The Perks of Being a Wallcrawler || Peter Parker

Chapter Thirty-Five: Left Behind

After a surprisingly long time climbing the stairs of the apartment building, Peter arrived on the tenth floor. He had only been to the Connors' place on one other occasions. In the past, building up to the start of the Early Growth Response program, he helped them move giant lumps of research papers that were clearly not digitised and moved onto the University servers. Boxes and boxes and boxes of stuff. It was an experience that reminded Peter that he was a millennial since his brain literally couldn't process the concept of needing to physically look up a research paper instead of harnessing the power of 'ctrl+f'.

Today, Tuesday, things weren't as jolly. The Connors hadn't shown up to work for the last few days. They hadn't answered Peter's calls or messages...so he was reasonably worried.

Unfortunately, Tuesday happened to be a pretty loaded study day for our Web-Headed Hero. Double period of Chemistry, back to back with Molecular Physics. But alas, the wellbeing of his good friends meant the choice was clear. He would have to skip a few classes and confirm their safety - which wasn't too difficult considering that Peter's current attendance fell somewhere beneath 40%.

Peter glanced down at his phone, scanning the apartment number that he'd written in his notes a few years ago - 157. He stopped in front of an off-grey door and discreetly studied the lock. It was undamaged. No signs of forced entry...which meant they were probably just sick and he was blowing this whole situation way out of proportion.

But Peter had to be certain. He wouldn't be able to sleep tonight otherwise.

He knocked but there was no answer. He knocked again, harder this time, and still there was nothing. He tried again...and again...and again but the louder he hit the wooden door, the quieter the world became. He knew that this was a sign to leave, there were dozens of reasons why they might not be answering, but Peter couldn't shake the horrible twisting sensation in his gut. He knew something was wrong. He knew that they wouldn't just vanish without telling him. So, Peter did the only sane thing that he could think of at the time - he changed into his Spider-Man getup, scaled the side of their apartment building and peaked in through their window (which, by some stroke of luck, was wide open).

The place was a mess. The lights were completely smashed apart, but even in the dark Peter could see the torn wallpaper and shredded carpet. Peter held his breathe. His mind was suddenly flooded with horrible scenarios; what if they were taken? What if they were held up somewhere, scared and injured in the middle of nowhere? The thought almost froze Peter solid, but he managed to push himself together and climb through the window.

His feet sunk into the ruined carpet, and he listened. Carefully. Peter wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting to hear, but still he strained his ears and hoped for some small sign of movement. None came.

Anxiety suddenly shot skyward in Peter's veins. It pumped and twisted and tore at him with each second that passed. It urged him forward. Into the kitchen, but there was no one there. Into the living room, but still there was nobody. Next, he opened the boy's room...William, though he liked to be called Billy. The entire bedroom was painted from top to bottom in bright red, and riddled with posters; some of flashy cars, others of cartoons he liked, and then there was one right above the bed-head...the symbol of a spider. His symbol.

Peter pulled the Adventure Time blankets off the boy's bed, hoping beyond reason that Billy was hiding beneath it - ready to tell Spider-Man where his parents had gone, or more likely, where they had been taken. It wasn't surprising to find the bed empty, but it left a cold shiver running up and down Peter's spine.

The ground creaked as he stepped across the hall. The air felt stale, and for the first time in years, Peter struggled to breath behind his mask. He placed a hesitant hand on the next doorknob that he saw, and when he opened it there was a very slight odour; like iron, but also something else...something sickly sweet and rotten.

The room revealed itself, painted a creamy yellow and with a high ceiling. The floor was similarly carpeted but in the centre laid two fake skeletons; the kind he saw in his old science classes in high school. They were perfectly white. No muscles, no tendons, no veins, no organs.

Peter stared at the two classroom props for what felt like a lifetime, one was smaller than the other, and he could see a large stain surrounding them that mostly vanished into the dark floor. Then something clicked in his mind. Peter's legs buckled. Heaving, he managed to slam the door closed again and rested his back against the wooden surface.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygo-" Peter heaved again, but this time the force of it doubled him over. He pulled his mask off and waited. His mouth was watery, his throat was dry, he knew he would barf soon but even leaving a pile of puke in the house was bound to be used as evidence. They'd know he was here. They'd have his DNA. So, with every fibre of willpower that remained, Peter managed to hold it down.

He had to go back in. That was the worst part. He knew that the smaller skeleton belonged to William. It was a child's, not fully developed, and he'd noticed at least five adult teeth sitting firmly in its skull. Waiting for the baby teeth to fall. He hadn't gotten a good look at the adult body though, and he needed to know...was it Martha or Curt?

Peter took a breathe, but it was ragged and didn't quite fill his lungs, then he went back into the room.

He could see the staining now. Blood had soaked into the carpet and splashed across the bed...but there wasn't nearly as much as there should have been, and the skeletons were wiped clean. Peter tried not to think about the type of creature that could do something like that - kill a child then tear the flesh from his bones.

Peter gagged again.

Every step was flimsier than the last, but finally he stood close enough to examine the larger bundle of bones. They were slimmer than the ones he had seen in biology (when they had been examining the replica of a male skeleton in his late 50's), but only very slightly. It had less development around muscle attachment sites, and...there, that was it. The pelvis was much wider and it made the thigh bones slant in a way that would put extra pressure on the knee joints. Those bones belonged to a woman. Probably Martha.

So then, where was Curt?

Peter swallowed the bile rising in his throat and hurried back out the door. He had seen dead bodies before, and it was always upsetting, but nothing like this. Whatever happened here wasn't the work of some lowlife criminal. This wasn't human. It was something else entirely.

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