Night Whispers
Rating: R, for violence, language, and graphic content
Disclaimer: I don't own Scooby-Doo. I'm sure you'll all be pleased that I don't. At least near the end. And I'm sure all Michiganders will be pleased to know I don't own Michigan. I just felt like putting it there, because, well, I know how much snow we get. ^_^
Summary Chapter 1: The Gang is snowed in at a large, nearly deserted hotel this side of nowhere.
Chapter 1
: To TopsEverything was as it should be once again.
After the disturbing mystery with the so called 'Were-Raven' had come to an end, the gang had been exhausted. Scooby and Shaggy had each claimed to be more tired than the other. More tired, and more hungry.
Even now, as the van rattled north, they would more than just occasionally petition Fred to pull over at a rest stop, so that they could take full advantage of the always well-stocked Michigan Vending Machines.
"We stopped ten miles back, guys." Velma said disapprovingly, after another plea-bargain from the back seat.
"Besides, the weather is getting a lot worse. We need to get to a hotel, or someplace to stay, before we loose the road entirely." Fred added.
"Well, okay. Like, but you'll be held responsible when Scoob and I die of starvation." Shaggy said, crossing his arms and trying his very best to look stern from the back of the van.
"Reah!" Scooby agreed.
Daphne turned slightly, shaking her head with disapproval at Shaggy and Scooby's antics. "Can you two be any more morbid? Stop talking about dying. It's not like we don't have enough to worry about."
"Exactly. Check out those clouds…" Velma said, and pointed out towards the front of the van. Hanging low in the sky were clouds the color of darkness, so dark as to seem to be night onto itself. They loomed threateningly ahead.
"Whose bright idea was it to come this far north in the middle of December, anyhow?" Daphne asked darkly.
There was a long silence as Velma, Shaggy, and Scooby all turned to stare at her.
"O…kay, it was mine. But you guys have never listened to me before…"
Fred shook his head, grinning. "It's okay, Daphne, this is a great adventure, though not necessarily the kind we had in mind. Hopefully the bridge won't be closed… we can make Newberry in two hours."
"New-what?" Shaggy asked, perking up in the back.
"New rerry?" Scooby asked, and licked his lips.
"Not Newberry itself- the smaller city north of it. Oh… there's the bridge up ahead." Velma said cheerfully.
When one sees the Mackinaw Bridge, one is not necessarily close to it. The convoluted streets just outside of Mackinaw City led every which way, and at speeds of 70 miles an hour. What little traffic there was today, however, was crawling along at half that speed, unwilling to risk higher speeds as the snow and ice increased.
Shaggy and Scooby had their faces pressed against the back windows of the Mystery Machine as they drove through Mackinaw. "Oh… fudge! Let's stop! Oh… food! Let's stop! Look! Jerky! Let's stop!"
"Ralt rater raffy!" Scooby exclaimed.
"Fudge!" The two shouted at the same time.
"We can get some on the way back, or if they don't let us across the bridge. Now is really not the time to be slowing down our trip anymore than we already have." Fred replied.
"Like, you have a point." Shaggy said after a moment, observing the roiling stormclouds ahead. He really didn't feel like driving into those, but nothing short of closed road would stop Fred when he had a destination in mind.
"Caution- High Winds. No speeds over thirty miles an hour." Velma read off of the sign posted beside the road just before they crossed the bridge. "Oh, great…" She glanced out over the water, which was roiling like a beast ready to attack. "Maybe Shag and Scoob are right, Fred… it wouldn't be so bad to stay here for a day…"
"Well, it's too late, we're already on the bridge. No exits from here." Replied Fred, shaking his head.
The Mystery Machine was the only vehicle that was daring the shaking, groaning suspension bridge. Every second, a gust of wind would try to push the van over the edge of the bridge. The wind seemed to constantly shove the van towards the edge. It howled like a living beast.
The trip progressed slowly. The wind only seemed to grow in strength the further north they went, and the gale was joined by snow and small chips of hail.
The weather only got worse, and Fred agreed to stop at Surrey, a tiny town whose only features were a restraunt, a sheriff's office, and a hotel fifteen miles away, a tiny town a short thirty-nine miles from their destination. Another two treacherous hours on the increasingly dangerous roads. Snow was falling from the sky in harsh wet clumps. The snow attached itself firmly to the windshield, and then froze onto the windshield wipers. Every few minutes Fred was forced to reach out into the snow and bang the wipers against the windshield to free the ice, and pulled his hand back in pock marked with tiny red welts from the immutable hail.
Fred parked the Mystery Machine at the top of the hill as close as they could get to the hotel, and the gang hurried inside.
Though the hotel appeared spacious from without, within it was cramped. It was clean, and the furniture was dated but immaculately kept. There was just too much of it in the lobby.
A television rattled aware one severe weather warning after another. Tornados in Kent. Thunderstorms in Kalkaska. Twelve-foot waves in Marquette. All of Michigan seemed in tumult, and the back-woods city in the Upper Peninsula was no different.
"Ahem."
The gang turned, startled, and Fred headed over to the desk, where a black-haired, weasel-faced young man stood. His eyes darted around the gang as if sizing them up, and rested finally on Scooby. "No pets."
"He doesn't make a mess." Fred replied. "We have nowhere else to go- the storm forced us off the road here."
"We have rooms a plenty open." The weasel-faced man replied. "But no pets allowed."
"We can let this one go, Jake," Another man replied, this one broader in girth and of smile, who had just appeared behind the counter. "There aren't many guests here, and I don't want to be responsible for a bunch of kids getting killed in a snowstorm."
"Right, Mr. McCullogh, it's your hotel." 'Jake' replied, stepping aside.
"Now there, young lad," The jolly old man said, stepping up to the counter, "How many rooms would you like?"
"Two would be fine." Fred replied.
"Right, well, that will be forty seven dollars per room… but I insist you pay before you go, not now. Nobody stays at Whispers Inn as long as they plan." Mr. McCullogh said with a wink, sliding two room keys across the table.
"What does that mean?" Daphne wondered, looking slightly worried.
McCullogh grinned, and waved one hand dismissively. "Just that people don't tend to stay, is all, lass, don't worry about it." Jake grinned. "Now, we serve breakfast at 8 AM…"
"Breakfast?" Shaggy and Scooby said at once, trading excited glances.
"…but because of this snow storm, we'll be serving all the other meals, as well. There's no way to make it from here to the town when the snow's up." McCullogh continued, as if he hadn't heard the two interrupt him.
Velma turned back towards the television. "A record snow-fall of twelve feet is expected in Luce county- better get your electric blankets, folks, because where ever you are now is where you'll be staying for a long time." The newscaster reported cheerfully.
Velma's eyes widened. They were in Luce county… right at the heart of it. And twelve feet… that seemed meteorologically impossible! She looked back out the window. The snow was falling with a vengeance, and showed no signs of stopping. The Mystery Machine was already covered- only a few strips of its gaily colored paint-job could be seen. The rest of it was a mass of snow.
How long would it take for the snow-plow service to come? Was there even a snow-plow service in this small city?
Velma shivered. It looked like they would be staying at Whispers Inn for a very long time.
~~End Chapter One~~
I hope you all enjoyed this first installment. More is to come, and it will eventually get up to the rating I posted it as… I promise. ^_^
~~~~Oboebyrd