TAG, YOU'RE IT.

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

DEAD BOY (book one).
°•        CHAPTER FIVE        •°

"        YOU BOYS LIKE GAMES, HUH?
DO YOU LIKE TO PLAY ... TAG?       "

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

BEN WAS LEADING THE BAND OF BIKES DOWN THE STREETS OF DERRY AND AWAY FROM THE QUARRY TO HIS HOUSE. Daxton noticed that he didn't live too far from the foster house and wondered why neither he nor Charlie had seen him that much. Then again, he knew Ben was one of Bowers's main targets. He'd most likely prefer to stay in the safety of his room with a book than be at risk and stroll around the threat of the town. Daxton has been forced to move many times himself so he wondered how many times the little Hanscom family had to move too before finally settling in the little town of Maine, of all places. How did they all end up here and meet - what were the chances, out of all the children in the world? Was there a reason they weren't sure of yet?

The bike Ben is riding comes to a slow stop in front of his destination. Ben announced their arrival before jumping off of his bike and being the first to dash inside. A pile of their bikes is made when they join him, other than for Stan who kicked the bar in his to stand it upright. Daxton noticed as he hopped off his bike and stood upright, letting it join the mess, but didn't ask him why. He just assumed it was just a habit he had. They all skip their way up the wooden porch steps and shuffle through the door Ben left open for them to enter.

The halls are decorated with family pictures and warm, homely quotes guiding them up the staircase and to Ben's room. Daxton feels awkward as he held onto the smooth railing and walked carefully up the wide stairs. He's only been in Eddie's house once or twice, and Bill's for a minute maybe two weeks after he moved to Derry but his parents were as welcoming to his friends as Mrs. K was. They mostly preferred to be at the Griffiths due to the open warm welcomes they gave, so being in Ben's house who was almost a stranger to him, made him feel out of place for the first time all day.

Ben was attempting to seem as calm as possible when they join him in his room with his arm bent against his closed closet door. Daxton doesn't question it any more than he questioned Stan, but that was mostly because he's taken by surprise when he caught a view of the bedroom that was much like a real museum for Derry's history. He'd be a big fat liar if he claimed not to stand and marvel at the four walls that enclosed the bedroom. The wallpaper is pinned with ancient photographs and news articles much like his folder held. Daxton's gaze tries to keep up and process everything that he's seeing as he breathes out, "Holy shit." Although, it sounded more like a question as to what the fuck he's staring at.

The conversation Richie and Eddie had about... Well, whatever died down and Richie doesn't hide his shock. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, wow!" He greeted.

His reaction made Ben beam radiantly with pride as they observed his dedicated work. "Cool, huh?" He questioned brightly.

He shook off his enthusiasm as Daxton wandered to where Stan was, glancing at the article clippings. "No. No, there's nothing's cool..." Richie paused and his large eyes squinted at a photo. "Maybe this is cool..." Before he shook his head. "Wait, no, no, it's not cool," he decided.

"Oh, come on. Don't pretend you're not a nerd, Richie, you have to admit this stuff is pretty cool," Charlie argued with him after managing to snap his jaw that fell into a gape shut.

"It kinda is," Daxton mused quietly. He took his eyes off of the articles, uninterested in reading, and moved on to the black and white pictures.

"See? Even Daxton likes it," Charlie insisted with a grin.

Daxton turned his head so Charlie could see his glare with an offended, "Hey!" It wasn't like he didn't like many things - sure, he found a lot of things stupid or boring like Derry - but he didn't hate everything as they thought of him. He liked sitting alone on the roof and basking under the sun, he liked gym class because running made him feel free, he liked the Baby Ruth candy and the adrenaline rush he got when swiping it from gas stations, his favorite color was red and was prominent in his clothing, and Daxton especially liked comic books about superheroes that grew up without parents because he related to them and hoped maybe one day he could turn out alright as those characters did.

A long document hung higher with signatures scrawled in cursive at the bottom was pointed at by Stan. "What's that?" He asked curiously.

"Oh, that? That's the charter for Derry Township," Ben responded.

"Nerd alert!" Richie declared with a loud snort as he adjusted his glasses over the bridge of his nose.

Daxton rolled his eyes. "Oh, can it, Richie."

He expected Ben to be at least a little insulted by Richie's teasing but he only shrugged loosely. "Actually, it's really interesting," he claimed.

"How so?" Charlie questioned with genuine curiousness.

"Derry started as a beaver trapping camp - "

"Still is, am I right, boys?" Richie boasted and shot his hand up for a high-five from one of the boys. Eddie merely gave him a sharp look of disapproval with narrowed brown eyes as Stan shook his head with a blank expression. Daxton doesn't even bother letting loose the scoff forming in the back of his throat because it wouldn't change Trashmouth Tozier being an utter idiot.

It doesn't affect Ben, however, who went on as if Richie said nothing at all as he sheepishly lowered his hand when no one smacks it. "Ninety-one people signed the charter that made Derry. But later that winter, they all disappeared without a trace," he explained.

Wow, Daxton thinks. He can't recall ever hearing that little, but a very important, fact in his history class at school. People don't just disappear into thin air. How the hell was that not important to Derry? What the fuck were they protecting? He overheard Charlie grimace as he let out a low whistle. "The entire camp?" Eddie whispered in question with his eyes growing wider by the second.

Ben pressed his lips together and nodded. The air shared between the group shifted from joy and interest in Ben's studies to something else. It remotely felt something like fear. And Daxton Shields wasn't afraid, he wasn't frightened by much, but as his eyes scan over the faces of the townfolks in the pictures, he feels a creepy chill crawl up his spine. He can't block out Ben's story. "There were rumors of Indians... But no sign of an attack. Everyone thought it was a plague or something. But it's like... One day everybody just woke up and left. The only clue was a trail of bloody clothes leading to the well house."

Not once would Daxton have guessed Derry had such a dark history when he was sat in the car that drove him to the small town with his forehead pressed against the cool and trembling window. Maybe it was too much for the residents to bear or maybe they just didn't give a shit. He assumed it was the latter. Daxton moved on, narrowly missing the eerie photo of a hidden face in a crowd. He only saw it for a second but then blinked and swore it was gone or just a figment of his imagination, mixed in with the rest of the illustration. But when he closed his eyes, all he could see was what he thought looked back at him with a sinister smile. It's just an old drawing, Daxton tried to convince himself even if he doesn't believe it.

Richie reacted the same way he had when Bill revealed he found Betty Ripsom's shoe in the sewers by trying to lighten the mood even though it likely wouldn't help clear the air or bring them comfort. "Jesus, wow. We can get Derry on Unsolved Mysteries." Eddie seems eager by that and even compliments him while Stan dismissed them both because why would some television show want to investigate the history of their town. Maybe no one was meant to know those secrets.

For the first time since they walked into Ben's bedroom, Bill spoke up. "Where was the well house?" He asked Ben. His voice wavered as he pulled away from the transparent photo clips he had been brushing with his fingers on Ben's desk.

"I don't know. Somewhere in town, I guess," Ben pondered. "Why?"

Ice blue eyes belonging to Bill dart from the paper on the walls and back to the tiny photos that he's been studying closely. Daxton knew it was something even when he dismissed them with a mumble of, "Nothing".

They start to dismember slowly after that and trickle out of Ben's house one by one. Eddie is the first, claiming his mom would be minutes away from a stroke if she doesn't hear from him soon since he already lied about going to the Quarry because she would have never let him go otherwise. After Richie attempted to get Eddie to promise to "give Mrs. K my best wishes!" He's gone too. Daxton and Charlie are last but not before they walk Stan home who claimed he felt uneasy after the whole ordeal. Daxton didn't blame him, and it was nice to have the company after leaving Beverly and Bill at Ben's house.

Most of the bike ride to the Uris's property is in silence as the three ponder over the new information. Daxton never grew up here, he was born in a state over Maine before landing there, but he always felt like something was off. He couldn't shake off the feeling from the day the wheels of the car carried him past the border and he saw the wooden Welcome to Derry! sign that was beginning to fall apart staring back at him like it was taunting him. Ben's studies of the past must have something to do with that uneasy feeling and maybe every day they were getting closer to the truth they shouldn't be investigating.

The silence is finally broken by Charlie. Unfortunately, he doesn't change the subject that's rattling in their skulls. "It can't be real, can it?"

Daxton unsteadily teetered on his bike and huffed a breath of frustration. His day started out great until the whole murder history haunting Derry came up, so whatever - sue him. "Of course it's fucking real," he argued pointedly. "Ben's bedroom is like a museum. We should bring some fucking adults there so they can open their eyes and see how shitty this town is." Daxton had to inhale sharply this time before he lost his breath. He's aware he's swearing more than he should be but he can't control his anger. It's begging to break free before he suffocated in the smoke that pours from the fire.

Maybe he's afraid. And expressing rage is easier than dealing with being scared.

While Stan visibly stiffened uncomfortably, his hands curling tighter around his rubber handlebars at Daxton's outburst like he's holding back, Charlie is completely unbothered. With the months passing by, he must be used to it by now. Daxton doesn't mean to be such a dick, but hey, he supposed it's in his nature. "I know that, dumbass," he retorted. "I mean..." He had to pause and try to think of his words clearly but nothing must come to mind. "Shit. I don't know."

"Maybe it's just what we felt," Stan murmured. Daxton sent him a quick look over his shoulder that he returned. "Don't give us that shit, Dax. You're afraid too."

Stan wasn't at the top of the cliff before Daxton jumped in the Quarry. He didn't see the clear way he was frightened of not only their height but being afraid. That is, before Charlie reassured him it was okay. Was it? Daxton's felt fear before. He's been afraid of horror movie monsters and would hide his face behind a blanket or pillow, cruel foster parents that used fists instead of words, and he was absolutely terrified of being alone even though he pushed everyone away before they got too close and knew secrets he didn't unlock inside of him yet because of just that - he was afraid to do it.

But this striking fear somehow felt different. It was as if they were the only teenagers in the world to be this scared of what lurked in their town. They can't explain the disappearances and no adult is looking to solve unfinished cases, leaving the youngest to feel abandoned and alone as something hunts for them. "Whatever," Daxton muttered despite the many thoughts racing through his mind faster than his bike wheels. "I can't wait to get out of here anyway."

Maybe running away from problems didn't solve anything, but hey, it has been pretty effective in Daxton's life so far. Sometimes, all he could think was how he had to run and get away from them before they caught up.

Stan's expression is more than readable. He disapproves of Daxton's declaration but he says nothing, given that they were skidding to a stop in front of the Uris household. He only sighed and gives them a quiet "see you later" before he dragged his bike through the bright green front lawn. Daxton watched him leave, left with only Charlie in the absence of silence. He wondered for a moment what he said that was so wrong. They knew he was a foster kid - did they really expect him to stay in Derry with them, to go missing like every other kid?

"You know, I think we could use a break," Charlie suggested once they're a good distance away from their stop, Stan's house faintly seen as a dot behind them. He just wants to clear his head, as does Daxton, and at this point, he'd stick his head in the clouds if he thought it would work.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The rim of the basketball hoop makes an echoing clang when the orange basketball Daxton tossed bounces off it. The net swayed as he groaned in frustration. That made his fifth unsuccessful throw since Charlie walked him to the playground of Derry's elementary school so they could play a game of basketball together that should be calming.

Only, it turns out he really sucked at it.

Charlie's too nice to say that like he was when teaching him how to ride a bike, though, so Daxton says it himself as his foster brother went to swoop up the ball before it could reflect off the concrete. "I'm really, really fucking bad at this." He huffed. "This sucks."

Still, Charlie doesn't degrade him. He only lets out a laugh, more amused by Daxton's claim than his basketball skills. "You do not," he lied through his teeth. "You just need some practice. See?" He demonstrated and Daxton watched close as Charlie angled his sneakers correctly and focused his gaze on the red square traced over the board. He's impressed when he gives what looked like a simple chuck. It swirled around the circular rim before falling through the open hole and bounced a few times before rolling to Daxton's feet as if it was mocking him. "It took me forever to learn, dude."

Daxton sighed and picked the ball up, rolling it in the palms of his hands. His head didn't feel any lighter. The frustration was beginning to make his muscles only tenser, so clearly, this little game wasn't working in his favor. However, Charlie was a little happier and wasn't thinking too much about their visit to Ben's. That kept him from trudging home. "So, Stan seemed off today," Daxton casually mentioned the last time they saw his face with his features drawn into a firm frown. "He doesn't seem like the type to hold back when he's annoyed."

"Oh, he isn't," Charlie reassured. Daxton took another chance and pitched the basketball up. Hope swelled in his chest when it teetered on the edge but deflated like a balloon in disappointment when it fell over the edge. Charlie went to chase it again for him as he agreed, "It was weird."

The sneakers Daxton were wearing creased as he shuffled them unsurely. He has to force the question out. "It was something I said, wasn't it?" That's what always felt like was wrong these days - Daxton's mouth was like a motor that he can't control even if he wanted to hold back. He sometimes felt worse than Richie and his trash mouth, he was only more bitter because fuck the world, that's why.

Charlie snorted. "You think?" Instead of making another good shot, he bounced the ball to Daxton who caught it in surprise. The comment Daxton made before they departed echoed in his head. Whatever. I can't wait to get out of here anyway. Charlie was quiet as if he could read his mind and see he was thinking about it too much before speaking again. His voice is gentle like he was speaking to Nala and she was crying during a thunderstorm. "Do I have to tell you for a third time, Dax? They like you. You're an asshat half the time but you're funny, realistic, smart. You're determined and stubborn too. You're fun to be around." He held his hands out expectantly and Daxton pitched the ball forward, causing it to bounce off the concrete once before it was caught. "But although you suck at sports, we don't want you to run from Derry."

Daxton's lips press tightly together as dozens of questions wanted to escape. All in all, it could have just been a single word - Why? Why did they like him because, as Charlie put it so poetically, he was an asshat half the time? Why did Charlie see all those qualities in him but he can't see it himself? Why was Daxton in Derry of all places, where tons of kids are disappearing and no one gave a damn? He doesn't ask any of these, though, mostly because he's afraid of the answers. Stupid, Daxton scolded himself in his mind. I'm just stupid. It was pointless to hope because those were things he wanted and everything Daxton Shields wanted would be ripped away and shredded cruelly before his eyes.

Something suddenly buzzed in Daxton's senses as Charlie cast the ball through the air once more. It landed perfectly again but he didn't notice. Ever since he was taken from his mother and he had to trust only himself, he could sense when something was wrong. Not only did goosebumps crawl up his skin but the hair on the back of his neck stands straight and he just knows there's something dangerous around them. Daxton shivered at the feeling, letting his muscles go stiff as he turned to survey the school's park and locate what exactly was wrong because he always trusted his gut instinct. And he's glad he does because there is something there, alright.

He has to blink a few times to be sure his vision isn't fucked and he didn't eat crack with his breakfast that morning. But it's there and he isn't completely sure what It is. It stands by the slide, humming a low song that Daxton can't hear. He isn't sure how Charlie hasn't noticed whatever the fuck that was because it almost looks like... A clown. Maybe, he isn't really sure. All he can see is a very dirty costume that must have once been white, red pom-poms dangling from the chest of it. The hair surrounding the overly pale forehead was a fiery, matted orange. Bright crimson lines draw through cat eyes locked on the boys and fill the ruby lips that seem to drip with either blood or drool.

The second Daxton's eyes widen by the second meet the clown's, his stomach stirs, unsettled. It's just watching, unmoving, so eerie that Daxton is positive he must have fallen asleep at some point and is living in a nightmare with a monster taking the disguise as a clown. He swallowed, realizing his mouth and throat had gone dry, before whispering in a quivering breath, "Do you see it too?" Because surely he must be losing his mind.

"See what?" Charlie is speaking too loud so he must have not just yet. Daxton hears him spin on his heels after he had retrieved the basketball that hits the concrete with an oddly loud bounce once he sees it too. Daxton would have been surprised that Charlie's breath only hitched in his throat instead of letting out a scream if he wasn't so damn terrified.

Daxton did what he always does when he's so frightened out of his mind. He lashes out, almost like he's an animal being cornered by a hunter. Maybe that's exactly what he was - a hunter's prey. "Who the fuck are you?" Daxton demanded in what he tried to be a firm, brave voice but it wavered, giving away his true feelings. He doesn't even know if that's the question he should be asking. It felt more like "what the fuck are you?!" should have been called over the playground.

It feeds off of it. Daxton can see it by the way the lips curl into a smirk that looked much more like a sneer. It finally speaks then, a chilling voice that could haunt any dream. "You boys like games, huh?" It asked them instead of answering with a shake of their head that moves so fast it looks like a shiver. "Do you like to play... Tag?"

A cold, shaking hand enclosed tightly around Daxton's wrist. He knows it's Charlie but he doesn't move to pull him off the basketball court just yet, he's just seeking that comfort and stability before either of them lets their wobbling knees let them down and give out. "Do we look like fucking six year olds to you?" Daxton spits out. This time, he at least can force some venom into his words. But he asks the same question again. "Who the fuck are you?!"

"Don't you recognize me, Dax? Charlie?" The voice was lowering with every word until it was almost like a growl from a dog. Daxton's head has done a lot of talking today but it begins to scream at him to run until he goes numb when the clown crouches at Its hands and knees and crawls across the grass towards them. Each motion that propels them forward, It morphs. And if Daxton wasn't there to witness it, he'd never believe it in a million years.

It happens so fast that it's almost a blur and he can't even be confused. Terror had completely taken over every emotion Daxton had. The hair on Its head fades and creeps to brush against Its skin, clothes disappearing, until it's a bundle of fur. It's matted, gray, and white with wisps of dirt stuck in the knots. Its face was modified, the nose and mouth mixing and extended like a muzzle, and Its hands, God, Its fucking hands, grow until Its fingers turn into long claws that tear through the fabric of Its gloves to mimic paws and dig into the ground. It almost looked like...

"... Nala," Charlie choked out.

Except much bigger, threatening, menacing, with drool dripping from teeth sharpened like razors that are revealed when Its lip pulls back to snarl as if it wants to eat them for dinner. Its eyes don't change, those same yellow cat-like eyes almost bulging out of their sockets as It stares them down hungrily. The second it takes for the three pairs of eyes to stare each other down feels like hours, maybe days. None of them move, even if all of Daxton's nerves were shooting through him and begging in little screams to just get out of there! Like a red alarm going off but he's deaf to it. Time stops when It leaned back on Its hind legs and propelled itself forward into a galloping action.

Daxton only sees the grass blades and soil fly around Its dog legs for a second before Charlie gave one final yank to his arm so hard it's almost yanked out of its socket. He doesn't remember when he started running, all he knows is that his legs are pumping, Charlie is screaming at him to go, and that monster is chasing them in the deformed version of a beloved pet like a sick game of tag. Only, Daxton's terrified of what will happen if it catches up to them.

His chest ached with the sudden lack of oxygen. His vision could only see straight ahead and he had no idea where he was running, only following Charlie, their arms brushing against each other if their running steps happened to recklessly stumble. Daxton doesn't think he's ever run this fast in his life. Running in Gym always felt like being free, like no one could ever stop him, as if he was a superhero come to life flying through the air. Now he's the prey, the victim. His muscles never ached then like they are now and his heart had never pounded so hard. Daxton desperately wants to stop and breathe but then he hears that thing behind him, nearing closer and closer with each pant, and he doesn't give up. Otherwise, it'll all be over.

The metal fence that enclosed the playground comes into view. Daxton would have personally described it as a fucking prison, especially when Charlie rams into the fence's gate and the lock is being too stubborn for his shaking hands to open. "Fuck it," Daxton heaves out in a gasp when he hears the loud panting only meters away. He grabbed Charlie's small statue by his waist and strained as he picked him up as high as he could. Call it adrenaline, but it works.

Charlie has a grip on the bar that's not steady at all as he lifted the rest of his weight off the ground and brings one leg over. He dares to look over his shoulder, shouting for Daxton to hurry! He doesn't have to think twice about hauling ass. Daxton grabs a tight handle of the bar and jumped just as Charlie hopped off. He doesn't run because there's no chance he'll leave his brother to be a meal, especially when the denim pants Daxton is wearing snags against one of the wires and he can't rip it free fast enough.

"Daxton!"

Suddenly, Daxton feels two very different touches. Charlie is seizing his arm and giving him the hardest tug he can. He's in the middle of a game of tug-and-war when that monster is right there and goes to bite him, leaving him to think surely this is it. Instead, Its teeth barely graze his skin, only leaving a stinging scratch in Its trail, because It only has a mouthful of Daxton's pant leg and he thanks all of his stars that his clothes were too big for him. Fortunately for them, it's the bite that gives him freedom.

There's a tearing noise over the dog's snarling and Daxton breaks away, swinging his freed leg to the other side and nearly plummeting to the ground. Charlie doesn't ask if he's okay even if he desperately wants to. He only grabs his foster brother by his shirt and helps him to his feet as quickly as possible so they can bolt across the sidewalk that'd lead them home. Daxton doesn't look behind him even when he overhears the fence quiver when the clown hopped over it, spitting out the denim It had jerked off of his clothing.

That foster house, for the first time, is only where Daxton wants to be like it was safe. They're running down the path once they're far from the playground, leaving it as a dot behind them. It still isn't giving up any more than they do, he can still hear the overly wide paws slapping against the concrete like the soles of their sneakers. Daxton doesn't question how they're faster or how his mind feels so clear as if he blacked out because suddenly, the house is in view.

The porch steps creak loudly as the boys dart up them and jiggle the doorknob that clicks, signaling it's locked. Charlie is banging on the door with his fists, making as much noise as he can, shouting in a desperate strain. "Help! Open the door! It's gonna kill us!" Daxton's back hits it flat, the doorknob digging past his skin to leave a bruise, and his eyes scan the area left behind them. He doesn't get a chance to see if that monster is still there as he feels the knob turn under his spine and the door flies open.

A terrified scream that Daxton doesn't recognize breaks free, coming from his gut and scratching at his throat. They stagger inside unsteadily and that's when their limbs finally give out. They end up in a tangled mess on the floor of their living room but at least Daxton has enough sense to kick his leg out and slam the door shut so hard it echoes. Charlie makes a wrenched sobbing sound, his forehead smacking against the ground.

"What the hell happened? Who was gonna kill you?" A confused voice interrogated from above them. Daxton can feel the adrenaline that once spiked through his veins start to die down. He was a mess, panting, sweating, eyes as wide as saucers, his skin flushing. Their foster sister, Lia, noticed this in both of them and her eyebrows were furrowed in puzzlement.

Daxton can't answer her because he doesn't know. Charlie at least tries, attempting to pull himself together and rise. "It, it was like... Like a clown, then a dog... A dog, it wanted..." He spluttered out to her in horror.

"A clown?" Lia echoed, incredulous. Daxton grasps for Charlie's hand so he can stand too, backing away from the door when she takes a step towards it. He's about to shout and stop her but she doesn't open it. Lia pushed herself to the tips of her toes and peers out of the peephole before frowning and shaking her head. "Boys, there's nothing there."

No, no, no. Daxton Shields was many things, but he was not crazy. He couldn't make sense of what just happened but it was real. His heart was still beating so fast he could hear the blood pumping as if terror was filling it and the organ couldn't handle all the pressure. And maybe it really is gone, but he really doesn't want to see if that's true. Daxton only wants to defend himself and he attempted to do so, about to insist that Lia is wrong and that thing was still waiting out there, but a series of barks fill the air before he can.

The two boys flinch harshly in sync at the noise that sounds more like a threat now. Charlie backs away slowly when Nala comes bustling into the living room, her tongue hanging outside the side of her mouth, something she does when she's happy and trying to smile. Daxton jerked to get out of her way when she comes towards them but she goes to Lia in a sudden protective stance and glares the door down. "Nala?" Lia spoke up. She sounded more lost than before. "God, what's gotten into everyone - "

"Forget it," Daxton breathed out. There's no point anymore. She can't see it and she doesn't believe them. He can't take his eyes off of Nala. The husky is harmless and has never made an attempt to hurt him but all he can see is that clown shapeshifting into a wolf before a cruel game of tag. He shares a helpless look with Charlie before they both take off up the stairs, Lia calling after them, leaving Daxton to wonder if maybe he really has lost his mind.

━━━━━━━━

author's note:

daxton: *sees a child eating clown*
daxton: "yOu WaNnA cAtCh ThEsE hAnDs??"

that's my boyyy. anyway i didn't really like the game of tag but it'll make more sense in later chapters.

also, if you're interested (i wouldn't blame you if you're not i have too many damn stories lmao) i published the summary to my steve harrington fic so check it out if you'd like and fall in love with another helpless queer character!!

- koda

.•° ✿ °•.
WORD COUNT:
5.3k.
°•. ✿ .•°