Fenton opened his eyes blearily, and it took him some time to realize he was staring at his clock that told him it was three o' clock in the afternoon. He sat up, rubbing his face and scratching a wandering itch along his back before his mind recalled the events that happened the night before—or rather early this morning with how late he had come home. He quickly jumped in the shower, going through his cleaning regime as quickly as he could. Pulling on another work shirt—since he preferred such over casual clothing—he left his room.
He expected to find his mother on the couch, catching up with her telenovalas, but then he remembered it was still Friday and she would be out on a tour with the police force and wouldn't be back until her shift ended. He was a little disappointed. Despite how crazy his story was that he had seen a mermaid, he had hoped to share it with his mother just to hear her thoughts. She was the most logical and practical-minded person he knew. But if there was a chance that he really saw what he thought he saw, she was the one person he trusted to believe him.
But telling her would have to wait. Most buildings closed in a few hours, which didn't give him as much time as he wanted to do his research. He quickly made himself a sandwich, grabbed an apple and a bottle of water, and raced out the door, barely hanging onto his food, wallet, keys and phone as he raced for the bus stop. Since he couldn't afford a car, he had the bus schedule memorized. He envisioned a map of Duckburg in his mind before figuring out which bus he could take to the Historical Society Museum.
In a half-hour, he jumped off the green-line and walked a block to his destination. The Duckburg Historical Society Museum contained two stories of the city's records as well as several rooms filled with artifacts. The building that housed the museum was the first home that belonged to Scrooge McDuck's ancestors, the founding father of Duckburg after he won the rights to the land in a poker game from the nefarious Beagle Gang back in the early 1800s. Since then, the McDucks have always been associated with Duckburg.
The men and women of the family have always been business-minded and preferred to leave political positions and leadership decisions to lesser men. Scrooge McDuck practically owned most of the town, and had a thumb in almost every industrial and enterprising pie around. Strangely, in movies, men with such power were more likely corrupt and selfish, and although Scrooge's greed was just as famous as he was, he was a fair businessman and disliked corruption in politics as much as in every aspect of his life.
Scrooge McDuck's grandfather donated the mansion that had been in the family for over one hundred years to the city for the purpose that it be used for a historical museum that was free to the public. The schools routinely visited each year in the hopes that the students would learn something about their city's past. Fenton recalled several of these field trips, but since his interests were more on scientific study even back then, he could only recall snatch glimpses of his past visits.
However, there was one thing that he remembered, that the museum was run by a fierce and formidable woman, Emily Quackfaster. She ran the museum like a drill sergeant would an army camp, with neat precision and a no-nonsense attitude. She could put even the most unruly of children on their best behavior with just a side-glance. And although many grumbled and griped about her strict rules and severe appearance, she was a treasure to Duckburg that no child would ever forget, especially during Halloween when Mrs. Quackfaster would pull all the stops to decorating the museum to the nines and creating an old-fashion All Hallow's Eve atmosphere for visitors, including bobbing for apples, apple cider, home-made salt water taffy and other traditional treats. She even pulled out the stocks that were used during the witch-trial scare back in the late 1700s and locked kids in it for a few minutes if they asked.
But the last time Fenton had gone to the museum was shortly before high school. After he graduated, he went to Stanford, earned two Master degrees before coming back home where he became an intern under Dr. Gearloose. That was…had it been over ten years?
She was already old back then, so maybe Mrs. Quackfaster was no longer working at the museum.
But when Fenton entered the museum, the first sight was the gray-haired duck behind the entrance desk. She had a few more wrinkles and stooped a little more, but her style in clothing and hair hadn't changed.
"What can I do for you?" Mrs. Quackfaster asked as Fenton came inside.
"Uh…I was hoping to look at some of the old town records," Fenton said, keeping things vague.
"Any ones in particular?" Mrs. Quackfaster inquired, her fingers poised over the keys of her computer. Unlike most elderly that Fenton knew, she had her fingers positioned correctly on the keyboard, a sign that she may be getting on in years, but she had kept up with some of the technological advances. Unlike Fenton's abuela, who seemed to have problems with her phone or tablet every time he visited, and he would spend over an hour teachering her how to use a simple application.
"Oh, I'm just browsing. It's for a…story I'm writing," he said.
Mrs. Quackfaster narrowed her eyes, not with suspicion but from irritation. "Young man, this is not a library. You can't just go checking things out and touching everything. Many of the records here are very old and must be handled with care. Nobody is allowed to browse."
Fenton should have known this already. He just didn't think. With a sigh, he lowered his voice as if others were listening in. "Well…the subject I'm researching is…the mermaid myths." He looked up, waiting to see if Mrs. Quackfaster would laugh or crack a smile.
But the museum matron was nothing but professional as she typed out the request. Within a minute, she had printed out a sheet of call numbers and handed it over to Fenton.
"Most of what you are looking for is from the McDuck journals," Mrs. Quackfaster said. "Anything before 1920 will be in the vault, and you can only look at one at a time, but if you prefer, all the journals have been transcribed. I can easily print the pages that mention mermaids."
"Uh…yes. Yes, that would be preferable," Fenton said, feeling relieved that it would be so easy. He then quickly read through the list that Mrs. Quackfaster had printed out, guessing that a series of numbers that all looked the same must be the journals. But there were still several listed items that didn't look like journals. "But what about these other things? What are they?"
"They are part of our closed collection but can be viewed by request," Mrs. Quackfaster said. "Let me get these journal entries printed and then I can take you upstairs to show you."
They left the printer spitting out paper after paper as they walked through the museum. Since the mansion had been remodeled, the stairs were just off to the right of the front desk, heading to the second floor.
"So…besides the journals, what else does the museum have on mermaids?" Fenton said as they walked up the stairs. Mrs. Quackfaster seemed to be favoring one hip and was going quite slow, so he thought to start a conversation.
"Young man, what sort of story are you writing?" Mrs. Quackfaster answered with her own question.
"Oh…I just have a niece that is crazy about mermaids," Fenton said, pulling a lie out of thin air. "I thought it would be cool to write a book for her based off of the Duckburg legends."
"I see," Mrs. Quackfaster said, slowly raising her foot to the next step. "Are you looking to write a story about beautiful women with fish tales who sing songs and play in the ocean? A story for children?"
Considering that Fenton didn't have a niece and wasn't really planning on writing a story, he tried to keep his lie general. "I don't really know. I thought that by researching the legends, I would get a better idea of what I want."
"Are you from out of town?"
"No, I grew up here."
Mrs. Quackfaster nodded. "So, you must have heard a few of the stories."
Fenton shrugged before remembering she wasn't look in his direction. "I did, but I forgot a lot about them. Besides, urban legends often only use a seed of truth and the rest is exaggerated more and more with each generation."
The elderly woman chuckled. "Yes, that is true, but I would still like to hear what you had heard. You must remember something."
Fenton prodded his mind for anything that had stuck through the years. "I remember a story about the ocean glowing. And there were always the ones about someone knowing someone who saw a mermaid or whose uncle was saved by one. I think there was one about a ghost mermaid."
"Ah, that was one of my favorites," Mrs. Quackfaster said. "I think my father started that one as a boy. He always had a mind for mischievousness."
"So all the stories about mermaids, they're all made up?" Fenton asked, her heart falling. Perhaps he really had just been seeing things. But the image of the beautiful mermaid was still so clear in his mind.
"They're stories about mermaids. Yes, they're all made up," Mrs. Quackfaster snapped. "Mermaids aren't real."
"But then why all the legends? They must be based off of something," Fenton said, grasping at anything. He should have kept his mouth shut, but there had to be more to the stories.
"Why do people keep seeing Bigfoot in certain areas? And the Jersey Devil? El chupracabra?" Mrs. Quackfaster listed. "One person thinks they see something, and then everyone does the same by association. It's just how local legends get made. Perhaps the first sighting of a mermaid was a dolphin or some other sea creature. Or maybe just a woman who likes to swim."
By that time, they made it up the stairs and Mrs. Quackfaster could look Fenton in the face. "But you aren't here to research how urban legends are made, but what has been said about mermaids in Duckburg, correct?"
"Uh…yeah," Fenton said, rubbing his neck.
"Come this way," Mrs. Quackfaster said, hobbling toward a room.
All the bedrooms in the mansion had been repurposed to hold show cases filled with artifacts, most of these were kept open since the original doors had been removed from the hinges to allow guests to move in and out freely, but the one that Mrs. Quackfaster took him to had a door firmly closed and had to be opened with a key.
"This room is kept closed to the public only because a lot of the items in here are very old and must not be exposed unless by request," Mrs. Quackfaster explained.
The windows of the room were completely shaded, not even allowing a bit of light in. The lights that Mrs. Quackfaster turned on were dim so not to destroy anything with light, but it was enough to see everything by. There looked to be several display cases covered with sheets as well as boxes stacked in corners, filing cabinets lining one wall, and shelves stuffed full of pots, beaded necklaces and other items. It appeared that this room was mostly used for storage but may have once been part of the exhibit.
"Since most of the stories you heard about the Duckburg mermaids are children's tales, let me educate you about the true urban legends," Mrs. Quackfaster said, her voice turning to that of tour guide and her gait a stiff march. She went over to one display case and pulled off a sheet that was covering it. "The Duckburg mermaids has always been sighted before a major disaster, and Duckburg has had many. Although natural disasters are not uncommon along the coastlines, it seems that our city has had its fair share. If you remember that we were hit by quite a large hurricane in the early 80s."
"Uh…I think my mom has told me about it," Fenton said. He hadn't been born back then.
Mrs. Quackfaster returned to her lecture as if she didn't hear him. "The hurricane destroyed several blocks of beachfront property and cost over a million dollars in damage. The only thing left standing several blocks away from the ocean was the McDuck Lighthouse. Luckily, the city had enough warning that they were able to evacuate, so there were no lives lost"
"Because someone saw a mermaid?" Fenton guessed.
Mrs. Quackfaster sniffed. "No, because we have science to be able to predict such storms."
Fenton nodded, feeling silly for saying such a thing. As a scientist, he should have known that that was what happened.
"But soon after the hurricane, someone did come forward and claim they saw a mermaid just like in the other legends. They even said that they took a picture," Mrs. Quackfaster said, pointing into the glass showcase.
Fenton leaned down to look, seeing several photographs of the time period, most of them portraying the destruction of the hurricane throughout Duckburg. The final one was a grainy image of the sea with what appeared to be a woman in the water and a fish tail not far behind. He couldn't see the details all that well, but she looked nothing like his mermaid.
"Experts years later determined the photograph to be a fake," Mrs. Quackfaster said. "It is quite a fascinating trick of using two different film negatives and over exposing one over the other. But the photo still caused quite a stir and many people came forward claiming they also spotted mermaids around the lighthouse before the photo was exposed as a fake. Since the sightings of mermaids have been part of Duckburg history, even forgeries and myths are accepted in our museum."
The last part of Mrs. Quackfaster's lecture felt rehearsed and artificial compared to the rest of her speech. Fenton looked through the rest of the glass case where there were several mermaid-themed tchotchkes that most likely were sold to tourists during a mermaid craze. According to the plaque on the glass case, people came from all over the world to see a mermaid, taking out boats and diving. There were even a few drawings from children who said they saw the Duckburg mermaid, their pictures perfectly preserved of long-haired women with fish tails and sea-shell bras.
Fenton narrowed his eyes at all the portrayals of the mermaids, thinking that there was something off about them. Just as he had about the mermaids carved in the McDuck Lighthouse sign. There was something not quite right about the gimmicky mermaids, and it wasn't their cartoonish appearance. He just couldn't put his finger on it.
"Before the hurricane, Duckburg was almost destroyed by a huge fire that took many lives back in 1954. In fact, the only building from that time period that wasn't touched by the fire was the McDuck Lighthouse. Luckily, the fire department back then had all the modern equipment, and they were able to save many buildings, including this mansion. Many parts of the mansion had to be remodeled after the fire, including the front entrance."
Mrs. Quackfaster pulled off another sheet, revealing another case filled with black-and-white photographs and a few wood carvings of mermaids, these cruder than their younger counterparts but more realistic, including detailed female anatomy. In one of the photos was a man who looked very similar to Mr. McDuck, standing in front of the same mansion they were in. The building was still smoldering, but it still looked sturdy.
"Is this Mr. McDuck's father?" Fenton asked, pointing.
"Yes, that would be Ebenezer McDuck," Mrs. Quackfaster said, moving on to the next covered showcase. "In 1922, during the time of prohibition, Duckburg was once more—"
"Uh…is there a reason that you are starting with the most recent event and going back into the past?" Fenton asked, finding it odd. Usually people would go the other way around.
Mrs. Quackfaster smiled mysteriously. "All in good time, young man. Now, where was I?"
Mrs. Quackfaster continued her tour, remaining professional as she recited from memory the facts of each disaster, removing the sheets from each show case for each time period. In the 1920s, Duckburg and the agricultural areas around it suffered from a crop blight, increasing the cost of food and lowering the cost of all their other exports. The city of Duckburg nearly went bankrupt and many people died, but Scrooge McDuck's grandfather was not willing to give up on his city. He used all his wealth to feed those he could until the blight ended.
In 1897, it had been a landslide.
In 1884, a plague of rats had overrun the city, destroying everything in sight and driving people away.
In 1843, a tornado almost blew the city off the map.
In 1827, the Beagle gang had returned and almost took over the city.
In 1801, it had been an unknown illness.
In 1777, it had been British soldiers during the war.
In 1769, a stampede of buffalo.
In 1743, the city, which was so small that it only had a few people living there, paying rent to the Beagle Gang before they lost the city to a McDuck, Duckburg had almost been destroyed in its infancy by an electrical storm.
Fenton listened to each event, looking at the artifacts in the glass cases. In each case, the city of Duckburg had almost been destroyed. Each time, someone had sighted a mermaid around the cape where the McDuck Lighthouse was now, a building that wasn't erected until in the early 1800s. And each time, people had died. There was even a memorial in one of Duckburg's parks, and Fenton felt bad that he had never paid any attention to any of the statues around the city before. He made a note to go look at that particular statue soon.
And in each glass case, there were also artistic renditions of mermaids, some even made by Native Americans who had lived in the area before the European settlers had arrived. Fenton studied them, trying to figure out what was wrong with them. There was something that wasn't right.
He closed his eyes and thought of the mermaid he swore he saw, recalling every detail. Her blue and white curly hair. Her feathers as they changed into scales on her torso. Her long tail.
He opened his eyes again, finally realizing what he had missed.
"Hey, do you have any more depictions of mermaids?" Fenton asked, straightening up and looking at the museum matron.
"We have more in the back, but they're just like what is in the glass cases," Mrs. Quackfaster said.
"So, you don't have any that are different? Maybe with a mermaid with a longer tail?" Fenton asked, his memories going back to the mermaid's tail, which had been a mixture of salmon pink and gold scales with a long, greenish sail on the back. And the tail was long. Very, very long. All the mermaids he had seen, their bodies were one half to two-thirds of their length solely tail. But her tail was probably five times that length.
"A longer tail?" Mrs. Quackfaster asked, an eyebrow raised. She had a gleam in her eyes. "Just how long are we talking about?"
"Oh, do you know what an oar fish is?" Fenton asked. Since he started working in the below sea-level lab, he had taken a small interest in marine life, finding nature shows to watch in his free time. The oar fish was the longest, bone-fish in the ocean, and the mermaid reminded him a little of that fish.
"No," Mrs. Quackfaster said.
"Well…I guess maybe ten feet in length," Fenton guessed, looking away. The museum caretaker's glare was starting to make him nervous. "My cousin drew a picture of a mermaid with a long tail and I thought that she may have gotten her inspiration somewhere."
"Didn't you say it was your niece?" Mrs. Quackfaster asked.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, that's who I'm writing the book for," Fenton said, talking fast as he thought of the lie on the fly. "But my cousin, she's an artist, and draws lots and lots of mermaids. They're both into mermaids." His smile was so big, it wrapped round his face.
"Hmmm," Mrs. Quackfaster said, turning away. "I'm afraid that there have been no historic depictions of a mermaid with that long of a tail. And we are also at the end of the artifacts relating to your search results."
Fenton nodded, wiping his sweaty hands on his shirt. "Oh, I thought there would be more. Isn't there something about the origin of where these mermaids come from? Or any record of more disasters after the lightning storm? And how the two are related?"
"Oh, yes. Well, there is one more story, but it is in the journals I am printing out for you," Mrs. Quackfaster. "You'll read about it there."
Fenton nodded, a little disappointed that he didn't learn more about mermaids. It was sounding like it was more and more likely he had just imagined things.
"Would you like to hear the story instead?" Mrs. Quackfaster asked. Her voice sounded eager to tell it.
It suddenly occurred to Fenton that Mrs. Quackfaster might be a little lonely. The museum was empty at that moment, and he wondered just how often patrons came by besides the groups from the local schools.
"Yes, I would like to hear it," Fenton said with a small smile.
Mrs. Quackfaster focused on a spot on the wall as she recalled. "It was Mr. McDuck's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather—"
Fenton counted twelve greats.
"Scrooge McDuck who settled in this area and established this land."
"I'm assuming Mr. McDuck was named after him," Fenton said, only interrupting a little.
"Yes, he was," Mrs. Quackfaster said with a nod. "He brought his whole family from Scotland, and here was where they decided to live and build their own town. Of course, it took a while considering that the land belong to the Beagle gang, and the family had to pay the Beagle gang until the McDuck clan won Duckburg in a poker game in—"
"Excuse me, but why didn't the McDucks move away?" Fenton asked, getting into the story. "If the land was owned by someone else, wouldn't it be easier to find somewhere else to build a town?"
Mrs. Quackfaster chuckled. "You don't know the McDucks all that much, do you?"
Fenton was about to say that he worked for one, but he kept his mouth shut. He may be in Scrooge McDuck's employ, but that didn't mean he knew a single thing about the billionaire.
"Well, the McDucks were not only known for choosing to take the hard road many times, but they were also as stubborn as rocks," Mrs. Quackfaster said. "But they also had their reasons. It turned out that this area was rich with natural resources, something that the Beagle gang didn't know. As much as the McDucks had to pay the Beagles, they earned five times that with their hard work."
"What resources did they find?" Fenton asked.
"Well, in addition to the fertile soil to grow all sorts of fruits and vegetables, there are several mines around here that produced large amounts of gold. They're all abandoned now, but that was how the McDucks earned their wealth," Mrs. Quackfaster said. "And it is thanks to that wealth that they were able to build Duckburg…more than once throughout history."
"So what does all this have to do with mermaids?" Fenton asked.
"I was getting to that, if you would stop interrupting me," Mrs. Quackfaster said. "Now, the reason the McDucks came to America was that they wanted to make their fortune, a thought that America was filled with gold like so many immigrants thought in those days."
"And they were right. They did find gold," Fenton said before he remembered he wasn't supposed to interrupt any more.
"Yes, but at a price," Mrs. Quackfaster said. "And I'm not talking about the price they paid to the Beagle gang." She paused for a moment, adding to the drama. "After traveling over the ocean on a boat, Scrooge McDuck—the one in the past—was determining where to take his family when he came across a mermaid lying on the beach as if dead. In her hand was a gold coin, a doubloon from Spain. At that time, Scrooge McDuck was not a wealthy man and had used everything he had to get across the ocean. So you can imagine what a gold coin like that might mean to him.
"So he took the coin from the mermaid, not even checking to see if she was truly dead as he thought. However, the second he snatched that coin up, the mermaid jerked away, her golden eyes blazing. She commanded, shouted, demanded then pleaded to Scrooge McDuck to return the coin to her, but he refused.
"And so she put a curse on him and on every member of Clan McDuck. That disaster would follow them wherever they go. No matter how high they build, it will always be brought down to dust. And to this day, she shows up right before every disaster to fall upon Duckburg, waiting for him to finally give her back her magical coin."
Fenton waited a few beats before he realized that the story was over. He frowned, going over the information and not liking what he heard. "So…if another mermaid was spotted in Duckburg, then that means that another disaster is going to happen?"
Mrs. Quackfaster chuckled. "You make it sound as if the story is true." She shook her head and started putting the sheets back on the glass cases. "It is purely superstition. People back in the old days believed in a lot of things. Fairies. Banshees. Magic. Bad and good luck. You should read all of Scrooge McDuck's journals. They're filled with little rituals like throwing salt over his shoulder or hanging onto a horse shoe. It's all nonsense."
"Oh…yeah," Fenton said, giving a false laugh. "But I'm just saying, that according to the myths, a mermaid appears…near the lighthouse…then something very bad happens, right?"
"Yes, as the myth says," Mrs. Quackfaster said with a nod.
"And it's the mermaid that causes the disaster?" Fenton asked, twiddling his fingers.
Mrs. Quackfaster tilted her head. "If you believe in curses, I suppose so."
Fenton helped the museum caretaker clean up the rest of the room before following her back downstairs. They both were silent after that, and Fenton had a lot to think about. Specifically if he truly did believe in mermaids and curses and magic coins. And if he did, if he really was going to accept that mermaids were real, then what was he going to do?
"Here is the copy of the journal entries," Mrs. Quackfaster said, taking the stack of paper in the printer tray and handing it to Fenton. "I hope this helps with your story, Mr…Uh..."
"Fenton. Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera," Fenton said, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill and slipped it into the donation box, feeling it was the least he could do. Despite him not having a lot of money—that twenty was supposed to last him the whole week—he didn't feel right leaving without giving the museum something. He would just have to do without snacks for a few days.
And how he was feeling, he wasn't sure if he could enjoy anything at that moment.
Mrs. Quackfaster watched the young man leave the museum and head to the bus stop, adjusting her glasses because the sun was shining just right for it to reflect off part of the metal door. She waited until he was a safe distance away before pulling up her email and typing out a quick message to Mr. McDuck.