Eastern Express
(Sorry for the delay)
A couple of days had passed. Scrooge was impatiently looking at his watch. Meanwhile his nephews and Launchpad loaded the airplane - a large machine featuring four engines. Huey picked up a box, threw it to Dewey beside him. Dewey threw it up to Louie who was halfway up the few steps to the low-lying cargo door. Louie threw the box to Launchpad. Launchpad caught the boxes and put them away.
"Finally," gasped Huey. "No. 96."
The last box was thrown from nephew to nephew somewhat faster than the others. Unfortunately, it was thrown in the plane before Launchpad was finished with the prior one.
"Yow," said Launchpad, as the box conked him on the head.
"Uh, sorry," said Louie.
"Lucky I wear a crash helmet," said Launchpad, as he got out of the plane.
"Speaking of luck," Scrooge complained, while consulting his gold pocket watch. "Where is that Gladstone? Treasure waits for no man."
"Chill out, Mr. McD," said Launchpad. "It's waited for thousands of years, a few days more won't hurt it."
"Aye," said Scrooge. "But it's only waited thousands of years because I wasn't there to find it."
They were interrupted by several shouts.
"Hey, Uncle Scrooge," said Gladstone.
"Bless me bagpipes," Scrooge exclaimed.
Gladstone Gander was in a hot air balloon, accompanied by a distinguished man in top hat, tux and tails - the balloon operator.
"Quackarooni," said Dewey. "What's he's doing up there?"
"Maybe he's flying in from Oz," Launchpad joked.
The balloon landed gently. Almost before it had touched the ground Gladstone hopped out.
"Hope I kept nobody waiting," he explained. "You see, I just won a free ticket to the circus - and I couldn't let it go to waste."
"Well you have," said Scrooge rudely. "Come on."
He hooked Gladstone with his cane and pulled him up. Launchpad and the nephews followed.
In no time, Launchpad had gotten them smoothly into the air. Everybody settled in for a long flight. Travelling eastward, it would be well into tomorrow by the time they reached the small desert town that was their destination.
It was well into the night, and nothing but clouds and water was to be seen around them.
"Huh" snored Scrooge.
"Shhhh" continued Huey.
"Quack, quack," slept Dewey and Louie respectively.
Gladstone yawned.
"Some adventure," he complained to Launchpad. "Uncle Scrooge and the boys are asleep, and I'm left with nothing to do."
"You can sleep," suggested Launchpad. "When I was a kid I lived on a farm - I always went to bed early."
"I don't," said Gladstone. "I'm probably lucky enough to go to sleep if I want to, but I just hate going to bed early."
"Well," said Launchpad staring into the inky blackness, "Lucky for you, you've got me to talk to."
Having had many adventures, and by virtue of being in charge of a troop of Junior Woodchucks, Launchpad McQuack was a good storyteller. Moreover, as everyone knows, crashes improve in the telling.
"You know what," said Gladstone, after hearing of the hero's harrowing hiatus with the Harpies. "I think I know why you crash so much. LUCK."
"Luck?" questioned Launchpad.
"It's your luck to always crash," said Gladstone, happy to talk about his favourite topic. "I mean look at it this way - how many times does a fuel line unexpectedly clog, an engine part break, the Beagle Boys put marshmallow goo in your engines, or some monster pull down your plane."
"Lots," Launchpad conceded. "But . . . ."
Gladstone never heard what Launchpad was going to say. At that moment a large jet zoomed out of the inky blackness. A rapid firing sound was heard.
BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG
"Ugh," said Scrooge, waking up at the sound of danger. "Brigadoon!"
"We're being . . . ." said Huey.
"Shot . . . ." said Louie.
"At" finished Dewey.
"Duck," said Launchpad.
"Well, half duck. Actually, my late father was a goose," explained Gladstone casually.
"Hit the floor," said Launchpad. He pushed Gladstone to the ground.
The dark jet fired once again, bullets smashed through the windshield.
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG!
BANG BANG BANG, CR-ACK! CR-ACK!
The jet had aimed at the wings of the aeroplanes. The four engines, and even the wings themselves, broke off the plane plummeting to the ground below.
Inside the "mystery jet," a bearded duck in kilt and pancake hat eagerly watched the scene play out. The two dogs at the controls wore black masks. One was tall with a large jaw. One was very short. Both wore red sweaters sporting a numbered placard. Bank Job and Big Time Beagle respectively.
"That ought to finish off Scroogie," gloated Glomgold.
He held up a newspaper. It showed Scrooge holding up the map to the lost treasure of Sedqaduck the Unlucky. Glomgold held up a large magnifying glass. The map gave a detailed view of the no-longer secret map.
"Ha-ha," laughed Glomgold. "When will Scrooge learn not to leave his map in plain sight."
"Looks like never," said Bank Job, looking at the smoking aeroplane before them.
"They's gonna have a hard time getting out of this one," observed Big Time
"Just fly on," yelled Glomgold.
The "mystery jet" flew away into the night.
Meanwhile:
Scrooge, the nephews, and Launchpad yelled, as the wingless, engine-ness plane began to plummet toward the earth.
Only Gladstone remained unperturbed.