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“Huey, are you done packing yet?” Dewey calls, climbing up the ladder to their room.
“C’mon, we’ve gotta get going!” Louie says from behind Dewey.
With a phone book and some extra research, they’d gotten ahold of Benjordan’s address and discovered that he lives in the suburbs of Shelltown. Dewey and Louie’s things are already loaded into the camper van.
Dewey looks around, frowning when he sees an empty suitcase beside a pile of clothes on Huey’s bed, but no Huey. “Hugh?” he calls once more.
Then from the bathroom, they hear,
“It’s the end of the world as we know it!”
Dewey shares a confused look with Louie, then they poke their heads through the open door. They find Huey, hunched over the sink in front of the mirror.
“What are you talking about?” Louie asks.
Huey turns to them and points at his cheeks. “I have the McDuck sideburns coming in!” he cries. Short white feathers protrude from the sides of his face.
Dewey blinks.
Louie arches his eyebrow. “So?” he asks, confused, “I do too.” He points at his own face. Longer feathers extend to his jaw and curl at the ends, reminiscent of their great uncle.
“But you don’t have a beautiful face!” Huey shouts.
“We have the same face,” Dewey says, crossing his arms.
Huey ignores him. “This is gonna ruin me!” he continues to cry, “I’ll never be able to get another date for the rest of my life! Every girl who sees these horrors is gonna run! I’ll never make the front cover of a magazine! I’ll never win the Mr. Cool Teen Contest ever again! The world is officially ending!” He slumps over the edge of the sink, whining pathetically.
“I can’t believe this is why you’re not packing,” Dewey mutters. The feathers have been on Huey’s face for awhile. Dewey is surprised he’s only noticing them now.
“They’re just sideburns,” Louie says, unable to understand why this is such a problem, “What is the big deal? If you hate them so much, I’ll lend you my razor.” Why not? They already share everything else. With or without permission.
“No!” Huey exclaims, shooting up from the sink, “Then my face will be all prickly! Girls hate kissing guys with prickly faces!” He groans and drags his hands down his face. “I’ll never be able to kiss again! My life is over!!!” He staggers toward the bathtub, drops to his knees, and drapes his chest over the side. Then he falls right in.
“Oh my gosh,” Dewey says. There are no more words that can express his exasperation.
“Would you get over yourself? They’re not that bad,” Louie says with an annoyed glare.
“Easy for you to say,” Huey pouts from the tub, “You like them.”
“They’re fluffy,” Louie says, as if that should fix everything. He fluffs his feathers proudly.
“Kay, we don’t have time for this!” Dewey exclaims, throwing his arms up in the air, “Huey, hurry up and finish packing.”
“You heartless monster!” Huey shoots up in the bathtub. Then slowly slinks back down. “But obviously, you wouldn’t understand. You don’t have them!” He points an accusing foot at the wall.
Dewey’s face is as smooth as silk. It’s not fair.
Dewey rolls his eyes. “Oh my gosh. I am leaving. Finish packing!”
“I’m leaving too,” Louie says, following Dewey to the ladder.
“You guys would abandon me in my time of need?!” Huey shouts. He waits for an answer, while staring up at the ceiling.
He frowns.
“Guys?...”
______________________________________
It was hard convincing Uncle Donald to let them go. The thought of his boys on the road all by themselves worries him. But even if he’d said no, Donald knows they would’ve gone anyway. He won’t try to fool himself; they’re almost seventeen, there’s no way they would’ve listened to him.
At least this way, they won’t sneak off without saying goodbye.
“Do you have enough clothes?” Donald asks, as the boys finish putting the last of their things into the camper van.
“Yes Uncle D,” Dewey says.
“Do you have the first aid kit?”
“Yes Uncle D,” says Louie.
“Do you have enough food? What about money? Water bottles? Jackets? Blankets?”
Huey shakes his head fondly. “Uncle D. Relax. We have everything we need.”
“Oh... okay,” Donald clears his throat, fiddling nervously with his fingers behind his back, “Take care, boys.”
“Don’t worry,” Louie says with a smile, jumping out of the van, “We’ll be fine. We’re not little kids, remember?”
Donald sighs, trying not to imagine the three of them when they were ten. “I know, I know. You’re more than capable of looking after yourselves. But I still worry.” He always will, no matter how old they get.
Huey smiles at him. “We’ll miss you, Uncle Donald.”
Then all three of them come close and wrap Donald in a group hug. Donald hugs them back.
“I’ll miss you boys too.”
“It’s just six days. We’ll be back before you know it,” Dewey reassures.
“Tell Daisy we said bye,” Louie says.
“I will,” Donald promises. He squeezes them one last time. “Take care of each other.”
“Got it covered,” Huey says smugly, “I’ll make sure the babies don’t trip over each other.”
“And the babies will make sure you don’t trip over yourself,” Dewey says.
Huey glares at him, and Dewey smirks, while Louie rolls his eyes with a grin.
Donald smiles.
Then they say goodbye and wave, getting into the camper van. Donald watches the van drive away, until it’s out of sight. He sighs again.
The house is going to be awfully quiet.
______________________________________
They’ve been on the highway for about an hour now. Dewey is driving. Louie is sitting beside him with the map. He doesn’t need directions yet; they aren’t that far away from Duckburg yet and he’s familiar with this area. They’ll be going straight for most of the day.
Nothing but boring driving for Dewey in the hours ahead.
Huey’s in the back, lazing around. Either on his phone or napping, is Dewey’s guess. He better not be snooping through his stuff—though Dewey wouldn’t put him above it.
Louie’s just watching the sky. There’s a song in his head and he’s humming it, tapping his fingers on the dashboard. Dewey might’ve found it annoying if he wasn’t used to it.
They haven’t spoke much, but the silence is comfortable. They’re all wondering about Benjordan. They’re all thinking different things, and having doubts, feelings of nervousness and fear swirling in their guts, and yet excited at the same time. Dewey wonders how Benjordan will react to seeing them. He wonders if he’ll know who they are. He wonders what kind of person he is, if he’ll like them, if he’ll let them come into his home. If he’ll really know where their father is. It’s so nerve-wracking. What if this guy turns out to be a complete whack? But on the other hand, he could turn out to be an amazing person. They could gain another family member—and get bonus points if he can help them find their dad. Dewey will share his thoughts with his brothers later, and he knows they will too.
Then Huey appears up front, pushing aside the curtain.
“Music?” he asks.
“Great idea!” says Louie, “Dew?”
“Sure,” Dewey says.
Louie fiddles with the radio and Huey goes to sit on his armrest, propping one foot on the edge of Louie’s seat and the other on the dashboard. Not the safest position, but the road’s smooth and Dewey’s an okay driver. Besides, he won’t listen if Dewey tells him to get down.
“Turn it to a rock station! I’m in the mood for something edgy,” he says, putting his arms behind his head and leaning his head back.
“No way! Let’s listen to some classical. Nothing like Beethoven for a road trip!” Louie says, turning the button left and right until he finds a signal. The static is soon replaced by the singing of a violin.
“You kidding me?” Huey asks incredulously.
“What?” Louie blinks.
“Classical sucks!” Huey leans forward and turns the button, changing the station. An electric guitar blares through the speakers.
Louie gasps. “It does not!” he snaps and switches the station back. The violin returns.
“Does too!” Huey argues, turning the button again, and Louie glares at him as the electric guitar comes back to life.
“Does not!” Louie shoves Huey’s arm away. Switch. Violin.
“Does too!” Switch. Guitar.
“Does not!” Switch.
“Does too!” Switch.
“Does not!” Switch.
“Does not!”
“Does to—hey! That’s a dirty trick!” Louie exclaims, changing the station twice.
Huey smirks. “You fall for it every time, Lulu.” Switch.
“I do not!” Switch.
“Do too!” Switch. Push.
Dewey grits his teeth.
“Do not!” Switch. Push. Shove.
“Do too!” Switch. Push. Shove. Kick.
Dewey can’t take it anymore.
“Either pick a station or turn it off!” he shouts angrily.
“I’m trying! Tell Hubert to get out of my way!”
“Dewey, tell Louis that we are NOT listening to classical music!”
“I’m driving, guys! Don’t distract the driver!”
______________________________________
They play rock-paper-scissors to decide who gets the single bed. Louie does. Dewey gets Huey.
Louie sleeps like a starfish. Huey wraps himself in a blanket burrito, and Dewey kicks him off an hour after they fall asleep.
______________________________________
Louie drives the second day. They’re no longer in familiar area, so they need the map now. Dewey sits beside him with it—and a sugary drink. (As it turns out, he stocked the fridge with a bunch of sweets when Uncle D wasn’t looking). Luckily, there’s only one important turn they need to take, and then they’ll be driving straight again for most of the day.
The morning is rather uneventful. They eat breakfast, Louie drums his fingers on the steering wheel, Huey frowns at his reflection in the window, and Dewey munches on candy.
Then Louie accidentally makes a wrong turn.
“No, not this road! The next one!” Dewey exclaims.
“Oh sorry.” Louie pulls to the side and stops, looking uncertainly at Dewey, and silently asking what he should do.
“Just get us turned around,” Dewey sighs.
Louie nods, does a shoulder check, and puts the van in reverse. He backs up and starts turning slowly.
“Oh, the unspeakable horror! My beautiful face! My poor beautiful face!...” Huey groans from the back.
His brothers ignore him.
“Aw, this is pretty narrow,” Louie says. He puts the van in drive and goes forward a little, gripping the steering wheel so hard, his fingers hurt. He scowls and stops, putting the van in reverse again, and turning as slow as he can. It’s a rough gravel road in between two ditches that are very steep. He doesn’t wanna make a wrong move.
“It’s okay, you’re doing fine,” Dewey says reassuringly. The last thing they need is a stressed Louie; Louie cracks under stress.
“Oh, I’m ruined forever!...” Huey groans.
Louie slams on the breaks when he almost backs up too far. “Ugh! I hate this!” he shouts, putting the car in drive, and gripping the steering wheel harder.
“It’s okay, just take your time,” Dewey says, trying to keep himself calm. It’ll stress Louie out more if he gets mad too.
“I’M THE UGLY DUCKLING!”
Dewey whips around angrily. “Shut up, Huey! Nobody cares!”
Huey makes an offended sound and rushes up front, shoving the curtain out of his way. “Betrayal! I’ve been betrayed by my own brother!”
Louie frowns.
Dewey rolls his eyes. “Telling you to get over your vanity is not betrayal.”
“What do you mean ‘vanity’?!” Huey snaps, gesturing at the feathers on the sides of his cheeks, “I have none left! My face is hideous! I’m a laughing stock!”
“You look fine. Stop being so dramatic.” Dewey’s just about had enough of this, the anger draining out of him and leaving him feeling exhausted.
Huey crosses his arms. “Easy for you to say, hippie hair.”
“Hey!” Dewey shouts, anger returning, and glaring back at Huey. “I like my hair!”
“You look like a yak, Dew.”
“You’re just jealous, sideburn freak.”
Louie grits his teeth.
“Geek!”
“Numbskull!”
Louie growls.
“Dork!”
“Moron!”
“BOTH OF YOU, SHUT UP, I’M TRYING TO CONCENTRATE!”
Huey and Dewey jump in surprise, then shut their beaks, for fear of Louie yelling at them again.
______________________________________
That night, Huey takes the single bed. The air vent above makes him shiver. Louie falls asleep sideways over Dewey’s legs, and Dewey flails all night.
______________________________________
The third day, Huey drives. Louie sits beside him with the map, while Dewey sleeps in.
They’re almost at Shelltown. They should be there sometime in the late evening. Now that they’re almost at their destination, the thrill of their road trip is ending. Apprehension floods each of them and makes their nerves stand on end.
None of them knows what’s going to happen with Benjordan Duck. The possible key to finding their father.
Dewey wakes up, feeling half-dead, but he can’t fall back asleep. So he grabs a donut from the fridge and staggers up front, draping himself over the lean of Louie’s seat.
“You know, breakfast is supposed to be the healthiest meal of the day,” Louie says with a teasing smile.
Dewey makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a whine, unable to form words yet. He takes a bite out of his donut.
Louie chuckles and Huey smiles.
They’re quiet, as Dewey’s brain wakes up. Once the haze in his mind lifts, he asks,
“Do you think we’re gonna get hurt?”
Louie looks at him, then down at his lap.
“Maybe,” Huey says, but he says it so casually and with such little emotion, Dewey wonders if he even cares. Either that, or he’s pushing his feelings away so he doesn’t have to deal with them. Maybe pretending not to care is easier than covering up the pain of abandonment with anger. Pieces of pain always manage to blare through anger.
Louie fiddles with his hands. “I just wanna know why he left us.”
Dewey puts a hand on Louie’s head, sighing, and looking up at the sky. “I just wanna know who he is.”
It’s quiet for a long time again, until Huey speaks up once more.
“I just wanna know if he hated us or loved us.”
______________________________________
‘He looks like Dewey’.
Is Huey’s first thought when a long-haired duck, in his late twenties or early thirties, answers the door after they knock. It’s a small blue house that looks like it needs some severe renovating.
The long-haired duck’s eyes instantly widen upon seeing them.
“How... how can I help you?” he stammers awkwardly, looking between the three teenagers, and obviously seeing someone familiar in each of them.
Louie is completely frozen. Huey opens his beak, but it seems his own words have died on his tongue.
So Dewey speaks, “Hi.” He clears his throat, running a shaky hand through his hair—a nervous habit. “Um, are you Benjordan?” he asks.
“Yes. Call me Bennie,” the duck responds.
Dewey clears his throat again. “My name, um, is Dewey Duck. These are my brothers, Huey and Louie Duck. We’re... Jack’s sons.”
Bennie blinks furiously and looks between all of them again. “I... I can tell,” he says, “I... I wasn’t aware that Jack had children.”
Louie is surprised when Bennie runs a hand through his hair. So that’s where Dewey gets it from.
Huey notices it too.
Dewey’s the only one who doesn’t.
“Why don’t you come in,” Bennie then says, opening his door and stepping aside, “I’m sure you’ve come here for a reason.”
“Yeah,” Dewey replies, as he and his brothers step over the threshold. The place is a mess, sofa in the middle of the room, dishes piled up in the sink, and a bunch of artwork and weird contraptions filling up the space. “We have some questions for you.”
Bennie nods, rubbing a hand over his face, swiping his thumb under his eyes. “I’ll give you all the answers I have.”
______________________________________
Bennie looks like Dewey, acts like Louie, and talks like Huey, the boys find. They see a lot of themselves in him, but they also see a lot more unfamiliar traits in him. He stutters. He’s meek, and jittery, and jumpy, and in all honesty, a bit of a wimp. He’s skinny, looks like he hardly eats. And pale, looks like he doesn’t get out at all.
None of them knows what they were expecting, but the timid, kind man sitting across from them, who keeps wiping at his glassy eyes like he’s about to cry, is a surprise to them.
“I haven’t seen or talked to Jack for nearly two decades,” Bennie tells them, “We got into a huge fight. Me, him, and our sister. Then we all went our separate ways and never talked to each other again.”
A wave of sympathy washes over Louie for Bennie. He can’t even begin to imagine how hurt he’d be if his siblings didn’t talk to him for twenty years.
“I’m not exactly sure where he is now. But I know where he’s been.”
“Tell us all you can. Anything could be helpful,” says Huey.
“Okay,” Bennie agrees, “I heard he was in Duckburg. But that was at least eighteen years ago. Before that, he was living in Burbank. That’s probably not helpful though...”
“Where was he the last time you heard of him?” Dewey asks.
“Last time I heard of him? My cousin told me he was in Duck Valley.”
“When was that?” Dewey asks. He knows where Duck Valley is. It’s a small town surrounded by grassy hills in the state right beside Calisota. Depending on how recent ago Bennie heard this, they could have a lead.
Dewey’s hope fades when Bennie gives him a sad look. “Eleven years ago.”
Huey’s eyebrows shoot up. “Eleven? The last time you knew your brother’s whereabouts was eleven years ago?” he says in disbelief.
Bennie looks down sadly. “Yes.”
Huey and Dewey slump in disappointment.
“Hey, he could still be there,” Louie says cheerfully, trying to breathe life back into the atmosphere. They’d come this far. It couldn’t have been for nothing. Jack wouldn’t write them just to feed them lies. Or would he? No, Louie refuses to think like that. He often tells his brothers not to assume the worst in people; he isn’t gonna do that.
Huey shrugs. He’s pushing his feelings away again.
“Maybe,” Dewey says quietly, “but... that’s a really huge maybe.”
“But it’s still worth something,” Louie says.
Dewey and Huey perk up a little bit. Louie always knows what to do to lift their spirits. And he’s right; it may be not be what they wanted, but it’s still worth something. It’s far-fetched, but it’s a lead.
“I’m sorry, I’m not much help,” Bennie apologizes.
Louie shakes his head and smiles at him. “It’s okay, we did learn something from you!”
Suddenly, Bennie’s eyes fill with tears.
Louie frowns in concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry,” sniffles Bennie, wiping his eyes again, “It’s just... you remind me of happier times. You three look so much like us when we were your age. I keep seeing Jack when I look at you. Marlene too. Especially Jack.” Bennie hides his face, as the tears start to fall.
Huey, Dewey and Louie look at one another, suddenly very grateful to have each other in their lives.
“Could you...” Dewey hesitates.
“Could you tell us about him?” Huey asks.
“We don’t know anything,” Louie says.
Bennie finishes drying his eyes and takes a deep breath, smiling weakly. “I’d love to.”
______________________________________
This time, Huey and Louie share and Dewey takes the single bed. Louie sprawls out, and Huey curls up in his side. Dewey beats up the wall.
This works.