WIP: Velma is a BAMF, and I don't understand my own obsession with zombies.
I assume everybody's seen the fanart of Velma and Scooby and the Mystery Machine in the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse. If you haven't, it's right here. Well, sometime over the summer I got to thinking about it, and I started just kind of drabbling about how it could have happened. I didn't get very far, and the project is pretty much on hold for now because I have so many other things to write, but. I really liked what I had so far. So I figured I would post it, and maybe getting some feedback will give me incentive to work on it?
Anyways. If you are interested in me turning your childhood memories into a gritty, slightly cerebral horror story, then read on. IF YOU ARE NOT I WILL NOT TAKE OFFENSE.
(Also I have really awful ideas for ending it. Like. By definition it has to get mean, but this is going to be REALLY mean. So feel free to ignore this. I KNOW. IT HURTS ME TOO.)
Here we go.
It wasn't scary, not at first. Okay, so being chased around by zombies did make us a little tense, but we weren't terrified yet. It was just another mystery, just another guy in a costume trying to get money. So what if there were a few dozen more guys to contend with this time? We'd just catch one, and the jig would be up, and the town would give us another medal to hang from our rearview mirror. Just another day at the office, as it were.
That was before Daphne got bitten.
Typical that she'd be the first of us to fall, isn't it? Jenkies, Velma, what an awful thing to say. Truth is, she was trying to help Fred pin the guy down, and she was doing a pretty good job. Fred had pushed the guy down onto a chair, and was tying him up while she held his shoulders. Her nose was wrinkled against the smell of rotting flesh, and behind the grime smeared across her face and dress she looked just as prissy as ever. That's when the guy - zombie - thing, moaning and thrashing against his bonds, turned his head and sunk his teeth into her wrist. She squealed and jumped away.
"Are you crazy?" Fred shouted, finishing the knot and pulling away before he could be attacked. "We've caught you! It's over!" I moved over to Daphne and started tearing off a strip from my skirt to wrap her wrist, because God forbid she ruin her own skirt to staunch her own bleeding. She just whimpered and clutched at the mark.
We were shut up in a room just in case, and Shaggy had the door barricaded - a precaution, even though we assumed the rest of the "zombies" would stop moaning around once they saw one of their own revealed - which turned out to be a good thing. We were all focused and watching when Fred grabbed at the guy's hairline and pulled, only to come away with real, sickly green flesh under his fingernails. Strips of white bone now showed through where he'd scratched.
The zombie let out a desperate, inhuman shriek, and one violent jerk sent him clattering sideways onto the floor. Fred jumped back, wide-eyed gaze flicking from his own hands to the place where the zombie was starting to break his own wrist against the rope.
"Zoinks," Shaggy whispered, and behind him Scooby whimpered wordlessly. It was that sound, maybe, or the jagged shaking of Daphne's breath, or the bloody gurgling of the zombie's throat, that made the bile rise in the back of my mouth - whatever it was, I fell to my knees in the corner of the room and actually did retch twice, emptying my stomach of what little I'd eaten before we'd been called in to fix this mess. Nobody came over to hold my hair, but hey, there isn't much of it to hold anyways. I forced down my panic and wiped my mouth on the back of my hand, standing just in time to see Daphne collapse.
"Get away from her, Fred," I said; my voice sounded tinny and detached to my own ears. He ignored me, of course, rushing over to cradle her head in his lap. They looked like the cover of a tragic romance novel as a drop of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
"Seriously, get away from her," I repeated, walking over and yanking at his arm. "You're going to be your girlfriend's first taste of brains in a few minutes if we don't get out of here."
Daphne's head fell from his lap and landed on the wood floor with a sickening thud. She moaned, already sounding less like herself and more like one of them, and she thrashed once.
"S-should we k-kill her?" Shaggy asked, and even though his voice was small and frightened, the fact that he was saying that at all steadied me. We were going to get through this. We weren't going to fall just because one of us was dying.
I nodded. "Yes. We should. Him, too." I bit my lip. "You guys don't happen to have any guns, do you?"
Fred stared at me, looking like he might throw up himself. "You can't be serious. We can't…we can't kill Daphne. How could you even…"
"She's already dead," I said. "So no guns, then?"
Scooby came up behind me and nudged his head against my leg. We've never needed guns.
I rubbed my forehead, trying to stay calm, trying not to let myself freak out as one of my closest friends in the world gurgled and turned ashen at my feet. "Okay. Well, I don't think I can physically bring myself to smash her head, so how about we get out of here before she jumps up and starts killing us, yes?"
I grabbed Fred's hand in my left, and Shaggy's hand in my right, as if I could transfer some of my strength to them. "On three we make a break for the van." They nodded.
"One."
Shaggy grabbed for Scooby's leash and held it in a white-knuckled death grip.
"Two."
Daphne let out another moan, almost a scream. Her eyes looked yellow and unfamiliar as she stared up at us one last time.
"Three."
We let go of each other and ran.
~
I was the one who told the mayor of the town that we couldn't save them. "They're real zombies," I said. "Believe us or don't believe us, I don't care, but we're getting out of this town as fast as we can. And you should do the same."
I don't think I'll ever forget the look on his face as we drove away. We've never dropped a job before. We've never told anybody that we can't help them.
To my right, Fred sat stiffly upright in the passenger's seat, focusing hard on the road. His fingers twitched occasionally against his knee. I could tell he wanted to drive, like he usually did, but no way was I letting him behind the wheel like this. I could tell he wanted to break down, mourn for Daphne, and the more he denied himself, the angrier he would get. Crashing the van was not going to solve any of our problems. I ignored him and pulled out onto the freeway.
In the back, Shaggy was huddled on the floor next to Scooby, and the only sound in the van was his quiet whispering, barely audible over the engine. I knew he'd be okay for the time being. Even though neither of them had said a word about food in the past hour (although maybe that was what they were discussing now), at least they still had each other. I always envied their partnership a little bit. They were idiots, but they got through a lot together.
And me? I could hold myself up for long enough to get into the next state at least. It felt like something in me had iced over or shut down, and every emotion that would have gotten in the way of saving what was left of my friends was just waiting its turn. I still felt a little nauseous, but I was upright and dry-eyed and driving safely. That was what mattered.
Anyways. If you are interested in me turning your childhood memories into a gritty, slightly cerebral horror story, then read on. IF YOU ARE NOT I WILL NOT TAKE OFFENSE.
(Also I have really awful ideas for ending it. Like. By definition it has to get mean, but this is going to be REALLY mean. So feel free to ignore this. I KNOW. IT HURTS ME TOO.)
Here we go.
It wasn't scary, not at first. Okay, so being chased around by zombies did make us a little tense, but we weren't terrified yet. It was just another mystery, just another guy in a costume trying to get money. So what if there were a few dozen more guys to contend with this time? We'd just catch one, and the jig would be up, and the town would give us another medal to hang from our rearview mirror. Just another day at the office, as it were.
That was before Daphne got bitten.
Typical that she'd be the first of us to fall, isn't it? Jenkies, Velma, what an awful thing to say. Truth is, she was trying to help Fred pin the guy down, and she was doing a pretty good job. Fred had pushed the guy down onto a chair, and was tying him up while she held his shoulders. Her nose was wrinkled against the smell of rotting flesh, and behind the grime smeared across her face and dress she looked just as prissy as ever. That's when the guy - zombie - thing, moaning and thrashing against his bonds, turned his head and sunk his teeth into her wrist. She squealed and jumped away.
"Are you crazy?" Fred shouted, finishing the knot and pulling away before he could be attacked. "We've caught you! It's over!" I moved over to Daphne and started tearing off a strip from my skirt to wrap her wrist, because God forbid she ruin her own skirt to staunch her own bleeding. She just whimpered and clutched at the mark.
We were shut up in a room just in case, and Shaggy had the door barricaded - a precaution, even though we assumed the rest of the "zombies" would stop moaning around once they saw one of their own revealed - which turned out to be a good thing. We were all focused and watching when Fred grabbed at the guy's hairline and pulled, only to come away with real, sickly green flesh under his fingernails. Strips of white bone now showed through where he'd scratched.
The zombie let out a desperate, inhuman shriek, and one violent jerk sent him clattering sideways onto the floor. Fred jumped back, wide-eyed gaze flicking from his own hands to the place where the zombie was starting to break his own wrist against the rope.
"Zoinks," Shaggy whispered, and behind him Scooby whimpered wordlessly. It was that sound, maybe, or the jagged shaking of Daphne's breath, or the bloody gurgling of the zombie's throat, that made the bile rise in the back of my mouth - whatever it was, I fell to my knees in the corner of the room and actually did retch twice, emptying my stomach of what little I'd eaten before we'd been called in to fix this mess. Nobody came over to hold my hair, but hey, there isn't much of it to hold anyways. I forced down my panic and wiped my mouth on the back of my hand, standing just in time to see Daphne collapse.
"Get away from her, Fred," I said; my voice sounded tinny and detached to my own ears. He ignored me, of course, rushing over to cradle her head in his lap. They looked like the cover of a tragic romance novel as a drop of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
"Seriously, get away from her," I repeated, walking over and yanking at his arm. "You're going to be your girlfriend's first taste of brains in a few minutes if we don't get out of here."
Daphne's head fell from his lap and landed on the wood floor with a sickening thud. She moaned, already sounding less like herself and more like one of them, and she thrashed once.
"S-should we k-kill her?" Shaggy asked, and even though his voice was small and frightened, the fact that he was saying that at all steadied me. We were going to get through this. We weren't going to fall just because one of us was dying.
I nodded. "Yes. We should. Him, too." I bit my lip. "You guys don't happen to have any guns, do you?"
Fred stared at me, looking like he might throw up himself. "You can't be serious. We can't…we can't kill Daphne. How could you even…"
"She's already dead," I said. "So no guns, then?"
Scooby came up behind me and nudged his head against my leg. We've never needed guns.
I rubbed my forehead, trying to stay calm, trying not to let myself freak out as one of my closest friends in the world gurgled and turned ashen at my feet. "Okay. Well, I don't think I can physically bring myself to smash her head, so how about we get out of here before she jumps up and starts killing us, yes?"
I grabbed Fred's hand in my left, and Shaggy's hand in my right, as if I could transfer some of my strength to them. "On three we make a break for the van." They nodded.
"One."
Shaggy grabbed for Scooby's leash and held it in a white-knuckled death grip.
"Two."
Daphne let out another moan, almost a scream. Her eyes looked yellow and unfamiliar as she stared up at us one last time.
"Three."
We let go of each other and ran.
~
I was the one who told the mayor of the town that we couldn't save them. "They're real zombies," I said. "Believe us or don't believe us, I don't care, but we're getting out of this town as fast as we can. And you should do the same."
I don't think I'll ever forget the look on his face as we drove away. We've never dropped a job before. We've never told anybody that we can't help them.
To my right, Fred sat stiffly upright in the passenger's seat, focusing hard on the road. His fingers twitched occasionally against his knee. I could tell he wanted to drive, like he usually did, but no way was I letting him behind the wheel like this. I could tell he wanted to break down, mourn for Daphne, and the more he denied himself, the angrier he would get. Crashing the van was not going to solve any of our problems. I ignored him and pulled out onto the freeway.
In the back, Shaggy was huddled on the floor next to Scooby, and the only sound in the van was his quiet whispering, barely audible over the engine. I knew he'd be okay for the time being. Even though neither of them had said a word about food in the past hour (although maybe that was what they were discussing now), at least they still had each other. I always envied their partnership a little bit. They were idiots, but they got through a lot together.
And me? I could hold myself up for long enough to get into the next state at least. It felt like something in me had iced over or shut down, and every emotion that would have gotten in the way of saving what was left of my friends was just waiting its turn. I still felt a little nauseous, but I was upright and dry-eyed and driving safely. That was what mattered.