Duck: The Complete Story
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1: Hey, Where’s MY Drink Package?
Chapter 2: Aristoclub
Chapter 3. Sgt. Rockhopper
Chapter 4: Sittin’ With A Duck On A Bay
Chapter 5: Here Come The Builders
Chapter 6: Muddle Through
Chapter 7: Slideshow
Chapter 8: And Then There Were Just Us/Duck’s End
Chapter 9: This Is Not Scrotum
Chapter 1: Hey, Where’s MY Drink Package?
“I’ll have another!” D.D. Duck put up his hand.
The barkeep squinted at him. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
The pour wasn’t too generous, but more than a strictly measured shot. Typical for a big city bar. Duck downed it quickly, but it didn’t drown out his regret.
“I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have gone there. I should’ve kept quiet. Then the whole thing never would’ve happened.”
The barkeep nodded. “Rough day?”
“Rough month.” Duck played with the empty shot glass. “Could have just kept my head down. Gone somewhere else. But nooooooo, I had to go there.”
The bartender nodded while serving other patrons.
Duck stared at the empty glass again. “I had a job. I had a life. It was boring, yeah, but it was fine,” he tried to convince himself, “before this…incident.”
The bartender caught his eye. “Where you from?”
Duck sighed. “South Georgia Island.”
“Huh. Never heard of it.”
Duck’s father’s face flashed before his eyes. What would he think of me now? Would he think it was right, what I just did? Was that what he was trying to say, all those times?
“Gimme one more.”
“You’re gettin’ close to the line, Buddy.” The barkeep stared into Duck’s eyes. Duck glared back, insistent. “OK, one more. Just one.”
The bartender served up another shot in a tumbler, which he slid down the bar. Duck caught it without flinching. The barkeep’s eyebrows shot up, taken aback by his patron’s reflexes. Then Duck opened up his bill and made the shot disappear.
Where am I going to go? What am I going to do?
* * * * * * *
Thirty minutes later, Duck was still staring down at the bar, muttering to himself. He looked up and noticed a sign on the wall for the first time.
DELICIOUS DRINK PACKAGE PAIRINGS!
$40
The picture displayed two different pairs of frosty beer/shot glass combos. Everything looked golden brown and delicious. To a drinker.
Duck raised his hand once again, and pointed at the sign. “I’ll have one of those!” he shouted.
“Oh no you won’t. You’re over the line already, Ducko.”
Duck’s feathers bristled a bit. “Oh give me a break, you’re in the Get People Drunk business and I wanna get drunk. Are you a bartender or a hall monitor?”
The bartender stood up straight and rolled up his sleeves. “One more line like that and you’re outta here.”
Duck knew he’d mouthed off and reached for that familiar instinct – keep quiet– but the alcohol bucked it. “One more line like what?”
The bartender snapped his fingers twice. A burly bouncer twice Duck’s size came bounding over. “Show him the street. He seems to want to see it up close.”
The bouncer yanked Duck airborne and dragged him towards the exit. Angry and despondent, Duck kept thinking to himself, I was having a pretty good time just a little while ago….
Chapter 2: Aristoclub
*** FIVE HOURS EARLIER ***
A long foghorn blared. A group of seagulls squawked and flew away from the large boat pulling into the big-city harbor.
“FREEDOM! Thank god I’m finally off this thing!”
Duck ran down the gangway and into the harbor neighborhood. It was a wild frenzy of activity: random yelling back and forth across a busy intersection, cars and trucks honking as they snaked through the street.
“Hey, look out!” A small figure wearing a cap pulled him back to the curb as a car whizzed past.
Duck was shaken. “Wow, thanks.”
“You better watch where you’re goin’. Watch the signals!” A little rough, Duck thought, but at least the guy helped him out. Duck turned to thank him, but he’d already disappeared into the hum of the city.
Duck gathered himself as the traffic roared around him. This is nothing like home. I wonder how far away I am? I was running so fast to make the boat I didn’t have time to look at the destination…I just needed to get out of there.
A police car drove close by. Duck gulped. The car slowed down for a bit, then turned on its lights and sped off, siren blaring. Exhale.
Duck walked a few more blocks, taking in the surreal dazzle of the city lights at dusk, the hustle and bustle. Then he saw a sign:
ARISTOCLUB
fancy food
killer cocktails
and good company
all Ducks welcome
Oh yeah. This is just what the doctor ordered. I’m doing this.
Here you go again with the recklessness, Duck thought. Isn’t that how you ended up here? How about just finding a place to sleep? Or connecting with some other friendly ducks? Years of Head Down, Steady As She Goes, everything was fine. OK, a little boring maybe, but fine. It worked well enough. You don’t need to go in there.
Nah, screw that. This has been a hard trip and I need to blow off some steam and have some fun for once in my life. The other stuff can wait.
Duck arrived at the front door. There was a velvet rope. A line to get in. Doormen with earpieces. It looked fancy. There was even a sign that said “No Penguins Allowed”.
Duck thought to himself: Considering what happened back on the island, that’s the best news I’ve gotten in a while.
The doorman – a large, fancy city duck, with iridescent violet feather markings and a stern visage – stood at the entrance. “We need to check that backpack.”
Duck took it off and poured the contents out on a small table. A couple of outfits, some basic personal supplies, a picture of his parents.
The doorman snickered. “You always carry pictures of your Mommy and Daddy when you go out?”
Keep it together. Head down. “I…have had a long couple of weeks.”
The doorman touched his earpiece and nodded slowly. Then he waved Duck through.
Everything was dark and loud. Duck felt the rush of huge subwoofers pulsing through his body. His ears caught shimmering, crystalline, high-pitched sequences. A bright strobe flashed randomly – enough to see other figures, and just a bit of facial detail.
This. Is. GREAT.
Duck found his way to the dance floor. He didn’t even really know how to dance, but he didn’t care. He closed his eyes, and a month’s worth of tension poured out of him with every frantic, awkward move.
* * * * * * *
Fifteen minutes later, Duck was exhausted, thirsty, and hungry. He maneuvered his way to the crowded bar. It was a mob scene of cosmopolitan duck energy: a kaleidoscope of crazy, flashy colored feathers; all manner of bills, some painted with custom colors; even the shapes of some feathers were uniquely groomed. They were all pushing up against the rail, screaming out their orders. Duck did his best to be heard over the din – hands up and yelling – but it wasn’t working. He found himself standing in a sea of city strangers.
Hey, are those guys looking at me?
Duck spotted two figures at the other end of the bar. Square-looking ducks. They didn’t fit the scene. The strobe flashed. They were staring at him, and talking to each other about something. Their faces betrayed urgency.
The crowd around the bar shifted like a sea, shoving Duck forward. He lost his footing and fell. When he got back up, the figures at the end of the bar were gone.
Am I being followed? He felt queasy. Maybe this just isn’t the place for me.
Duck finally managed to get the bartender’s attention and scream out an order of a single shot of well scotch, which he got minutes later and drank instantly. It was just enough to give him the strength and courage to work back through the crowd toward the front door exit. He walked out as quickly as he’d walked in.
Duck stood in the street facing the club, watching the hipsters laughing to each other while standing in the rope line. He didn’t belong there and he knew it. What he really needed was a nice, quiet bar – somewhere he could have another drink or two, and gather his thoughts about what to do next.
But as he walked farther, his mind turned back to the past, and the incident that led him here – lost in a big city, thousands of miles from home….
Chapter 3: Sgt. Rockhopper
*** 30 DAYS EARLIER ***
* SOUTH GEORGIA ISLAND, SOUTHERN ATLANTIC OCEAN *
Please respond in timely fashion, and thank you for your attention to this matter.
Best regards,
D.D. Duck
Duck Department of Administration
D.D.’s cubicle was third from the right wall, fourth row back. Certain things needed to be filed properly by all ducks on the island, and it was D.D.’s job to make sure everyone complied. He’d hit his quota for seven consecutive months now. He got a plaque after the sixth, which sat on his desk, under a few stacks of paper. Some other desks had pictures of a sweetheart, or kids. D.D.’s had none of that.
He mostly kept quiet and avoided office chatter. Things had worked better that way for him: head down, stay out of trouble. Some other ducks had gotten a little loud during breaks a few weeks back. Their desks were empty now.
When late afternoon finally came, Duck walked to the window and looked outside. “Whoa, really nice day,” he whispered to himself. He thought for a moment and then nodded. “Ice shelf.”
“Does it look like break time on that clock to you?” His supervisor pointed at the wall. The question had edge on it.
D.D. felt a long-suppressed impulse racing from his brain to his mouth. “It’s five minutes to closing,” D.D. protested. “And I hit my quota today already.”
The words landed with a clunk, followed by silence. D.D. could hardly believe he let them out.
“Really? I’d expect that attitude from some of the others, but not from you, D.D. You know the rules. Back to the desk.”
Weird, Duck thought, as he trudged back to his cubicle. It’s been years since I acted like that.
Confused and annoyed, he said to himself once again as he sat down: “Ice shelf.”
The ice shelf was a special place his father used to take him, elevated from the frozen ground, with one of the best vistas on the whole island. It had become his chosen refuge, a place where he often gathered his thoughts, took in the beauty of the sunset gleaming on the ice, and appreciated the simple things instead of staying upset about this or that. The best part: No one else was ever there.
* * * * * * *
The walk from work to the ice shelf was about twenty minutes. D.D. had done it many times since he’d last seen his father a couple of years back. The loss stung a little less each time.
Duck kept going. His mind was scattered, fragmented. He was still rattled from the encounter with his boss at work. It was so unlike him. Where did that come from?
That’s ok, he thought. I’ll sort it out on the ice shelf, like I always do. In solitude.
But when Duck got close enough to see it, his stomach sank. Four penguins were standing in his special spot, kicking the ice around and making a boisterous racket.
Why do they have to be there today, of all days? I really need that spot right now. They’re not gonna stop me.
Whoa big guy, Duck thought to himself. Slow down. They don’t look too friendly. Let’s find another spot and keep your head down for now. We can come back tomorrow.
Something arose in him, just as it had at work a half hour before. Duck thought of his father.
I…just…want…to go there. NOW.
Almost involuntarily, he began marching up the incline towards the ice shelf. The group of penguins saw him coming.
“Well, lookee here,” the tallest penguin snarled. “It’s Duck McDork.” They all laughed, dripping with derision.
A second penguin chimed in. “Yeah, loser. What are you doing here? Can’t you see this is a penguin hang? Why don’t you go on home?”
Duck’s inner voices were imploring him from both sides:
They have no right, and I need this place right now.
Are you nuts? Get out of here! Keep your head down and walk away!
No. I can manage this.
Duck spoke quietly and firmly. “Listen, I just want to spend a few minutes here. It’s a special place for me. Alright?”
“NOT alright.” The tall penguin drew closer. “This is a special place for us now. Isn’t that right boys?” They all chuckled and nodded in agreement.
Duck froze. His feathers were rising. He knew what he wanted to do. But he stopped himself. No way was he going to do that. Here, of all places.
“So, get going then.” The tall penguin pushed Duck’s shoulder. “Now.”
Duck stumbled back, then regained his footing and stood his ground.
“Check out Mr. Stubborn here!” A second penguin pushed him from the side. Duck felt his feathers bristling. He knew that feeling.
The tall penguin stood inches away. “You want to play Tough Guy, is that it?”
The penguin moved in to shove Duck once again. Without thinking, Duck grabbed the penguin’s arm and pulled him forward across his outstretched leg. Duck let go and the penguin flew face first onto the ice. Two of the other penguins charged him. Duck instinctively went low and swept his feet underneath them both, sending them airborne. The penguins landed on their heads.
The fourth and only remaining upright penguin stared at Duck, first in shock, then in smoldering anger. “You’re gonna regret this.”
The penguin grabbed a rock off the ice and went for Duck’s head. Duck blocked his arm. They struggled, pushing with all their strength against each other. Duck looked down, then stomped on the penguin’s foot, distracting him for long enough to pry the rock loose. Duck grabbed it and quickly struck the penguin hard across the head. He went down and didn’t get up.
Duck stood over the four fallen penguins, in disbelief at what he’d just done.
The tall penguin was injured, laying on the ice, looking over at his fallen comrades. “You are going to pay for this, you stupid freak duck! You have no idea who you’re messing with!” He writhed forward.
Duck backed away. He looked around to make sure no one else was watching. Then, after a deep breath of mourning for the loss of his special place, he ran from the ice shelf in a panic.
* * * * * * *
Duck burst into his living room and slammed the front door shut behind him. Charged with adrenaline, he paced from room to room.
The penguin’s warning rattled his brain. You have no idea who you’re messing with.
Duck spoke aloud to himself: “What was he talking about? This is a small island. That sort of thing doesn’t happen here. Does it? Maybe that penguin was just talking tough. Or…?”
He reached for a familiar distraction – the TV remote. The local sports team was playing. That worked well enough to stop his pacing. He sat down, incredulous at what he’d just been through.
Barely five minutes passed before the regular programming was interrupted:
SPECIAL BULLETIN: SERGEANT ROCKHOPPER ISSUES ARREST WARRANT FOR D.D. DUCK REGARDING A VIOLENT ATTACK ON A GROUP OF INNOCENT PENGUINS AT THE ICE SHELF. ANYONE WITH INFORMATION SHOULD COME FORWARD AND SPEAK WITH AUTHORITIES ASAP. THOSE WHO ATTEMPT TO GIVE SHELTER TO D.D. DUCK, OR REFUSE TO COOPERATE WITH THIS INVESTIGATION, WILL FACE ADDITIONAL PENALTIES.
Ohhhh noooo. Duck’s heart sank. He knew he was in a lot of trouble. He’d only heard bad things about the island’s powerful police penguin.
Then his anger boiled over. Group of innocent penguins, my duck ass!
It dawned on Duck that those penguins might have been Rockhopper’s friends. Or even relatives. Who knew?
What a mess, he thought. What am I going to tell my boss at the Duck Department of Administration? Ugh. I should have kept my head down.
Oh shut UP. You can self-punish later. We have to get out of here!
Duck grabbed his backpack, a couple of outfits, and some basic personal supplies. Then he saw a picture of his Mom and Dad on a table in his bedroom. He stopped and stared at it. His breath caught, and his eyes welled up.
Not now. Let’s GO!
Duck took the small framed picture, stuffed it into the backpack while sniffling, and ran out the door with a makeshift plan. He’d get on the first boat leaving the harbor. He didn’t care which one. He just didn’t want the police penguins to catch him.
As he headed toward the main road to the landing, Duck heard snowmobiles buzzing closeby. Police sirens blaring. Megaphones blasting urgent voices into neighborhoods.
Better take the back way. The one Dad showed me.
Duck navigated a route through a series of ice trails well off the beaten path. His father used to walk with him there for fun, back when he was little. Most folks on the island didn’t even know they existed. The secret knowledge had always been a bit of a thrill.
An hour later, D.D. reached the harbor. It seemed quiet. No police activity. The signs over the entrance showed the next boat leaving in three minutes.
A long foghorn filled the air, marking the vessel’s imminent departure.
Duck looked both ways from behind a snowbank, saw a clear path, and ran for the harbor entrance. Seconds later he was at the ticket counter.
“One ticket for that boat right there.” He pointed towards the harbor while panting.
The teller looked Duck up and down. “That’s, uh, not much of a bag you got there. You sure you—”
“YES! One ticket please!”
“Okaaaay.” The teller looked down and started stamping things. “You got it.”
Duck didn’t even bother to check the destination, though he was a bit surprised at how expensive the ticket was. It cost him a good chunk of what he was carrying.
As the boat pulled away, Duck finally stopped running and turned back to look at his island home. He’d hoped for a sentimental moment. Instead, he saw a huge, menacing police penguin figure with his fist in the air, shouting threats in his direction. Three of his penguin associates were standing with him. They didn’t look much happier.
Whatever the ticket cost, Duck thought, it was worth it.
Chapter 4: Sittin’ With A Duck On A Bay
* PRESENT MOMENT *
“Show him the street. He seems to want to see it up close.”
The bouncer picked D.D. Duck up with both hands and flung him towards the curb. He landed on the pavement and tumbled end over end, finally sliding to a stop. D.D. examined the damage, trying to get his eyes to focus. His knees were scraped and his feathers were bent. This was going to hurt in the morning.
D.D. summoned the will to move. As he started crawling to get upright, he heard a footstep. He looked up. An older duck was standing over him. He was wearing a knit cap. His clothes were worn, and his feathers were discolored and tinged with soot.
The older duck cocked his head. “Rough night?” he asked.
“You have no idea.” D.D. brushed himself off, trying to act sober.
“Maybe I do.” The older duck reached into his pocket for a cigarette and lit it. D.D. took a nervous step back and looked around. The older duck laughed and shook his head. “You worried about me? Relax. I’m just an old tired city duck. And I know how those big city bartenders can be. Ornery sometimes.”
D.D. tried assessing his situation. Bartenders. Alcohol. Who’s this old duck? How did he know…? Confusion was plastered all over his face.
“Really, I’m not gonna hurt you. I might even be able to help you. The name’s Dodger.”
“I’m D.D. Whaddya want with me?” He puffed up his chest feathers, projecting Tough Duck. Then, his right leg wobbled and he stumbled sideways.
Dodger sighed. “Let’s take a walk. I know a spot by the harbor. We’ll be safe there.”
“I should just go with you, huh? To be safe? From what? You think I was hatched yesterday?” D.D. hiccuped, then staggered forward and nearly fell.
Dodger shook his head. “Just come with me, will you?”
D.D. relented, but only after silently swearing to himself. Yeah, he knows I’m drunk, but I could still take this old duck if he gets weird on me. I know what to do. If I have to. I can hack it.
They walked silently for about twenty minutes, D.D. slowly following Dodger’s lead, looking carefully around every corner and willing himself alert. They reached an opening in the city grid. The river was lit up with the lights of the skyline. It wasn’t the ice shelf, D.D. thought, but it had its charms.
Dodger led D.D. to the edge of the dock, and they found an empty bench. D.D. looked at Dodger and nodded confidently. Then he went to sit down and misjudged the distance, nearly falling over before landing. Dodger took his time, carefully settling into the bench. D.D. sneered to himself, look at Mr. Smooth over here.
“So,” Dodger said, “do you want to tell me how you got here, or do you want me to tell you how you got here?”
D.D.’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “No way. You’re bluffing. How would you know, anyway?”
“What, you think you’re the only Duck in the city from some small island? We heard you had some trouble with the penguins down south.”
D.D.’s eyes re-widened. Did he say ‘we’? Who is we?
“Who are you? And who’s we? The hell with this, I don’t need this…” D.D. tried to push himself up off the bench.
Dodger barely moved. “Sit. Down.”
D.D.’s first thought was to flip him off and walk away. Then another thought surfaced, with flickering clarity. Slow down. Yeah, he’s weird, but he could have left me in the street. I don’t have to give him my wallet to hear him out. Maybe he knows something useful. Slow. Down. I think my father said something about that?
D.D. sat back down, without misjudging the bench.
“Listen,” D.D. groaned, “I’ve had a weird last few weeks, and an even weirder last few hours. I know you’re trying to help me here. Well, I thinkyou are?”
Dodger nodded. “I am. Apology accepted.” He took off his cap and rubbed his head. “Did you see anyone in the dance club watching you?”
D.D. laughed and looked skyward, no longer surprised. “Of course you knew I was there. It was mostly a bunch of hipster weirdos, but there were these two ducks who didn’t fit in. And I thought maybe they were watching me, but then I thought I was crazy for thinking it.”
“You’re not.” Dodger put his cap back on and lit another cigarette. “You smoke?”
“No, never did. I heard it’s not good for ducks.”
“It’s not good for anyone,” Dodger said, inhaling and exhaling the smoke. “Takes the edge off though.”
D.D. lowered his head. “My dad liked it.”
“He quit?”
“He’s gone now.”
Dodger tipped his cap. “Ah. I’m sorry to hear that.”
They sat quietly, watching the boats move slowly on the water, the occasional foghorn breaking the silence.
“So,” D.D. said, “I’m all ears.”
Dodger took a deep drag on his cigarette, and exhaled the smoke slowly. “I’m from a southern island as well. Got in a bit of trouble and had to leave. Sound familiar?”
“It sure does.” D.D. half-smiled. The feathers on his back smoothed out as his shoulders fell. “Let me guess. Were there penguins involved?”
Dodger nodded. “Indeed there were.”
Another foghorn blared in the distance.
“I thought about trying to go back,” Dodger said, “but it’s probably best I don’t. Besides, I’ve been here too long. I’m a city duck now. I figured it’s better for me to stick around and help out new ducks like you. There’s a few of us. We keep quiet about it.”
“Wait,” D.D. said. “There’s a secret network? Of city ducks?”
“Yep. And we heard about your little incident back on South Georgia Island. If the info I got is true, I’m impressed.”
“How in the world did you find out about that all the way up here?”
“You’d be surprised what us city ducks can find out. Besides, news like that travels pretty fast.” Dodger looked D.D. up and down. “Not every day some island duck stands up to four of Rockhopper’s penguins all on their own.”
D.D. felt a swell of pride deep inside him, somewhere beneath his buzz. Maybe this old Duck gets it after all, he thought. He’s definitely plugged in somehow.
“You even know about Sgt. Rockhopper. Unbelievable. How big is this? What the hell did I get myself into?” D.D. shook his head, drawing more intense breaths. “It’s just so typical. Every time I act on any impulse I have, everything just goes haywire. I kept my head down for almost my entire life. I should have just kept on doing it and none of this would have happened!”
Dodger stared D.D. straight in the eyes. “Sometimes that’s not what life has planned for us.”
The beep-beep-beep and low roar of a construction site echoed in the distance.
“You sound like my father, saying that.” D.D. looked away, back at the water. The fog in his mind momentarily cleared. “My Dad….he always tried to find the best in me, even when I was screwing up. He showed me a few things about taking care of myself, like self-defense. He thought it was important, with life on the island and all. But I kind of lost it a couple of times and got in trouble with it, started a couple of bad fights, even when I was younger. I’m not sure I ever really understood all of what he was tryin to teach me. So I never really trusted my instincts around it, and I just tried to keep my head down and steer clear of anything difficult. And still I ended up in this mess. Not sure what he’d say now.”
“Well, sounds like he was a good and decent duck. I bet you miss him.”
“I do,” D.D. said quietly. His mind was flittering between sadness and worry. “You said ‘Rockhopper’s Penguins’? What do you mean by that?”
“It’s complicated. But that island you were on, there’s some stuff going on that’s not too cool. Maybe you were keeping your head down and somehow didn’t notice?”
D.D. hung his head: “I don’t know. I feel like I’m a slow learner sometimes. And I’m exhausted.” His head started pounding. “What do I need to know?”
Dodger’s stare turned serious, and he spoke more softly. “For now, just stay safe and be careful. The city has a lot of odd ducks in it. Watch your step, keep an eye out, don’t walk towards trouble. If you feel like something’s off, it probably is. We’ll do our best to keep an eye on you.”
“How?”
“We have our ways.”
D.D. shifted back and forth. “I feel like you’re not telling me everything.” “When you’re ready,” Dodger said, “I can tell you more.”
“What, I’m not ready now?”
Dodger paused and took D.D.’s full measure before answering. The ragged clothes. The dirty feathers. The swaying. “Nope.”
Another foghorn blared. D.D. held his hands over his ears, protecting his pounding headache.
“You need rest,” said Dodger. “I can tell you haven’t slept in a while. And you’re gonna need to sleep off that buzz. I can smell the booze from here. If you can’t rest, you can’t think. Not think straight, anyway.”
“You sound like my Dad again. ‘Being tired is the enemy of presence,’ he always said.”
“He’s not wrong.”
Dodger stood up slowly. Then he helped D.D. to his feet, and pointed back into the city.
“Go two blocks that way, then three blocks to the left, and there’s a park. You should find a quiet grassy place to rest for a while. Watch your back.” Dodger started walking away, then turned his head back. “And your front.”
Chapter 5: Here Come The Builders
D. D. Duck tried to remember Dodger’s instructions.
Two blocks to the left, then three blocks that way…a park…look for the
grassy place…
D.D.’s legs were shaky, and so were his thoughts. He couldn’t focus. He turned left.
Was that the first time, or the second? Was it left, next? Or right?
He forced one webbed-foot in front of the other. Dodger’s words rattled around inside his brain.
Three blocks…two blocks…why are these blocks so long? Ughhhhh…
When D.D. finally found his way to an opening in the dense city grid, he saw what looked like a park on the other side of the square. He even spotted some grass.
Yes! At last!
He moved as quickly as his body would allow and plopped himself down on a patch of rough city grass.
Well, it’ll do.
He curled onto his side, formed himself into a tiny duck-shaped ball, and drifted off within seconds.
Then: TAPTAPTAP.
D.D.’s headache amplified each tap.
What is that…noise?
TAPTAPTAPTAPTAP
I swear I’m going to
TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP
D.D. looked up. Not one, not two, but three woodpeckers were up high in the tree, working away and earning their namesake. Then two more flew over and joined in.
TAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAPTAP
You have got to be kidding me. A woodpecker symphony. Of all the…
D.D. groaned as he crawled up to his knees, and then back on his feet. It was time to find another resting place.
“Guess that old Dodger Duck isn’t right about everything,” he grumbled.
He left the open square and pushed himself down a busy city block. The bars were still open. Some patrons were outside each bar, smoking, still at the height of their buzz. This wasn’t going to work either.
Three blocks further, the city quieted to a low hum. D.D. eyed a small fluffy patch of grass on the corner. It was big enough for exactly one Duck, no more.
This’ll do.
It didn’t take long for his thoughts to drift into that random jumble that precedes sleep. Was it five minutes? Ten?
Island fight…boat ride…dance club…old weird city duck…
BRRRRRRRR-DDRRRRR-BRRRRR-DRRRRRRRRRR
What the actual f—
BRRRRR-DRRRRRRR-BRR-DRR-BRRR-DRRRRRRRRRRRRR
D.D. opened his eyes to a blinding artificial light from above. A fully operational construction zone whirred to life on the opposite corner of his carefully chosen grass patch. Some large being was holding a huge tool with two hands. It bounced on the pavement over and over, producing a noise he’d never heard before.
BRRRRR-DRRRRRRRRR
A loud squeak came from above. A long mechanical arm waved back and forth, seemingly taunting him.
BEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEP BEEEEEP
A crew of builders and workers yelled at each other.
“I said PUT IT TWO FEET FROM THE BLOCK, not some RANDOM FRICKIN’ SPOT, what in the HELL are you doing, you want ME to come up there and do it FOR YOU?!”
“Oh yeah? You think you’re so good at this, why’d you smash the crane into that building last week, you think I forgot about THAT?”
D.D. rolled over and looked up in disbelief.
You gotta be QUACKIN’ kiddin’ me, only I could choose this place, how
does anybody here—
BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP
BRRRRRRR-DRRRRRRRRRRR BRAAAAAAAAAANNNGGGGGG
“Not THERE you moron, I said OVER THERE!”
D.D. slowly rose, heaved a sigh, and staggered on into the night, his headache pounding in rhythm with the beeps of those gigantic machines.
*** SOUTH GEORGIA ISLAND –
POLICE PENGUIN HEADQUARTERS ***
He liked the sound of his own voice saying his own name. It made him feel powerful.
“That blasted boat got to the city yesterday. And no one’s come to me and said, ‘Sgt. Rockhopper, we got him coming off the boat. Sgt. Rockhopper, we got him near the harbor. Sgt. Rockhopper, we got that duck and we’re bringing him back to face justice.’”
The hulking police penguin stood, flippers crossed, in front of a wall of glass windows. His office was the centerpiece of a building on the highest
point of the island. His window wall overlooked the ice shelf. There wasn’t a finer view for hundreds of miles. He took it in while five of his lieutenants stood behind him, fidgeting nervously.
Rockhopper twirled his flaring yellow eyebrows. “Nope, nothing that sounds remotely like any of that.”
An uncomfortably long silence followed. Then he turned and slammed his flipper-fists on the table. “This damned duck is still bouncing around the city somewhere, probably trying to figure out where to eat, where to sleep, where to do anything, like a lost vagrant. He’ll stick out like a sore duck. What exactly are you idiots doing about it?”
The lieutenants eyed each other.
One spoke up. “We’re working on it boss. Word is he got rowdy in a bar somewhere.”
Another: “Yeah, yeah, he got kicked out or something.”
Rockhopper got close to the two penguins. “OOOO, a bar. That narrows it down to, I don’t know, 10,000 possible locations!” He pushed one of them back and almost knocked him over. “This duck somehow took out four of my guys without even trying. Did he get lucky? Was he on drugs? Just some street fighter, some lone duck? Super Duck? BULLSHIT. He’s nobody. He pushed paper at the Duck Department Of Administration, for cryin’ out loud.”
The lieutenants looked down and swayed back and forth a bit. Rockhopper exhaled in disgust, then quickly turned away and kicked a garbage can across the room.
“Everyone’s yammering about it in their little ice circles. The Duck who beat down Rockhopper’s penguins. Makes us look WEAK. Next thing you know, some other dumbass duck gets some stupid ideas, and then we don’t run this island anymore.”
He paused, then leaned his head back and roared: “I WANT THAT DUCK. And I want to make an example out of him!”
Sgt. Rockhopper turned back towards his cowering underlings, and pointed at one who hadn’t spoken. “You,” he snarled. “You got any great ideas?”.
The quiet lieutenant looked to his right, and eyed another penguin who hadn’t yet spoke. They both nodded. “Uhhh…there is something we thought of, and we have a plan in place. It’s a longshot but it’s worked before.”
Rockhopper leaned in close. They were beak to beak: “Oh, really? Well then, geniuses, let’s hear it…”
Chapter 6: Muddle Through
D.D.’s thoughts collided. The dance club, the bartender, the old city duck. The long boat ride. The incident at the ice shelf. Also, memories from long ago. Some good, some not so good.
“How many blocks did I walk?” he asked himself aloud.
He quickly remembered to look around, like snapping out of a trance.
Being tired is the enemy of presence…
His father’s voice. It kept showing up in his head, without an invitation.
The streetlamps that had illuminated his path to woodpeckers and construction sites were no longer working. He heard a rustling noise and looked down. Two rats scurried across the sidewalk. The wind blew loose trash across the street.
“Where is everyone?” His voice echoed slightly against the buildings.
Before the city people were annoying and loud. Now D.D. wished he’d see at least one or two of them, somewhere. His head was heavy, and his webbed feet even heavier from exhaustion.
He heard something crunch behind him. He turned around quickly but saw nothing but darkness.
“Is someone following me?” he whispered. “Those ducks from the club?”
He picked up his pace, one mini-stride after another. He cursed his short legs, which made the city blocks seem enormous.
Watch your step, keep an eye out, don’t walk towards trouble….
“Yeah, thanks Dodger,” he muttered, not so quietly this time. “I walked away from everything, and now where the hell am I?”
The words rang in his head, over and over:
I walked away from everything.
“More like I ran away from everything.” D.D. stopped walking and growled. “All that stuff you showed me did me a hell of a lot of good, didn’t it, Dad?”
A block ahead, a reddish hue flashed on the pavement. Sirens followed quickly.
“Shit.”
D.D. ducked into a dark awning. The police cruiser flew by, half a block ahead, at pursuit speed. He thought he saw the policeman look his way, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Why am I worried about that? I’m just some duck from thousands of miles away. What’s wrong with me?”
If you can’t rest, you can’t think.
“Yeah, I know, Dad. I mean, Dodger. Wait, who said that?”
He walked past the block the police car crossed. The vibe shifted. Buildings were broken down, some abandoned. A stale smell filled the air.
A crackling sound came from behind. How far behind? D.D. turned and thought he saw something in a shadow. Something small. A duck?
A penguin?
It stirred his tired mind.
“How the hell did Dodger know what happened back on the island?”
He stopped cold.
“What if…Rockhopper’s penguins know I’m here too? Are they are here also?”
D.D. felt queasy, both about where he stood and what he was thinking. His instinct: run.
He went as fast as he could for two more blocks. Then he saw someone at the next corner. They weren’t moving. D.D. could manage only a whisper to himself.
“Who’s that?”
D.D. turned and looked back. The figure he thought was trailing him had disappeared. But he couldn’t just turn around. It was weird back there. And running straight into Corner Man felt dangerous. D.D. made a sharp left into the next alley, even though it looked and smelled disgusting.
Sometimes life chooses you…
“For what?!” D.D. wasn’t even sure who he was screaming at. “For this MESS my life has become?!”
He ran in anger until reaching a loud bar. There was a back door entrance. He quickly snuck in. Anything was better than this filthy alley.
Inside were all these giant beings, yelling at each other. D.D. heard the sound of glass breaking. One of the giant beings suddenly crashed to the floor in front of him. They started laughing. One of them pointed down towards him.
“Look, that asshole passed out in front of…what is that, a duck? A fucking duck? Man, I must be really buzzed or something, holy shit!”
Another: “You brought that little fucker in here for a gag? Unreal, legendary! You even dressed him all weird!”
Everyone started laughing and slapping each other’s hands. Another glass broke.
Am I dreaming? Is this some kind of nightmare?
D.D. pushed his way through the sea of legs and feet and ran out the front door onto a pothole-ridden street, turned right, and ran as fast and as far as he could go before his lungs gave out. He finally staggered into an abandoned lot. It had a small patch of grass, which was just inviting enough for him to collapse upon and forget everything, other than that he hadn’t slept in countless hours.
Chapter 7: Slideshow
*** 20 YEARS EARLIER ***
* SOUTH GEORGIA ISLAND, SOUTHERN ATLANTIC OCEAN *
“See these ice paths here, up this hill?”
Eight-year-old D.D. Duck nodded, looking up at his father, listening intently. “Uh huh.”
“No one takes them. They’re out of the way. They take longer. But you get time to think, time to slow down your mind.”
“But Dad, why would I need to slow down my mind? Is it going too fast?”
D.D.’s father smiled. “Sometimes, probably. But that’s true of us all. We forget – we choose how it all goes. It’s easy to fall into reacting to things. That happens quickly. Too quickly, usually. But out here, you can practice.”
“Ah, ok.” D.D. nodded again, as if he understood.
“Here, let me show you something.”
His father led the way, switching back and forth up an incline on a narrow series of ice trails with high frozen walls. After a few more turns, the view opened up into a spectacular vista. An ice shelf. In the distance, the sun shimmered along an endless glassy surface.
“Wow, Dad, this is…beautiful.”
“Isn’t it?” His father took a long, deep breath. “When you grow to be an adult duck, you’ll see, life happens fast. Faster than you’d like sometimes. But don’t ever think it’s all just happening to you. That’s the trap.”
D.D. squinted back. “A trap? What’s the trap?”
“You always have a say in what happens in your life. It may not feel like that sometimes. But those are the times when this awareness matters most. You get a vote. They taught me that in the special service, and it’s the best advice I ever got. Works every time.”
D.D. was too overwhelmed to ask any more questions. He stared at the glimmering sunset, and then back at his father. He hoped the moment would never end.
* * * * * * * *
“OK son, now you try it.”
D.D. shuffled awkwardly in the family backyard. “I’m not sure I really get it, though.”
“Don’t overthink it,” his father said. “Just remember the motion and do it.”
D.D.’s father moved towards him. D.D. attempted to move his leg forward as instructed, and immediately tripped over himself and fell sideways.
“I don’t understand why I need to do this, Dad,” D.D. grumbled from his seat on the ground. “I don’t want to fight.”
“That’s not why we learn how. It’s only so we can defend ourselves.”
D.D. leaned in, curious. “From who?”
His father paused, then shrugged. “It’s irrelevant, actually. Hopefully no one, but it could be anyone. The important thing is, you only use this when you need to, when you choose to use it for the right reason.”
“But how do we know when that is?”
His father smiled warmly. “You’ll know. When you’re ready, you’ll know.”
He helped D.D. get back up off the ground, and then spoke softly.
“Now try it again. And think of someone trying to hurt…me.”
His father moved toward him quickly. D.D. leaned down, turned his body, and whipped his legs around sideways, completely upending his father, who landed on the ice and slid past him.
“That’s it!” his father exclaimed. “You did it!”
“Uh…wow. Yeah, I did.” D.D. felt a warmth flowing through him.
His father jumped up like a sprung coil. “I’m going to show you a few other things too. On this island, it’s important you know them. Not just on this island, but especially here.”
* * * * * * * *
Three years later, D.D. found himself in the school principal’s office. His father was at his side. He’d been called in about his son. Again.
The principal wasn’t happy, and addressed the senior duck directly. “We have to talk about your son’s problem.”
“Oh?” His dad spoke calmly. “What’s that?”
“He injured three other students today!” the principal yelled. “And this is the second time he’s had a fight in two weeks.”
“I’m curious,” D.D.’s father asked, “is it with the same ducks?”
“One was the same.” The principal leaned in. “Then he managed to fight a couple more today.”
D.D. couldn’t contain himself anymore. “He pushed me first! Both times! And he brought friends this time!”
The principal shook his head. “Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t, but we’re not going to allow fighting here at school as some form of vigilante justice. What am I supposed to tell their parents?”
“Maybe,” D.D.’s father leaned back, speaking slowly, and quietly, “their kids should have been a little more careful with who they picked on.”
The principal’s eyes went wide. “Oh, so you’re the problem! You think with your fancy special service background you can just have your kid in here wiping out anyone who calls him names?”
“Wait, wait, I didn’t want any of this!” D.D. exclaimed. I just want to be normal like every other duck.”
“Normal?” The principal’s voice cracked from shouting. “You’re not normal! Your behavior was completely out of line! And now I can see why. You are suspended indefinitely! GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!”
* * * * * * * *
Two hours later, D.D. and his father were back at the ice shelf. They’d been going there for years now. Especially at times like these.
“Tell me. How did it start?”
D.D. launched into the story. “The one duck cornered me with two friends. He was saying that last time I got lucky and this time I wouldn’t be so lucky. And then one of them pushed me from the side. I didn’t even think after that. Everything happened so fast. Next thing I knew, they were on the ground.”
D.D.’s father nodded, and said nothing.
“Dad, do you believe me?!”
“Yes, of course I believe you. You were wondering why I showed you how to do all of this, remember?”
D.D. froze. It took almost a minute for him to respond.
“But I didn’t want to fight. I just wanted to be left alone. Why did they choose me?”
“Sometimes life chooses you, D.D. Then you have to choose your path, in the moment. It’s a paradox, I know, it probably sounds ridiculous on some level. But that’s where your true power lies, in the choosing. And when you choose, really choose in the present moment, everything slows down, and it’s not frenetic or fast. It’s like slow motion.”
“Yeah, but look what it got me. I just miss going to school,” D.D. said, lowering his beak. “I should have kept my head down. Maybe somehow I could have avoided this.”
“Son, I understand. Some burdens are not easy. But when you decide you’re not going to keep your head down any longer, you’re going to be a real force to be reckoned with. Just like you were today.”
D.D. looked up at his father. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know a lot of things.
His father continued. “The world is weird and even capricious sometimes. It doesn’t always make sense. Defending yourself amidst all that isn’t easy, but the alternative isn’t any better. I wish the world worked a different way, but until it does, I won’t apologize for protecting myself or those I love, and neither should you.”
D.D.’s eyes welled up. “It’s confusing sometimes.”
“That’s for sure.”
They stared at the sunset, shimmering once again over the icy horizon. After a few minutes of silence, D.D.’s father spoke once more.
“I love you, son.”
* * * * * * * *
Twelve years later, D.D. stood with his mother outside in an ice field, standing over a rockpile. It was especially cold, with a bitter wind blowing harder than usual. Some friends and other family members were huddled closeby.
D.D.’s mother spoke in a broken voice, holding back tears. “He was a good Duck.”
She looked down at the rockpile covering her sweetheart’s remains, as if she was waiting for something, anything, to happen.
“I know, Mom. I know.”
“It happened so fast,” she whispered. “I thought we would have more time.”
“I did too, Mom.”
They stood in the windy plateau for quite a while before D.D. spoke again.
“I know he really wanted me to join the special service, but I think I’m going to take the job at the Duck Department Of Administration.”
She looked at him quizzically. “It’s a bit…boring, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but steady, reliable.” D.D. looked away, off into the distance. “Me, doing his thing…I just don’t know if I could ever measure up to him. Or if it’s the right fit for me.”
His mother’s back stiffened. “He wouldn’t have wanted you to do it for that. He would have wanted you to do it for you.”
“I know. That’s why I think I need to do this instead.” D.D. turned and looked into his mother’s eyes. “He was really great. I don’t want to mess up his legacy, you know? I feel like, whenever I go there, it doesn’t turn out well.”
His mother’s eyes went soft. “I know it’s hard now. Maybe wait a little while before you make this decision?”
D.D. paused, lost in thought. Then, after a while: “Maybe.”
“You know what he always told me?” his mother asked, smiling. “He said he was never worried about you not measuring up. He actually thought you would surpass him in every way. In every way.”
“Yeah. He told me that too. More than once. I’m not sure I ever knew why.”
D.D. and his mother stood silently for a long time. The horizon began to fade, even dissolve. The ice floor turned a darker color, and the sky collapsed into a strange rotating ball.
D.D. thought he heard a woman’s voice. Not his mother’s. Someone else, someone unfamiliar.
Then everything went black.
Chapter 8: And Then There Were Just Us/Duck’s End
“You lost or something?”
D.D. woke with a start, staring up from the ground into the eyes of an attractive, if hard-edged, female Duck. Very clearly a City Duck.
“Uhhh, just a long night.”
She laughed. “Looks like it! You got some balls spending the night out here in this part of town. You a tough guy or something?”
He rubbed his temples, fighting off a hangover headache. “Yeah, real tough guy, that’s me.” He rolled over and stood up. “And your name is?”
“Katherine. You?”
“You can call me D.D.”
She chuckled. “OK, D.D.” She reached over and brushed some dirt off his jacket, breaching the physical contact barrier with ease and confidence. “I bet you’ve got some story.”
* * * * *
Thirty minutes later they landed in a breakfast joint. A greasy-spoon city diner, with chrome-rimmed countertops and decent coffee and comfort food. Good for hangovers. They ordered accordingly.
“This is helping.” D.D. wolfed down an omelette and hash browns.
“It’s helped me more than once.” She nibbled at a BLT and sipped on a Bloody Mary.
“So now you know my story. What’s yours? You seem like you’ve been here a while.”
Katherine nodded. “Yeah. I grew up on a small island as well. I remember island life. Sit around and watch the sunset over the ice? Not for me. I wanted more. And I was willing to work for it.”
“And do you have it? More? Whatever that is?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.” Her feathers rustled as she leaned forward for emphasis. “It’s not cheap here, even in this part of town. I’m working two jobs plus freelancing to keep my place and buy something nice every once in a while. You gotta hustle to make it here.”
D.D. noticed her clothes. Designer. They accentuated her shape. “It’s nice,” he stammered. “Your outfit. City style suits you.”
“I wasn’t fishing for the compliment, but thanks.” She looked him up and down. “Might be fun to take you shopping.”
He shrugged. “This was kind of an unexpected trip, remember?”
She reached over and touched his shirt collar, softening her tone into something sweeter. “And would you have chosen much differently if you knew you were planning a big city vacation? I mean, really? This kind of seems like…you.”
“Just island clothes…I guess.” D.D. stammered.
Katherine leaned in. “You look pretty good in just island clothes.”
D.D. felt a rush. It had been a while.
* * * * *
The check had arrived 15 minutes ago. Katherine and D.D. were still talking.
“It’s maddening and it just keeps happening,” said D.D. “Every time I make waves about something, it backfires. This wasn’t the first time. I usually keep my head down and stay under the radar.”
Katherine cocked her head and half-smiled. “And how’s that working out for you?”
“Honestly it was working out just fine before I went and…ehhh, you know what, it was boring. I thought I liked it that way. But now, I don’t know. I’m not sure of anything anymore.”
“Life is short and you gotta take what you can get,” Katherine declared. “No one’s gonna give it to you. Especially not here.”
D.D. sat up a bit straighter. “Well, what if I did just decide to stop it with this boring, normal, keep-my-head-down routine.”
“Uhhhh…I think you already have, D.D.”
D.D. sat in stunned silence. She’s right, isn’t she? I haven’t kept my head down since I got here.
“Ok then, let’s say I keep going with this.” D.D. leaned back. His feathers unruffled on both sides. “What difference would it make now, right? I’m thousands of miles from home.”
Katherine nodded and said, “It absolutely would make a difference.”
“How so?”
“Well,” Katherine said, “to start, I might invite you over to my place. If you were going to stop it with this being boring, normal, keep-my-head-down routine, that is.”
D.D. froze. His inner voices got loud.
She’s challenging me to do it again, right now. Take a risk, or lay low and be careful.
“Uhhh, yeah, ok. I’ll do it, I’ll stop. Being normal.” D.D. looked up and shook his head. “It’s been kind of a struggle anyway!”
She laughed. “You’re pretty cute when you’re trying to convince yourself of something. But I’ll buy it.”
“Speaking of buying, I don’t even have enough money to buy breakfast.”
“I got it,” Katherine said. “My treat. You can, uh, pay me back later.”
Katherine took D.D.’s hand, and they walked out together, leaning on each other.
********
They woke after a late afternoon nap. Orange and amber light was forcing its way through the window blinds.
D.D. sat up. For a few seconds, he had no idea where he was. Then he saw Katherine laying next to him. It still didn’t make much sense.
“Whoa,” he said, “how long were we asleep?”
Katherine smiled and curled into him. “Almost as long as we were…”
She leaned over and kissed him while her voice trailed off. Then she got up and disappeared into the bathroom.
D.D. sat perfectly still, alone, somewhere between reveling and dumbfounded.
I can’t believe that just happened.
An unsettling thought flashed through his mind.
Maybe this is all a big dream and I never left the island.
He hit himself in the arm a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Nope. Real.
Well, now what? His mind wandered while the orange light turned to a dusky glow.
Ten minutes later, Katherine was still in the bathroom.
Weird, he thought, but OK. Remember, it’s been a while.
Then, it happened quickly, like a freight train that at first seemed far off in the distance but suddenly was coming at him at blinding speed: A sharp, piercing pain. Between his legs.
“Oh my GOD!” D.D. screamed. “What the f…?”
Katherine burst out of the bathroom. “What? What’s wrong?”
“I’ve got this…burning pain…aaaauugghh…”
Katherine’s eyes showed panic. “Where?!”
There was no way to say it delicately. “Uhhhh…you know…down there!”
Five seconds of very awkward silence passed.
D.D. broke the spell. “Are you ok?!”
“Fine, never better.” Katherine shrugged her shoulders. “And no issues here if you know what I mean.”
“OK, I believe you, but…aaaauugghhh, it’s really painful!”
Katherine remained unfazed. “Ok, ok, try to calm down. It’s probably just some weird reaction because it’s been so long. I know a good duck doctor in the city. We’re friends. I’ll text him and let him know we’re on the way.”
“Really? You can get me in there that fast?”
“Yeah, this guy owes me a favor.”
Katherine worked on her phone intensely for a minute. “Done. But we have to go now. Like, right now.”
“Oh, thank you, thank you. Holy god, it hurts.” D.D. quickly gathered his things and staggered towards the door.
Katherine watched D.D. closely as he packed in a noisy panic. She then put herself together deliberately, with a calm determination that bordered on unnatural, before guiding them out the door and back into the bustling city.
* * * * * * *
They walked a few blocks. D.D. was limping and groaning.
Katherine held his hand and gently pushed him forward. “Come on, you need to keep going.”
D.D. looked at her. She was staring straight ahead, occasionally glancing off to the right or left. Focused.
“I can’t believe this,” D.D. moaned, “I can’t believe any of this is happening. All I wanted was some kind of normal life…”
“You stopped being normal the second you got on that boat!” she snapped. “Enough with the whining. You’re here now. You want me to help you or not?”
D.D. felt shock, then a deep shame. “Ok, ok…I’m sorry. I know you’re doing me a favor here.”
He staggered forward and kept quiet, but his thoughts got loud. I could have just kept my head down…
Katherine pointed forward. “We’re almost there. Just around the corner.”
It wasn’t the nicest part of town by any measure, and the storefront wasn’t much to look at. The words “Duck Doc Services” were plainly printed on a rusty sign hanging over the door. The windows were blacked out.
“This?” D.D. blurted out, between throbs of pain. “This is the place?”
Katherine took a deep breath. “Yes, this is the place, and they’ll know just what to do. It’s not easy to find a good duck doctor in the city, you know.”
He felt queasy. The vibes were clearly off. But with the intense pain getting worse, and Katherine trying to help him, and nowhere else to go, D.D. didn’t have much of a choice.
“OK, thank you Katherine.”
She knocked three times on the door. D.D. heard a rusty deadbolt slide. The door opened, and he walked in. She followed right behind him.
The rusty deadbolt slid again. Six penguins stood before them. Also a duck, wearing a doctor’s white coat and holding a large needle. D.D. felt his stomach hit the floor.
The leader penguin spoke up. His voice was a broken growl.
“Long way from home, aren’t you?”
Chapter 9: This Is Not Scrotum
Two penguins grabbed D.D. by each arm and pulled him forward. He felt a rush of panic, fear, nausea.
He looked back at Katherine. She stood perfectly still. He tried to get closer to her, but the penguins were strong. He couldn’t move.
“Just leave her alone, ok?” D.D. stopped trying to free himself. “She doesn’t have anything to do with this! It’s my dumb fault that I—”
D.D. froze in mid-sentence as he watched one of the other penguins hand Katherine an envelope.
Ohhhh noooo!
Duck’s heart sank as the reality washed over him. “But Katherine…you…you’re a duck! Why would you—”
“Ducks and penguins don’t have anything to do with it,” she said, her voice now lower in pitch. “Not here. Not for me. I’m just taking care of myself. Nobody’s gonna do it for me.”
She counted the money in the envelope. A couple of the penguins chuckled, savoring the moment.
D.D, shook his head. “I just…don’t believe it. You were faking it? All of it? I know it had been a while, but…”
“See, that’s the thing with you normies. Everything’s so black and white. I took a job. Then, something else happened. All real. A couple of things can be true at once, you know. What’s the word?” Katherine paused and looked up. “Right, paradox. Life is a paradox sometimes. I still think you’re cute. Isn’t that something?”
D.D.’s brain echoed in surreality. Paradox. Why is that familiar?
The pain in his lower parts was still there, throbbing and burning, but only half his mind was focused on it.
“I can’t even process this,” he said to Katherine, sounding desperate and frazzled. “I don’t know what your story is, how you got into this thing, but there’s help you can get, if you’re indebted, if you have to do this for some reason—”
“WHOA, slow down there. Are you serious? You think I’m the one who needs help? Wake up. I’m not the one who needs saving here.” Katherine walked closer to him. “Hmm. Not so cute after all.”
More penguin laughter.
Katherine and D.D. locked eyes once more. His were shellshocked. Hers were firm. He thought, for a brief moment, he detected her eyes cracking and slightly watering. Then she broke contact, turned and walked out the door, envelope in hand.
“Sooooooo,” the penguin group leader crowed, in his broken growl, “this is famous duck who made such mess of things back on the island.” This penguin had some kind of vaguely Slavic accent. He clearly wasn’t from the South Atlantic at all. “He doesn’t look like much!”
“Rockhopper said be careful with this duck,” another chimed in. “He beat four penguins already.”
“They were stupid, not ready,” said the leader. “We don’t make same mistake here. Right, Doctor?”
D.D. was held upright by each arm while an older duck, dressed in medical clothing, prepared a needle. A big needle.
“It’s a special solution,” the doctor said in a quiet high pitch. “I made it myself. A bit of pain, some other things. It’s custom.”
“What, I’m not in enough pain already?!” D.D. pointed to his lower parts. The penguins all chortled. The doctor continued.
“You don’t need to worry about that burning. It goes away very soon. It just makes quick sharp pain. And to make you panic. So that you needed help. To come here, to me. The Duck Doctor.” He opened his palms and raised his eyebrows. “The burning down there thing? I made that custom too. Goes well when added to a drink.”
D.D. didn’t know when Katherine hit him with it, but it could have been at the diner, or at her place. Probably her place.
“You’re sick,” D.D. growled. “And you’re a duck too. How could you do this to other ducks?”
“Well,” the doctor said, caressing his needle, “I love medicine. It’s magic. And you know what they say. Find something you love doing, and you’ll never work a day in your life. Sounds trite, but you know what? Turns out to be true.”
“ENOUGH with this talk! Bring Duck to table.”
The penguin henchmen followed their leader’s orders. D.D. felt everything getting faster. Heart rate. Escape thoughts. Fear.
Some noise came from another part of the room. Another door opened, from the rear of the building. Two more penguins came barging in, holding a duck in an old cap.
“Dodger?!” D.D. didn’t think his heart could sink any lower, but it did.
One of the new penguins spoke. His voice sounded hoarse from yelling, or smoking, or god knows what. “Old duck was following them. He saw us, tried to get away. Old duck does not run fast.” The penguins all laughed.
“Well”, said leader penguin, “It is party now. Bring him here.” The henchmen threw Dodger up against the wall.
“Dodger, I’m so sorry…I…I…I had no idea. I can’t seem to figure out the right move to stay out of trouble, and now you too. I don’t know how I got mixed up in any of this. I just wanted a quiet life. I just tried to…keep my…”
He couldn’t even finish the phrase. For once.
“Kid,” said Dodger, breathing heavy, “like I said, sometimes that’s not what life has planned for us.”
The surreal echo reappeared in D.D.’s head. Have I heard that before? From who?
The leader penguin pointed up to the ceiling. “I cannot forget. Rockhopper wanted make sure to get video of punishment. To show what happens to ducks like this when they leave his island.”
D.D. looked up and saw three installed small video cameras, red lights all on.
“Time for make Ducks famous.”
D.D.’s heart rate got even faster. Dangerously fast. The penguins restrained them both while the Duck Doctor drew closer with the needle.
And then it came to him.
Sometimes life chooses you. Then you have to choose your path, in the moment.
The voice of his father.
It’s a paradox, I know, probably sounds ridiculous on some level. But that’s where your true power lies, in the choosing.
D.D. felt almost out of his own body, like he was watching everything, including himself.
And when you choose, really choose, everything slows down, and it’s not frenetic or fast.
D.D. looked around. Eight penguins. One duck. With a needle.
Now try it again…and think of someone trying to hurt…me.
D.D. looked at Dodger Duck, beaten and held down. Or was it his father?
He closed his eyes. His heart rate slowed. Everything slowed.
The pain in his lower parts was gone.
He opened his eyes. The penguins were moving in slow motion. The Duck Doctor was approaching him, but barely moving.
Eight penguins. One duck. With a needle.
While his wrists were still held, D.D. jumped up just enough to kick back at the penguin’s knees. They were distracted for a millisecond, long enough for D.D. to twist his way out of their grasp. He fell to the floor and spun his legs around in a wide circle. All four penguins – the two who’d been holding him and the two holding Dodger – went flying in midair, legs over their heads.
The Doctor froze. D.D. jumped up and grabbed the needle out of his hand and threw it at one of the other penguins running right at him. It struck his eye, and the penguin went immediately into spasms, shrieking and twitching until he fell to the floor, writhing in agony.
Dodger was free and grabbed the first thing he saw – a chair – and wailed on the two penguins who’d brought him in. Meanwhile two more penguins were charging at D.D.
How could they be moving so slowly?
D.D. stepped out of their path as they clumsily kept going. D.D. struck one penguin from behind. The blow plus the momentum sent the penguin crashing to the floor, beak first. The other one came back at him with a hand strike.
The slowest hand strike in history.
D.D. deflected it, grabbed his wrist, turned his arm up, and flipped him. The penguin landed hard on the cement floor and didn’t move after.
Only the leader penguin and the Duck Doctor remained. Leader’s face was bright red.
“You are STUPID DUCK. You think you are some kind of hero?!” Leader looked around in disgust, taking in the sight of seven unconscious penguins. “You only make WORSE. You should have stayed quiet. Kept your head down.”
The words washed over him like a cool ocean breeze, the kind he enjoyed back on the island. D.D.’s body tension increased. Then, just as quickly, it decreased.
“Yeah. I used to think that.” He calmly kicked aside some debris that stood between them. “Not anymore.”
Leader Penguin’s eyes bulged. He screamed and charged in a bull rush. D.D. watched each of his strides, slowly, one after the other. Just before the penguin reached him, he calmly let himself fall backwards in a rolling motion with his arms and legs outstretched. From the floor, he placed his feet into the charging penguin’s chest, catapulting the Leader into the wall behind him. There was a post sticking out of the wall that looked like it was supposed to hold a shelf. Instead, the post was now holding the Leader Penguin, sticking straight through his chest. He slumped and went still.
Everything was quiet. D.D. felt his surroundings return to normal speed.
Three ducks stood amidst the wreckage: D.D., Dodger, and the Duck Doctor.
“How dare you,” Dodger growled at the Doctor. He walked closer to him. “There’s a special place in hell for Ducks who don’t help other Ducks.”
The Doctor was sweating profusely, his face ashen. “I—I—I—” He grabbed his chest, trying to catch his breath. Then he fell to the floor. A bottle of pills flew out of his hand. The label said “EMERGENCY”. There was a skull and crossbones on it. The Doctor wasn’t moving. Saliva pooled in his mouth.
D.D. shook his head. “Medicine is magic, alright. He must have taken it himself.”
Dodger put his hand on D.D.’s arm while looking around the room. Then he pointed at the red lights on the cameras. “We gotta get out of here.”
“Yeah, probably a good idea.”
* * * * * * * *
D.D. and Dodger were sitting back at the harbor, watching the boats come in and out.
“So,” D.D. said, “you think I’m ready to hear more?”
Dodger laughed. “I think you probably already know. Want to take a guess?”
D.D. looked up. The sky was a clear blue. “Well. Let’s see. Something like, this penguin oppression has been going on a long time. I just didn’t notice. Or want to notice.”
“Go on.”
“Rockhopper and his corrupt cops control the island. The ducks just go along to get along. It’s ok as long as you don’t make waves. ‘Keep your head down’.”
“Uh huh.”
“And it’s not just on the island.”
“Uh huh,” Dodger said. “But he really likes that island, so he runs it all from there. It’s weird. He’s never left. He’s chased some ducks away though.”
“And your network here takes in refugees.”
“That’s right, D.D. But we’ve been waiting for the right moment. And the right duck.”
D.D. put his hand on Dodger’s shoulder. “Did you know my father?”
“I knew about him. A few of us did. A good duck. We didn’t know he had a son. And we definitely didn’t know he had a son like…you.”
They sat for another minute or so, staring at the water.
D.D. eventually refocused and had a thought. “You know what’s going to happen when Rockhopper sees that video, right?”
“Yep,” Dodger said. “A crackdown.”
“Then you know what we have to do, right?”
“Go into hiding for a while?” Dodger asked.
“No, not at all,” D.D. said emphatically. “We need to go back the island and finish this. End the penguin oppression.”
Dodger’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? Yesterday you were running away from this as fast as you could, and now you want to lead the charge?”
“It’s not just yesterday and today. It was always there.” D.D. skimmed a rock across the water. It bounced nine times before finally sinking. “I think I’ve always known it. I just wasn’t ready. But now that I’ve opened the door in my mind…I can’t imagine doing anything else. All of my angst, it was all about me resisting…this.”
Dodger smiled. “It won’t be easy, you know. We’re gonna need a few good ducks.”
“Something tells me you know just the right ducks for the job.”
A long foghorn sounded. A flock of seagulls flew en masse, chirping a chorus overhead.
D.D. thought of what his mother told him at his father’s funeral. He actually thought you would surpass him in every way.
Dodger stood up. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
D.D. got up to meet him. “You bet your duck balls I am.”
Special thanks to Marcy Beller Paul, story editor.
