Note:

This chapter explores darker and more serious themes. Please proceed with caution, and thank you for reading.

Huey, Dewey, and Louie learned one or two things from tagging along today. The first, and most obvious, was that even with the considerable number of people, the parking lot sounded no different from a graveyard in the dead of night. No one spoke a single word, as if something unseen was watching and compelling their silence. All they did was stand and wait for the line to shuffle forward. Their uncle had never shared what happened here, and they had never thought to ask. Now that they were here, the unease in their chest grew heavier with each passing moment.

"What's keeping everyone's mouth shut?" Dewey whispered to his brothers, keeping his voice low enough to avoid any attention.

Huey, despite being equally uneasy, scanned the parking lot. His sharp eyes caught something in the distance.

"There," he subtly gestured to the figures guarding the entrance far ahead. He was sure they were the reason.

The guards, wearing black uniforms with batons hanging at their hips, slowly turning their heads left and right, surveyed the line to make sure everything was under control. The constant movement made them indistinguishable from robots. Their serious expressions and the black glasses covering their eyes made their appearance even more menacing. The boys didn't have the nerve to look at them for too long.

Just a few seconds later, they heard a thudding sound coming from ahead. Curious, they leaned to see what had happened. There, several feet ahead of them, was the body of an old man who had collapsed onto the cracked concrete of the parking lot. His sunken cheeks and pale face told a story of starvation and illness. No one in the line dared to glance his way. Their faces fixed forward as if acknowledging him might invite trouble. Noticing something had happened, two guards approached the fainted old man.

Donald stood frozen. He knew what would happen to the poor old man. The timing was just the worst. His nephews shouldn't have been here, not for this. Sure, he wanted them to know that the reality was harsher than they could've imagined, but he hadn't thought it was coming this soon. For a moment, he wrestled with his own feelings about whether he should turn them away or just let them see it with their own eyes. Ultimately, with sagged shoulders and a sigh, he chose the latter. He felt his nephews needed to know.

The guards stopped in front of the old man. With a loud and commanding voice, one of them spoke.

"Anyone here are his relative?"

The crowd remained silent.

"No one?" the guard repeated.

Still, the crowd stayed mute.

The guards didn't seem irritated by the citizens' lack of response, but decided to take action. Wasting no time, they grabbed the man's legs. His body, limp and unresponsive, dragged across the concrete as if he was a large sack of feathers. The scrape of his clothes against the pavement and the dull thud of his head hitting uneven ground ended the absence of sound.

Donald had already seen enough, and he couldn't help but close his eyes. His nephews, meanwhile, did the exact opposite. Their eyes followed the guards as they took the old man and disappeared behind the cracked walls of the building. With that, all they could do now was make a wild guess.

A long, heavy silence followed afterward, broken only by the gust of the chill morning air. Time ran much slower, as far as the boys could feel. Their minds were busy with the infinite scenarios of what would come.

Then…

BAM!

The sharp sound of a gunshot cutting through the stillness like a blade.

The echo lingered in the atmosphere like an eternity.

The boys didn't move an inch, their wide eyes locked on the cracked walls. They almost couldn't believe what had happened, let alone imagine what was behind it. An old man, starving, sick, and desperate for help, had been treated with brutal indifference, and now his life was gone.

Being ended.

Huey felt his knees shake ever so slightly, and he didn't know what to do. His mind raced for answers, but none came. As if he had a certain instinct to protect, he reached out to his brothers with his trembling hands, who stood on either side.

Dewey responded to his brother's hand, gripping it tight. He felt his stomach churn the moment he heard the gunshot, growing more violent with each passing second. The sour taste of bile rose in his throat, and he swallowed hard to force it down. His other hand covered his beak to prevent the vomit that could come at any time.

Louie, meanwhile, had his heart pulsing at a higher rate, followed by shallow and uneven breath. His entire body dripped with a cold sweat that soaked his green hoodie. At first, he hesitated to hold Huey's hand with his sweaty palm, but he gripped it anyway. For now, he needed it. The chilling reality was just too much for him.

Donald, who stood motionless in front of them, let a single tear drop from his shut eyes. He was drowned in his own mind, imagining himself in the position of the old man. No family, help, or hope. He couldn't bear to imagine what would happen when his time came, leaving the boys with no one to turn to and forced to face the hardship themselves. Their mom was… well, he didn't want to think about it. The thought only deepened his anguish.

He felt grateful for having them on his side. Even with his current struggles, they were his reason for surviving, and often, the source of his smiles. But he also felt guilty for not giving them enough of what they needed, even when he always tried his best. He wished he could be a better uncle, providing the life they deserved instead of the bare survival they endured.

Breaking from his thoughts, Donald slowly opened his eyes, wiped his tears and sniffed once.

The loud, high-pitched audio feedback from the horn loudspeaker in the building ahead broke the longest stillness people in the line had experienced so far. Its piercing sound made the boys move closer to each other, still gripping hands. Whatever came out of that speaker, they didn't feel it would do any good for them, and might even make things worse.

"Citizens," the announcer began. "Today's actions were taken for the greater good. The individual in question was elderly, gravely ill, and without family. Prolonging his suffering would have been cruel. In these times, tough choices are necessary to conserve resources for those who contribute to Duckburg's future. Let this serve as a reminder of our shared duty to prevent such tragedies and build a stronger, united community."

The air was silent once again.

The announcement went in one ear and out the other for the citizens. They knew it was just the same recycled nonsense being repeated.

The boys' breaths were just beginning to steady when they spotted the guards from earlier emerged from the building. They carried a black body bag, and the boys didn't need to ask what was inside.

The guards walked toward the building's front gate, placed the bag on the ground, and stood still, as if waiting for something. Before the boys could guess what they were waiting for, the line shifted forward and forcing them to follow one step ahead to avoid any complaint from the people behind them.

Donald almost slipped from the sudden movement of the line. A contrast to what he usually did, he found the announcement hard to ignore this time. For a moment, it almost made him forget his nephews were there. He turned to check on them and could see their pale, frightened faces, which melted something inside him. He knelt down, wrapping his arms around them and pulling them into the only shield he could offer.

"Boys," he said with a soft voice.

Huey's head turned up to him, his eyes pleading for an answer. "Why… why are they doing this, Uncle Donald?"

Donald's beak opened, but no words came. He could feel the ache in his chest, the anger bubbling somewhere deep below. What could he tell them? That the world was always cruel, that people had stopped caring? That this was just how things were now? He swallowed hard and gave the only answer he could manage.

"I don't know, Huey," he said in a low and heavy voice.

The boys pressed closer against his chest, gripping his sailor suit. Donald could feel their tremble, and the boys could feel their uncle's tears fall on their heads. They didn't care about the surrounding people, and for a moment, it was just the quiet reassurance of being together.

"It's not fair," Dewey whispered; the sob made him almost couldn't end his sentence.

Donald closed his eyes, holding them as tightly as he could. He'd seen worse, and thought the same thing a thousand times, but he had no words to make it right.

"I know," he said. "But listen to me. I'm here. I'll always be here. Nothing's going to take me away from you."

Louie had nothing to say, or rather, couldn't. He just buried his face in Donald's shoulder.

The boys now understood why their uncle had always kept them away from this place, no matter how good their intentions were.