Chapter Four

The afternoon sun beamed down on us as we drove down the shadowy canyon on the outskirts of Camp Little/Big Moose. I wiped perspiration from my forehead and took a long, much-needed swig from my Dasani water bottle.

"I," I announced, leaning against the side of the Jeep, "am as dry as the Sahara desert."

"Good analogy," Velma remarked. "That makes two of us. Can I have a sip?"

I nodded and handed her my bottle.

Jessica looked down at the GPS in her hands. "We've lost the signal," she sighed, frustration lacing her voice. "Now what?"

"It must be the batteries," Velma said, handing the water bottle back to me.

"No." Jessica shook her head. "I just bought new batteries for the trip."

"Check it out," Trudy pointed out in a low voice, gesturing to the road. "Tire tracks."

We all peered closer, and sure enough, tire tracks marked stained the sides of the road.

"Good eye, Trudy," Velma praised in admiration, leaning over the side of the Jeep. "That's weird."

"What?" I squinted at the tire tracks, blinking from the sun.

Velma frowned. "The tire tracks just come to a stop." She was right- they stretched for about a mile, then faded and eventually vanished altogether at the foot of a dirt wall. "I hope Fred and Daphne are having better luck than we are."

"An entire RV just doesn't disappear," Jessica murmured, frowning at the wall.

I placed my hand on the wall, slapping my palm against the hot, dirt structure. A scuffling sound caused me to flinch away from the wall. Shaggy and Scooby emerged from behind the wall, appearing dazed.

"Oh man," Shaggy groaned, massaging his temples. "I feel like I got hit by a truck."

"Try an RV," Velma corrected, gesturing to the wall. "You guys found it."

We all looked at her in surprise. "Someone painted the RV to look exactly like the wall." She wasn't wrong- the outline of an RV was etched in the front of the wall.

"It was right in front of us the entire time," I mused, realization dawning on me, "and we didn't even know it."

"Come on," Velma said, climbing out of the Jeep. "Let's go check it out."

"Like, I would go with you," Shaggy said sheepishly, rubbing his eyes, "but I don't know which one to follow."

"Looks like someone's been staking out here for days," Velma remarked as we stepped inside the open door of the RV. The only light in the RV was the green, blinking dot on the dashboard.

"Yeah, smells like it, too," I mumbled, pinching my nose to avoid getting a whiff of the foul smell radiating from inside the RV.

Trudy trailed her fingers across the dashboard. "This must be sonar equipment that went missing from Camp Big Moose."

"What are they using it for?" Velma asked, looking over Trudy's shoulder.

Trudy attempted to power on the dashboard. "It's password protected."

"Well, that tears it," Shaggy said with finality. "Nothing we can do now."

"Let me take a shot at it." Jessica stepped between Trudy and Velma and began tapping at keys on the dashboard. "I'll use admin privileges to bypass the authentication requirement. Then you can modify the registry to a temp password."

"Good thinking," Velma agreed, stepping aside and allowing Jessica to take over. As pretentious as she may be, you had to hand it to her that Jessica definitely knew what she was doing.

Jessica tapped a few buttons, and, just seconds later, the grainy image of sonar data materialized on the screen. "This," she told us, jerking her thumb at the blinking green dot at the very center of the screen, "appears to be a sonar image of the bottom of the lake."

"What on earth are they looking for?" Velma pondered, her eyes inquisitive and owl-like behind her glasses.

The answer was a resounding silence from the rest of us.

We reunited with Fred and Daphne at Camp Little Moose, deciding that something about the atmosphere of the RV (and the canyon in general) felt uneasy; as if we weren't supposed to be there, and to report what we'd discovered Burt and the others.

"Any luck?" I asked Fred as the rest of the gang packed up equipment and chattered amongst themselves.

"Scooby was right," Fred replied incredulously. "There is an underwater city in the lake. We finally have a lead, but that just means more questions."

"What would a city be doing under Lake Big Moose?" I pondered, my head beginning to spin. "Was it just a prop? Another light-hearted prank aimed at unsuspecting new Big Moosers?"

"I'd better give him a lift back to Big Moose," Jessica said, interjecting Fred and I's conversation. "I have to get the Jeep back to Camp Big Moose anyway."

"It still feels like we're missing a piece of the puzzle," Fred sighed, his jaw tightening in blatant frustration.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay," I reassured him softly, and he looked at me. "We'll figure it out. We always do. We've just gotta take it step by step. Besides, we can always do it together."

He relaxed a little. "You're right."

"Aren't I always?"

"Whatever."

"Burt, if you have anymore campfire stories," Shaggy spoke up, "I suggest you'd keep them to yourself."

"Scoob was right," Shaggy stated matter-of-factly. "There was an entire town on the bottom of the lake."

"I've heard of lakeside property, but that is ridiculous," Shaggy scoffed, shaking his head in awe.

"It explains why someone was searching the lake with sonar equipment," Velma suggested pensively, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

"But what about the dynamite?" Fred added. "How does that fit into all this?"

I turned to Fred. "You didn't tell me about dynamite," I said, alarmed. "Fred, this is getting dangerous. Maybe we should call it off. Guys in costumes we can handle. But I'm not sure we can handle dynamite and campfire stories coming to life. It's just too dangerous."

Fred opened his mouth to protest, but Deacon interjected, "She's right. Are you guys really just gonna sit around and try to solve this mystery? Clearly, someone doesn't want us at Camp Little Moose. We should listen to them. I'm going to Big Moose, where it's safe." He glanced around at all of us, his gaze landing on Trudy and Luke, who wavered. "Who's with me?" That was the most I had ever heard him say- it was strange to hear him speak more than three to four words at a time. He just seemed like a shy, socially awkward kid. But the rare times he did have something to say, it was always thoughtful and meant a lot.

I turned to Trudy and Luke. "Maybe it is best if you go with Deacon," I told them softly. "Deacon's right. It's getting out of hand. This is up to the adults to fix now."

"Forget it." Luke shook his head doggedly. "I'm a Little Mooser. I wanna help you guys catch whoever's messing with our camp."

"Me, too," Trudy spoke up, her sudden loyalty and enthusiasm surprising us. She removed her hood, revealing a pale, heart-shaped face and pretty eyes behind glasses. It was the first time we'd gotten a full view of her face.

"Are you sure?" I stammered, taken aback by her sudden transformation.

"Yep." Trudy smiled a rare smile. "I wanna help solve the mystery."

"You're all nuts, you hear me? Nuts! I'm outta here." Deacon turned and ran in the direction of Camp Big Moose, still yelling about us being crazy.

Jessica turned to us. "I'd better give him a lift to Big Moose," she said apologetically, smiling. "I have to get the jeep back anyway." She started after Deacon, waving over her shoulder until she disappeared into the shadows of the forest.

"What you kids need," Burt chimed in, "is an expert in the field. I know just the person."

"Bless you," Fred said, and I sneezed again. "Bless you again."

"Thanks." I sniffed and turned to admire the row of taxidermy, including fish and deer, lining the ceiling and walls. "Whoa," I murmured, the animals' blank, glassy gazes making me suddenly uneasy. My mind immediately flickered to the scene in Psycho of the room filled with taxidermy, and I shuddered. Chill out. This isn't a horror movie.

"You okay?" Fred glanced at the taxidermy, then at me.

"Yeah." I nodded. "I'm fine."

"Yep, you kids have certainly come to the right place," the store owner, a middle-aged man, who had a slight Southern twang to his smoky voice worn thin from storytelling, and clad in a cowboy outfit, sighed as he sank down into the plush red chair in the middle of the room. "I know just about everything there is to know about this area."

"What can you tell us about the town at the bottom of Moose Lake?" Velma inquired, ever curious.

"Ah, you mean Moose Creek." The man nodded, his face serious. "It used to be an old mining town. But years ago, they moved everybody out of there, damned the creek, and created Big Moose Lake. Of course, that's only part of the story."

"Oh, boy," Shaggy murmured, very well sensing an impending ghost story.

"Moose Creek," the man continued, crossing one leg over the other, "was home to a notorious gangster named Ricky LaRue." At the mention of a gangster, we all leaned closer. "After pulling the biggest bank heist of his life, the cops were hot on Ricky's trail." He paused for effect, then lowered his voice as he went on, "So the legend goes, he stashed his loot somewhere in Moose Creek. They locked LaRue up and threw away the key. And not long after the dam was built, flooding the town of Moose Creek, LaRue's treasure was lost forever, somewhere at the bottom of Big Moose Lake."

Velma pulled out what looked like a history brochure from the rack on the other side of the room. "Do you mind if we borrow this?"

"Be my guest," the man said with a nonchalant shrug. "But if you kids happen to find LaRue's loot, don't be afraid to spend a little of that scratch over at Camp City, you hear?"

After thanking the store owner for his time, we got back into the van, and Fred pulled out of the dusty parking lot and onto the main road.

"Guys, listen to this," Velma spoke up from the backseat, the brochure crinkling in her hands. "Before LaRue died, he told his cellmate, BabyFace Boretti, the secret to finding his hidden gold:"-here, everyone except for Fred leaned over Velma's shoulder- "'When dawn breaks on the summer solstice, the steeple will point the way.'"

"The summer solstice?" I echoed, and Velma pointed out, "That's today. Or it will be, when the sun rises in a few hours.

"Get this," Velma continued, looking down at the brochure. "Two months ago, BabyFace Boretti escaped from jail."

"Like, one thing's for sure, man," Shaggy stated, pointing at the grainy black-and-white image of a chubby man with short stature on the brochure, "this guy's too short to be Woodsman or Fishman. He must have an accomplice. Or stilts."

"Shaggy's right," I agreed. "Which means, this just got a lot more complicated."

Fred's jaw tightened. "But why try to steer us away from Camp Little Moose?"

I frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Whoever's behind this whole thing has been doing everything in their power to leave Camp Little Moose," Fred explained, turning a corner. "It's got to be one person."

"Jinkies, there's Camp Big Moose Lake," Velma said, flicking her thumb at the picture of the said lake, which looked identical to the current Camp Big Moose Lake, on the brochure.

"That's the dam." I placed my index finger on the area.

"And below it, Camp Little Moose," Velma said with a sigh. "If someone wanted to get to the treasure, all they'd have to do is blow the dam."

"And if past patterns are showing anything," I said, realization dawning on me, "every legend about this town we've heard has come true. And the story that guy told us…" A mood of impending doom fell upon the van.

Fred's face fell. "Not Camp Little Moose," he groaned. "All of my beloved childhood memories will be underwater!"

"Not to mention Burt, Luke, and Trudy," Daphne pointed out.

"We've gotta get back to the camp before it's too late." I leaned toward Fred and placed my hand on the steering wheel in an attempt to steer him in the direction of the camp. "Hurry!"

Fred sped down the road, and the van came to a screeching halt at the perimeters of Camp Little Moose.

Or, what was left of it.