Excerpt from DUCK REDUX by Nic Bettauer:
Departure
There once was a man who had loved deeply and well, but whose loving had come to an end. He sat on the bed in his rental apartment in Los Angeles. On one side of him was a potted sapling; on the other was an urn. In the urn were his wife’s ashes.
To the world, insofar as it took note of him, the man’s name was Arthur Chase, but as there were no other Chases around, it could have been anything at all. Back in his day, Arthur’s full name had been like a home in which he, his wife Frances, and son Daniel had sheltered. But without them, he needed no other name than Arthur, so this is what we shall call him.
Arthur wore a brown-toned suit, his Sunday best. He leaned down to fit his feet into his shoes, his motion neat and smooth, his shoehorn like a lever, opening up a space and place for his propriety.
He was a dignified man. He stood up, straightened the cuffs of his pants over his socks, smoothed his jacket, and set his tie. He was well-dressed enough now for a funeral — or for a coffin.
Arthur picked up an old army pack from the floor and pulled an empty tin from the pack. Into the tin he emptied several bottles of pills — from Frances’s bedside table. He replaced the tin in the pack, draped the pack over his shoulder. He retrieved a framed photograph from Frances’s bookshelf and bid a silent farewell to his family. Exiting the room, he took the plant and the urn.
Arthur opened the kitchen window, filled the bird feeder, topped off the adjoining water tray, and watered the window box flowers. What was a place, if not the home of all the living things surrounding it? He did not forget that life went on in this place — even when it was not his own, even when he was no longer a part.
As Arthur made his way down the hall to the elevator, a voice called out from the apartment next door, from a man half his age, Emil Janney. Arthur had known Emil since Emil was a child.
“Who’s that?” Emil solicited fearfully.
Arthur knew that Emil was looking through the peephole plus viewing him on the security camera for good measure. “As you can see, Mr. Janney, it’s only me, Arthur.”
This middle-aged man, Arthur’s landlord, refused to be called “Emil” by him anymore. “I prefer a more professional relationship, Mr. Chase,” he had said.
But Arthur refused to be called anything but “Arthur” by him. And so their relationship stood, topsy-turvy. Not that Arthur cared about the “Misters” and such. A protocol of respect, to his mind, often belied the lack of it.
Why was this young man so fearful? Arthur pondered the peephole on Emil’s front door — its tiny bulge like a beady little eye. Often, he thought to himself, those who are the most fearful are those who have the least to fear.
“I’ll have no plants in the building,” Mr. Janney commanded, still speaking through the closed door. “Plants attract bugs. Now take out that trash and don’t make me warn you again.”
Clear of the peephole and camera, Arthur whispered an apology to the sapling and urn. “Don’t mind him — he’s lonely too.”
Once outside his building, Arthur faced a heavily trafficked, four-lane, two-way street and across the street, his oasis — a distant outcropping of trees.
Ordinarily, he might have sought out the crosswalk, but it was far away, and he no longer feared for his life.
“Why did the chicken cross the road?” Arthur asked himself quietly, then took the first step. “Because he didn’t want to be a chicken any longer.”
Arthur traversed the road as if the cars weren’t there — walking straight and steady, balancing the plant and cradling the urn.
Chaos surrounded. Brakes screeched. Horns blew. But he did not hurry. Like a pebble skipping the ocean’s waves, this pedestrian survived the road’s rage. And not a clod of dirt loosed itself from the plant; the urn did not move an inch from its spot, nestled in the crook of his arm.
Arthur made it to the other side — and the outburst died, as if some kind of heralding.
Excerpted from DUCK REDUX by Nic Bettauer. © 2026 by Nic Bettauer, used with permission.
DUCK REDUX by Nic Bettauer
In a world bereft of common sense or decency, social service or grace, DUCK redux is the story of a duck who saves the life of a man…
DUCK redux is both allegory and memoir, peopled and storied by Nic’s work as a volunteer crisis counselor in Los Angeles, helping and holding others’ pain. The book revisits the feature film DUCK (2005) which Nic wrote and directed as a cautionary tale set in the near (but at that time avertable) future. However, with society devolving and history repeating, DUCK redux takes place present day. This book is written in the hopes, still, of effecting change.
Non-Fiction Biography | Self-Help [ Atmosphere Press, On Sale: March 3, 2026, Paperback / e-Book, ISBN: 9798891329102 / eISBN: 9798901741191 ]
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About Nic Bettauer
Nic Bettauer is a writer-director who loves to witness, share, and advocate others’ stories, to photograph decisive moments, and to travel. She appreciates hearing tales as much as telling them, meeting characters as much as creating them. Nic seeks to be an experiential learner and a good conversationalist.
Nic volunteers as a crisis counselor and canine/equine facilitator. She holds an MFA from USC School of Cinematic Arts, MSW from USC School of Social Work, and BA from Stanford University, having pursued additional undergraduate studies at NYU Tisch School of the Arts.
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