Chapter 18
Fenton woke up feeling groggy and his mouth was sticky and dry. His mind was still keyed up from the night before and his dreams had been so filled with anxiety that he had a restless night's sleep. And although he woke up in unfamiliar surroundings, he instantly recalled where he was, which made him wonder if he even slept at all.
The clock read eight, and although that was late for him, he rolled over and tried to sleep some more. He could feel the bruises and bumps from last night and his aching muscles from swimming in the ocean for hours. It wasn't until his mind brought up the image of the mermaid captured that he finally sat up, knowing he would not sleep anymore. How could he sleep in when she was trapped?
After slowly stretching and warming up his muscles, he wandered into the bathroom where he gargled with the mouthwash that was in the medicine cabinet. After knowing what happened to the owners of the house, he only wondered vaguely if the mouthwash was over a decade old before spitting it out and heading downstairs to have some more of the gourmet coffee he had had the night before.
As the percolator brewed, Fenton pulled out Fethry's journals and looked through them again, hoping to find something that he could use, any sign of how he could crack the code. Once in a while, there were some notes written in English, but other than that, he was completely clueless.
Fenton wished he had his phone so he could have taken pictures, but he had yet to replace the one he had destroyed. The only way he knew to get the journals translated was to send pictures to one of his college buddies who had studied codes and languages, but without a phone to take pictures and email them, he was going to get nowhere with this mystery.
After the coffee was done, Fenton thought he might as well find out if the mansion contained a computer. He doubted it. The previous owners more than likely would have taken any computers with them to protect their personal data, and he doubted that Gladstone would have had one as he was hiding from his uncle.
But he was wrong.
In an office just off of the front door, Fenton found a desktop covered in dust and appeared to be in working order. There was even a scanner nearby. It wouldn't be as fast as using his phone, but it would have to do.
After updating several programs on the twelve-year-old computer, Fenton fell into a sluggish but steady rhythm of scanning one page of the journals at a time while altering them slightly to make them easier to read before saving them in a file. He worked for an hour before deciding to send that much to his friend before realizing that everything he had done was for naught.
There was no Internet.
Of course there was no Internet. He was squatting in a house, so why would he expect there to be Internet. It was only then that he wondered how they still had electricity and hot water if the owners hadn't lived at this location in ten years. It would be something to ask Gladstone once he woke up.
Which happened well after noon that Gladstone finally shambled downstairs and into the kitchen, his appearance pristine and groomed but his attitude spoke of a rough night.
"Excuse me, but do you—"
"Bu-da," Gladstone interrupted with one finger before grabbing a cup and pouring some coffee. He added a few other ingredients to the brew before sipping slowly, relaxing as the drink worked its magic.
"Okay," Gladstone relented, indicating for Fenton to talk.
"Uh…I need to use the Internet," Fenton said. "Do you know of a place…perhaps a library that I can go to so I can use their computers?"
"I've been piggybacking on the neighbor's signal," Gladstone said. "Let me get you the password."
"Oh," Fenton said, surprised, taking the sticky note that Gladstone jotted the information onto. "So…what about the electricity and the gas? How have you been paying for the utilities?"
Gladstone shrugged. "I guess the Macawbers never had them turned off. They've just been paying the bills all these years, or at least, their accountant has. I suppose they've always thought they would return to Duckburg but kept putting it off."
Fenton shook his head. That magic pearl of Gladstone's must be very powerful because what were the chances of someone being that lucky?
"What about a phone? I don't suppose you have an extra one around?" Fenton asked. Gladstone seemed to have everything, so why not a smart phone.
"Not a cell, just a landline," Gladstone said, jerking a thumb to the device. "I couldn't risk my uncle tracking me down. Not to mention, I always found those smart phones gave me too much stress."
As Fenton went back to the office, he had to scratch his head. Imagine going for years without a cell phone, even an out-dated one. He was itching to have his back, and it had been only a day and a half.
Logging onto the borrowed Internet, Fenton quickly created a new email address before finding his linguistic friend who worked at a university on the other side of the country. He typed a brief message to his friend that this information was sensitive and to only communicate through the email, attached the pictures of the journal and sent the email off.
It was only after the task was completed that he realized he hadn't eaten anything all day despite the fact he had been awake for several hours. He returned to the kitchen to find Gladstone eating a grapefruit and a Danish.
"How do you pay for your food?" Fenton asked, helping himself to whatever he could find, which was some stale cereal with milk. There had to be a line in Gladstone's luck. It couldn't take care of everything.
"Gambling," Gladstone said with a smile. "The hard part is that I can't stick with one thing at a time. I bet on horse races, sports games, almost anything but only for a few weeks, then I have to change my name and find a new bookie. If I can get my luck to purposefully lose a few times, I can ride it out a little longer. When that's exhausted, I either find an underground poker game or do some online gambling. You'd be surprised how exhausting it is to win a lot of money without anyone thinking you're cheating the system."
Technically Gladstone had found a way of cheating the system, but Fenton wasn't going to say anything.
"What about the stock market? You could make a lot of money there and it's all legal," Fenton said.
"Oh, I do have some stocks as backup, but they come with three major problems," Gladstone said. "First, for anything big, I would need to use my real name. For now, I have a friend taking care of my stocks with a fifty-fifty split, and if anything goes sideways, I didn't want him to get into trouble. Second, if I needed some money fast, it's not easy to cash the stocks and get your money. Gambling makes it so I have cash on hand whenever I need it. And third, if you're too successful at the stocks, the Feds look at you very closely for insider trading."
Fenton nodded. He hadn't thought about all of that.
"So, tell me my fellow fugitive, what is on your agenda today?" Gladstone asked, taking over the conversation.
Fenton knitted his eyebrows. He had been mulling over this question since he had gotten up. "Well, I can't really do anything with the journals until I hear back from my friend, but I'd like to go buy another phone if I can manage it. That way I can keep checking my email. Fethry's journals hold the key to Duckburg's future, I just know it. And after that…I thought I would go look at the orphanage that Fethry stayed at while he was young. He returned there for a reason, and I have a feeling that I'm going to find a clue there."
"That sounds like a lot of bother," Gladstone said with a shake of his head.
Fenton frowned. "I'm trying to find your cousin. I thought you cared for him and you would want to help."
"I do," Gladstone said. "Which is why I'm going to fund your expedition into the outside world." He reached into his wallet and pulled out a handful of twenties.
"What? Oh, I couldn't…" Fenton protested, his usual reaction when anyone gave him money.
"Don't worry about it. I'll get more," Gladstone said carelessly. "There's a peewee baseball game that I'm betting on today, so I'm good."
Fenton couldn't help but reacting to what he thought about a man betting on a child's sporting game.
"I did say that I bet on everything," Gladstone said with a shrug. "And you wouldn't believe how many of those moms bet against their own children."
A thought popped into Fenton's mind. "Does your luck send you a psychic pre-cognizant prediction of who is going to win or does the luck make the other team lose?"
Gladstone tilted his head contemplating. "I'm not sure." He remained silent, and the longer he thought about it, the more he looked as if the question bothered him.
Fenton left him alone after that and finished eating, rising his dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. He decided to not waste another minute and get out of there. He would be wasting enough time taking buses all over town, and he wasn't sure if there was one that went to the orphanage.
Apparently Gladstone had been alone with his thoughts long enough because he broke out of his trance as Fenton headed to the front door. "Here, let's get you a disguise."
"A disguise? You think that's really necessary?" Fenton asked.
"Any line of defense is better than none," Gladstone said. "And no offense, but you look like you couldn't take me let alone any of my uncle's goons."
"Your uncle has goons?"
"Well…I'm the only one who is allowed to call Della by that name," Gladstone said with a chuckle. "Plus, I would be embarrassed if I let my guest leave the house that I'm squatting in looking like that."
Fenton thought Gladstone had a point, but still didn't like the idea of "borrowing" clothes from the previous owner. However he wasn't going to complain about getting rid of his "son of the beach" t-shirt.
His first thoughts for a disguise involved something that wouldn't stand out, something that might cover his head and obscure his face. To his surprise, Gladstone pulled out a three-piece suit with a maroon button-up and matching tie.
"Whoa, isn't this going to make me stand out?" Fenton asked, looking at himself in the mirror skeptically. He did look good in the suit, but it was too much.
"Believe me, they're going to look for someone who is trying to hide, not someone who stands out," Gladstone said.
He reached to the bedside table and picked up a pair of glasses. He popped out the lenses and placed them on Fenton's beak. "One more finishing touch." He grabbed a comb and a bottle of pomade, and before Fenton could protest, his hair had been combed back and laid flat against his skull.
"There you go," Gladstone said, positioning Fenton before a mirror. "Your own mother won't recognize you."
Fenton doubted that until he looked in the mirror. He did look like a completely different person, not the struggling, intern scientist that he had identified as before, but now he looked like a businessman, a rich one. The clothes were one thing, but he was surprised just how much a pair of glasses and some hair product could make him look so different.
He hated the look, but Gladstone was right. He could probably walk past Della or Gyro, and they wouldn't even notice him
"Much of the day has already passed, so I have one more thing to help you," Gladstone said, directing Fenton back downstairs and through a door that Fenton hadn't gone in before.
It came into a spacious garage that contained a half-dozen vehicles. Most of them were brightly colored machines that looked as if they were designed to be flashy and fast. Among them sat a beat-up, old pickup that was a combination of weathered, white paint and rust. Fenton couldn't imagine the truck had belonged to the Macawbers, but it also didn't seem like something that Gladstone would drive. But then again, didn't Gladstone say that he kept up the grounds of the mansion so perhaps the truck was to help him stay in character.
"So, do you want the Mustang or the Ferrari?" Gladstone asked, holding out a pair of keys.
"Huh? But…I thought I would take the truck," Fenton said, pointing to the only vehicle that didn't make him feel nervous.
"You're not taking my baby," Gladstone said. "It's my only mode of transportation."
"I would peg you with that one," Fenton said, pointing to the golden yellow car, whatever model that was. He couldn't tell the difference.
"Oh, don't tempt me," Gladstone said. "However, this truck has saved my life. My uncle would never think that I would drive something so…" He waved his hand but let his sentence trail off. His expression when it fell on the truck was a mixture of fondness and pity. "Plus, if I was ever pulled over in one of those beauties, the Macawbers would find out and I'd be out of my squatting scheme."
"So…you want me to drive one?" Fenton asked in disbelief. "Don't you think I'll attract too much attention?"
"From women, yes," Gladstone said with a wry smile. "Maybe some men. Car lovers of all genders. But from my uncle? Absolutely not. It's your best disguise. Look as if you want some attention. He'll never find you."
Fenton couldn't argue with the logic. Camouflage could come in many different forms, and sometimes it was best to pretend that you are something that you aren't, like the animals that imitate venomous animals. In the end, though, Fenton picked the blue car, finding the color less flashy, which turned out to be the Mustang.
"Thank you so much," Fenton said as he got into the car. "I'll try not to get pulled over by the police."
"I'd appreciate that," Gladstone said. "But your thanks are unnecessary. Especially since you're looking for Fethry. I haven't done anything but give you other people's stuff. I haven't sacrificed anything." And here, he looked down.
"You're risking your own safety," Fenton said. "And this is enough. I'm going to find Fethry."
Gladstone still shook his head, his face scrunched in frustration. "I'm such a coward. I should be going with you, but I'm not. Damn it," he shouted, hitting his fist against the Mustang. Then with a sigh and a look of peace on his countenance, he reached around his neck and unhooked the necklace. His hands were trembling, but he still handed over the mermaid's pearl.
"I can't—" Fenton protested, but Gladstone pushed it forcefully into Fenton's grip.
"I would be the worst sort of cad if I didn't do everything I could for Fethry. I'm still a coward for not going with you, but couldn't live with myself if you failed because I held onto this," Gladstone said. "Take it. It'll help you more than I ever could."
Gladstone didn't say goodbye, but left, stumbling back into the house as if his legs weren't working correctly. The last thing he did for Fenton was push the garage door button before disappearing back into his sanctuary.
Gyro was worried about the health of the mermaid but was careful not to show it as he, Della and Mr. McDuck transported her back to the lab in the lighthouse. The trickiest part was getting her into the elevator. It was not a large elevator, and Della cursed several times as one part of the mermaid's tail or another kept slipping out of the doors before they closed. On top of that, Della kept gagging and holding her mouth, and later admitted that anything about fish made her queasy. She complained loudly about the smell of fish although Gyro barely perceived it. To him, the mermaid smelled of the ocean.
Once in the lab, it was only a matter of putting the mermaid in one of the safety nets that once belonged to Fethry to care for sick marine animals and then using the small crane to lift her up and into the filled tank. The mini-sub had been removed for repairs, giving the mermaid ample room once she woke up.
Della had run to the bathroom to expel her stomach, but after that, both she and Mr. McDuck didn't linger. Gyro had expected his employer to shadow him considering how long Mr. McDuck had been looking for the mermaid, but that wasn't the case.
"Let me know when she wakes up. And I want constant reports on anything she does," Mr. McDuck ordered before marching his queasy niece to the elevator.
Since then, Gyro had been up all night and the next day, monitoring the mermaid. And the longer she didn't move, the more he worried. Had the tranquilizer been too much? Did it cause health problems with the mermaid? Did mermaid bodies react to tranquilizers differently? Or was this a side-effect?
After hours and hours of watching, he grew more and more worried. He could see the mermaid breathing, her gills fluttering, but not until late morning did she move more than that.
He sighed with relief as the mermaid's tail wriggled a little and the mermaid rolled from her back to her side. He was glad to see such signs because other than diving into the tank himself, there was no way he could have checked the mermaid's vitals. It wasn't until his worries had abated that he realized that even with the mermaid awake, getting her vitals would not be easy. He had put her in the largest tank in the lab, and while there was some equipment to work with marine animals, he had no idea how to use it.
As he watched the mermaid move around lethargically, he wondered just how marine biologists tested blood pressure on a dolphin. Did they put a cuff around the tail or a fin? Not to mention, his patient was half-animal, half-bird. Could he just treat the top half as if she were a regular person? Would her vitals be different? Was she even warm-blooded?
"I was not cut out for this type of work," Gyro muttered, taking off his hat and ruffling his hair. "This is not my area of expertise." He sorely missed his intern. If Fenton was here, he could get the energetic go-getter to do all the dirty work.
He was so involved in his thoughts that he hadn't been watching the mermaid closely, and when he looked up to the tank, he found two bright eyes staring at him through the glass. He was taken aback at first to see the mermaid so close to the glass, but he remembered the intelligence that the mermaid had displayed before in her escape attempt. When Mr. McDuck had proved the existence of these creatures, he suspected that their intelligence would be amazing. Perhaps it was part of his own hubris, but he never imagined that they would have the same reasoning as people. At best, they would be on the same level as chimpanzees.
And ever since he suspected that his prior hypothesis was incorrect, a feeling of dread grew in his chest. Was he making a grave mistake by helping Mr. McDuck? Maybe. Would it be a big mistake to double cross Mr. McDuck? Most definitely.
He had made his bed, now he had to lie in it.
He and the mermaid stared at each other for a time, and he supposed that he must have been a boring sight to watch, because the mermaid left to swim around her tank, exploring it. The tank was rectangular, and the mermaid checked every corner as if looking for weaknesses before heading to the top of the tank. Gyro had the lid of the tank covered because he was afraid the mermaid would panic and jump out after waking up from the drugs, so the mermaid found no way of escape that way. Last of all, she discovered the tube that led out to the ocean, but this was also blocked. She had to use her arms to back out of the tube since it wasn't big enough for her to turn around.
Having explored the entire tank, the mermaid had a look of resignation and turned back the Gyro. He watched her the entire time, fascinated. The more he watched, the more he thought of her as a who instead of a what. The fact that her lovebird-half was that of a naked, attractive female did not bother him or make him feel uncomfortable. His only discomfort was from feeling as if he were an accessory to kidnapping.
Suddenly, his phone rang, and he jumped before answering it.
"Did you fall asleep, Gyro? What is going on with that mermaid?" Mr. McDuck shouted through the speaker.
"Mr. McDuck, please calm down," Gyro insisted. He may have a healthy fear of his employer, but he was not going to be yelled at as if he were some sort of intern. "The mermaid just barely woke up, luckily with no side effects. Her health appears to be good, but I want to run a few tests first. Since we have no prior data about her species, it'll take weeks before we understand just the basics of her physiology."
"Enough of that science stuff," Mr. McDuck growled. "I'm coming over to interrogate her."
"Interrogate?" Gyro repeated, his voice going high. "Mr. McDuck, we know nothing about her. This is a brand new species, a valuable find, and a rare opportunity. Not to mention, the more I study the mermaid, the more I am convinced that she belongs to a sentient species. I don't think—"
"I'm not interested in your theories," Mr. McDuck yelled. "I hired you to help me find the mermaid, and now that you have done your job finally, I no longer need to listen to what you think. There are lives at risk, my family's included, so I don't have time to be delicate."
Gyro had heard Mr. McDuck's side of the story, about the mermaid hell-bent on destroying Mr. McDuck's family and the city, but he had always chalked that to eccentric rantings of a rich, elderly duck. The story was so convoluted, it couldn't be possible. But if mermaids did exist, and if they were sentient beings, then was Mr. McDuck right? Was Duckburg in danger?
If the answer was yes, then Mr. McDuck was doing what he believed he was right, and this mermaid might know something that could save thousands and thousands of lives. But if he was delusional, he intended to come to the lab and torture the mermaid for information.
Was he going to go along with that? What was he going to do?
Without even realizing it, he heaved a heavy sigh and put his forehead against the glass of the tank. It was cool and felt good.
And of course, the mermaid was right there, watching him with her big eyes.
What a dilemma he was in! How was he to know what was the right thing to do?
The same way he decided any other time. With pure reasoning. With knowledge. With getting all the facts. He had always suspected that Mr. McDuck wasn't telling him the entire truth, and since the elderly duck had always been anything but forthcoming, he would have to get the information another way.
"I would like six hours to observe and test the mermaid before you do your 'interrogation'," Gyro said, trying to hide his disgust. "The reason I decided to help you was so that I could make a scientific discovery, and I intend to do just that."
"You have one hour," Mr. McDuck said before hanging up.
It was all Gyro needed, which was why he asked for six. He knew Mr. McDuck to be a heavy negotiator.
Putting his cell in his pocket, he grabbed his chair and set it right in front of the mermaid's tank.
"Interrogation," Gyro muttered while sitting down. "It suggests a consciousness of intelligence, meaning that you are a being capable of reasoning and making decisions. And because I don't want to insult you or your species, I'll just assume that you have the same average intelligence as my species? Correct."
The mermaid hesitated, apprehension on her face, before she nodded.
"And since you haven't uttered a single vocal sound, I'm assuming that you don't have the ability to speak but you do understand my words, correct?" Gyro asked.
The mermaid nodded again.
Gyro snorted. "This isn't going to be easy considering that I have to limit myself to yes and no questions, but we might as well start," he said, crossing his legs. "Mr. McDuck should be here in an hour and we don't have a second to lose because time is money and he acts as if he can't afford to be late. We have until then for me to guess your side of the story and understand why it is that you have been haunted by the McDuck clan for almost three hundred years."
Gladstone hadn't anticipated that. When he gave the pearl away, he hadn't guessed the reaction his body would have at its absence. The shaking and the weakness, it was all too much. Was the pearl an addiction? Or was this all psychosomatic, that it was his mental dependence of the pearl that had caused it? Was he that afraid of Scrooge McDuck?
Yes. If the man could do what he did to Fethry, then Scrooge was someone to be afraid of. Scrooge had been in power for far too long that he had to be stopped. But at the same time, Scrooge must be allowed to keep doing what he had been doing since the beginning. Because he was the only person who understood his enemy. Duckburg needed Scrooge McDuck.
But did Fenton understand that? Did he know that he needed to save Fethry but not defeat Scrooge McDuck? His uncle wasn't the bad guy here. But he kind of was.
Gladstone had pegged Fenton as the ultimate good guy, the one who always did what was right because doing something wrong just never occurred to him. But was he wrong about Fenton? Already the guy had gone through a lot just to get to the truth, and he still had a long way to go. But did he understand who the real bad guy was?
Perhaps Gladstone had glossed over that. After all, it was hard to see his uncle in a positive light all the time, but on the other hand, if it were up to Scrooge McDuck, he would harpoon anything with fins. But they still needed the old codger. He was the only one who knew who the real enemy was?
Knowing that he couldn't stay out of play, even after giving up the pearl, he reached over to the phone connected to the wall and dialed a number he knew by heart but hadn't used in years.
(Author's notes: So, for those of you who have been keeping tabs on my notes about my health, I got some bad news. The cancer has spread to my lungs, and when breast cancer has spread to an organ there's no getting rid of it. This makes the cancer stage four, and I will have cancer all my life. I'm not a hugely emotional person, so I'm not saying this to get likes or attention, I just want to inform my readers that because of my condition, chapters will come slowly. I'm not dying this instant, but I was informed that my lifespan has been shortened because of the cancer, and I have changed some of my priorities. Fanfiction is not going to be as important to me as before, but that doesn't mean I am going to stop. My OC, Charity, has meant a lot to me. She's gotten me through a huge depression and helped me with my anxiety. Strangely enough, she's also helped with my writer's block.
Anyway, my main priority with writing now is to work on my original stuff. I have two books and a comic that have been published, all independently, and a third book coming out in June. If anyone is interested in reading my original work, look on Amazon for these titles: "Thrice-Cursed, Thrice-Blessed" "Trial in Name Only" and "Lenses" (Lenses is the comic, and it is only offered as an ebook for the moment). My author name is Els Curtis. I do not have any working social media for my author name, but I will inform my fanfiction readers if that has changed.
Thank you everyone for the support, all the comments, and even if you don't comment, I very much appreciate that someone is reading my work and is enjoying it.)