"Is it gone?" Beverly whispered after what seemed like years. "No." Bill answered, almost calmly--so much so Eddie wouldn't have even been alarmed if it hadn't been for the blood rolling out of his nose. The contrast was jarring against the white of his skin--when had he gone that pale? They killed the damn clown; it should have been over. Its death left a vacuum--drawing them out, calling for them. It's not over. Not yet. Or The one where the Losers have superpowers.