Ohayho everyone! CJzilla back from a long hiatus. The movie Scooby Doo: Camp Scare inspired me to do my thing. I hope you enjoy...
Synopsis: Set right after the Camp Little Moose scare, Mystery Inc is moving at full swing. But all is not sweet. Teenage drama is amplified by an univited guest in Crystal Cove: Ex-Forest Ranger Knudsen. He claims to be walking the straight and narrow. Then things change when he sets his sights on Velma. Is Knudsen really different and are his intentions true? Now a division is consuming Mystery Inc.
As CJzilla tears up this town, all she has to roar is this: Love. Hate. Review. Enjoy.
Camp Scare Lingers
Chapter 1
Three broken ribs and his left side was bruised all colors of the rainbow. His right arm hurt clear up to his shoulder and down his back. The only way his tired wrists were still attached was because the handcuffs were holding them to body. Sighing, the young man opened his eyes, looking down at his handcuffs… his handcuffs, muddy boots and the concrete floor of the jail.
Jail… a side of the law he'd never thought he'd be.
"Ey! Ey! Get your filthy Boy Scout hands offa me!" An angry voice snarled from outside of the jail cell.
"Why don't you calm down, small fry?" He could identify that voice too; he'd known Officer Conyers since he was six.
"Don't call me small!" He'd come to recognize that voice for about two weeks; the one of his boss, or rather ex-boss. "Why don't you take a shower! Everyone I meet in this stinkin' town smells like a campfire!"
Then the jail door swung open and the jingling of more handcuffs cut through the room. Just by listening, you could hear a body hit the floor and the unuttered curses of both police and criminal. After a long moment, the escorting officers left the room and the newly arrested offender climbed to his feet. Snorting heavily, he sat back and looked at his jail mate: his ex-accomplice.
"Hey kid." The man said. "Cheer up. You'll look good in orange."
At that the young man's apathy changed to fury. He jumped up and slammed his ex-boss to the wall, the link of his handcuffs pressed around his neck.
"Shut up Boretti!" His southern drawl was soft but his voice sharp. His tensed and shook with rage. "Iah don't wanna be in orange for the rest of mah life!"
With a sharp slap to the nose, the young man released his ex-boss. The kid stumbled back, holding his nose. A throaty chuckle came from his ex-boss, Boretti…. BabyFace Boretti.
"Relax kid." The small, stout convict laughed, holding his throat. "You won't be in orange for long. You're no prison rat. They'll cut you a deal and give you the minimum. Me, on the other hand…. Well, I broke out, there is nothing worse than an escaped menace of society. Just be thankful you ain't me, kid."
Then the young man felt his back hit the cinderblock wall. He was breathing hard, still holding his face. The slap wasn't enough to draw blood, though it was just the realization that his life as he knew it had changed in the blink of an eye.
"Ah!" Boretti grumbled, holding onto the rusting bars of the jailhouse. "You're young still, probably too young and stupid to realize that we just lost the biggest score I've ever laid eyes on."
The young man growled, running a hand through his mussed black hair. There were warning signs all through this partnership with Boretti… but he was too blinded by greed to pay attention to what he was jumping into.
"Iah was stupid to get pulled into a treasure hunt with a man called BabyFace." Even at his own irony, the young man cracked a grin. "Iah think Iah heard a joke like this before: two men walk into a bar, one of them is strapped for cash, and the other is strapped to a dead guard-…"
The escaped prisoner shot the kid a glare.
"YOU are the joke, Knudsen." Boretti sneered.
The young man, Ross Knudsen, shrugged.
"Hey… I'd laugh at mahself." Was his return, pausing. "But… we couldn't have picked a worse group to fandango with." Ross chuckled. "We should'a called it off when they showed up."
"Shut up, Ranger Knudsen!" Boretti snarled, spinning around. "They were just kids! Hormonally challenged, pimple-faced kids! YOU couldn't even scare teens away from that god-forsaken camp!"
"Hey… they saw right through the lil' axe tossin' charade Iah was doin'. We should have called it quits then." Passing the blame to his ex-boss, Ross shrugged. Then a different expression washed over his face. "You heard that girl with the glasses… "someone's trying to scare us away". She hit the nail on the head."
Boretti just seethed.
"You're worthless! Just worthless, Knudsen!" The convicted gangster fumed, swatting the air. Ross gave him a glare. "You should have sunk an axe into someone's head! That would have gotten the message through to them! But NO! You started playing soft when that little geeky skirt showed up!"
Ross sat back down, staring off. He did like that girl… what was her name? Velma? And he WAS guilty of playing softer than his boss wanted, especially on the lake and in the camp.
"Ah… you're just sore. They were stubborn, experienced." Knudsen returned. "And besides… killin' someone would have landed us in hotter water."
Boretti walked to the young man and looked him in the eye.
"Maybe if you did kill one of them kids… we'd be splitting LaRue's loot in Mexico." The gangster hissed. If Ross didn't know better, he'd say that Boretti was close to choking him.
"Then you should have hired a killer, not a down-and-out forest ranger." Ross retorted, not backing down. "Killin's not in mah blood… just bad luck."
Boretti raised his hand to strike the kid when the jailhouse door flew open. The criminal dropped his flattened hand as the officers neared the jail cell. Ross recognized the sheriff of Moose Creek County: an old family friend, Scott "Old Man" Brant. The Old Man's expression looked hard enough to cut stone.
"Ross, on your feet." He boomed seeing as how quiet the jailhouse was. The young man rose to his feet and walked to the jail doors.
Ross knew that the Old Man was ticked; what he'd done over the last couple of days was now the most infamous actions in the county since the turn of the century. As the barred doors were unlocked and clicked open, Ross stepped out. The Old Man just gestured for the young man to walk toward one of the back rooms of the sheriff's office, beyond the jailhouse. Ross took a moment to look back at Boretti. The gangster was staring right back. BabyFace gave him a threatening glare, one that only a black-hearted criminal could. His hot anger blocked out his perception; Ross only sneered back and swore to testify against the man who ruined his life. BabyFace deserved to be left between concrete and iron bars.
Ross, the Old Man and two other officers pushed through the jailhouse doors and down a hallway with black and white floor tiles. Through more hallways and passed more unmarked doors. Finally, Ross felt the Old Man lay a hand on his shoulder. The sheriff spun him and unlocked his handcuffs. Ross flinched when the Old Man dropped his hands gruffly; his broken rips felt like they were poking his heart and lungs.
"What were you thinking'? You were lucky no one got hurt, Ross." The Old Man's voice hit a flat, angry note. The young man looked up.
"Yeah, I know." And just as quickly, he looked away.
"An' you're lucky no one at those two summer camps are pressin' charges."
"Yeah, I know."
"Just because they're not pressin' anythin' doesn't mean that you're gettin' off, Ross. Aidin' and abettin' an escaped criminal, abuse of government resources, operatin' explosives without permits or licenses… the list will go on."
"Yeah, I know."
The Old Man grunted in frustration and turned the boy around, walking him toward the lobby.
"I pulled all those strings to get you that ranger job and then you do something' out of a slasher film. You only embarrassed yourself and your mama."
Ross blinked hard. His mom. After his dad got tired of family life and left, he and his mom had to fend for themselves. Mama Knudsen worked as a babysitter but Ross couldn't find a job to save his life. Then the Old Man set him up with the forestry service. To make matters worse, mama got the cough.
"I did it for the money, Scott." Ross blurted out as they walked along. The Old Man sighed.
"In your case, Ross, there's not a jury in the world that wouldn't sympathize with you. You have that much on your side." The Old Man admitted. "But think about this: even with all that money, what did that justify? Blood could have been on your hands, boy."
The skin behind Ross's eyes burned. He could have killed all of those kids; when they thought everyone was out of that Little Moose camp and they blew the dam… those kids, that dog and that camp counselor could have lost their lives. He was lucky they were too stubborn to die… and that he was too inept to kill them.
"Ross…" The Old Man's voice hit a low, quiet tone. Ross turned his head. "Your bail's been paid."
Ross blinked and nodded. He knew that the Old Man was running guesses through his mind about his sentence. Ross was certain he was going to end up in a Federal Pen.
"Through here, Ross." Ross recognized the door; it was the door to the lobby. Shame resurfaced in his chest; how could he face his hometown?
"Ross Daniel Knudsen!" Even before the door to the police lobby opened, Ross heard his mother. "Ross!"
The young man had to be pushed out of the door by the Old Man. Susie Knudsen: mama Knudsen. She cleared the distance from the center of the lobby floor to her son's arms as fast as a bear comes running to her cub. She hugged him; Ross figured he didn't deserve that hug, but with mothers being mothers, that was her first response. Then her coughing bubbled up from her face on his dirty ranger uniform.
"Mama. Let's sit down." Taking his mom to the cheap chairs of the lobby, he sat her down. She coughed hard, likely from trying to cry and yell at him all at once.
Though tears were in her eyes as well as a fog of sickness, you could still see fight in her.
"What were you thinkin' Ross?" She pleaded. "You could have gotten hurt! You could have hurt someone!"
More coughing.
The doctor said it was early onset of tuberculosis. Every time Susie got worked up or stressed, her coughing increased.
"Mama, mama… you have to calm down." He hushed, touching her hand. Susie bucked his hand off of hers, coughing still. "Iah done bad, mama, Iah know that. But you need to relax. You're gonna cough so hard, you'll pass out."
But mama was still coughing hard. Ross shook his head and looked up at the Old Man. Scott Brant sighed.
"$5,000 bail, Ross. You have a little free time now… I suggest you find another job and bay back your debt." The Old Man said.
A brick hit Ross' already churning stomach. A little time… before his sentence.
Review... LONG LIVE ROCK!