willâs reaction wasâŚsurprising. even if will remembered that heâd apparently died, bob expected something more like disbelief or shock notâŚwhatever this reaction was. holding his hands in front of himself, palm out, bob spoke in a slow, soft tone, almost like he was talking to his cat after heâd accidentally stepped on its tail. (what ever happened to whiskers, anyway? he kind of hoped that heâd escaped through the broken screen in the living room like he always did, maybe found a home with the henderrsons. claudia always took great care of her pets.) âhey. iâm not really sure what youâre talking about, but it is me.â he took a breath and bit down on his lower lip. âiâm not sure what i can say to make you believe that, will, but it is me. just me.âÂ
he took a step away from the counter so that he could put some physical distance between them, like that might make will feel better. bob reached into the pockets of his jacket to hide how badly his hands were shaking. bob didnât know what was going on any more than will did, but seeing that look in willâs eyes made his heart ache. how was he supposed to explain that heâd died but that he was very much alive now when he couldnât explain that to himself?Â
his pockets had a bunch of nicknacks in them: keys, a pocket knife, spare batteries heâd bought at the store before coming over here, an unopened tube of chapstick, receipts andâŚwhat was that? his fingers closed around something cold and metallic. bob pulled it out of his pocket and revealed a token from that arcade he and joyce and will had driven out to once, labor day weekend 1984. it was all the way out in indianapolis. the token was scuffed and the logo a bit worn, but it was still there. would an impostor have that in his pocket? perhaps, if they did their research. but-
âdo you remember that time your mom and i took you out to this arcade?â he stepped forward to slide the token across the counter to will and then took a step back again, hands back in his pockets. âor, well, how we got a flat tire on the way back? i got out to try and change it, but no one ever taught me to use a jack. your mom let me struggle for ten minutes before she came to the rescue. fixed it in five minutes, flat.â he smiled and shook his head at the memory, wondering if that might be enough to regain a little bit of willâs trust. bob sure hoped so.
     Okay. Heâitâthe Doppelganger or zombie-Bob or whoever, whatever, this wasâŚit stepped back to give him some space. Which was a little more sensitive and respectful than he would expect a murderous monster to act, leading credence to the idea that this actually was (against all odds) the actual Bob Newby returned to life, rather than a devious shapeshifter wearing his face. Unless it was really going the extra mile to earn Willâs trust and make him lower his guards. Jesus Christ, this was confusing and insane and he didnât know what to think. When maybe-Bob-maybe-beast reached out and slipped an old arcade token onto the counter and retreated once again, Will hesitated for a moment longer before caving and picking the coin up, gaze flickering back and forth a few times as he tried to inspect it and yet keep an eye on the potential imposter at the same time.
    He hadnât been in close proximity to the Doppelganger during any of the times it had struck so far (except maybe with that Peter guy in the cabin, but he didnât know him anyway.) But Will was pretty sure it had never enacted such an elaborate scheme to fake someoneâs identity, detailing personal anecdotes shared between only a few souls, let alone bringing props to support the story. Even if the creature did have some sort of ability to access the minds of those whose faces it wore, Bob Newby was already dead, so how would it have access to his memories?
    All the evidence was pointing to one conclusion, that this wasâŚthe real Bob. And that wasâsecretly and shamefullyâthe answer Will was hoping against. Maybe he wouldnât have preferred there to be an actual monster standing across from him, seconds away from killing him at his workplace, but it would have been a hell of a lot easier to deal with emotionally than the baggage of grief and pain that had just opened back up.
    âItâs really you,â he whispered, the end of his sentence coming out more like a question than heâd meant it. There was no way this wasnât him, but it still didnât make any sense how he could be back. Nevertheless, he was. He was right here, right now. Will moved out from behind the counter slowly, steps halting and unsure because he wanted to get a closer look but he also wanted to run far away. Bob. âYou were dead,â he said, his voice breaking, and that was the last crack in the dam, everything coming out at once in a flood of tears. He closed the remaining distance between them, pushing himself into Bobâs arms like a child seeking comfort. Or forgiveness. âIâm sorry,â he said, âIâm sorry, Iâm so sorry.â