Shaggy continued to plod along, darting from alley to shadow, to corner, any place he could stay out of the deadly bright moonlight. His eyes continued their never ending sweep of their surroundings. Left, right, left right. Under different circumstances, it would have been hypnotic.

Left, right, left, right, left— what was that?!

Shaggy froze, he'd heard something. He knew he had. Holding his breath and straining his ears against the distant sound of waves, Shaggy waited.

Snap!

Shaggy jumped, snapping towards the direction he'd heard the sound.

Snap!

It was getting closer. Still not sure what he was dealing with, but ready to get the hell out of there, Shaggy relied on the one thing he had truly mastered. Running like hell.

When heard the familiar wails and moans, Shaggy new he had made the right call. There were zombies, at least two on his tail. Not a problem for such a professional at running away like himself. But zombies always attract more zombies: he only had a few seconds before he'd be dealing with a whole hoard.

Feet hammering against the pavement, Shaggy saw his goal in sight. The Broken Spine, the Dinkley's gift shop, only two blocks away. Sprinting for his life, Shaggy saw a new swath of zombies, flooding onto the street from an alley, and joining in his pursuit.

He could feel their hands, groping to grab a loose piece of fabric or swiping at his shoulders. Their screams were a hellish cacophony in his ears, and the stench was back in full swing.

Finally within range of the Broken Spine, Shaggy made a beeline for the doorknob. As he swung the door closed, a few stray arms clawed at Shaggy, reaching blindly for him. Bracing himself, Shaggy knew what to do. Zombies were brittle. And as Shaggy threw all his strength into slamming the door shut, the sickening crunch of shattering bones and tearing flesh rang out. Shaggy had almost closed the door. But in one single last act of defiance, a pale slender hand with fingernails like iron slashed at Shaggy's face.

Pain blossomed out from the bridge of Shaggy's nose, but despite the scratch, Shaggy managed to slam the door shut. He looked away, cringing at the sounds of dismembered arms falling from the doorframe onto the cold marble floor.

Shaggy pressed the back of his hand onto the bridge of his nose, and felt his stomach turn to lead when he saw the back of his hand entirely covered in blood.

—

The cold LED light in the bathroom of the Broken Spine burned at Shaggy's corneas as he did his best to assess the damage. It had stopped bleeding ten minutes ago, but Shaggy couldn't quite convince himself that he was ok, what if he'd been infected? Shaggy's leaden stomach leaped to his throat.

Shaggy groaned, massaging the back of his neck as he stared pensively at his reflection. If he had been infected, there was nothing he could do anyway.

Shaggy's footsteps echoed as he stepped back into the Broken Spine. It was time to find what he'd come here for. Velma's family had everything on all things supernatural. If Shaggy couldn't find information on zombies here, then he wouldn't find it anywhere.

He turned towards the massive array of bookshelves, ready to start his search. But then his stomach let out an unearthly yowl. Food. Shaggy hadn't eaten for days, and he knew for a fact that if he looked under the coffee bar in the cafe section of the Broken Spine, he'd find a jar of—

"Biscotti!" Shaggy sighed in relief, his voice cracked and raspy from underuse.

With a sudden vigor, Shaggy twisted off the lid and plucked three individually wrapped pieces of biscotti bread. The cellophane crackled at his fingers as he tore apart the wrapper on his first piece.

Shaggy had to gnaw at the biscotti, chomping down on it with all his might until finally a piece broke of and fell onto his mouth. As the stale almond flavor hit his tongue, a memory suddenly shot to the forefront of his head. Shaggy took a second bite just as he let himself drift into his mind.

—

It was the Fourth of July, but there were no fireworks, no crowds, no parade. The Mayor had decided that it wasn't safe. Not with those two Zombies on the loose. So, instead of fireworks and a parade, Shaggy sat across from Velma, watching as she expertly dunked a chunk of biscotti into her coffee, before popping it into her mouth.

Shaggy slouched, staring at his warped reflection in the cup of coffee in front of him .

Velma put her mug down and slid her glasses up her nose. "You're doing it again."

"Like, doing what dude?"

Velma shifted her posture to an exaggerated slouch, and put on her best Shaggy impression, "Like, I'm Shaggy," she said with a wry smile, "and I get all slouchy and weirdly unenthusiastic about food when I'm upset."

Shaggy held up a finger to protest, but then he looked down at his posture, and the oddly full, plate of sweets in front of him. He put his finger down and squinted at Velma with a cheeky grin, "touché," he ceded, "touché."

"What are you so worried about anyway?" Velma questioned with a smile.

"Like, man dunno," Shaggy shrugged, "I guess this whole zombie thing has me a bit weirded out."

"How so?" Velma asked while snatching a croissant from Shaggy's plate.

"Like, I dunno," Shaggy ran his fingers through his hair mindlessly, "The fact that the Mayor is like, taking this seriously is crazy... I mean think about it, reeeaally think about it. Fourth of July is like, the town's most reliable moneymaker, and when have you ever seen the Mayor Like, put civilian safety over tourism?"

Velma didn't say anything for a while, she pursed her lips together and drummed her fingers against the counter a rapid speed.

"You, know Shaggy," she broke the silence after a while, "I think you might be onto something here."

Shaggy was sure his heart skipped a beat, "Like, really? You think so?"

"Yes! We should look into this." Velma excitedly grabbed Shaggy's wrist, "c'mon! We'll start in the store's zombie archive!"

—

Shaggy swallowed the stale Biscotti, but that wasn't the reason for the sudden dryness in his throat. He looked down at his wrist. A small tentative smile creeped across his lips. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

Shaggy stood up and stretched. Trying to shake the memory from his mind. It didn't matter what happened back then. That was a lifetime ago, and Velma was gone. They all were.

He dragged his feet to the end of the array, there were werewolves... witches... zombie!

Shaggy flipped the book over to read the title: An Anthology of European Literature on Zombies. He'd read this one before, about ten times. But, any starting point is better than none, so Shaggy opened the book, and got to work.