“Welcome to Brotherhood”
Part Three: Victims of
Circumstance
Hand-in hand
behind his back, one foot in front of the other, he meandered behind another
duck. His eyes firm upon the ground, he
didn’t dare look up. He trembled as he remember the
last duck who had…he didn’t dare.
Yellow strips
under his feet caught his attention—a school crossing—Wildwing’s school,
Canard’s school. He and his friends had been trying to reach this place when
they were captured by the Saurians. A
chill shivered up his spine. Smoke, he sniffed the air, realizing the smell.
The school had been on fire!
Oh, Stars…Please
Wildwing…Canard…Don’t be dead…Please don’t be dead…
Timidly, he
lifted his head. Through his golden locks he spotted the Saurians and their
monitor towers, observing the movement of the endless line of captured ducks.
Wincing at the sight and the thought of the dead example the Saurians had made,
he had to chance it…he had to know.
“No…”
Sinking to his
knees, his mouth gaped, and his heart ripped from his chest…Tears welled up in
his eyes as the smell of smoke, and the sickening stench of blood overwhelmed
him.
Oh Stars, no…
The embers dying
out, the frames and walls tumbling onto one another—the senior secondary wing
had collapsed onto itself.
His knees…they
were cold and soaked, he realized suddenly, but not from ice and snow—blood.
He leaned
forward, unable to look at the sight anymore. His head hung as his hands
touched the pavement, the rich red substance staining his peach feathers.
“You!” A harsh voice accused, but he didn’t hear
it. He couldn’t.
He squeezed his
eyes shut as the tears continued to drip from his beak, his fists balled in the
liquid. His heart ached…his shoulders quivered…
The only time he
had ever been right, and Wildwing had been wrong…
His brother had
died…
“Get up you
miserably piece of—”
A hard, painful
grasp dug into his neck and back, tearing him away from the remains of his
brother and Canard. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at the sight as he was
dragged away and brought to punishment…
His brothers were
dead…
Sweet Stars
burning bright
Do not forsake
us
In the darkest of nights…
*^*^*
He was right.
The damned kid was right.
*Pant*
*Pant*
He raced up the
stairs…
He’s a strong kid. He’ll be alive…He just
has to be.
He flew through
the double doors. Left, right—it looked all the same—completely destroyed.
Light fixtures had fallen. Papers were everywhere—burning, the only light.
Glass broken, concrete crumbled, blood splattered…bodies…
Dear Stars
above…
A flash of blonde
hair…
It can’t
be…Please don’t let be…He’s just a kid…
Fear clutched his
heart as he slowed to the body, fallen against the wall. Bending down, he
reached out his trembling hand and touched the boy’s shoulder—cold. He was
dead…
He turned the boy
over to look into the glassed over eyes…and flinched. He quickly returned the
boy to his original position and straightened up. Bile rose in his throat, and
he swallowed hard.
Not now…he had to
find his “little brother.”
Left, he chose
now, as he slowly minded the debris and bodies. The thought of Wildwing, under
the overhang of the school—the collapse…he couldn’t…he wouldn’t lose Nosedive,
too. He just wouldn’t allow himself to.
He rounded the
bend…a closed door. He breathed deeply, realizing the number on it…Mrs.
Quackems’s classroom. If he remembered correctly, he had recommended the kid
take her class for Ancient History…
Please don’t let
it have been a mistake…
Tentatively
grasping the handle, he inhaled sharply before twisting. The devastating odor
was overpowering, almost more than he could handle, but he entered the room.
Visually searching with beseeching eyes…he stopped at the huddle mass at the
back of the room.
His knees felt
like rubber, and he collapsed to the near-by desk, grabbing its top for
support. He leaned over the side and retched.
Wiping the side
of his beak, he regained his footing, albeit using the desk to steady himself.
He slowly removed his hand and held the sides of his arms, unsure if he was
cold or frightened …
He shifted
through the fallen desks and chairs waveringly, begging the Highest Power that
he wouldn’t find a particular blonde teenager.
He turned to the
mass…
…unable to pull
away…
… and he realized once more…
“Damned kid was
right.”
He stared transfixed
for a moment before he fled the room and never looked back.
*^*^*
General
Ganderflock’s icy eyes practically froze the room as he studied the folder in
his hands. Finally dropping it to the desk, his face etched hard, he affirmed,
“Not the boy.”
Canard’s hands
tightened behind his back as he tried to retain his composure. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
The general
nodded.
“The boy’s father
was your colleague for ten years, sir.”
“And his father
is dead.”
“But
still, sir. Shouldn’t
we at least—”
“He’s no good to
us just because his father was a general. We need a military recruit, not a
troublemaking smart ass.”
It took all of
Canard’s will power not to explode. “But…he knows how to shoot. He’s a smart
kid. He’ll be a great—”
“Liability to
your team and our cause,” Ganderflock rejected flatly. “Recruit Wildwing; leave
the boy in the work camp. If your plan works, he’ll be freed soon, anyway. Dismissed.” He opened a file on his desk, then
paused. Raising his head starkly at the remaining soldier, he asked, agitated,
“You have something you want to add, Bronzeplume?”
“Sir, I want this
kid on my team.” His tone left no room for argument.
“This is not a
conversation,” the general declared. “It’s an order.”
“But sir—”
“There are four
billion ducks on this planet!” Ganderflock exclaimed madly, as he pushed his
chair back from the desk and stood. “Are you willing to jeopardize their
freedom, their lives, for one boy?” He demanded, leaning across the desk.
Canard’s voice
remained impassive. “I will not leave him there to die. He’s family.”
With a rigid nod,
Ganderflock replied, “So, family comes before even the planet, does it,
Canard?”
He blinked. “I do
not follow, sir.”
“So, I see.”
Ganderflock strode around his desk, his boots clicking on the metal floor. “Our
planet’s future hangs in the balance, Bronzeplume. Whether you and your team
succeed alters the outcome of our planet’s freedom and its survival. Whether
you choose this boy, this sixteen-year-old civilian, could damn not only your
mission, but also Puckworld.” He stopped behind Canard’s back and whispered
stridently, “Are you willing to sacrifice Puckworld for the life of a boy who
may never see another free daystar?”
Canard turned
around sharply on his heels and met the general’s eyes squarely. “If we are not
willing to save that which we hold dearest—our friends, our
family—then what are we fighting for, sir?” He questioned curtly.
A biting moment…
“Are you willing,
if need be, to put this boy’s life on the line for Puckworld?”
Canard opened his
beak to speak, but no words followed.
“If that be the
case, Bronzeplume, then the boy is better off in the work camp,” Ganderflock
resigned as he opened the door to his office. “There is no way you can be
responsible for the boy’s safety and lead him to his death at the same time,
for there is no guarantee that you will even return from this mission.”
*^*^*
“I’m organizing a
team of our best special forces, and a few civilians we’ve had our eyes on—like
you.
“We’re going to
take out Dragaunus.”
“How? Nobody’s ever seen him.”
“I found it,
Wildwing, in an ancient tomb in the mountains they call Twin Beaks…
“…the Mask…
“Drake
DuCaine’s Mask.”
“Oh! Didn’t I
tell you, man? Was Drake DuCaine the main duck or what?”
Canard stared
into the boy’s gleaming eyes, a sight he thought he’d never see again…and hated
himself.
“Beat it, kid,
before you get us all into trouble.”
He forced himself
to watch Nosedive’s face fall, dejected and hurt, and cursed the philosophy
that caused him to harm his little brother.
“No. If you want me, then my brother’s part of the deal.”
Thank you,
Wildwing…
“Okay, but you’re
responsible for the kid’s safety.”
“All right, bro!
This smacks some serious par-tee-tee-tay!”
*^*^*
As he wandered
through the hallways, searching for the meeting all ready in progress, Nosedive
ran a hand through his wet, clean—clean!—hair. It was a welcome, unusual
feeling to have no grunge in his nooks and crannies, no dirt under his nails,
no sweat-drenched feathers. He was squeak-eek-eek-eeky clean!
His clothes, a
teal undershirt, gray and white vest, and dark blue pants, were brand new. He
couldn’t believe it! How the Resistance had ever managed it, he might never
know, and honestly, he didn’t care. He was wearing clean clothes, and that was
all that mattered.
Following the
directions as per Wildwing’s note, written on his hand, the teenager rounded
the bend and banged directly into something hard. Falling backwards to the
floor, he shook his head to clear it.
“A
kid? Here?”
“Wow, I didn’t
think the Resistance took runts.”
“I guess they’re
getting pretty desperate since the last Saurian attack.”
Nosedive tensed,
and he balled his fists. He was about ready to tell these losers just where
they could—until he saw their uniforms and puck launchers. They were soldiers,
just like Canard.
The left one,
dressed in white and navy blue, pointed down at Nosedive. “Watch
where you’re going from now on, kid. I could’ve been a Saurian.” He
stepped over Nosedive’s body and continued down the hall.
The second one
crossed his arms and shook his head sadly. “You know, I don’t understand the
commanders anymore. Kids like you would be better off serving the Saurians than
working for us.” He followed his partner, mumbling, “I swear; it’s like we’re
on a penalty kill.”
Nosedive watched
them go before pushing himself to his feet and dusting off his vest. Who did
they think they were, anyway, pushing him around…? They probably didn’t know
their tails from a five-hole! Smugly, he nodded once
to himself before resuming his search.
Finally arriving
at his destination, he stepped up to the automatic door, then
entered the room.
It was
intimidating, to say the least. Canard hadn’t said much about the other members
of the team, only that they were masters at whatever their particular field of
endeavor was. Now, standing before the four other members and General
Ganderflock, Nosedive felt inferior for the first time.
“Um…sorry I’m
late…?” He smiled sheepishly.
The red-haired
female, he recognized immediately, rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.
Special Forces agent Mallory McMallard he had met before…though never
officially. Her first impression of him, he knew well. Most people felt the
same way as her. “Who the hell is this kid?” She fumed at General Ganderflock.
The general
directed his attention to Nosedive. “Nice of you to join us,
Featherburn. I was unaware you would be.” He motioned to a seat
thankfully between Wildwing and an older blonde duck, across the table from
McMallard. Catching the hard stare Ganderflock sent Canard, he felt out of
place, but relaxed when Wildwing touched his forearm and gave him a reassuring
smile.
“As I was
saying,” General Ganderflock said, grabbing his attention, “the first aspect of
your mission is to enter the
“Tanya, you are
to carry the explosives. As per our Intel, the main computer is the place for
detonation. That’s our target.”
“Wouldn’t we have
to engage Dragaunus and his forces, sir?” McMallard posed prosaically.
Canard nodded
thoughtfully. “Exactly. The second aspect of our
mission is to take out Dragaunus, no matter what the cost.”
“But if we’re all
in the tower…” Nosedive’s words trailed on as everyone’s attention was on him,
most of their expression tense and hostile. Only his brother, the blonde next
to him, and a huge gray mallard—Wow, was he big!—with the black ponytail seemed
at all interested. Canard covered his face with his hand, causing Nosedive to
bite his tongue.
“Yes,
Featherburn?” The
general provoked, his voice harsh.
Nosedive fidgeted
with his shirt’s seam. “But if we’re in the tower, won’t that mean taking us
out, too?”
He jumped in his
seat, unnerved, when the gray duck with one eye took out his blade and
activated it before thrusting it tip down into the table. “If it means
Puckworld’s safety, I say we do it.” He proclaimed.
Nosedive eyed the
sword jittery, then slowly moved his gaze to the older
duck. His maroon jumpsuit reminded the teen of a spy, while the man’s
artificial eye and chipped beak made him think of a pirate. The duck was older,
much older than he, and by looks of him, much more dangerous. Why would Canard
pick this dude for the mission?
“Kid,” Canard
called, gaining Nosedive’s attention, “why don’t you head back to the bunk, all
right? Wildwing or I will brief you later.”
Had he done
something wrong all ready? “But I—”
Wildwing patted
him on the shoulder. “Do as he says, okay, Dive?”
Nosedive stared
at his brother incredulously. Wildwing wasn’t even going to stand up for him?
What was going on here?
By the looks of
the situation, he knew he wasn’t going to get any answers and staying might
only make Wildwing and Canard’s situation worse. Slowly pushing up from the
table, he exited the room, the automatic door slamming shut behind him.
“Wow, a new
record.”
*^*^*
Nosedive burst
through the doors, pulling off his barely sweated tee-shirt and throwing it
across the room. He paced about fuming, balling his fists. He couldn’t take it
anymore and dropped to his knees, knotting his hands in his hair.
“AHHHHHHH!”
First, he was
banished from meetings, but now from practices? This was absurd! Just because he happened to knock over a few of the workout
machines…
His arms slowly
slid to his sides as he rocked back on his haunches. He blinked a few times,
focusing on the carpeted floor…
What was going
here? Canard banishing
him…twice?
The door swooshed
open behind him, startling the young mallard. He turned sharply, only to sigh
angrily as Wildwing and Canard walked through the door.
“Look, you heard
what the team said after—Oh, hey kid. Didn’t know you
were here,” Canard greeted as the door shut behind him.
Nosedive stood
haggardly and rolled his eyes toward the two. Climbing to the upper bunk bed on
the far wall, he spat, “Nah, what would I be doing here? This is just my bunk,
too, and it seems I’m banned from going everywhere else.” He laid face-up and
debated silently just how long it would take before Canard and Wildwing spoke
about him again.
He got to two…
“He’s sixteen,
Wildwing,” Canard whispered to his best friend. “He can’t go meandering through
the base without some sort of supervision. You heard what Tovance and Drakeford
said about him running into them.”
“So now I need to
be babysat?” Nosedive scoffed, sitting up and dangling his feet over the edge.
“I can drive, but I can’t walk by myself.”
Shaking his head,
Wildwing crossed the room and patted his brother on the leg. “Look, Dive. Not
everyone here understands that you are an integral part of this team.
Therefore, Canard and I think that it’s best if you stayed here unless one of
us is with you.”
“Do I really have
a choice?” Nosedive spat, dropped back to his bed.
Canard shrugged
noncommittally and answered coolly, “Well, there’s always the camps…”
“CANARD!” Wildwing shouted.
Nosedive froze,
disbelieving what he had just heard. He sat up instinctively and turned toward
the older duck. “What did you just say?” He said breathlessly through clinched
teeth. He didn’t realize the tears that trickled down his cheeks.
Canard met his
glare with unforgiving eyes. “You either follow my directions, kid, or you’re
back in the slave camps. It’s that simple.”
“Canard, you can’t,” Wildwing pleaded, clenching his
brother’s leg.
The leader
shrugged indifferently. “Wildwing, the Resistance doesn’t have time to deal
with kids, okay? He either becomes a soldier and falls
in line, or he’s shipped back to the camps.” His voice tensed with
emotion. He nicked the kid under the
chin. “And he’ll fall in line.” Flashing the briefest of smiles, Canard turned
and exited, leaving Nosedive and Wildwing alone.
Wildwing huffed, then yelped as Nosedive narrowly missed him, thrashing onto
the bed and burying his face in the pillow.
“Nosedive…”
Wildwing coaxed, running his hand through Nosedive’s hair. “Come on, baby bro.
Speak to me…” Nosedive refused to turn toward him.
After pleading
for a few minutes, Wildwing finally dropped his hands, letting them hit the
sides of his pants. “Okay…I’m going to the showers and getting food. You want
anything?”
No answer.
Wildwing sighed
helplessly and left.
Nosedive finally
rolled over, his face clenched, red, and tear stained, as he stared at the
door.
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
*^*^*
“You can’t threaten him like that, Canard!”
Wildwing retorted angrily. “He’s still my brother and your friend! You just
can’t—”
Shaking his head, the leader exhaled
desperately, lowering his voice, “Wildwing, you don’t understand. Things in the
Resistance change just like this.” He snapped his fingers. “Dive could be here
in a second and be gone in another.”
“How?”
The brother challenged, crossing his arms. “Because you’ll
send him back to a camp?”
“NO!” Canard’s voice carried, though a new
tone was heard in it…hurt. “I’m not going to send the kid back, but others here
could! All he would have to do is tick off the next guy who walks into the
cafeteria, and he’s gone! It’s as simple as that!”
“But—”
Nosedive yawned
and slowly opened his tired eyes. Rolling over, he stared at the door and wiped
the slumber from his eyes. Kicking his blanket off, he crawled down from his
bed and crept to the door. The conversation was more than slightly mumbled, but
he knew Canard and Wildwing’s voices. Pressing his ear against the door, he
tried to listen to the argument.
“No buts,
Wildwing! If he doesn’t fall in line and listen to me, he’ll be gone! It’ll be
just like that! He wasn’t even supposed to be here in the first place!”
Nosedive’s beak
fell.
“The kid’s not a
soldier, Wildwing, and he’s not even part of the Resistance. He’s just another
hatchling that lost his way, and there’ll be nothing you could do to save him!
If he doesn’t listen, he’ll be back in a work camp.”
Nosedive toppled
backwards and away from the door.
“And there would be nothing I could do to
save him, either.”
More mumbling
from Canard…but Nosedive couldn’t hear what he said. It didn’t matter
anyway…Canard already said his peace… he said it three weeks ago in the alley…
Nosedive choked
as the tears once more surfaced, and he buried his face in his hands.
A muffled
whisper…“Who are you?”
*^*^*
The room was dark
by the time Canard returned. Wildwing’s bed was vacant, his best friend off to
get a late dinner for Nosedive. A blanket-covered lump occupied the top bunk,
though a plaid-covered leg dangled over the edge. Canard smiled fondly as he
walked over to the bed and carefully lifted the teen’s leg back up and under
the covers. Nosedive murmured something, then
resituated himself on the bed.
Once he was
settled, Canard pulled down the covers so that the teen wouldn’t suffocate himself, but stopped at the sight of his face, tensed and
sweated. He affectionately brushed back the matted bangs from Nosedive’s
forehead and laughed lovingly when the teen relaxed, his face unclenching. He
slurred, “Bro…”
Canard watched
the boy sleep and found himself hating what he had
become in the eyes of Nosedive. It was necessary, he knew,
if Nosedive was to survive, but it didn’t make his job any easier. Though he
was no longer a hatchling, Nosedive was still unaware of just how dangerous the
situation was, how quickly he could be back in a camp. No one was going to
accept the kid here. If to shelter the boy was going to save him from the camps
and Ganderflock’s wrath as a kicking boy, then so be it…even if Canard had to
threaten to get him to listen…because that was for the best...
He leaned close
to the teen’s ear and admitted softly, “I am your older brother.”
To Be Continued in “