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“I didn’t wanna wake you up. You just looked so peaceful.”
The old duck sat on the large worn brick, thoughtful, his leg bouncing on his knee slowly as he skimmed the pages of the book he had rested in his lap. His black eyes narrowed at the text, then squinted, before the shine on his specs strengthened as he straightened abruptly.
“That’s it!” he mused in fascination under his breath, grinning widely at having found the information he was looking for. For a brief second, he had that revelation in his clutches and, be darned, he was proud of it!
That revelation meant nothing to him, he realised. He quickly grew mildly frustrated, settling the book down on the rock next to him and sitting straight. He folded his arms in a perplexed and almost pouty manner, as he tried to decipher something – anything – to get past the realization he’d just made.
His gaze shot up at the sound of grumbling, across to other side of the kindling flame – the sound of his nephew uttering blissful nonsense in his sleep. Middle youngest, the lad was, often in blue and often lost in that big blue ocean of danger. Almost exactly like his Uncle Scrooge in ambition and adventure.
Scanning the book’s cover, Scrooge’s expression was blank as he contemplated it his options. His stare lit like the fire burning before him, and he scrambled to his feet, about to call in excitement.
“Dew–!”
He cut himself off immediately, noting the darkness surrounding them and the expression on the child’s face. Scrooge reeled at the obvious tranquillity, afraid of speaking any further and disturbing his nephew. Perhaps his discovery could have waited until the morning, when the lad had fully rested? The elder had not rested yet himself…
His amber-glinted eyes followed the smoke rising from the fire. It escaped through a quadrilateral hole in the tall ceiling, boasting of how easily it had passed the hurdle the ducks had not. No results had come from the pair’s joint attempts to reach that exit, and had since concluded it pointless.
The only other features in this room were the darkly-lit walls, full of ancient text but otherwise nonsense, and two doors that refused to open. Nothing in this room was helpful, aside from his nephew who was currently sound asleep under two blankets.
Scrooge sighed softly, his gaze grim and stumped as he watched the dancing embers. It was typical, he supposed, that the both of them would encounter this type of trouble. A few hours earlier, they had been running excitedly into this room, a large aged boulder hot on their tails. There was so much adrenalin in that moment, so much fun, so much thrill – and of course, danger.
Scrooge hadn’t much time to fret as the door had closed behind them and brought the boulder to a stop. Both had stood there, thinking, staring, processing what had just happened. Then snickered, giggled, and laughed at the sheer ridiculousness that they had just taken part in.
That hadn’t lasted when they came to a literal dead end. This room hadn’t spoken its secrets in twenty minutes, and continued to do so until this very point in time. Nothing useful was in the inscriptions here – nothing. This room had no cheat code and was very cruel in giving an overload of information that helped nothing but their impending insanity.
Adventure was all good fun – but Scrooge both wondered and worried if they’d ever escape this infernal prison. He was burdened deeply by the fact that Dewey could be home safe and sound, maybe even with an ice cream. McDuck was ever confident, yes, but several hours had passed in this room and no progress to escape had been made.
He rose to his feet, his eyes low and tired as he walked towards the backpack to his left.
If this revelation wasn’t helpful, then…
“OW!”
His foot crashed into an object covered in darkness, and he yelped a muffled curse has he hit the floor. Instinct kicked in on time, however, and his hands shot in front of him to halt any damage to his face. He grumbled to himself until the light breathing of his nephew no longer reached his ears, and turned his head slowly.
Dewey sat straight, awoken by the thud and cry of his uncle. His expression was that of worry and confusion as he saw Scrooge pick himself up.
Brushing himself off, Scrooge looked to his nephew apologetically.
“Ah, sorry, lad,” he mumbled quickly.
The duckling shrugged, not seeming to reflect on his sleeping pattern. He blinked at the cotton surrounding him and looked at his uncle in confusion.
“Where’d this other blanket come from?” he inquired, but was returned a shrug.
To begin with, the other’s answer had been hesitant but it picked itself up quickly enough. “Cold is Antarctica,” he stated quickly. “Ae’ve no need of it.”
He didn’t divulge anything else – not that the shiver in his sleeping nephew had prompted him to hand the blanket over.
“Oh, uh… yeah, right, right.” Dewey’s eyes traced the floor awkwardly, then he spoke again, “Soooo, we still trapped forever?”
“Totally, totally trapped,” Scrooge returned sheepishly.
Dewey nodded and decided to accept this was his life now.
“Although perhaps not forever, me boy!”
His expression brightened, and he looked at Scrooge excitedly. “You found a way out?!”
“Welllllll… maybe,” was his answer.
“Oh. Maybe. Cool! What’ve you got, Uncle Scrooge? Does it involve death and danger, not in that order?”
“Ye—no!” Scrooge stopped himself, then paused. “Maybe not death.”
“Awww, but impending death is so much fun!”
Scrooge’s brow furrowed worriedly. “I assure you death is not on the agenda, Dewey.”
He ignored the pouting expression on Dewey’s face as he walked back to pick up the book, then flicked through a few pages. Walking around the fire, he put the page before the child.
A hand-sized cube was sketched on the page, highly detailed and holding several indentations. Its vertical face was bright, decorated with a gem.
“I was going to ask you this earlier… Have you seen an object like this? Something—”
“Oh, yeah, totally,” Dewey replied, waving a dismissive hand with a chill expression. “That’s that thing I picked up in the other room.”
“Wh-what? You… you had that the entire time?!” Scrooge exclaimed, his hand clutching the side of his head as he stared at the book in bafflement. “I never saw you pick that up…”
“I was sneaky about it because… uh…” Dewey trailed off uneasily.
“Yes?” Scrooge asked, staring expectantly.
“Never mind, it’s lame. Anyway, what about it?”
Scrooge paced to the other side of the room, where the door they had not come through stood. It was surrounded by four circular indentations, embedded into its stone border.
“I knew there was more to these marks than pretty decoration…” He gestured to the door, then glared at the book in frustration. “Unfortunately, this book has extremely obscure chapter names… and I can understand Shakespeare!”
Dewey squinted, then his eyes widened. He looked to his backpack immediately.
“The gem can fit into those slots! Or… one of them,” he stated. “This plan is a failure; I only have one cube!”
“Where is that cube, anyway?”
Dewey pulled himself to his feet and waddled over to the bag, then after finding nothing, looked around the room.
“It was in here…” he mumbled, then had a realization. “…you tripped over it.”
“O…oh,” Scrooge mused, cringing slightly. “Ae see.”
Dewey picked up the object that had once been clouded in darkness, and brought it to the light. Its face was illuminated by the fire, causing its onlookers to stare in wonder.
“Wait…”
Scrooge readjusted his specs, blinking as he noticed more than one light, coloured differently.
“The… is that another gem?” As Dewey twirled the cube… “And another?”
Suddenly it clicked. It all made sense.
“Yeah, it has it on four sides – but don’t we only have one cube? I didn’t see any other cubes in that room…” Dewey looked confused, but he dwelled on the mystery, on the door before them. “Unless…”
Scrooge’s expression grew chipper as Dewey’s eyes followed the curved line of indentations.
“…we use the same cube for all of them?”
“Aye, lad!” Scrooge grinned, then turned to the door. “The only question is: what order?”
Dewey looked at the walls.
“You read that stuff, right?”
Scrooge waved a dismissive hand.
“Yes, yes – all nonsense, though. Nothing at all useful. Personally, I think the person who made this trap wanted be an extra teaspoon of sadistic.” He huffed in annoyance. “I translated all of that… I mean all of it…”
“What did it say?” Dewey asked in confusion.
“Sentences of the same directions that ultimately lead nowhere. South, north, west, and east. Repeatedly,” Scrooge stated, looking puzzled. “Not sure how an ancient GPS would help someone here…”
The younger duck walked over, concentrating on the circles embedded into the trimming. He glanced back to the dark multi-coloured walls, noting the several dots between nonsense, then turned back to the door.
“Hmm…”
His hand moved, clicking one coloured gem into one slot, and then continuing.
“Dewey, you’re going to be here a –”
There was a sudden loud ‘THUD’. The sound of whatever lock the door had unlocking. The sound of the door scraping its stone sides, of its bottom rising to reveal light.
Scrooge looked at Dewey in shock.
“Ta-da!” he responded with a grin, chucking the cube up and down in his hands.
“How did you…”
“I was just so cool the door listened to me!” he exclaimed proudly, pointing at himself. Scrooge didn’t look convinced… he needed an explanation otherwise it would drive him nuts. “I just… acted like the holes were a compass, I guess. Rotated it until it worked.”
Scrooge looked gobsmacked.
“Of course! OF COURSE!” he exclaimed, laughing at himself. “Why didn’t I think of that…? In that case, I withdraw my comment about the trap creator – they’re LESS sadistic than they were before!”
He looked at Dewey, who tilted his head.
“Well done!” he praised, ruffling his hair with pride. Dewey’s eyes sparkled a little, and he folded his arms, trying to look cool.
“Naturally!”
Scrooge grinned and then walked over to the fire.
“Come on, lad! Let’s go find the others, before your Uncle Donald throws a fit.” He began packing their belongings.
“If he hasn’t already,” Dewey replied with a small snicker. He blinked. “Hey… Uncle Scrooge?”
“Yes, Dewey?” The duck set about the fire.
“You could’ve just woke me up, you know? We could’ve been outta’ here aaaaaaaaaaa-ages ago,” Dewey spoke with amused confusion.
Scrooge faltered a little.
“To be honest, it is relatively late – if it hadn’t been for that cube of yours, I would have left you to sleep,” he stated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t wanna’ wake you up. You just… looked so peaceful.”
He looked down at the calming fire, watching it fade.
“So…?”
“In this type of life, Dewey – sleep like that is a rare occasion.” He stood and turned to the other. “Ae wouldn’t want to rob you of that while you still have it.”
Dewey chuckled a little.
“Why is sleep such a big deal? It’s just… sleep, right?”
Scrooge didn’t respond.
Sleep eventually becomes tragic or non-existent. After a person has lived such a long and eventful life, the things they most regret and fear invade through nightmares.
Peaceful sleep was a rarity Dewey didn’t know about.
Having finished cleaning and gathering their things, Scrooge made for the door, jolly once more.
He held out Dewey’s backpack, then grinned slightly.
“…race back?”
“I ALREADY STARTED, OLD MAN!”
Dewey had snatched the bag and was racing off through the door.
“Hey! PLAY HONEST!” Scrooge yelled with a grin.
He pulled his backpack onto his shoulders and quickly bolted after his nephew.