Chapter two.
The rest of the night was uninterrupted, slurred dreams. Peter awoke at length to find his alarm clock had been dismantled, with a nail file, by the looks of the sorry timepiece. Irked, he showered and dressed. His hand was strangely numb.
"Walter, get up," he called into his fathers' room as he passed. Peter proceeded to prepare coffee, and ten minutes had passed when he began to grow concerned, "Walter?" he questioned, pushing open the door to the bedroom. The bed was empty and unmade. He proceeded to the closet, flicking on the overhead light in the tiny compartment. He blinked in confusion.
The closet was empty, but the corner of the carpet had been ripped up, and the floor paneling pried up to reveal a small cubby. His curiosity and alarm growing, Peter knelt in the closet, and he faintly smelled the scent of Walter's hair, with a hint of sweat. He pulled the carpet away, peeking into the niche.
"Peter," someone said, and he jumped, bumping his head into the wall. He hissed a curse, and looked up to see Olivia gazing down at him questioningly, "You know, a safety deposit box can keep things a lot safer," She said calmly.
"What? No- this isn't mine- well, I mean, I don't know what the hell it is. What are you doing here? How did you get in?"
"You're not the only one who can pick locks, you know. I've been calling you for hours- what's going on?"
Peter straitened, pushing his way out of the closet. He found his cell phone on the coffee table, carefully operated on, its parts placed out like a diagram of anatomy, "Damn it, Walter," He growled.
"Did I miss something?" Olivia questioned as Peter swept around the hotel room, checking the cabinets and corners, "What happened to your phone?"
"The same thing that happened to my alarm clock- Walter!" Peter called, and there was no answer. He was cursing again when he found a note on the refrigerator that read: be back soon. ~W., followed by a smiley face, "Oh, son of a bitch!" Peter cried, "The bastard drugged me and took off!"
Think, now, what do the sane people do?
Walter watched traffic quietly as he meandered slowly and aimlessly down the sidewalk, taking in the warm morning sunlight. He didn't know where he was going, really. But Peter needed an off day, and he'd give him his space. He just had to be careful.
Abruptly, Walter stepped off the curb, jogging hurriedly across the street. He glanced around- no one seemed to have noticed. Good, good, that meant normal people did that, too. He just had to watch the people, do what they did, and not draw too much attention to himself. His plan would work.
He didn't know where he was, but somehow, it felt good to be lost. He felt less alone.
Walter had stopped on a bridge, gazing down at the water below. He spotted a dropped, dirty safety pin at his feet and stooped to collect it, hiding it quickly in the breast pocket of his coat and glancing around guiltily, as if at any moment, someone might take it back from him. He sighed, and thought of breakfast. Perhaps ice cream, if he remembered to eat at all.