It wasn't Launchpad's fault; that was the one thing Louie and Webby could agree on about the accident.
Crashing had been Launchpad's thing, yes, but not like this, never like this; the destruction of the Sunchaser, so bad, nothing had been left-only pieces scattered around and fires to be put out. Launchpad McQuack had been good at crashing planes, but Webby refuses to think that this was his fault; that Launchpad had planned for this to happen. Louie doesn't want to think about it. He feels guilty even imagining such a thing. Launchpad would never ever do this to them; to his family. Because Launchpad is - had been - family.
Louie knew Launchpad's death would be caused by a plane crash; Launchpad himself had said so at Mt. Neverrest. Louie just hadn't thought he meant it seriously. Or that when the day it happened, his entire family would go down with him.
Well, almost the entire family - Webby and Louie - they're all that's left. If they stick together, maybe someone will find them, maybe they'll belong somewhere again-
They had been ejected from their seats; that's the reason they're alive.
They ended up waking in a debris field, surrounded by fire, burning metal, and coal black smoke billowing around them. The desert stretches beyond their line of vision. It's night time, and there's a chill that hangs in the air, a chill that even the heat from the nearby flames cannot drive away - cannot warm them. There's a cold in their bones, a sense of foreboding, and it only makes the two ducklings feel worse.
They're confused at first, faint memories of screaming and trying to hold on to something, anything, /the seat belts had snapped/ are pushed to the back of their minds. The wreckage, which is already so horribly broken and twisted, almost unrecognizable (it used to be red), begins to rumble, and the sound of crushing metal and crackling thing - it's definitely not the Sunchaser any more - makes itself known.
Needless to say, the noise is loud and can be taken as a sign, as a warning. They need to get away; Louie and Webby know this.
They still don't move.
Webby starts to say something, but stops herself; she feels if she opens her mouth, even a little bit, she'll probably throw up. And she doesn't have time to deal with that. It's better that she doesn't say anything at all; Louie wouldn't have been able to hear her anyway; the ringing in his ears are too loud, and his head has a heartbeat of its own.
They lay on the ground for a while, trying to catch their breath, because moving seems like a lot of work right now. But the noise is becoming insistent, growing louder by the minute. Louie thinks it resembles that of the boiler back on the houseboat, whenever it malfunctioned; it malfunctioned a lot. Louie decides this must be the same case with the wreck. He turns his head, pokes Webby, and tells her this. She then turns to him and pokes him right back - between the eyes - and then decides now is good time to move. Louie agrees.
They know they won't get very far before something happens - Webby's all pale and Louie probably looks as worse as he feels - they aren't in any shape to move, much less move far. They decide to try anyways.
The thing sputters, and with it's unbearable noise, more black smoke is released into the air. The fire around the wreck rages on. The kids make their decision. Louie struggles, but Webby's already on her feet; her head hurts something awful and everything is spinning (she hasn't thrown up yet, so that's a plus) - she stands at attention anyway. Louie's still trying to get his dang legs to work with him for gods sake when suddenly, without really being conscious of her movements, Webby hoists him up in one go.
He lets out a cry of surprise and a mumble of "warn me next time you do that."
Webby nods, swallows her guilt, swallows her nausea, doesn't say anything. The ringing in Louie's ears are gone, but his head is killing him. They're unsteady on their feet, so they lean on each other. Moving, but it's more like shuffling really. Bit by bit, they walk away, and the wreck becomes a splotch, a nasty black smudge in the sands around it.
They're not very far, when the entire thing seem to finally collapse in on itself. Smoke billows up and swallows the wreck whole. It threatens to swallow them up too. They run for their lives.
They run and they run and they don't look back; they don't want to.
The pair had found a dune to their liking, the wreck visible from the perch, when exhaustion finally catches up to them. They had hiked up, and Louie had flopped to sandy earth dramatically. Webby, suddenly dizzy, trips. She thumps to the ground - hard. There's a shout of alarm from Louie.
"Webby!"
He's up in an instant, scrambling to her. He falls, his knees getting all scratched up with sand. Webby's head lays on his shoulder.
"M'ok."
"Are you sure?"
"Yep."
There's a moment of stillness (-leaving Louie slightly panicky and trying his dang best not to show it-) - it's practically suffocating - when Webby swiftly interrupts it; no time for proper social etiquette when even she can see her friend is floundering; concussed or not, she's going to help her friend.
"Louie. Hey Louie.."
The duckling in question swivels his head in her direction, concern and anxiety clear on his face. She has his attention.
"I-uh-I'm ok. Really, I am. Things could be worse; if I'd broken my leg, I'd definitely need some tweetment."
She waits for a second, and then the joke seems to register to Louie. It's not that funny, but it doesn't stop him from dissolving into laughter - even if his giggles do sound a little hysterical. The terrible, awful pun has done it's job.
It's only later, after they've really calmed down, that Webby mentions if she really had broken her leg, then real treatment would be hard to find, out here in the desert. They both pointedly decide not to think about that longer than they have to.
They take turns waking each other up, each time one of them doses off; putting sleep off for as long as possible was a lot better than being confronted with nightmares. Especially when there were no adults around to chase them away with their presence.
Banter is one way of putting off the inevitable.
"You're bony Lou, but at least you're feathery enough too".
"Well, you're head's digging into my shoulder. It's probably made up of steel too, after that hit you took didn't knock ya out first."
"Didn't you hear? I have a hard head; I probably damaged the floor, with how solid I hit the ground. And it's not my head digging into your shoulder; it's your shoulder digging into my nonexistent ears. But yah, still hard head."
A snort. Then, "Nah Webs, you're a bonehead."
"If Imma bonehead, then you're a blockhead."
"Fair enough, fair enough; who needs real names, when we can just have aliases?"
"Ok then; from now on, I'm Bonehead and you're Blockhead."
They chortle at their inside joke and then Louie sticks his hand out.
"Hello Bonehead, I'm Blockhead."
"Charmed."
More laughter.
"Huey and Dewey need nicknames."
"Ok."
They settle with Knucklehead and Screwball, for Huey and Dewey, respectively.
Regardless of their intentions, the moment is a sober one.
Eventually, sleep catches up to them, no matter how much they avoid it.
"Goodnight Bonehead" is uttered by a drowsy Louie.
"Goodnight Blockhead."
Then quietly, by both, as they huddle next to each other,
"Goodnight Knucklehead. Goodnight Screwball."
"Goodnight Unca' Donald, goodnight Uncle Scrooge."
"Goodnight Granny."
Dreams and sleep swallow them whole, just like the fire and the smoke that did the same to their family.
Louie wakes in a panic, his hazy mind going into overdrive at a sudden realization. It's leaving him sick, he's shaking all over. He should probably stop shaking and being so scared, because his hyperventilating is jostling Webby's sleeping form.
Alone. You are Alone.
Louie tries to reason with himself - there's someone right here - you are not alone. Webby is right here. His mind does not listen, and he tries to distract himself; brushing some of the sand off his ripped hoodie - he's going to need a needle and a thread for that later. He feels a lump in his throat, and it's suddenly hard to breathe. Louie pulls his hoodie up and over his head and tucks his feet under the edge of his sweater.
Nothing is working, and Louie, tears in his eyes, eventually accept his panic, accepts the epiphany his sleep addled mind had sprung on to him.
His family. His normally loud, rambunctious, adventurous family, is no where to be seen.
Where is everyone? Where's Huey and Dewey? Uncle Donald? Uncle Scrooge? Ms. Beakley?
Why are he and Webby alone?
The Sunchaser - with its crumbling remains and smoke he can smell, even from the distance he's at - with its metal strewn all around it like broken pieces of porcelain. Like one of Uncle Scrooge's expensive vases. It's burnt up and charred and leaving nothing behind.
Nothing. There is nothing left.
It's a freight train straight to the gut. He doesn't throw up, he can't. Because he hadn't eaten much, because Uncle Scrooge had promised him and Webby and Huey and Dewey that they would eat when they got there.
Well, Louie and Webby got there.
Nothing is left of the wreck, not with fire involved. Not even bodies.
Louie screams and screams and doesn't care if Webby wakes up and thinks he gone crazy. Maybe he has, because his brothers and his uncles are gone. His family is lost - maybe even dead.
His family is lost and so is he.
