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 thinks of birds; in particular of the grackles and starlings and crows that come back in the spring, and her hands go to his belt and loosen it, and he says again that he can’t do that; she tells him that he can, she knows he can, and what she feels is not shame or fear now but a kind of triumph.
‘Where?’ he says, and that hard thing pushes urgently against her inner thigh.
‘Here,’ she says.
‘Bevvie, I’ll fall on you!’ he says, and she hears his breath start to whistle painfully.
‘I think that’s sort of the idea,’ she tells him and holds him gently and guides him. He pushes forward too fast and there is pain.
Ssssss! — she draws her breath in, her teeth biting at her lower lip and thinks of the birds again, the spring birds, lining the roofpeaks of houses, taking wing all at once under low March clouds.
‘Beverly?’ he says uncertainly. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Go slower,’ she says. ‘It’ll be easier for you to breathe.’ He does move more slowly, and after awhile his breathing speeds up but she understands this is not because there is anything wrong with him.
The pain fades. Suddenly he moves more quickly, then stops, stiffens, and makes a sound — some sound. She senses that this is something for him, something extraordinarily, special, something like . . . like flying. She feels powerful: she feels a sense of triumph rise up strongly within her. Is this what her father was afraid of? Well he might be! There was power in this act, all right, a chain-breaking power that was blood-deep. She feels no physical pleasure, but there is a kind of mental ecstasy in it for her. She senses the closeness. He puts his face against her neck and she holds him. He’s crying. She holds him. And feels the part of him that made a connection between them begin to fade. It is not leaving her, exactly; it is simply fading, becoming less.
When his weight shifts away she sits up and touches his face in the darkness.
‘Did you?’ .
‘Did I what?’
‘Whatever it is. I don’t know, exactly.’
He shakes his head — she feels it with her hand against his cheek.
‘I don’t think it was exactly like . . . you know, like the big boys say. But it was . . . it was really something.’ He speaks low so the others can’t hear. ‘I love you, Bevvie.’
