Winter Shadows
Chapter 4: Into the Abyss

Velma sat in the cafeteria, alone and feeling guilty. Admittedly she was getting used to those two states... she stared at the table and shook her head. Joe had slipped away, though he'd promised to be 'around', whatever that meant.

Ugh. She was disgusted with herself for handling this so badly, and genuinely bothered that she'd upset him. And worse, she couldn't figure out where to go from here. Blue was still missing—no sign of her except the pawprint back on the road. The dimetrodon was still lurking, and if they wanted any freedom of movement they probably needed to deal with that too. And Velma still had no idea how to jump out of a picture.

Or what they might jump into when she figured it out. That blizzard...

How long had it been? Two hours? Three? Still the middle of the night. Plenty of time to get back without worrying the rest of the gang. If only she could find some answers, and a miraculous solution to a freak whiteout. And trap a dimetrodon.

Oh, hells, a trap. Fred's traps made even Velma's head hurt, but she'd have to give it a shot...

"Relma?"

She glanced up, startled; she'd been so lost in her own thoughts she'd missed Scooby's nails clicking on the tile behind her. "Hey, Scooby."

He sat at the table next to her and looked around. "Rhere's Roe?"

"Oh, I chased him off," she muttered bitterly. "Looking for suspects. You know how it is."

"Roh." Scooby watched her with large, concerned eyes. "Relma?"

"Hmm?"

"Are rou rokay?"

"No," she retorted flatly. He whimpered a little and her tone softened. "Sorry. I shouldn't take it out on you..." Reaching up and scratching his ears, she decided things were bad enough as it was, venting couldn't possibly hurt. "I've been trying to do my job... but there's no mystery here." She laughed without humor. "And everyone seems to think I'm the leader right now. But I haven't even been doing my own job right, how am I supposed to be Fred too?"

The big dog leaned over and licked her face. "Rhy be Red? Rou're Relma."

Velma blinked. "Ah... I... um."

That was a pretty good question.

All she'd really been thinking was that Fred was the leader, therefore the leader had to be Fred. A truly classic example of a logical fallacy. And of course it took Scooby—who probably thought a fallacy was a type of pasta—to point it out. He was right.

"Do you think it's that easy?"

"Rhy rot?"

"Well... I haven't really done this before..." What was she saying? She was the designated smart one; surely she could learn to play a new role if she wanted to. Then again... maybe this was part of being Velma and not Fred. Fred gave orders. Velma asked questions. They both had their place, even with the same goal in mind. "But I think I can figure it out if I've got your vote of confidence. Are you with me?"

In response, he gave her a big, sloppy lick on the face. She'd take that as a yes.

Joe hadn't really gone anywhere, he'd just wanted to get away from Velma. Just for a few minutes to let himself cool down. He'd been about half a second from bolting on her, and that just wouldn't help his case at all.

So he was sitting just outside the cafeteria, leaning against the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling and still hoping—forever hoping—that Blue would come darting up any second. He would not give up. He couldn't give up. He was worried about her, and was beginning to realize he needed her desperately right now... needed someone, something to stop him from shutting down.

That was his usual reaction to the outside, but he couldn't afford it now.

Within the magical world, it was easy to deal with problems. But every once in awhile, when he found himself at a momentary loss, dark thoughts started to spring up. Thoughts that maybe the responsibility was too much... that maybe he was silly to think he could handle it. Inevitably it led to a simple question. What would Steve do?

What would Steve do now? Probably not sit around moping, that was for sure. No, he knew what his brother would do. Steve would take charge, even if he had no idea what actually needed to be done. Maybe that would be better... maybe what he really needed to do right now was forget the dimetrodon, forget exploring, and just start scouring the jungle for any sign of blue fur.

Would that even work? It was a big jungle. And Blue had a habit of not being found unless she wanted to be.

Noise from inside. Words. Velma and Scooby were talking. Joe latched onto the sounds because otherwise the complex was silent; he didn't really mean to eavesdrop, but there was nothing to be done for it.

He almost couldn't believe what he heard... it was too familiar. And there was no way it should be so familiar, because it was ridiculous. Velma, with all her questions and all her confidence, couldn't be having those same doubts... those same shadows... and yet...

Joe stood and stretched, moving to a nearby window and staring out at the jungle. Lost as he was without anyone from his world, it only made sense that Velma might be equally lost without the others from her world. Now that he thought about it... she had mentioned others, from the very start... he distinctly remembered something to the effect of what would Daphne do.

Just a little bit familiar. And while he hadn't really blamed her for looking for answers before, it seemed even more reasonable now. What could it hurt? All that could really go wrong was... well, she'll think I'm crazy. Never had that happen on the outside before.

Not to mention, Velma wasn't exactly a typical person from the outside. She had said the skidoo wasn't the strangest thing she'd done, and she did hang out with a talking dog. And there was still her monsters... and that 1% of her monsters which weren't just guys in masks. Maybe this was different... maybe it wouldn't be so bad... maybe he was getting to really overuse the word maybe.

Maybe it was time to get it over with.

On the other hand, a little context wouldn't hurt.

"Hey Velma." He swung around the doorway and gave her his best no-hard-feelings grin. "If this isn't the strangest thing you've ever done... what was?"

Velma looked startled; he wondered if it was the question, or just the fact that he was speaking to her again. "Um... wow... ask me an easy one." Okay, so probably both. She exchanged glances with Scooby, who looked just as confused. "I... hmm. What do you think, Scoob?"

"Roonscar Risland?"

"Moonscar Island?" She cocked her head thoughtfully, then nodded. "Not a bad choice. Joe, you might want to come sit down." He complied and she leaned back, frowning, searching for words. "Easiest to start at the beginning. Scooby and I are part of a team of detectives..."

Cynical as it was, Velma had started out with reciprocation in mind. If Joe was going to ask her questions now, maybe she could convince him it was only fair to give some answers. Although... her intuition told her he was not asking out of idle curiosity.

Nonetheless, she told him the story. Scooby helped at first, with the slightly less scary parts. But about halfway through he decided the kitchen really couldn't do without his presence any longer, leaving Velma to finish the absurd tale herself. And it was absurd. She'd forgotten how much so. Real zombies were bad enough—benevolent real zombies were worse—immortal cat creatures? Oy.

She was watching Joe carefully, practically daring him to challenge her, but he didn't. He wasn't even bothering to look skeptical.

"And that," she concluded, "is probably the strangest thing we've ever done. ...Probably. It's up there, at least."

He was giving her an odd look. Still not skeptical; just odd. "Huh. Didn't realize that sort of thing could happen on the outside."

Outside? Outside of what?

He didn't give her time to ask. "So... do you ever run into supernatural things that aren't trying to kill you?"

"Rarely." She giggled at the memory. "Shaggy and Scooby did fall in love with a couple of aliens once..." But his words had seemed pointed and she shot him a searching look. "What are you getting at?"

"Well." Joe crossed his arms and leaned forward. "If I told you that Blue goes to preschool, I live with a singing table and an alarm clock who's learning to count, and there aren't a whole lot of hostile natives in kids' storybooks... would that be enough to make this all make sense?"

Now he was daring her to challenge the story, and she almost did it by reflex: the same reflex that made her insist the monsters were never real, even when they were. But she forced that reflex back, because the more she thought about it, the less strange it sounded. And... well... yes. If she believed him, everything made quite a lot more sense.

If.

But she did believe him. She had about a hundred new questions now, and that was just great, but she believed him. How could she not?

So then... on the outside... hmm.

"Is this inside of a picture?" she asked seriously.

Joe probably couldn't have looked more shocked if the dimetrodon had come barging in. "No... I mean, kind of... it's complicated... but you... aren't you..." He shook it off, with obvious difficulty. "I'm not sure that's relevant right now."

"It probably isn't. I'm just curious."

Apparently that was exactly the wrong thing to say; the feral spark was back in Joe's eyes in an instant. And suddenly that made perfect sense also.

"...Why do I feel like discussing this has gone badly for you in the past?"

"Because you're the designated smart one of Mystery Incorporated," he answered promptly.

Shows he was listening. He gets an A for the day.

For a few moments they just stared at each other. Then Velma offered, "Sounds like you lead an interesting life too." She was surprised at how much better that made her feel. Everywhere the gang went, they seemed to turn up monsters—but most people found that strange. Nothing about Joe's brand of supernatural companions seemed frightening, but... wasn't it about the same in the end? Phantom viruses, singing tables. Same story, different genre.

It was kind of refreshing, to know there was someone else out there who dealt with this sort of thing.

Before she could say anything more, a spectacular crashing erupted from the kitchen, and then Scooby's most pitiful howl of fear echoed through the cafeteria.

"Riiiiikes!"

"Uh oh..." Velma and Joe exchanged glances, then both nodded. And they ran.

They would have to continue this later.

The scene in the kitchen was pandemonium: empty cartons and overturned boxes littered the floor, though there was a certain lack of any actual food scattered about. Velma just looked at the mess and raised an eyebrow. "Thorough as always."

"This isn't a problem?"

"No, this is the usual result of Scooby meeting a kitchen, other than Scooby not being here. Come on." There was an open door off to one side. "Supply closet, I'd guess. He must've been looking for something and... aha."

Joe looked over her shoulder and saw that on the far end of the closet, the floor opened up into gaping darkness. Gaping darkness with hinges on the side. "That... seems like a silly place for a trapdoor."

"Pretty common in creepy abandoned buildings, believe it or not."

"Oh, I believe it." After the story she'd just told him, Joe was more inclined than ever to take Velma's word on most of this. "And now you're gonna tell me we're going down there, right?"

"Right."

"Fantastic." Joe distinctly remembered bringing his flashlight from the supply depot. Checking his pockets he concluded he must have left it in the cart. Even better. And Velma, apparently not worried about little things like visibility, was already unrolling a rope ladder that led down from the trapdoor. This ought to be entertaining.

Well, he couldn't fault her for being worried about a dog.

The ladder swung. Badly. Probably largely because of the maddening swinging, it seemed to go on forever, though when Joe finally reached solid ground and looked at the square of light above he doubted they'd gone down more than two stories. He took a few moment to get his bearings and let his eyes adjust. Velma wasn't taking any such time.

"Scooby?" No response. She tried again, louder. "Scooby!"

"Relma!" The Great Dane's voice came from somewhere to the left, very faint and echoing slightly.

"Scooby! Are you okay?"

"Ruh-ruh..."

Velma's glasses glinted eerily in the dimness as she turned to Joe. "Come on, let's go!"

And they were running again. Joe immediately noticed that the ground was uneven; that seemed odd. You'd think anyone who went to all the trouble of building this stuff would at least put some tile in their basement. Pausing for a moment he knelt and ran a hand along the ground. Definitely dirt. Weird...

His hand hit something smooth and metallic, set into the dirt, but he couldn't identify it by touch and then Velma was calling for him to hurry up. When he looked up again he could just barely make out her shadowy figure, and it would not be a good idea to get lost when he couldn't see anything but blobs of dark and slightly less dark. He hurried up.

Soon enough, a dog-shaped blob of slightly more dark came into view, waving one paw as they approached. "Relma! Roe!"

"Scooby!" Velma ran up to him. The big dog didn't really look injured; he was sitting up pretty straight. And he was whimpering, but sounded more distressed than in pain. "What's wrong, Scooby?"

In response to Velma's question, Scooby reached back and held something up. It was crinkly and shiny and, if anything, looked like a bag of potato chips. An empty bag, as he made clear by turning it upside down and shaking it. "Ri ran out of rhips," he announced plaintively.

Velma slapped a palm to her forehead. "Is that all?"

"Rall?" Scooby repeated indignantly. Then, "Roh, rand there's racks."

It was Joe's turn to field the comment, though he was more confused than exasperated. "Didn't you just say you're out of snacks?"

"Rot racks," the dog protested, "racks!"

"Tracks?" He remembered the metal in the ground and his eyes widened. "Oh, yeah, those tracks..."

Velma shifted, turning to him. As if looking at each other really meant much; all he could make out of her now was a silhouette with shining glasses. Which was just as creepy now as it had been earlier. "What tracks?"

"There's some kind of rail running down this tunnel. Maybe train tracks."

"Reah, reah. Rain racks!"

There was a pause while Velma backed up, feeling around on the ground until she apparently found what she was looking for. "Huh... interesting. You're right—there's two rails—they must lead somewhere. Any objections to following them?"

Heh. She's funny. I'm sure we have better ideas. "Nope."

"Ruh-uh."

As they began following the tracks, Joe couldn't help being amused. Before that moment he'd have said this night had gone purely and painfully off the rails.

It was a really, really long tunnel, and Velma started to regret the trip about fifteen minutes in. Surely if there were train tracks there had to be a train, or would that make too much sense? Too late now.

For the most part they were silent, which didn't help make the dark and creepy tunnel any less creepy. She wanted to ask Joe one of the dozens of new questions their last talk had raised, but discretion really was the better part of valor. This wasn't the time or the place. Every so often he started whistling something, then seemed to quickly think better of it. She wished he'd just keep it up, but maybe the silence was a good thing. They'd hear anything hostile coming.

Like, say, a dimetrodon. Could dimetrodons see in the dark? Who knew? Not that it should have any way to get down here, but...

It seemed to be getting even darker up ahead, which was something, considering it was almost pitch black already. At the same time the ground started to slope noticeably upwards. "I think we might be getting near the end."

"Ro boy! Rhe rend!" Scooby barked out excitedly, and started sprinting ahead, a swiftly moving patch of darker... darker... uh oh.

Velma realized exactly why it was getting darker ahead of them. "Scooby, wait, don't—"

Thud. "Rowch!"

"Too late," Joe muttered; it didn't take any light to see his wince. Then he moved forward cautiously, reaching up after a few seconds. "Yep... we've got a ceiling here."

"Excellent. Can either of you find a handle or a latch or something? There must be one." She was tempted to move up herself, but with the tunnel closing off, there was a fair potential she'd just be just getting in the way.

"Think I've got something... it's just a litt—oh wow." Joe's comment was punctuated by a faint tremor running through the walls. With a mechanical groan and the sound of rusty hinges squealing in protest, the ceiling began to rise up, momentarily blinding the group as light from the outside spilled into the tunnel.

Velma recovered first, blinking back afterimages as she moved up and looking around at where they'd come out. She was staring at a battered fence... a fence surrounding a small complex with an open garage, two long concrete buildings, and several gas tanks to one side.

Joe trotted up beside her and shook his head. "You're kidding."

"Rou've rot to re ridding," Scooby agreed.

Privately agreeing with those comments, Velma pulled the map out. The roads and buildings were clearly marked, but... looking closer she saw a series of other paths, seeming to branch out from the main headquarters to all the supply depots. These paths were marked in a pale gray—no big surprise that she'd missed them the first time. And there were distinct tracks. "Of course... those little carts above ground wouldn't be able to carry much. The tunnels must be how they move—or moved, I guess—supplies around."

There certainly were a lot of tunnels... an idea was starting to form. But Joe and Scooby were already on the move, heading to the dubious safety of the buildings, and her idea was going to take quite a bit of work to pull off anyway, so she followed.

Back inside the garage, Joe sat on a dusty crate and looked around. "I don't even know what to say."

"Ro, rother," Scooby offered, sitting back.

"...Has a nice ring to it. Yeah. Oh, brother."

While her companions were commiserating, Velma was investigating the broken-down cart they'd left behind earlier. What she needed to do should not be overly difficult—dangerous, perhaps, but not difficult. It amused her because she'd never foreseen herself making any practical use of bomb-making knowledge before...

Glancing up to tell the others something they weren't going to like, she caught sight of something very out of place, and vaguely familiar. A pawprint, a bright blue one, was planted haphazardly on a cross-shaped bit of scrap metal. Well at least that was something.

"Hey Joe? There's a, uh, a clue. Behind you."

He gave her a look that could best be described as unamused; it faded quickly. "Yeah," he sighed, "that's where they always are..." He pulled out his notebook, turned around, and recoiled slightly. "Now what is that supposed to...?"

"A ross?" Scooby volunteered.

"Well I got that it's a cross, it's just..." Whatever he was getting at, Joe gave up on it, and silently sketched the cross in on a blank page. "Okay, so..."

"Bowbowbow!" Something blue and furry came hurtling down from on top of the garage door, landed on Joe's lap, barked, and hopped to the floor. "Bow bow bow!"

"Blue?"

"Rue!"

Velma and Scooby exchanged glances; they'd both yelled the puppy's name, but their companion quite notably hadn't. He was staring at Blue as if she were some kind of apparition—as if he didn't believe she were there to begin with and if he dared to look away, she'd be gone.

Blue's rapidly wagging tail slowed, just a little, as her human failed to say anything. "Bow bow bowbow, Bow?"

"...Am I okay?" he repeated blankly. "I... wait a minute... are you okay?"

"Bow bow," she agreed, nodding. "Bow bow bowbowbow."

"Exploring," he mumbled, sliding off the crate and leaning over to look at her more carefully. "But you're... you're not hurt or anything? You're sure you're okay?"

"Bow bow."

Shuddering a little, he pulled back and took a few long, slow breaths. "Blue, I need you to do me a favor. If we ever skidoo on the outside again—especially if we don't know what we're skidooing into—can you not run off like that? Please?"

Ever the investigator, Velma latched onto the unfamiliar word. Skidoo? ...Jumping into pictures maybe? This is a bad time to ask. Later.

After a few moments Blue gave a thoughtful set of barks. "Bow... bowbow." Another hesitation. "Bow? Bow bow bow?"

Joe laughed. Not without humor, yet it was almost a painful sound. Then he dropped to his knees and hugged her. "I was scared."

"Bow..." Her ears drooped. "Bow bowbow Bow." After hearing her a bit more Velma was sure she could make out what Blue was saying—and she was sure there had been an I'm sorry in that mournful series of barks.

Joe didn't say anything, he just buried his face in the blue puppy's fur, and she twisted around and licked him a few times before he pulled back. And when he looked up again he was... different. For all the emotion he'd just displayed there was a new confidence blazing in his eyes. As if Blue's return had returned some part of him as well.

Whoever he was, whatever he was... he was certainly different.

It wasn't a bad thing.