CH2

Broadstreet Cemetary was just around the block from Miss Honey's house. It was actually the second oldest cemetery in salem. When Fred, Shaggy and Scooby had arrived in the twilight Fred had been surprised at how small it was. They were able to sit in the parking lot and see all the way to the other side of small grass section. We'll spot this guy in no time.

But as the sun had gone down a mist had rolled in from the ocean, it was made luminescent by the moon and the pools of shadow made by the old oak trees grew deeper and darker in contrast.

Shaggy was fidgeting in the seat next to him. Fred knew his old friend well enough to guess that the anxiety was setting in.

"Hey Shag, I saw there was a Pizza Place about a block away. Why don't you take the van and get us some dinner? And Scoob can go with you."

"Are you going to be here? Like all by yourself?" Shag said tentatively. Fred could see the relief already spreading over his face at an excuse to get away from the creepy graveyard.

"Sure. I should take a look around. I can't see through this mist from here."

"Thanks pal!" Shag said.

Fred gave Shaggy his pizza order and then stepped out into the chilly night air. He squinted his eyes, trying to see across the cemetery. It had been so easy to do an hour ago, but now it was a sea of mist, made bright enough by the moon that it left a ghost on his vision when he looked away from it. It lay thick over the pathways but became transparent around the gravestones. The shadows cast by the trees were completely black, someone might conceal themselves in the shadows, and they would only have to remain silent to go completely unnoticed.

Fred shivered. There's nobody here. He and shaggy had watch the graveyard all night, and they would have seen someone else pull into the parking lot. To distract himself he examined one grave:

Here lies the body of ey

EMILY BINX

Beloved sister & Daughter

Died ey 31 October 1693

Sweet Emily taken from

us most unnaturally.

Rest and waite for us

in ey world beyond.

Unnaturally huh. Of course, that could mean anything. Velma and Daf would know more once they were done at the library. Fred looked along the row of graves next to Emily's, they were all shaped the same. Slabs of stone, with names and dates hand chisled with care. Was this the old part or the new part of the cemetery? He walked further in, and had the sensation of the mist closing around him like clammy arms.

The next row of graves were the same as the first. All but one, that is. Conspicuously in the middle of a uniform row of graves was one that was ornately carved in the shape of… some kind of scroll maybe? There was a skull and crossbones at the top and a casket with a skeleton inside. Fred drew a little closer to read the epitaph.

Here lyes ey body of

Mr WILLIAM BUTCHERSON

Died on ey 1st of May 1693

LOST SOUL

A lost soul? Could that be our zombie? Fred reached out to trace the outline of the skull, as if tucking an nonexistent piece of hair back. There was a noise behind him. A stumble? Fred froze, listening.

Stomp, drag. Stomp, drag. Stomp, drag.

Was that coming towards him? Fred stayed crouched under the cover of the mist, but turned his head to try and see behind him. He could make out the orange orbs of the streetlights in the distance, shining through the thick mist. Beyond that was the blackness of night.

Stomp, drag. Stomp, drag. Stomp, drag.

It was getting closer. Fred strained his neck looking backwards at the mist. It seemed to shift and dance on currents of air.

Run? It was now or never, but something kept Fred frozen to the spot. A shadow formed, and then a silhouette. Tall and slender, and dragging one lame leg. But that wasn't what caught Fred's attention. It was the arms. Held out in front of the figure like a puppet master or, perhaps a conductor. The arms were frantically moving. Slashing at the air. The movement was so violent that the mist parted wherever the creature walked - and it was walking straight towards Fred. It was too late to sneak away, he would have to make a run for it. He tensed, ready to leap up and away from the shambling thing, when the thing stopped. It turned it's head towards Fred.

"Mmm?" It said, and lowered its arms.

Run. Or it'll get ya. Thought Fred, but he stayed crouched. The thing took another tentative step towards him and Fred could make out some of its features. It had high cheekbones, and… there was something weird about the mouth. The thing took another step forward and Fred could see that there were stitches - long black stitches that formed four Xs over the zombie's mouth.

"Oh. Oh god," Fred murmured.

The thing still had its arms raised. One palm up, the other palm down - it's fingers slightly twisted by the shrinking of tendons, but upon hearing Fred's voice it brought it's hands to its mouth, seeming to understand.

"Hey," Fred's voice broke so he cleared his throat and spoke again, "hey fella. Do you need some help there?"

"Mmm," it said. It sounded friendly enough so Fred got to his feet.

"Mind if i take a look at your, uh your mouth there?"

The zombie lowered his hands to his side as Fred approached. In the humid night air Fred caught a scent. He reflexively held his breath before he realised that it was pleasant - a little like the decaying paper of second-hand bookshops, mixed with woodsmoke, apple cider and… what was that, Almonds? Is he wearing cologne?

Fred was a yard away from the Zombie, and then a foot. As he drew closer the creature bowed its head. The moonlight was bright, but the shadows cast by the zombie's hair and brow were impenetrable.

"Could you turn your face to the moon, friend? I just want to see if I can help you out."

The zombie sighed (huh, it can breathe) and then turned towards the light and lifted its head.

Fred was taken aback for a moment by the creature's face. It's eyes were bright, with full lashes, though Fred could not tell their color. The skin of the face was shrunken, but only enough to emphasise the creatures cheekbones, jaw and nostrils.

If he was under a spell, the caster had taken care to preserve his beauty.

Beauty? Fred shook his head to clear it. He examined the stitches. They were black yarn, and looked as old as the rest of the zombie. He could not see where they started or finished. Whoever had done their sewing had hidden the knots inside… Fred's guts felt funny for a second. Don't think too hard about it.

"I think we can cut these off."

"Mmm?" The zombie's eyes had lit up.

"Sure. I'll have to use my…" Fred felt for his pocket knife. "Darn it. I must have left it in the van. When my pal Shaggy gets back I'll cut right through those suckers."

Suddenly the light on the Zombie's face changed from silver gold. Fred turned, expecting to see the lights of the Mystery Machine, but instead he saw something his brain couldn't interpret.

A woman? No…

She was holding a torch (a blazing torch!) Fred could smell it now. Burning tar. She was coming towards him. He knew her. From? She was reaching for him, her skin blue in the moonlight, her wings… wings… wings?

She grabbed him by the ascot and shirt. Fred screamed. He looked back to the zombie for help but he'd vanished.

"What were you doing with that thing?"

"I…" Fred squeaked.

"You're supposed to protect the child, not help the beast."

Her fingers had sunk through his shirtsomehow as if they were made of the same discreet razor cutters that firefighers used to cut away clothing. He felt her cool knuckle against his flesh. Her torch was making his cheek smart.

"You…" he squeaked again.

"I, you," she mocked him. "Jennifer has hired a coward to protect her child." She let go of his shirt that now gaped at the neck, revealing his traps and collarbone. Her expression was a mixture of smugness, but also worry.

"You're talking about Jennifer Honey?" he said, the thought of the pretty school teacher calming him. The woman (monster?) shot him a cold look. "Uh ma'am, I'm not sure that zombie i dangerous."

"It's an abomination," she snapped.

Fred thought it was wise not to point that the last time he's seen her in Jennifer's gardn she was made of stone. Not to mention the horns, wings, and tail.

"I'd like to talk to it," he said, "I want to cut the stitches over its mouth and talk to it."

"What would that achieve?"

"Well ma'am, Jennifer doen't need me to protect the kid. Looks like you got that covered." The smug expression had returned to the monster's face. "She hired me to get answers."