"Don't," Beverly says quietly, her voice breaking on the word as she looks up at Jamie through red, watery eyes, her head leaning against Eddie's shoulder. She hasn't seen these creatures that she's been told about, but she knows there's probably nothing anyone else could have done without getting themselves killed instead or as well. As much as she wants Richie back, she wouldn't have wanted that, either; she'd be sitting here crying over Jamie if Richie had lived but he hadn't. She gets it, though, the desire to protect one's friends at all costs. If she'd been there, she would have wanted to do something, too.

It's strange to think so, but they were lucky, back in Derry. They had each other, and in the end, that was enough. Here, sticking together, outnumbering their enemy, doesn't do shit.

"We should do something," she adds, the words abrupt in the quiet. "For him. I don't know what, but..." She remembers how scared Richie had been when those posters showed up all over Darrow, declaring him missing like so many of the kids in Derry. At the time, it was unsettling; now it makes her feel like she might be sick. They owe him that, she thinks, to not let that happen now. "I think he'd want that."