
He felt tentacles touch him, but tentatively. He triggered the aspirator again, coating the Eye, and felt/heard that mewling again . . . now a hurt, surprised sound.
‘Fight It!’ Eddie raved at the others. ‘It’s just a fucking Eye! Fight It! You hear me? Fight It, Bill! Kick the shit out of the sucker! Jesus Christ you fucking pussies I’m doing the Mashed Potatoes all over It AND I GOT A BROKEN ARM!’
Bill felt his strength return. He ripped his dripping arm out of the Eye . . . and then slammed it, fist-first, back in. A moment later Ben was beside him. He ran into the Eye, grunted with surprise and disgust, and then began to rain punches onto its jellied quivering surface. ‘Let her go!’ he yelled. ‘You hear me? Let her go! Get outta here! Get outta here!’
‘Just an Eye! Just a fucking Eye!’ Eddie was screaming deliriously. He triggered his aspirator again and felt It draw back. The tentacles which had settled on him now dropped away. ‘Richie! Richie! Get it! It’s just an Eye!’
Richie stumbled forward, unable to believe he was doing this, actually approaching the worst, most terrible monster in the world. But he was.
He only threw a single weak punch, and the feel of hi s fist sinking into the Eye — it was thick and wet and somehow gristly — made him throw his guts up in one big tasteless convulsion. A sound came out of him — glurt! — and the thought that he’d actually puked on the Eye caused him to do it again. It was only a single punch, but since he had created this particular monster, perhaps that was all that was necessary. Suddenly the tentacles were gone.
They could hear It withdrawing . . . and then the only sounds were Eddie panting and Beverly crying softly, one hand to her bleeding ear.
Bill struck one of their three remaining matches and they stared at each other with dazed, shocked faces. Bill’s left arm was running with