Fred woke up and stretched out in his cushy salon chair. And for one blissful moment, he was too drowsy to really remember what had happened.
But then he rolled over, and saw Daphne asleep besides him. The lower-half of her left arm was missing. What was still there was wrapped in bandages.
"Oh" Fred thought to himself, "right."
A week had gone by since she'd been bitten, and in that time she hadn't been able to get out and about for more than a few minutes before exhaustion took over and Fred had to help her back inside.
There was also the issue of Velma, which was equally as concerning. She woke early, slept late, and barely spoke. She'd made good progress on the minivan but that was all she'd been doing. The only time she'd spoken to either Fred or Daphne all week was to check in on Daphne's recovery.
Other than that? Radio silence.
Fred stood up and stretched, peering out the window and onto the street. It was growing more crowded with zombies every day now. From where he stood, he saw twenty, maybe thirty in a hundred-foot distance from the salon. He figured it was their presence that attracted the zombies. They were after all, fresh meat.
He shuffled over to his backpack and grabbed a bat, feeling safer with a weapon in his grasp. Although, he'd wished Velma hadn't insisted on keeping the revolver on her person at all times.
He pressed his face up against the glass and peered down in the street in the direction where Velma was. A hoard of zombies blocked his view. The sky was barely turning pink from the dawn and she'd already been out there for hours... he wasn't sure that she'd come in to sleep at all last night.
Fred stepped back. He was going to turn away, maybe head back to bed. But then he noticed his reflection in the glass. His white shirt was down to shreds. It was really more of a long-sleeve crop-top than anything else. He looked over at Daphne, her dress was in tatters too, and he knew for a fact that the back of Velma's shirt was little more than a few threads at this point.
"We really ought to stock up while we're here," Fred muttered to himself, zipping open Velma's backpack to check the contents. What he saw made his heart sink. The bag was nearly empty save for a lone can of pineapple, the blood-caked pocket knife, the near-depleted lighter, and the cardboard carton of bullets. He grabbed the carton and lifted the top flap. There was nothing inside. Counting on his fingers, Fred quickly did the mental math: Velma only had five bullets left.
He tossed the carton back into the back and zipped it shut, moving on to the smaller pocket on the front. All it had inside were an untouched box of Scooby Snacks, and his farewell gift to Velma. It was still perfectly wrapped and had seemingly been forgotten.
Oh well, he was sure she'd open it eventually. He looked around the hair salon. There was a few stations with counters and mirrors and a receptionist desk near the front. He grabbed a dusty pen and a stiff post-it note off of the reception desk and wrote Daphne a quick note.
Going to get supplies back soon. Love, Fred.
He left the pineapple can besides the note on the salon chair next to Daphne so she'd be able to reach it easily. Then he slung Velma's backpack over his shoulder, and a his bat over the other, before heading out onto the street.
Fred started down the street in a stiff-legged speed walk. Zombies were slow, so as long as Fred moved quickly he'd (probably) be fine.
It wasn't long until the green minivan came into view. Already it looked markedly better than it had week ago. The tires had been replaced and inflated. And the shattered windows duct-taped over. Fred felt some pride swell in his chest. Velma must have remembered something he'd told her about maintaining the Mystery Machine.
Velma was crouched over the engine, the torn back of her sweater leaving elevated, angry scars visible. Fred shook his head. At least they were healing nicely.
"Morning Velma!" Fred smiled, more widely that was natural.
As expected, Velma said nothing.
"I'm gonna look around town for some supplies today, need anything?"
Velma whirled around suddenly, pointing her gun at Fred. Before he had time to think she pulled the trigger. Fred cried, out, but after a few moments of panic noticed that the bulled has whizzed right by him and into the head of a zombie barely a foot behind him.
"Bullets." Velma grunted turning back to her work.
"Gosh, Velm, your aim sure has improved!"
"No," Velma grumbled, slamming the lid of the car down, "it hasn't."
Fred didn't respond. He just kept on walking past as Velma busied herself with the engine. He just didn't understand what was going on in his friends head. The more he lingered on it, the heavier it weighed on him. So he shook it off, trying to regain some semblance of confidence in his stride.
After a short five minutes or so of walking, Fred came upon a department store. The building looked odd and out of place in the otherwise tiny rural town. The peeling paint on the facade loudly christened the store: W-MART!
At least now he'd only have to shop in one place.
As dumb as if felt to admit, Fred had never been to a place like 'W-mart!' before. His father had been a rich politician, if they needed something, one of his aides would get it for them. So as he stepped into the building his eyes widened: the sheer quantity of merchandise was astounding.
Shelves as high as the warehouse ceiling were piled with everything from canned food to glitter glue. There was clothing in one isle, then sports equipment in the next and—
ZOMBIE!
Fred grunted in surprise as he swung his metal bat, smashing the skull and bashing it a few more times for good measure... so the third isle had zombies in it? W-mart really did have everything. Fred laughed to himself.
As he strode out of the isle, Fred got down to business. Over the greater part of the hour he filled Velma's backpack and several plastic shopping bags to the brim with everything he could think of. Canned soup galore, two new lighters, three cartons of ammo for Velma, and (even though she didn't ask) Fred knew that the minivan had to be low on coolant and oil, so he grabbed a jug of each to make Velma's life a bit easier.
Finally, he grabbed a change of clothes for the three of them before nodding, satisfied, and turning to leave the W-mart.
When Fred passed by Velma for the second time in that day, he waved to her, getting no response in return.
But, when Fred swung open the door to the salon which housed them, he was greeted with a familiar wide smile.
"There you are Freddie!" Daphne said, "how was shopping?"
"Good," Fred replied, "I got enough so when we split up we'll all get an even share."
Daphne's demeanor darkened slightly, "so she hasn't changed her mind then?"
"No," Fred dropped the grocery bags down gently before sitting down on the tile floor, "she hasn't."
"Maybe I should talk to her," Daphne sat up in her chair, "She must be upset by what happened. Maybe if I let her know I'm not mad..."
Fred shook his head, silently admiring Daphne's optimism, "good luck, but I don't think anything's going to change her mind." He paused for a moment, "honestly I think she's right... it is probably safer for us to turn back."
At this, Daphne rolled her eyes. "C'mon Freddie, I know you didn't approve of this but—"
"It's not that I don't approve!" Fred sighed, "I was resistant at first, I'll admit it. But I'm glad we came out here."
"But you want to turn back?"
"I'm worried about you Daph. You just had your arm hacked off, in some alley with no anesthetic by somebody who's medical experience was 'seeing an amputation done once'"
Fred took a steadying breath, "you've had fevers off-and-on and you're not really up to walking at all. I just want to get you to a doctor, to make sure you're going to be ok."
Daphne's face softened, she reached her one remaining hand out to Fred. He held it tight.
"Ok" She whispered, "I guess we're going back then."
"Yeah," Fred sighed, "we are."
—-
Hey y'all, thanks for reading as always! I have a bit of a sad announcement to make: I'm going on a short hiatus. I started writing this story in November of 2020, back when COVID-19 left me with a lot of free time. Since then, I've managed to write these chapters so I have about a month's worth backed up in case my schedule got particularly busy. And boy, my schedule has gotten BUSY in the past few months. So, my plan as of now is to take a break until sometime in late June. This is a bittersweet thing for me, because I love writing. But, at the end of the day, this is the best choice for my mental health. Thank you all for your understanding and support.
See you in the summer,
Alice