𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | 𝐏. 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

chapter eleven: disaster in london part one

Peter slept soundly, snoring gently until his head dropped off a stranger's shoulder. He felt the bruises on his cheek searing in pain as soon as he woke up. He looked around him till he realized he wasn't alone, and he was met by friendly faces painted in stripes of red, white, and blue.

"Hi." A man beside him greeted him.

"Where am I?" Peter asked, his eyes widening in shock.

"Municipal holding facility." The bald man replied.

Peter turned to the man next to him, the one who had greeted him, and who was wearing a cheerful orange hat, to explain. "They said they found you unconscious at the train yard. Very dangerous."

Peter flinched when the man, with whom he had laid his head on his shoulder, suddenly spoke up. "And we gave you the shirt because you seemed a bit cold."

Peter blinked in surprise before smiling. "Thanks. You guys are nice." The three men smiled kindly, except for the other man, who was sleeping on the floor. "You speak really good English."

"Welcome to the Netherlands." The three men greeted each other in unison.

As he took in what they had just stated, Peter let out a quiet gasp. "I'm in the Netherlands right now?"

"Yep."

"Bye." Peter quickly jumped out of his seat with the orange shirt in hand and approached the cell door. "Guard!"

"The guard is on a break. Probably talking to his wife." The man who first greeted him informed him.

"Yeah, she's pregnant." The bald man added.

"Oh, yeah?"

While Peter had no time to talk, the three men struck up a conversation, delighted to learn that the guard's wife was expecting. He effortlessly broke the lock by reaching out for it. Peter unlocked the door and started to leave the cell, but he stopped when he noticed the guard conversing on the phone while donning his mask. Not only did the guard put on the mask, but a suit as well.

Before turning to leave, Peter tipped his head in surprise and astonishment. Slowly, with disbelief, the bald man walked up to the door. The guard realized that the three men had not spoken since the phone call. "You guys okay?" The bald man silently closed the door again.

Peter reached a small town while sporting an orange shirt. He limped around, trying to seek assistance. He went up to a man who was on his phone. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Yeah?" The man asked.

"Could I borrow your phone?" Peter asked politely.

"Yeah." The man glanced up at Peter before handing him his phone. Peter blinked his eyes in surprise at the man's generosity. "Everyone is so nice here."

He was thinking of someone to call, so he excused himself. He wanted to give you a call, but he couldn't take the chance of endangering you further. He finally thought of one individual and decided to give him a call. He brushed back his hair and held the phone up to his ear. "Pick up, pick up, pick u—" Finally, the person answered. "Hey, hey... I messed up. I need a... I need a ride. Where am I?"

Peter turned to the man, who was looking worriedly for the boy. "Where am I, sir?" He asked the man politely.

"It's Broek op Langedijk."

Peter began to say where it was, but he hesitated because he wasn't sure how to say it nor did he quite understand. "Hang on." Peter brought the phone near to the man. "Could you say that into here?"

The man nodded as he leaned against the phone. "Hi, it's Broek op Langedijk here. Yeah, no problem."

Peter smiled in relief. "Thanks." He brought the phone up to his ear again. "Did you get that?"