Chapter Text
Everybody told Richie that he not only talked too much, but he thought way too much as well. And, he couldn’t disagree.
Sometimes his runaway mouth got him in trouble, like one time where he decided to pick a verbal fight with some punks from the Center of Derry, and he went home with broken glasses and a bloody nose.
Or the other incident where tried to bargain with the owner of a second hand shop, for a pocketwatch, and he didn't know how it happened, but the result was getting hand-kicked out of the store. Worst bit, the store owner was ridiculously chummy with his late grandfather, and his mom had thrown a fit and complained about the community peace, keeping his mouth shut and decorum. Mostly the part of keeping his mouth shut.
He didn’t really need to worry about keeping his mouth shut now. Richie knew he shouldn't have been so stupidly happy about it, but only a year ago both his parents had run off. There was barely anything left behind; just the small house, Richie’s things and his poor old grandfather, shaking uncontrollably in his rocking chair.
The next thing he knew, Richie’s grandfather was restrained and driven away from their little house, and sent to an old folks home where, from Richie’s visiting experience, everyone was spooned muddy oatmeal and milk and fed old cookies that crumbled annoyingly down your shirt.
So, nothing was left for Richie.
Well, except for a small clockwork house and a busy train to manage.
Sometimes it felt nice to have the train, like something depended on Richie, like he had a good deal of responsibility on his shoulders and he was doing a great job of holding it up. Like maybe someone, someday, would pat his back and say quietly, good job Richie; you’re doing amazing, but how are you feeling today?
But most of the time it made him feel tired and small and insignificant. Like…
No one could or wanted to see him.
Dull and boring and floating and brain dead, that’s how he felt. His life was a little like on an autopilot ship sailing through the dullest sea in the universe, and he didn't know how to stop it.
But this morning was different. For the first time ever, he was happy to go on the train. There was actually something to do. Something to look forward to.
Someone to look forward to.
Before he left home, he checked in the mirror, not sure what it was he wanted to see. As expected, he hadn’t changed at all. He was still stupidly lanky, and slightly pale, his hair was still jet black, and his front teeth still hadn’t shrunken, no matter how much he wished for it to happen.
He cleaned his glasses on the hem of his conductor's shirt.
Still the same old me, he thought.
He was sure he hadn’t been that insecure of how he looked before, but really, he knew that he just wanted to look good for his new friend.
It wasn’t like he didn’t have any friends: he did, just that they didn’t have much time for him, and to be honest, because of the train, he himself didn’t have much time for them either. Ben was always too busy:
Richie I have to fix these jetpacks and
edit the blueprints of the top layer of the clockwork and design more efficient engines by next week
you know how it is being an architectural assistant
I’m so tired
I’m so sorry I can’t
And so was Beverly, the daughter of a Derry official, but Richie knew what she really meant when she said ‘busy’,
Richie my dad
He said
He did
Hit
I’m sorry
He won’t let me leave
Everywhere hurts
I’ll try and reason with him but
I’m so sorry
So Richie didn’t bother calling anymore. He hardly ever touched the rotary phone.
But if Edward had a phone, Richie would probably use it again. It had felt so long since Richie had felt excited like this.
For some reason, he couldn’t wait at all to see Edward again.
He knew the whole train like the back of his hand. Well, actually, he didn’t really pay attention at all to the back of his hand much, but he liked the phrase and decided to use it as much as possible.
There were 6 carriages, and the locomotive in the front, where Richie spent most of his time. The train was coated in a rich, dark pumpkin colour. Every carriage window had a nice rim of coppery cold, and the inside was much better. Leather seats, polished wooden floorboards, and a sense of belonging wherever you went.
But what good is it if there’s nobody to spend time with in such a beautiful place?
Well, that certainly wasn’t the case anymore.
Richie had his eye on the boy for quite some time now. But he never quite got the courage to talk before. It was weird, as Richie usually had no problem coming up with some snappy retort on the spot to anyone in particular, but something about the boy just kind of made him wait.
He looked a bit like a mechanic, lugging around a huge metal box everywhere he went. He had little waist pockets around his hip, and sometimes the boy would magically pull out some tool and brandish it like a weapon.
But what interested Richie the most was the arm.
Instead of a regular arm, the kid’s right arm was a metal model. Sometimes Richie could hear it ticking, and sometimes it stopped.
A weird yellow-green acid sloshed around inside the glass middle bit, and Richie could see the working cogs inside the glass. The hand of the arm was also copper- colored metal, and every joint seemed to be able to rotate all the way round. On one of the times he’d been able to catch Ben during his work break, Richie had asked if such automaton arms existed.
“Well,” Ben had mused, wiping off the coal dust from his cheeks (he’d just been testing out the functionality of an advanced chimney) and tapped his finger on the grooved desk. “It’s perfectly possible, Richie. Maybe the liquid inside is oil, to keep the cogs from scratching, but it might be combined with some other substance to keep it from rusting away. It’s smart though, I’ll give you that. Say, if you ask him about it, I might be able to replicate a blueprint for it! I could use a little side project.”
But Richie didn't talk to the boy at all. Sometimes he stared, and tried to catch his attention, but he never got it.
The boy was always too tired and had closed his eyes, or completely missed the signs.
The one time he had actually seen Richie staring, he’d turned away immediately and Richie had immediately stopped too. Maybe he should’ve chosen a more polite approach. His mother always used to say that staring was rude.
Anyway, it didn't matter at all anymore. He’d managed a conversation, they were officially friends
(really though? Or was that just his stupendously hopeful self filling his head with imaginative fantasies?)
and Richie was going to be his very best friend.
They were going to hangout, laugh, maybe go to a fancy diner together, meet Richie’s others friends, meet Eddie’s friends, and drive the train, and—
Wait, he told himself. You're getting ahead of yourself. One step at a time.
And it’s not like he’ll want to spend his whole life with you anyway, an inferior voice whispered in his ear.
Shush, you, Richie told it. He likes me, I know he does.
Keep telling yourself, buddy.
Shut it.
At the train, he waited for quite a bit.
6:03, the train clock twinkled. People had started boarding the train already. For some reason, today, many people seemed to choose Richie’s train instead of old Mister Hallager’s.
Richie stood near the side and waited for a long time. The security coach raised an eyebrow behind the train counter, but Richie didn’t give a damn. He would wait. Edward was just late.
An old lady bought a ticket and quickly boarded the train.
“A boy like you ought to be careful,” she hissed ominously as she brushed past Richie. “Or you’ll end up like Corcoran, Grogan, Lamonica. Read the paper sometime, lad.”
Behind her back, Richie rolled his eyes, biting his lip from blubbering out a nasty reply.
Yes, Derry was slightly unsafe now that kids had slowly but surely disappeared, he knew, thank you very much, old hag.
He waited for 10 more minutes, before finally the security coach waved furiously and yelled to get his attention. Richie didn’t need to hear him properly to know that he was late.
“Just a few more minutes, sir!” he hollered, but the man shook his head like a wet dog trying to shake off water. The front gates opened slowly, while Richie bit his lip. 6:15. He couldn’t possibly afford to wait anymore…
Just go. Everyone’s waiting.
But Eddie…
Just do your job. He never said he was coming everyday.
Richie hesitated, before running by up the steps and into the locomotive. The train’s engine hummed into life, and the rails underneath creaked.
The train drove off. While Richie drove the train, something caught his eye. The paperboy had left a copy of the morning paper on the side desk. The front page screamed
BOY FOUND OVER DEAD BODY OF LITTLE BROTHER, CHILD MURDERER CURRENTLY ON THE RUN, MORE MISSING YOUTHS
And out of pure interest, Richie quickly scanned the front article.
Police in Derry are actively investigating a body that was located inside a stall in the west market. Yesterday afternoon, a young 7 year old boy was brutally mutilated with a knife by 13 year old William ‘Bill’ Denbrough. The boy is currently evading police after fleeing after being discovered wielding the said weapon on top of his brother's body.
The body has been identified as Denbrough’s own little brother, George Elmer Denbrough.
Derry residents are actively on the lookout after the incident. “Derry is usually very quiet and non-violent,” said resident Mister Terry Raves of Jackson Clockwork. “It’s so devastatingly shocking the killer it was just some… little boy.”
Denbrough's parents are heavily devastated by the death of their younger child, but even more disturbed by the news of their elder child.
“I would’ve never thought Bill would even attempt…but I saw him, all right. It was undeniably him, even though I would rather die than believe that,” sobbed Sharon Denbrough, the sibling’s mother. “I don’t think I can ever look at him the same again.”
Denbrough is currently on the run in west Derry. Police are interviewing anyone who had seen or heard of the boy between 2 and 3 in the afternoon in west Derry.
One citizen has proclaimed she’d seen a running child hurriedly evading the crowd in the market dive behind the Witcham Clockwork Building antique shop at about the same time as the murder, but it is not certain the individual was Denbrough.
Police have advised members of the public not to approach the suspect under any circumstances.
Anyone who believes they have seen the person involved is urged to contact police immediately. Authorities recommend calling emergency services if the sighting is current, or the local police station if the information is not urgent.
Police have advised members of the public not to approach the suspect under any circumstances.
Police also encourage anyone with information, no matter how small it may seem, to come forward, as it could assist the ongoing investigation.
The missing kids case, nicknamed the Case of the Carnival, seems to be irrelevant to Denbrough’s case. This investigation is also ongoing.
On the page was also a big grainy black-and-white photograph of a nervous looking boy. He had floppy brown hair and an eyepatch over his left eye.
The boy was smiling sweetly, but Richie stared back in disbelief. How could someone the same age as than Richie himself commit such a crime?
He wondered if Eddie knew. If there was a kidnapper that stole children, and an insane kid that killed his own damn brother, Eddie should probably stay safe inside. Or maybe on the train with Richie, at least. Richie didn’t think that Eddie’s tiny form could possibly defend himself from Denbrough, least of all the kidnapper. Richie might’ve been stringy and skinny, but he wasn’t that bad of a fighter. Really.
On the bottom of the page, printed in slightly smaller writing than the main article, read one last paragraph;
Three children have also been reported missing recently, and reports and residents say that all three were close friends of Denbrough. Boys Kaspbrak, Hanlon and Uris vanished at what might’ve been the same time as George’s demise. It might’ve been possible that Denbrough had attacked all three of them as well, but the police will not call this a new murder case until bodies are absolutely confirmed they are dead.
No photo enclosed for now. For more information, check missing posters around the center and West Derry for photos and identification.
Another three gone, Richie thought ruefully. How come it’s always children, huh?
I hope Edward comes back sometime this week…I think I miss him already.
Richie didn’t know that he would be seeing Eddie far sooner than in a few days, in short notice. He also didn’t know that his new wonder was currently helping to hide a city-wide fugitive in an old barn house.