Bill Denbrough's Bike Ride with Audra

Bill Denbrough stood naked in Mike Hanlon's bedroom on the morning of June 10th, 1985, studying his middle-aged body in the mirror. He saw a bald head, a slight pot belly, love handles, and the sagging musculature of a man who had spent too many years at desks and lunches. He knew he was too old for what he intended, but he also knew that if he did not act now, he would forget how to act at all. He dressed in a pair of athletic socks, jeans, a bright orange tank top that read WHERE THE HELL IS DERRY, MAINE?, and a new pair of Keds sneakers. He looked ludicrous, a man pressing middle age in a child's clothes, but he told himself that every kid looks ludicrous, and then he went downstairs to get his wife.

The Preparation of Silver and Audra

Bill had already retrieved his childhood bicycle, Silver, from the secondhand shop called Secondhand Rose, Secondhand Clothes, and had stored it in Mike Hanlon's garage. He had oiled the chain and sprocket with 3-in-1 oil, pumped up the rear tire, and attached new Bicycle playing cards to the spokes with clothespins so they would make the old machine-gun sound. He squeezed the oogah-horn and it sounded good. In the living room, Audra sat passively in front of the television, which was showing Dialing for Dollars. She had been catatonic since her exposure to the deadlights in It's lair, her eyes wide and vacant, her body warm but unresponsive. Bill snapped off the TV, took her hands, and pulled her to her feet. She came willingly but would have fallen off the back porch if he had not guided her. He led her to Silver, worked her long legs over the package carrier on the rear fender, and pressed her head down so she sat. Before he could reach behind him to draw her arms around his waist, her hands crept around him on their own, the first independent action she had taken in a week.

The Ride Downhill

Bill swung onto the saddle, put up the kickstand, and began to pedal. Silver wobbled dangerously under the double weight, but Bill stood on the pedals, his hands clamped on the grips, his head turned skyward, the cords on his neck standing out. The playing cards began to click-clock faster. He ignored the STOP sign at the end of Palmer Lane and swept left onto Upper Main Street, the bike wavering and then righting itself as speed increased. The breeze cooled his bald head and rushed past his ears with a sound like the ocean in a conch shell. He shouted "Hi-yo Silver, AWAYYYYY!" and Audra's hands tightened around his middle; he felt her stir against his back. He did not brake as the street began to incline toward the caved-in center of town where the Canal had collapsed and swallowed the three-way intersection. Instead he pedaled faster, rushing down Main Street Hill toward the white-and-orange crash barriers, the smudgepots with their smoky flames, and the yawning darkness where the street had been. He could hear sullen water rushing down there in the tangled wreckage.

The Breakthrough

Bill dragged Silver hard left, so close to the crash barriers that his jeans whispered along one of them. The bike's wheels were less than three inches from the edge of empty space. Up ahead, the water had eroded all of the street and half the sidewalk in front of Cash's Jewelry Store. Barriers closed off what was left of the undercut sidewalk. Audra's voice came from behind him, dazed and thick, as if she had just awakened from a deep sleep: "Bill, where are we? What are we doing?" Bill shouted "HI YO SILVER AWAYYYYY!" and drove the bike directly at the barrier jutting out at right angles to the empty show window. Silver struck the barrier at better than forty miles an hour, sending the centerboard and A-shaped supports flying. Audra cried out and squeezed Bill so tightly he lost his breath. The bike shot out onto the bridge of undercut sidewalk, the rear wheel sagged as the sidewalk fell in behind them, and then forward motion carried them back onto solid roadway. Bill swerved to avoid an overturned trashcan, ran through a space a truck would occupy a full second later, and blew the oogah-horn, each hoarse bray embedding itself in the day's bright light. Audra cried out that he was going to kill them both, but she was also laughing. She grabbed his crotch, where there was a huge and cheerful erection, and said, "But don't stop!"

The Aftermath

Silver's speed bled away on Up-Mile Hill, the roar of the playing cards becoming single gunshots again. Bill stopped and turned to her. She was pale, wide-eyed, scared and confused, but awake, aware, and laughing. He helped her off the bike, leaned Silver against a brick wall, and embraced her, kissing her forehead, eyes, cheeks, mouth, neck, and breasts. She hugged him while he did it. She asked what had been happening, and he told her she was all right now. She asked if he was still stuttering, and he said no, that this time it was gone for good. She asked if he had said something about rock and roll. He said he loved her, and she said she loved him too. He smiled, looking very young despite his bald head, and thought that nothing else counted. Later, in the early mornings after dreaming, Bill Denbrough would sometimes almost remember his childhood and the friends with whom he shared it, but he would always know that it is good to be a child, and also good to be grown up and able to consider the mystery of childhood, its beliefs and desires.