Disclaimer: We carry on in memory and in honor of those that weren't as lucky.
Ghosts
Note: This is an unofficial chapter of the "Shaggy the Dog Handler" series. Unofficial because I like how things ended in the last chapter of this and want to leave things as they are.
They all looked up when Fred returned in the company of a middle aged Asian man with a pronounced limp and a horrific scar across his face.
"Hey gang," Fred called out. "Looks like we've got a new mystery to solve."
"What is it, Freddie?" Daphne asked.
"This is Mister Nuu-Wan, he says that a zombie ghost has been trying to drive him off his farm." Freddie missed the shudder that racked Shaggy's body when he introduced their new client. "Tell them about it, Mister Nuu-Wan."
"I'm not sure you kids can help me," the man said in almost unaccented English. "But I don't see how it could hurt to let you look around. About two weeks ago, I was supervising the workers as they tilled my north field when the . . . the thing arrived. It chased off all my workers and now they're saying that they won't come back until I find a way to get rid of that thing."
"Hear that gang?" Freddie asked. "We've got a mystery to solve."
Shaggy watched as Freddie ran off to the van with the girls trailing behind him. Their client turned to him with an unreadable look on his face.
"Was there something about me that disturbs you?" the scarred man asked calmly.
"Memories," Shaggy replied. "Sorry, Mr. Nguyễn. I didn't mean to be rude."
"No need to apologize. In fact, it is I that should apologize to you." The man shrugged. "I must confess that I thought you might have had a problem with my former nationality."
"Why don't we let the past stay in the past?" Shaggy suggested. He grinned, they gang would never have believed it was him if they'd heard that statement.
"One question if I may," Mr. Nguyễn said softly.
"What is it?"
"Who were you with?" Mr. Nguyễn asked. "Perhaps we crossed each other's paths."
Shaggy stared off in the distance for a few moments as he contemplated the question. "Scout dogs," he said finally.
"I seem to remember a story about a handler," the client said slowly. "Spent a week walking around the jungle."
"I try to forget it myself," Shaggy replied.
"I've found that repressing . . ." he trailed off when he noticed two of the man's friends approaching.
"You coming, Shaggy?" Velma asked.
"On my way," Shaggy called back.
"Forgive my impudence," Nguyễn said slowly. "I did not mean to intrude."
"It's alright," Shaggy said tightly. "I even agree with you, I'm just . . . I can't deal with it right now. I . . . I just lost a friend and, it's not a good time."
"Perhaps later then." The older man seemed to consider something. "I find that it helps to talk about it."
"I'll think about it," Shaggy allowed.
"Think about what?" Daphne asked, having caught the tail end of the conversation.
"Like . . . uh . . . nothing important," Shaggy said weakly.
"Are you okay, Shaggy?" Velma asked.
"Sure, why do you ask?"
"You're not looking so good," the girl replied.
"Must have been something I ate," Shaggy said with a weak laugh.
They spent the day poking around the farm looking for clues without much luck and the sun was setting by the time they decided to call it a night.
Nguyễn looked over the group. "Mister Shaggy and I have some things to discuss," he announced. "Would the rest of you mind waiting outside?"
"Not at all," Freddie said with a poorly disguised look of confusion.
"Better wait for me at the hotel," Shaggy suggested. "I'll catch up later." He followed their client back into the house and took a seat.
The man rummaged around for a few minutes before standing up with a bottle in his hands. "Twenty year old scotch," Nguyễn announced. "I stole it from the presidential palace on my way out of Saigon. A fitting way to remember absent companions." He poured two glasses and slid one across the table to Shaggy. "Drink, talk, say nothing, say everything, whatever you want."
"Tony and I met up our first day in country," Shaggy said, his eyes looking at something off in the distance. "He saved my life, I almost tripped one of the falling log traps and he stopped me. Couple months later we got hit bad, ran to the choppers and Tony wasn't with us."
"And you went back for him," Nguyễn said with a nod.
"What else could I do?" Shaggy asked. "I brought him back and then I went back again for my dog. He was my partner, I couldn't . . . couldn't leave him behind like that."
"Did you find your dog?"
"I did," Shaggy agreed. "And then I did the honorable thing." Tears were flowing down Shaggy's face as he relived the memory. "Did my duty, I . . . No one can say that I didn't do my duty."
"That's when you took your little walk in the jungle?" Nguyễn asked.
"Yeah," Shaggy agreed. "Most frightening thing I ever did." He gave a weak smile. "Until I did the other things anyway. Can't talk about that though."
"I understand," Nguyễn assured his guest. He'd already managed to get most of the story from one of his old contacts.
"What about you?"
"I was a major in the 81st rangers," the other man replied. "Mortar landed ten feet away from me and gave me this limp. Went into intelligence, managed to get out on the second to last helicopter. I am sorry that I couldn't provide as much detail as you could my friend, but . . ." he shrugged.
"But even though it doesn't matter anymore, you swore an oath," Shaggy agreed. "I understand."
"Another glass?"
"Please."
IIIIIIIIII
Shaggy was still nursing a hangover the next morning when the gang arrived back at the farm to begin their investigation.
"Can I interest you in a coffee, Mr. Shaggy?" Mr. Nguyễn asked.
"Cà phê sữa nóng?" Shaggy asked hopefully.
"Of course," Mr. Nguyen agreed. "The beans aren't the same of course."
"Of course," Shaggy echoed. "I'd be satisfied if you were even a little bit close."
"Shaggy," Velma whispered. "What's uh . . . what you said?"
"Cà phê sữa nóng? Vietnamese coffee, it's good stuff. I haven't had any since . . . a while," he finished lamely.
"Where did you get a taste for it?" the girl pressed.
"Like, I haven't found a food yet that I don't have a taste for," he evaded. Shaggy turned away from his friend and gratefully accepted his cup. "Thank you."
"My pleasure," the old soldier replied. "Would you like a cup, Velma?"
"Please," she agreed, more then a bit curious.
"Why are you putting condensed milk in the cup?"
"Regular milk spoils too quickly in my homeland, so we adapted," the man replied.
Another day was spent looking for clues, this time with more luck than the first. Velma found a bit of bandage with what appeared to be luminescent paint and Daphne tripped over an extension cord that went from one of their client's outbuildings to a record player and an array of speakers. As had happened the day before, Shaggy was asked to stay back by the client.
"I have a confession to make," Mr. Nguyen said calmly, placing a glass of scotch down on the table in front of Shaggy.
"What is it?" Shaggy asked.
"I asked a few old friends about you," he explained. "I apologize for invading your privacy like that."
"Checking up on me?" Shaggy laughed. "Like, no problem."
"One of them had a message he wanted me to pass on to you."
"What is it?"
"He wanted me to tell you that there's a place for you when you're ready to come home," Mr. Nguyen said softly.
"I got out on a medical," Shaggy laughed. "They didn't want me anymore."
"Waivers can be procured and civilian contractors can be hired," Mr. Nguyen pointed out.
"Do . . . do you know what they want me to do?" Shaggy asked hesitantly.
"I do not," he replied. "I do have a number I was asked to pass on to you."
"Like, thanks." Shaggy took the scrap of paper and stared at the paper for a few seconds. "Guess it wouldn't hurt to give them a call to see what they want."
"You may use my phone if you wish."
"Maybe after the mystery is solved," Shaggy mumbled, thoghts whirling.
The two spent a couple hours reminiscing about old times and talking about old mutual friends before Shaggy decided to call it a night. He had just gotten to the lobby when something caught his eye.
Shaggy stared at the pay phone for a few minutes. It was odd, he thought to himself. 'When I was in the Army, I'd dream about getting out, I hated it. And now that I'm free, I kinda miss it. Probably too late to call anyway, probably no one there.'
"Fuck it," Shaggy murmured to himself, decision made. "It can't hurt to talk to them." He fed a couple coins into the pay phone. "Hello? Rogers, US 51628501." He waited a few minutes to be connected. "Good to hear from you too . . .so, uh . . . like . . . what would you want me to do?" Shaggy listened to the man's offer. "I . . . I can't... Let me think about it for a little while. I . . . can I call you back some time?" His shoulders sagged with relief. "Thanks, man. It's good to hear from you too, glad you made it out. Just promise that I won't have to wear one of those funny hats if I come back and we'll call it even, I'll even jump out of a plane again if you want me to," Shaggy laughed. "I'll call you back in a few days, bye."
The first half of the third day went smoothly, they arrived at the farm, they looked for clues, they found a couple, had lunch and went back to look for more. The second half did not go smoothly, the second half is where things started to go wrong.
"Daphne, freeze!" Shaggy barked, his eyes looked like two chips of flint, utterly devoid of their usual warmth.
"What is it, Shaggy?" she asked nervously.
"Freddie, do you have a pocket knife?" He ignored the girl's question.
"You know I always like to be prepared, Shaggy," Freddie replied, oblivious to what was going on.
"Give it to me," Shaggy ordered.
"Sure, Shaggy but-" Freddie began as he pulled it out of his pocket.
Shaggy snatched the tool out of the boy's hand and dropped to his hands and knees to do something for a few minutes. "It's okay to back up now, Daphne." Shaggy said softly. "Very slowly."
"Okay, Shaggy," she agreed. "But what's going on?"
"Booby trap," he replied. "Lucky thing whoever set it doesn't know what they were doing."
"I think this mystery might be a bit more then we can handle, gang," Freddie said seriously.
"Yeah," Shaggy agreed. "You guys go back to the house and talk to Mr. Nguyen. Be sure to stay ln the trail where we've alreay walked."
"What about you, Shaggy?" Velma asked. This was a side to her friend she'd never seen before and she was sure that she didn't like it.
"I'm gonna finish disarming this trap and then I'll join you," Shaggy promised. He turned back to his work. "Go with 'em, Scoob," Shaggy ordered.
The dog gave him a flat look, eyes narrowing, ears going down.
"I don't trust anyone else to keep 'em safe," Shaggy whispered. "We're not dealing with the old crowd, we're dealing with a bunch of idiots who don't know what they're doing. I'll be fine without you."
With one last look and an annoyed chuff, the dog turned to join the rest of the gang as they left. Much as he hated being seperated from his partner, the man was right. There was no one else in the world they could trust to look after their friends.
Their client listened as the gang explained what they'd found and why they'd decided to call things quits for now.
"I think then, that we had better call the police," Mr. Nguyen said slowly. "Where is Mr. Shaggy?"
"He stayed behind to take care of the trap," Freddie replied. "I wonder where he learned how to do something like that?"
"Like, it was in a story in one of the adventure magazines I used to read," Shaggy said with a wide grin as he walked in. "Good news is we're definitely not dealing with a professional." He tossed the device on the table.
"It appears that the adventure magazine they learned how to make this from wasn't nearly as good as yours," Mr. Nguyen said dryly. "Mr. Charles had much better sappers."
"Almost embaressing," Shaggy agreed. "Never should have gotten so close to it. Just goes to show that you get dull when you spend too much time back in the world."
The sheriff arrived a few minutes later with half a dozen men, all armed to the teeth. The look on the man's face showing how deadly serious he took the matter.
"What seems to be the trouble, Phuoc?" one of the deputies asked.
"Mr. Shaggy and his friends were on the trail of the 'ghost' that's been giving me so much trouble and they ran into a booby trap of the sort used by Mr. Charles during the war," Mr. Nguyen explained.
"Where's the trap?" the Sheriff asked.
"On the table," Mr. Nguyen stated, waving at it.
"I disarmed it," Shaggy replied. "Didn't want anyone to blunder into it, but where there's one . . ."
"There's bound to be more," a deputy said in disgust.
"You kids clear on back to your hotel rooms," the Sheriff ordered. "We're dealing with a whole new ballgame here and I don't want any of you to get hurt."
"It may be beneficial for Mr. Shaggy to remain behind," Mr. Nguyen opinioned. "Unless any of you are familiar with the sorts of traps we're dealing with."
"What about you?" the Sheriff asked bluntly.
"I am quite familiar with them," Mr. Nguyen agreed. "However I don't believe I would be able to keep up." He raised his cane to puncuate the point.
"You don't have to do this, kid," the Sheriff sighed. "But it would be a big help."
"Come on, Shaggy," Velma begged. "Let's go."
"Like, I think I'll stay behind for a little while, just to see what happens," Shaggy said, his smile not reaching his eyes. "I'll meet you guys later."
With one last annoyed woof, Scooby leapt into the back of the van to stay with the rest of the team. Much as it galled him, there really was no one else they could trust with the job.
"Give em an an escort to the main road," the Sheriff ordered.
Two large deputies carried out their boss's orders. As they drove away from the house, Velma took one last look out the back window to see Shaggy holding a rifle with the casual familiarity of a professional handling his tool of choice. She hoped it wouldn't be the last time she saw her friend.
"Been a while, Mr. Shaggy?" Nguyen laughed as he watched the young man fiddle with the rifle.
"Used a Colt Commando when I was in country," Shaggy replied sheepishly. "A full sized M16 feels too big."
"You think we can wait another ten minutes and I can get one for you," the sherrif volenteered.
"That'd be great," Shaggy enthused.
"Done. Anything else you want?"
"Buck one ten and a Colt three fifty seven in a tanker holster," Shaggy said instantly. "I had Scoob along, it'd be just like old times."
The items in question arrived as promised and they were off with Shaggy on point.
Shaggy froze, something wasn't right. He flipped the slector from semi to auto and dumped a magizine into the woodline. "AMBUSH!" He reloaded on the move, charging small group of criminals that hadn't fled when they'd lost the element of surprise.
The first man was a giant, just under seven feet tall with a pump shotgun that looked like a toy in his massive hands. Shaggy gave him a three round burst to the throat as he approached and another to the chest as the man fell, just to be sure. Man two was visibly conflicted, unsure if he should try to run or fight. Shaggy solved his delema with two rounds to the face. The hippy felt something tugg at his jacket and a small portion of his brain noted two men with rifles, the rest of his brain gave priority and eliminated the two targets. All in all, the entire fight had lasted lest than fifteen seconds. From first round to last.
"Everyone okay?!" Shaggy demanded, his hands automatically swapping out the partial magazine for a full one.
"Charlie's hit," one of the deputies said.
"Not bad," the deputy in question replied.
"You want a job, son?" the Sheriff asked after a quick glance at his injured man and another at the corpses littering the trail. More than anything he was glad he'd taken the man along, wasn't often you could find a man who could take four men before the rest of his party could do more than clear leather.
IIIIIIIIII
Freddie did his best to keep spirits up, to keep everyone from thinking about the fact that their friend was out helping the police hunt down a group of killers and was succeeding till there was a knock on the door.
Daphne opened the door a crack, just wide enough to see the uniform on their guest before opening the door. "What happened?" she gasped when she saw the blood soaked bandage on the deputy's arm.
"Ambush," the man said with a frown. "That friend of yours saved a lot of lives today."
"Is he . . ." Velma was white as a sheet. This was just like the time the men in the uniforms came to tell her neighbors that their son Johnny wasn't coming home.
"He was fine the last time I saw him," the deputy assured her, trying to stay calm and hoping it would help keep the group from panicking. "There were at least eight of them, there's four less now and your friend's hot on their trail. Sheriff said the least he could do is keep you all informed on what's going on." Left unsaid was the fact that he was also there to insure their safety.
IIIIIIIIII
Mac rolled into town that afternoon and been horrified to hear that the others were on the run because of a bunch of damned kids. It hadn't been hard to get details, all he'd had to do was spend a few minutes down at the local watering hole and the yokels had spilled everything. That's when a plan had formed, find the kids, show them why it was best to keep out of other people's business, and give the cops something else to focus on.
He carefully slid the blade of his knife into the gap between the window and the frame and gingerly undid the catch. After pushing the window up, he leaned through and took careful aim at one of the lumps on the bed. Didn't matter which one he hit or even how bad, so long as it created enough of a distraction to let the rest of the boys get away.
Scooby's low growl was the only warning the man got before the large dog clamped down on his wrist with enough force to turn flesh and bone into blood and splinters.
The would be assassin's pained screams woke up the rest of the group and summoned their guard. "Let go you stupid dog!" the would be killer raised his hand to strike the beast.
"I don't think you wanna do that!" the deputy said as he jammed the barrel of his service pistol into the man's ear.
"Get this damn dog off me!" the man squealed.
"You wanna let him go, boy?" the deputy asked.
In response, Scooby's jaw tightened and his growl deepened in pitch, letting the world know that the only reason he'd release the man's arm was to go for the throat.
"Guess that's a no," the deputy said with a grin. "You're going to have to wait till his handler gets back."
"Oh god!" the man sobbed. "I'm sorry, I'll do anything, I'll tell you everything, just get him off me!"
"What if he's willing to talk? Think you could see your way into letting him go then?" the Deputy asked with a grin.
Scoobies eyes narrowed, none the less he did allow his grip to loosen a hair. Sooner the job was done, the sooner he could reunite with his partner and if that meant letting the man live, it was a sacrifice he'd reluctantly make. Once.
One look into the dogs eyes and the man spilled everything he knew and prayed that it was enough to calm the savage beast.
After that it was all over but the mop up, they raided the main operation in the neighboring town, sweeping up all but a few stragglers who were still in the wood running for their lives from the best handler the US Army had every produced along with his group of meddling cops and one annoyed dog who was of the opinion that it wasn't fair his partner was trying to hog all the fun.
Daphne was in the hotel lobby on the morning of the fifth day, it was her turn to keep watch for Shaggy's return. The gang had agreed that one of them had to be on hand to make sure he and Scooby were alright and to call half the restaurants in town to let them know that it was time to make delivery when a jeep pulled into the parking lot and a uniformed man stepped out and walked into the lobby. From the green beret on his head to the jump boots on his feet, he looked like a recruiting poster. Daphne payed him no mind, he wasn't who she was waiting for.
"Morning," he nodded to her as he stepped in and then found a seat and started watching the door. "Shouldn't be too long now, knowing him he's just playing with the bastards at this point. Pardon the language."
"What?" Daphne glanced at the man.
"I'm here for the same reason you are, saying Shag should have things wrapped up soon, knowing him."
"You were in the Army with Shaggy," Daphne said in sudden understanding.
"I was in the Army with Shaggy," the soldier agreed.
"I didn't know he was a Green Beret," she added, fishing for information.
"He wasn't, but we needed a handler for some things and he was the best." The solder grinned. "It's one of the reasons we're trying to get him to come home."
"Come home . . . You want Shaggy to go back to the Army," Daphne accused.
"It'd be nice," he agreed. "Or he can be a contractor if he'd prefer, better pay and more freedom. It's what I'd do if I were him and didn't have a mind to get stars."
"Why do you want Shaggy?" she demanded.
"There aren't many people who do what he does and he's the best there is. Dogs are a lot more useful in security than you'd believe and it's not only the advanced senses they have over man, it's the way they can work with him. A man and a dog together is far more effective than either one alone and Shaggy is not only an expert at training the dog to work with the man, he's also an expert at training the man to work with the dog. Shaggy always said in a lot of the cases the man was a lot harder to train than the dog was." The soldier laughed. "Hell, he used to joke that given enough time he could train the dog to talk easier than teach some grunts how to understand what the dogs were telling them in their own language."
"That explains a lot of things," Daphne admitted.
"How bout I give you an idea of the sort of thing he did for us," the man said thoughtfully. One of the things anyway, he wasn't going to even try explaining operations in places no American's officially set foot that took place when their friend was officially recovering in a hospital in japan.
"Ever hear of the Sơn Tây raid, operation Ivory Coast?"
"Shaggy was involved in that?"
"He was involved in something similar," the soldier replied. "Something that only worked out because he was there. Something you've never heard of and will never hear of because it was one of our successes." The man paused. "To give you an idea of just how vital he was, he was recommended for the Medal. Lotta people think it's a crime he didn't get it and a a lotta people are still pushing for it."
"What'd he do?"
"Let's just say that a person tends to think a lot of the guy who carried them two and a half miles to a hot LZ with half a pound of shrapnel in his gut. Tend to think more of him when he turns around and goes back for someone else. He went back ten times and that's not all he's done. Like I said, lotta people owe their lives to him." The man paused. "Me included."
AN: Like the way things wrapped up in the last chapter of this which is why I slapped this together and tossed it in an idea file rather than make it its own chapter. But I'm sure you read that when you saw the note in the beginning.
Polish by dogbertcarroll
Typo by Red Jacobson
Ideas by Quinlan O'Shea, Cal, dogbertcarroll
Omake: A Good Teacher
Her heart stopped when she saw her old master leaned up against the wall waiting for her. She owed the man for her freedom. She owed him for the knowledge and skills that had allowed her to survive. She owed hem for the fact that he'd kept his faith, had believed her when no one else would. Her heart ached that she couldn't stay, not even for him. She hoped her teacher would understand.
"Got everything ready, Snips?"
"I'm not staying," she blurted. "I can't."
"I wouldn't ask you to. Staying or leaving is your decision and yours alone." He grinned. "Pay more attention, I asked if you had everything ready."
She wasn't sure to feel hurt that he wasn't even going to try to get her to stay or joy that he understood. "Yeah, it's not much, mostly mementos, but it's all mine."
"Good. Where are you headed?"
"Right now? To find a place to get a good night's sleep. After that? I don't know."
"The first isn't so hard, one I can solve if you'll let me. The second is something we'll have to work on." He straightened up. "Alright, let's go."
"Master?"
"Loyalty is very important to me, Snips. Once lost, it's almost impossible to regain. What many people forget is that it goes both ways, when the Order betrayed you it also betrayed me. If you'd have forgiven them and stayed with the Order, I'd have done my best to do the same. You chose to leave, how can I not do the same?
She felt a rush of emotions. Prominent among them was relief, she wouldn't have to go it alone. "Thank you, master. You said you might have a place for us to sleep?"
AN: Wish more than the scene came to mind, this would be a fun story to write.