Trust and Judgment in New Orleans
Disclaimer: Scooby-Doo and all related characters are copyrighted to Hanna Barbara.
Author's Note: This is dedicated to everyone lost in the 2005-6 storms.
Well last night I dug your picture out from our old dresser drawer
I set it on the table and I talked to it 'til four
Then I read some old love letters right up 'til the break of dawn
Well tonight I'm sittin' alone diggin' up bones
I'm a diggin' up bones, I'm digging up bones
Exhuming things that's better left alone
I'm resurrecting memories of a love that's dead and gone
And tonight I'm sittin' alone diggin' up bones
-Randy Travis; Diggin' Up Bones
The distant clangs and bangs of hammers on wood had by now become long distant to her ears. Heaving a sigh, Daphne Blake stood up and examined the evening sky from her perch atop the frame of a house. She took a moment to marvel at the brilliant horizon, as the twilight hues of blue and lavender faded into a bright reddish orange as the Southern sky descended into slumber.
Slumber. Daphne smiled as she continued to hammer nails into the steadily-growing frame. Didn't sound so bad right now. After all, she and the gang had been working on this project for most of the day.
In a joint decision, Daphne and her executive producer, Fred, had decided to take leave from work on Coast to Coast so they and the rest of Mystery Inc. would be able to assist the rebuilding of New Orleans after the tragedy of Katrina.
They had been in the area for about a week now, spending each day since their arrival in the scorching Southern heat. They did everything from working on buildings to transporting supplies; Daphne even obliged to autographs from her resident watchers. All and all, they would all return to their rooms beat and sore, but it was worth it.
Daphne climbed down the ladder and met the others on solid ground, wiping the sweat from her forehead. The others looked just as exhausted, all of their faces and shoulders reddened from sunburn; despite the pain, everyone was grinning.
"Hey, gang," Fred puffed, "How 'bout we head out for a bite?"
"I could use something. Been too busy to eat today, and now I can feel my stomach eat itself alive," Velma murmured.
"You're not the only one," Daphne grunted. "Didn't even have coffee today." She wrapped her arms around her middle as her stomach agreed in an angry roar.
Shaggy and Scooby had instantaneously agreed and in that time had loaded into the Mystery Machine. Shaggy impatiently honked the horn. The others heard and piled in through the rear doors, all crumbling to the floor in a collective groan.
"Like, all work and no food makes Shaggy and dull boy!" the lanky man joked as the vehicle started to move forward.
Scooby had also flopped down on the floor with the others, his tongue lolling from his mouth, rolling up with every breath. The work and heat combined had turned Scooby into a heap of legs and fur; although if he wasn't so tired he would have agreed to his owner's quip. He closed his eyes and merely enjoyed the feel of the steady lurch of the van.
Fred, Daphne, and Velma murmured amongst themselves as they felt the Mystery Machine begin to slow down. Coming to a gentle halt, their eyes all forced themselves open to be met by the flashing neon of a diner sign through the windshield.
Daphne arched a brow, turning her head to glance at a certain car in the parking lot. Velma heard the low hum from the older woman and followed Daphne's glance, and only blinked.
"What's a police car doing here?" Fred thought aloud. Though it was quickly forgotten as they filed into the diner, greeted with a slow country song playing on the jukebox. The sounds of voices slurred with kitchen utensils enveloped the group; and at the same time the aroma of food from the kitchen emitted a collective growl from their stomachs. They eagerly crammed into a booth, smiling brightly while they were handed menus and glasses of water.
Fred happily tilted his head back and simply gulped the water down in seconds, happy to have the cold water quenching an angry thirst. The others chuckled as he flopped back against the cushion.
"What were you seeing out there, Daph?" Velma asked, sipping her water and neatly folding her hands on the table.
Daphne turned to face the bespectacled woman. "Just watching the sunset. Was sorta thinking about…" She trailed off and thoughtfully glanced at her water before taking a generous gulp.
"Moonscar Island," Velma finished.
"Like, no way, man!" Shaggy whimpered, clinging to his dog and shivering. "That place with zombies, pirates, and real-life Catwoman, times two?" Scooby added to the effect by pointing his ears and hissing, swatting a forepaw like a cat's.
"Relax, Shaggy," Fred chuckled, "It's been years since that incident."
"Like, I know, but…!"
Shaggy's sentence was forgotten instantly as the waitress came with their orders. She gingerly placed their plates in front of everyone at the table. All the while the gang had to restrain themselves from attacking the meals – at least until the waitress had removed her hands from the danger zone. The food vanished within fifteen minutes.
Velma's eyes had been quietly drifting the area, but sat up when she spotted a familiar form a few booths down. She started tapping Daphne on the shoulder, though getting the attention of the rest of her cohorts in return.
Feeling eyes on him while he ate, the stranger in question turned around, instantly recognizing the five faces watching him.
"Didn't think I'd see you again!" Beau Neville exclaimed.
The joyous chatter and catching-up was silenced as a voice came from a radio strapped to the officer's belt.
"Neville, come quick! Another one of those ghost reports came in…and this one looks bad!"