If Lewis was correct, a trip from Manhattan to Huntsville (or Ravenswood, Jackson County, as he found was the more accurate spot) would take eight hours. Of course, that if he could find a bus to go non-stop with no pit stops. He rounded to ten. What would he need- snacks? Clothes? Hm.
Underdog looked awful from the pictures, food and water were probably good ideas. ...should he bring money? Surely Underdog had… some, right?
The end of the school year approached, Lewis had hoped if he did well on his finals Polly would oblige to his plan. She didn't, of course, so on the final day Lewis brought a backpack full of clothes and snacks and some crumpled dollars. As soon as the final bell rang he headed to the closest bus stop and got as close to New Jersey as he could. From there he'd have to figure out a whole new way of travel.
On set, Polly was extremely worried. Lewis always texted her when he got out of school to tell her he was home. Always. Her boss kept trying to tell her that his phone might just be dead- schools let the kids go wild after finals, he was probably on it all day. Deep down Polly hoped he was right, but she knew Lewis was smarter than that- he'd leave at least a few percent in case he ever had to tell her he was in danger.
...right?
By the time Lewis got off at Glendon, he decided he should grab some sort of weapon. Department stores sold knives, right? Would he need an i.d. for that? Ultimately he decided on scissors, more use, he thought. Walking along to another bus stop the thought of a subway or taxi crossed his mind. Through Pennsylvania to Maryland seemed to be freeway and he wasn't sure if a bus would be able to take him there. Of course, if a bus couldn't then neither could a subway or taxi. He dreaded the thought of having to walk that distance and decided he would take his chances.
An hour and a half later he was in Harrisburg. In another he was in Hagerstown. Two hours until Morgantown. Four until Ravenswood. That was almost halfway, huh? And it was only twenty to seven. Wonderful.
On his way to Hancock, a thought occurred to him. In 2001, he wasn't alive. He was born in 2004. The guy at their door wasn't Underdog. His mother lied to him. Maybe Underdog was dead…. but what if she was lying about that too? Was three hours too late to turn back? It'd be ten when he got there… and who knows what kind of search she'd be on by then. Who knows what kind of search she'd be on now… holy shit he never told her he was doing this. He never told her he was out.
..was three hours too late? Better late than never right…? He didn't think Polly believed in that. At three hours Polly might think someone bad had just gotten him and ahold of her phone to tell her it was alright.
He felt awful until he got to Morgantown. Then he composed another plan. If Underdog was dead, he got captured by someone and could only escape and get home now. He had yet figured out what to do if Underdog was there. At that point he felt it far more likely Underdog was dead but the anxiety of never knowing would kill him.
Sorry mom, he thought, slumping into his seat, feeling his face heat, crying, I love you.
Polly's boss had let her leave early. As if that would help her mental state. Sitting at home, seven o'clock, her son gone and no reason as to why. She felt sick, laying on the couch, crying, Get Smart as attempted distraction, without her son anywhere to be found. On the drive home she went by the police department and told them about said missing son. Truly she didn't believe they could- or more likely, would- do anything. Manhattan was too big.
Mindlessly she grabbed her phone and looked up the number for Typanni's Jewelry. And even more mindlessly called it.
"Typanni's Jewelry." said that damned voice.
"...is this Taptap Clark?"
"...Polly?" he said before going silent for a few moments, "Let me get you on my actual phone… wh-what's your number?"
Polly told him quietly, and in a few minutes he called back.
"So… what's up?" he said, quietly.
"Our son's gone. I'm scared. I-I don't know what to do."
Taptap was silent. He then frantically asked, "What do you mean he's gone?"
"I mean he's gone, Taps- he-he…" she finally let herself break down, "He didn't tell me when he got to the apartment and he's not here now and I know he's smarter than just letting his phone die."
Taps sighed, "I-I get off at seven-thirty, you want me to come over we can… figure something out? My husband knows a few people he's… real into solving unsolved things. Think he'd help?"
She sniffed, wiping her eyes, "Yeah…"
"See you in a bit, Polly," with that he hung up. She laid the phone on her stomach, turning over and crying into the side of the couch.