***Just as a warning: this chapter contains a brief mention of racism and language some may find offensive***

Over a month passed before the seven people who found Dougie Wein's skull and clothes talked about it with each other. It seems impossible to think; with so unbelievable a discovery and so terrible a fright between them, one might assume they wouldn't stop talking about it for over a month. But then some traumatic experiences beg not to be relived. They were still young children after all, eleven and twelve years old. There was much to provide distraction, such as classes and schoolwork, the upcoming holidays and the consequential letting out of school, other friends and classmates, and all the little things that matter only to children of that age. They had each recited their story alone to police; that was enough.

In the end, it was not intentional but rather incidental that the seven of them ended up alone together again with a reason to discuss what they had seen. Once again, depending on your personal outlook, you may view this as fate or coincidence, but regardless of that, the Saturday after Briargate reopened after the Christmas holidays, Shannon Malone, Caleb Vance, Allison Groves, Ollie O'Brien, Ginger Beaumont, Jared Wilkins, and Dexter Bradbury were all brought together again because of Charlie Mouser and the six bullies that terrorized all kids around their age.

There were four children that received the worst treatment from the six of them: Arthur Mann, Charlie Mouser, Jared Wilkins, and Caleb Vance. The fatty, the four-eyed freak, the spasmoid, and the Negro. In those early days, the girls were still mostly harmless. Stephanie Procter, Pearl Horne, and Karen Bonner hurled insults like rocks, but had yet to lay a hand on anyone. It was the boys who were the real problem: Vince Masterson, built like a grizzly bear and just as friendly; Dean Procter, who looked an angel with his fine blonde hair and blue eyes just like his twin but broke Charlie Mouser's glasses more often than he took a shower; and Quintus Zima, the one, the only.

Despite Vince and Dean's liberal use of their fists, anyone targeted by Vince, Dean, and Quintus would've said that Quintus scared them the most. He was more like the girls in terms of violence, rarely causing physical harm to anyone. But Quintus Zima was more than meaningless violence. Undoubtedly, he was the leader of the group, and everyone else acted at his orders. He was smart, very smart, and had a certain charm about him. He could seem completely harmless one moment and treacherously dangerous the next. This was a boy who could see anyone's secrets, it seemed sometimes. He could figure out anything about anyone, and he would use his information as he pleased. Quintus Zima wasn't likely to beat anyone up, but no one would've been surprised if he found a way to ruin someone's life.

That day in early January, 1956 was the first of two times Shannon Malone and her friends would face off against Quintus Zima and his. This first one was more stable and controlled than the second would be, but it would serve almost like a bad omen. It was the first any of the girls of Quintus's group would bring physical harm to anyone. It was the first hint to how Quintus and his gang would end up.

As it so happened, it started the same way the second fight would: Caleb Vance came to Charlie Mouser's defense. Caleb and Allison were out in town, something most Briargate students did on the weekend. Even in the bitter January cold, it was better than being cooped up in the school. They'd agreed to meet Shannon on Main. They hadn't seen her much lately; they'd both gone home for the holidays. They'd just spotted her across the street when a more pressing issue called their attention. A few blocks down from where Shannon stood, Quintus and his gang had congregated in front of the drugstore, flanking Charlie Mouser. Dean had Charlie's glasses raised in one hand and, being a particularly tall boy, kept them out of reach. A kiddie trick, no doubt, but it seemed to be amusing him. Charlie only made half-hearted attempts to grab for them, looking more and more like he may walk off without them. He probably would have if he could've been sure he wouldn't walk right into a car.

Caleb Vance had one special thing in his favor that day and immediately he realized it as he crossed the street and walked right past Shannon, leaving her and Allison to trail behind him. Dean Procter was a particularly tall boy, yes, but Caleb Vance was taller.

A little bit of luck ensured none of the group saw him; they all had their backs fully or mostly turned to him. Or perhaps someone did see him. One peculiarity in the relationship between Caleb and Quintus Zima's gang was that although they hated and tormented him, and although it was possible they did not even know it themselves, on some instinctual level they were afraid of him. Perhaps they already knew how great his power was. Perhaps if someone saw him on that day, they were hoping he would just pass by.

With one swift movement of his long arm, Caleb yanked the glasses out of Dean's hand. Immediately, everyone's eyes were on him. Quintus's gang seemed unsteady, shocked at this turn of events. Never had anyone so boldly stood against them and certainly not in defense of someone else. It was generally accepted that whoever they set their sights on took their lumps and walked away with the shambles of their dignity. It took a moment for the gang to recover, to figure out how to respond.

"Guess these are mine now," Caleb said, shrugging a shoulder. Charlie stared at him with wide but unfocused eyes, mouth slightly agape in awe.

"Vance," Dean said, clearing his throat when his voice came out weak, "this has nothing to do with you. Just walk away."

Caleb shook his head, handing the glasses to Charlie. He stood close to Dean, looking him straight in the eye. Dean had to crane his neck to return the gaze. Caleb was in the power position, and it obviously didn't sit right with Dean. He stood to his full height and probably would have gone up on his tiptoes if he hadn't had the sense to see how humiliating that would be.

"Vance," Dean said lowly. Caleb ignored him.

"Get out of here," Caleb said to Charlie. He could feel the atmosphere shifting. The air was somber. This was likely to get ugly.

"But—" Charlie objected, casting nervous eyes on Dean Procter and the rest of the group. He could feel it, too.

"Go, Charlie," Caleb said sternly. He looked at the other boy and nodded. A message: it was okay. Charlie looked back at him helplessly before fixing his glasses to his face and reluctantly running off.

"So that's how you want it?" Dean asked, cocking his head to one side. There was a shade of amusement on his face, but Caleb thought that maybe there was uncertainty there too. Dean wasn't used to this.

Caleb nodded firmly.

Quintus whistled out lowly. "You got a death wish, boy?"

His face was assured and arrogant but there was a queer tone in his voice. It would be much later that Caleb would figure out what it was—warning—and entire years before he'd figure out why it was there.

Caleb shrugged, unaffected. A surge of courage had hit him and wouldn't desert him until the fight was over. "Could be. Mostly I think it's a shame Charlie's always got to fix his glasses. Seems cruel to me."

Dean scoffed. "Cruel? I'll show you cruel."

Despite his tough words, Dean did not make a move yet. For all his brawn, brashness, and, as Caleb had said, cruelty, he had what surely he thought was a sense of honor. Shannon and Allison stood behind Caleb, had been there through the whole exchange. It wasn't right for big, strong boys to get in fights with delicate girls. Caleb was in for it from Quintus, Dean, and Vince, but first they would have to chase the girls away.

"You two might just want to disappear," Dean warned, wagging his finger between Shannon and Allison. He had no need to say why; it was as obvious to those two as it was to everyone else standing there. Stephanie Procter, Karen Bonner, and Pearl Horne looked at each other uncertainly. Obviously they did not feel this was their place.

Shannon Malone felt the opposite.

"No," she said, voice unwavering. Allison turned her head in surprise. Dean stared at her, blinking stupidly, unbelieving of his ears.

"What?" he asked, almost dazed.

Perhaps Shannon felt the same courage Caleb did. Perhaps she was just stupid and didn't have the experience with Quintus's gang that most did. Whatever the reason, she crossed her arms and repeated herself.

Dean balked. Vince gaped dumbly, this whole thing moving too fast for him to understand. All he knew was usually he was throwing punches by now. Only Quintus seemed to take this refusal in stride, but only because his face was unreadable; none could tell what he was thinking. The girls behind him beheld Shannon in curious disgust. A little bewildered, Allison stood her ground beside her friend, certainly not going to back down.

This was a whole different situation entirely now. If the girls were refusing to leave, Dean couldn't be blamed for what happened to them. His sense of honor was null. Waiting no longer, upset by Caleb's interruption of his fun and further insulted by Shannon's refusal to leave, Dean shoved Caleb.

Caleb faltered backward maybe an inch. Not enough to satisfy Dean. He threw his hands up again, pushing at Caleb's shoulders and then, without warning, threw the entirety of his weight at Caleb, pushing with his forearm forward. They both fell onto the pavement, leaving all of the others a little surprised at the sudden escalation. Vince was quick to recover; physical fights were what he knew best. He made to join the fray on the ground, but Allison rashly placed herself between him and them. Vince was much more indiscriminate than Dean; he knocked Allison aside without hesitating. Allison caught herself on the side of the drugstore and lashed her arm out blindly, hitting Vince on the arm.

Caleb and Dean were throwing punches on the pavement. Dean caught Caleb on the chin; Caleb got Dean right on the nose. Blood spurted between them, running in rivulets down Dean's face. Shannon fell to the ground, trying to pull Dean off of the other boy. Vince had been distracted from the task at hand by Allison's retaliation. He looked at her in stupid surprise before throwing a punch she easily dodged. His fist sank into brick. A savage scream of rage and pain rang out as clear as a bell.

Quintus and the girls had yet to do anything, but they were coming around. If they had had time to join in, Caleb, Shannon, and Allison probably would've been pulp. Six against three weren't good odds. However, Vince's fierce cry had fallen on the ears of the drugstore owner, Mr. Bauer, and he came running immediately, shocked and appalled at what he found outside of his store.

"Get out of here!" he cried, throwing his hands in a shooing gesture at them. "You better just get out of here! Quit that fighting!"

All nine of them took off. Caleb and Dean pulled each other from the ground, holding each other by their shirts. Quintus's gang didn't want the involvement of adults; they knew any adult would take the side of the sappy, doe-eyed girls and the Negro. They ran, but they kept on the tails of the three of them. Dean still had Caleb by the shirt, and the others made sure Shannon and Allison didn't get too far ahead.

They ran to the south end of Main Street. To any passersby, nothing would've seemed amiss; they gave the illusion of a group of friends running together. Past shops, diners, and wooden benches, they ran as fast as their legs would take them, all knowing without having to say where their ultimate goal was: The Dale.

The Forest cut the town off to the north; The Dale cut the town off to the south. The people of Clearwater were not particularly creative with their names: The Dale was a slight depression in the earth at the bottom of Main Street, a long, wide strip of land that spanned nearly the entire length of the town. Simply put, The Dale was a dale. It was a popular picnicking spot in the spring and summer, and every July 4th the town fireworks were shot off from one end of The Dale and could be seen the best from there. Kids sometimes played down there, particularly on hot summer days when Dyer's Park was crowded.

Wide and open. A perfect place for a fight. But with one thing no one had counted on: four people were already there.

Here it was, fate or coincidence or whatever else leading Caleb, Shannon, and Allison straight to Ollie, Ginger, Jared, and Dexter. There was exactly one tree in the entirety of The Dale, and Ollie, Ginger, Jared, and Dexter stood under its dead, snow-covered branches. The rest of The Dale was deserted.

Ginger saw the approaching group first. It was Jared, however, who was first able to identify who was coming. He'd know the line-up of Quintus Zima's gang anywhere. Another thing he was able to sniff out: the gait of a potential victim. Three, in this case.

"Incoming," he said lowly. With as much courage as he could muster, he squared his shoulders and waited. He could have run; all of them could have. This obviously wasn't their fight. But this was no ordinary rough up, and he knew it. He had a feeling whatever was about to happen would make any other encounter with Quintus's gang look like a walk in the park. He could tell by the blood running out of Dean's nose. Perhaps the most damage anyone had ever done to one of the gang.

"Beat it!" Dean cried wildly as they came in close to the tree. He propelled Caleb forward with his grip on Caleb's shirt and shoved him as hard as he could. Caleb still had his own hand fisted on the collar of Dean's shirt and subsequently dragged him along as he stumbled.

"You better get lost," Vince said. He had a manic and somewhat idiotic smile on his face as he grabbed Allison by her long blonde hair. She shrieked and scratched at his hand.

"Lay off them," Jared said. His voice trembled on the last word and he coughed to try to conceal it.

"Did you say something?" Dean asked, his voice as harsh as a gunshot. "I said beat it. You scram now and I'll consider forgetting you were ever here."

Jared, Ginger, Dexter, and Ollie all looked between each other and knew they were thinking the same thing: they had all lost their minds.

"Are you deaf?" Jared said, his voice surer now. He could fake confidence, no problem. "I said lay off them."

Dean's jaw dropped and for a split second he looked utterly astonished. Vince looked around with a dazed expression, one hand still fisted lightly in Allison's hair. She clawed at him but he didn't seem to even notice.

"You goddamned freak!" Dean shrieked, leaving Caleb's side to shove Jared with both hands.

"Cripes," Jared said, and drove his shoulder into Dean's side.

That was all it took. Everyone knew Jared, Ginger, Dexter, and Ollie weren't going anywhere. Inhibitions were completely lost now. The fight began.

For the next three minutes and forty-two seconds—or maybe the next eternity—thirteen bodies were lost in a whirl of snow, blood, and fists. Dean returned and stuck to Caleb like glue; they both ended up on the ground again, mixing snowflakes in with their punches. Dean's sister brought nails like claws down across Ginger's cheek. Ginger gave her an elbow to the stomach for her efforts. Vince had lost interest in Allison. He shoved her to the ground and focused on Dexter, connecting his fist with Dexter's jaw.

Of the boys of Quintus's gang, Quintus himself was the most reluctant. It was not much of a surprise. He exchanged punches with Jared easily and caught Ollie on the side of her head with his flat hand, but he did not have the enthusiasm Dean and Vince and even Stephanie had. He did not have the patience for physical fights; a battle of wits was more his style.

Pearl Horne took up where Vince left off, landing on the ground beside Allison and connecting an elbow with her face, narrowly missing out on smashing her glasses into pieces. They flew off her face instead, landing in the snow. Allison had more luck, bringing her knuckles squarely into the front of Pearl's teeth. With an animalistic cry, Pearl jumped on top of Allison and clawed at her face. Allison paid her back in kind, both of them dragging fingernails against skin and trading blows every chance they got. Close to them Shannon Malone and Karen Bonner pushed, shoved, and knocked at each other, but it was almost subdued compared to Allison and Pearl. If Quintus was the most reluctant boy, Karen was the most reluctant girl. She hadn't expected or wanted a fight.

Vince got Dexter down on the ground and scrubbed his face with snow. Quintus dug an elbow in Jared's ribs, and Ollie shoved Quintus away. Allison and Pearl rolled on the ground, tearing at each other's hair. Ginger and Stephanie threw wild, unfocused punches at each other; Ginger's right cheek and Stephanie's mouth were bleeding. By far the worst, however, were Caleb and Dean. Blood was smeared all down Dean's shirt and coat. Caleb's lip was split open and his left eye was puffy. They fought savagely, doing anything they could think of to get the upper hand. There were pink spots in the snow around them—blood that had flown free. The brutality of the scene was shocking.

Dean brought his fist down on Caleb's jaw. Unbelievably, Caleb grinned and spat blood in Dean's face. Dean screamed furiously, and something overhead creaked.

It was almost as if the entire fight stopped at that moment, everyone trying to figure out what had made the noise. They couldn't have had more than a second to think about it before a branch from the tree came flying down. It didn't fall to the ground like it should have, however; impossibly, ignoring all laws of gravity, it fell at a diagonal, shooting straight at Caleb. He saw it coming and was able to roll almost clear of it, but it caught his cheek, scraping against it, drawing blood. The fight truly did stop then. Everyone stared at the tree branch.

Quietly, Quintus breathed, "Dean..."

"Holy God in Heaven!"

"Oh, shit!" Vince cried. Faster than seemed possible, Quintus's gang was sprinting away, some half-running half-crawling, still trying to pull themselves off the ground. The kids that remained looked dumbly in the direction of the voice, seeing a man in uniform coming hurriedly to them.

"Oh, Lord, look at you all," Clifford Dent said, gazing incredulously at the scene. "What a mess. Are you all still breathing?"

Through various groans and grumbles they discovered that they were.

"And what about the other ones, the ones who ran?" Officer Dent asked. "They're the ones who did this to you, huh? I—" He faltered. "Shannon Malone, is that you?"

"Hi, Officer Dent," Shannon said weakly.

"Oh, hell." Officer Dent rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers. "What was that all about, anyway?" His eyes fell on Caleb, still on the ground surrounded by small spots of pink snow. "Never mind; I think I have an idea."

The seven battered children looked at the ground, too afraid to say anything

"No one needs an ambulance, do they?" Officer Dent asked. Seven slow shakes of the head. "I didn't think so. All right, quit looking like you've all killed someone's puppy. I'm not gonna haul to prison over this. Just for God's sake don't make this a common occurrence. Don't go picking fights just to cause trouble."

"No, sir," Caleb said from the ground.

"Think I recognized that big kid," Officer Dent said thoughtfully. "Think I dealt with him last year for bloodying some kid's nose, right in the middle of Main Street."

The "big kid" had to be Vince Masterson; it didn't surprise anyone that he'd had an encounter with the police before.

Officer Dent sighed. "Look, I want you kids to get on home, where you can take care of those cuts and bruises. And I don't want to hear that you've been involved in any more fights."

He looked at Shannon, Ollie, Jared, Ginger, and Dexter significantly. He did not know Allison and Caleb, but he knew those five; he knew practically everyone in town. He'd know if they got in trouble.

The seven of them gave various signs of assent. Officer Dent waded through the snow and came to Caleb's side.

"Need a hand?" he asked, offering his. Caleb blinked, and took it. A few feet from them, Allison rifled through the snow, looking for her glasses.

"Here," Dexter said, spotting them with clear eyes and gingerly picking them up to hand to her.

Slowly, they all began making their way out of The Dale.

"Get on home now, you hear?" Officer Dent said. "Take a look at those cuts, keep them from getting infected."

"Officer Dent?" Shannon asked hesitantly. "How did you know we were out here?"

Officer Dent looked at her and smiled slightly. "Got a tip from a kid with big glasses. Said he was scared some of his friends were gonna get hurt. When you weren't on Main like he said, I figured you got chased away and either dispersed or ended up here in The Dale." He looked at her like they were sharing a great secret. "Yours wasn't the first fight I had to break up down here."

They reached the top of the hill surrounding The Dale and stood where Main Street ended and was crossed by Philmore Street (which eventually became Minerva Boulevard to the west). Officer Dent looked around at the lot of them.

"Well, I'll have to leave you here," he said. "I gotta get back to the station. Take care of yourselves."

He nodded at them and walked away up Main Street. The seven children remained at the bottom of Main Street, looking at each other in trepidation.

"The tree branch," Shannon said. "Did you see the tree branch? How did that happen?"

"You know how," Jared said. "Dean broke the rules."

"What?" Shannon's brow furrowed.

Allison shook her head, looking at Jared meaningfully. "That doesn't help her, Jared. She doesn't know."

Jared's eyes widened comically. "She doesn't know? How is that possible?"

Allison shrugged and shook her head again. Ollie, Ginger, and Dexter looked between each other, looking as surprised as Jared.

"I don't know?" Shannon asked. "Don't know what?"

Allison looked at her, seeming to be considering saying something, then shook her head a third time. "We're not supposed to talk about it."

"Talk about what?" Shannon asked. Her voice was raised in irritation. "Everyone keeps saying that. I'm so tired of hearing that you can't talk about something." She pointed at Allison accusingly. "You keep dragging me into your monster research but you won't tell me how you know monsters are real or why everyone else around you seems to believe in them. And you're always saying things that don't make sense, and then you say you can't talk about it. We all find a human skull in the basement and no one even mentions it. That whole damn school sometimes seems like one big secret. What happened to that tree branch? You can tell me that much."

Allison looked at Shannon uncertainly before casting an imploring gaze on the others. "Is there somewhere we can go that's a little more...private? And warm and dry?"

Realization dawned on the remaining five faces. Allison was going to tell Shannon everything.

"My house is empty," Ollie said reluctantly after a pregnant pause. "My siblings are all out with friends."

"What about your parents?' Shannon asked, confused.

Ollie smiled at her. It was slightly sad. "My parents haven't been home since the day after Christmas."

"Oh," Shannon said. "Where are they?"

Ollie shrugged. "Can't remember if they said. Come on."

Ollie turned and began to walk down Philmore Street, heading for Minerva Boulevard and McKenzie House, the one-half of the Twin Eyesores that she called home.

***Hoo boy, I hate this chapter. A lot. It's such a mess. I'm definitely going to have to do some editing, but I'll get to that eventually. As always, thanks to everyone who voted and commented :)***