Hiya folks! BC here with... my first IZ fic? Welp. I started writing this earlier this year and just recently finished it (and just recently got around to drawing the cover so I could post it). So, here we are! Thanks to my friend Jaywings for beta-reading this for me.
On with the fic!
"…and as a result, the plague causes the very flesh to rot and die, and the victim dies a slow, agonizing death."
And this lesson would probably do that to them, too. Dib glanced up at the clock, noting it was only fifteen minutes until noon. What a perfect lecture to have just before lunch. Not that he wasn't used to Ms. Bitters' morbid lectures, but this lesson on the black plague was starting to make him lose his appetite.
Not to mention it was a repeat lesson. He wasn't sure why Ms. Bitters needed to go on about the black plague yet again, but when Zita had pointed it out, it hadn't been pretty. Ms. Bitters had stared directly at her for several minutes, unmoving, as a low hissing noise slowly filled the room and grew in volume before dropping off suddenly. She had then resumed the lecture as though nothing had happened.
Otherwise, the day had been, up to this point, relatively normal. The lectures had dragged on as usual—or maybe what felt like a little longer than usual—his fellow skoolmates had been giving him annoyed looks every so often, and Ms. Bitters had destroyed the dreams of three more children. Of course, the day couldn't stay normal for long. Zim would be up to something eventually, and he would be there to stop him! …Whenever he actually did something.
Turning his head, his gaze wandered around the classroom, noting that Carl was asleep and drooling on his desk, Melvin was biting his nails nervously at Ms. Bitters' descriptions, Gretchen appeared to be writing on some paper—though probably not notes on the lecture—and Zim was speaking into a small communication device.
…Wait, what?
Dib gave a double-take and leaned to his right, trying to hear just what the alien was saying. The kids around him rolled their eyes, but he'd become well-versed in the art of ignoring them. This was it—Zim was up to something today, he knew it!
"Do you understand me, GIR?" the disguised Irken asked in an ever-so-slightly quieter tone than normal—apparently "whispering" was a lost art to him. "Once the cage is in place, press the green button to drop it."
"Okee!" came a quiet, high-pitched voice from the device. "Press the red button."
"No, you fool! The green button!"
"THE REEEED BUTTO—" KRRRTZZZ.
"Rrggh!" Zim growled in frustration, beating the device against his table. When this did nothing to get it working again (especially since the error appeared to be on the other side), he sat back in his chair, looking askance to his left. Suddenly he turned his head, raising a brow.
Dib, now leaning nearly sideways on his chair (which was balanced precariously on two legs), returned the gaze, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. The two stayed like that for a few tense moments before Dib blinked, wrinkling his nose. "Ah… ah-choo—WOAAH!"
WHAM!
The chair tipped completely over, leaving Dib sprawled on the floor. There was a tell-tale hissing before a shadow passed over him, and he found himself staring into Ms. Bitters' narrowed glasses. "Dib! How many times do I have to tell you that these chairs were meant to last the rest of the week? If you break yours before then, we'll require you to sell twice as many candy bars to replace it. Now take your seat!"
"Y-yes Ms. Bitters," the boy stammered, setting his chair upright and sitting down. He shook his head, rubbing his nose on his sleeve and turning to face Zim again.
The alien, however, was once again preoccupied with his communication device, which was only yielding static. With an annoyed growl, he held it over his shoulder, and a single claw slipped out from behind him, pulling the device into his PAK.
Whipping his head around, Dib tried to see if any of his skoolmates had seen, but they were all either listening to the lecture incomprehensibly, sleeping, or doing something other than class work. Was his entire class selectively blind?
Before he could ponder this any further, the lunch bell rang, and the students immediately bolted out of their seats and toward the door. Zim, unfortunately, was closest to the door and the first out, but he wouldn't get away that easily! Leaping over his desk, Dib rushed after the alien, managing to get just a few kids behind him. "I know you're planning something, Zim, and I won't let you get away with it!" he called.
Zim looked over his shoulder, then glared. "Try as you might, Dib-worm, you will never squash the plans of the almighty ZIIIM!" Noting a few kids' stares, he paused, then added sheepishly, "I mean, my perfectly normal, human plans… of… doing homework."
"We'll see about that!" Dib growled, shoving his way through the crowd to get closer.
"Hah! There is an obvious flaw in your plan to stop my plan, and that is that you don't even know what my plan is!" Zim said with a triumphant grin.
Dib tilted his head. "So… why don't you tell me?"
"Eh?"
"If your plan's so ingenious, there's no way I'll be able to stop it anyhow."
Zim blinked slowly. "Of… of course!" He clenched and shook his fists, and his jagged tongue slithered out of his mouth as he spoke: "You will know of the horrible, amazing plan of ZIIIM, and be powerless to stop it! First of all, I have a live specimen from the forest of Kyshak, with which I plan to—"
"Slow down, I haven't got my notes out yet," Dib grumbled, pulling out a pen and paper.
"As I was saying, I have a live specimen from the forest of Kyshak…"
"Mmm-hmm?" He guessed on the spelling of the name, writing it down quickly. "And then?"
"With which I plan to—"
THWACK!
Stars exploding into Dib's vision, he was suddenly aware that he was lying on the ground, and his head was pounding.
"Whoops. Sorry, man," came the dull voice of Torque Smackey.
Judging by the two parallel bruises on his forehead, he'd been struck by Torque's barbells. "N-no problem," he stammered, dazedly rising to his feet. The hallway was nearly empty, and Zim was nowhere to be found. Great.
Dib staggered the rest of the way to the cafeteria, finally shaking off the dizziness and locating Gaz sitting at one of the tables. As usual, she had her Game Slave 2, which she held in one hand while holding a sandwich in the other. He wished he'd thought to bring a sack lunch like she did, but maybe he could stomach whatever the lunch was today. Approaching the table, he took a seat next to his sister. "Gaz, have you seen Zim?"
"Have you seen my score?" She held up her game system, allowing Dib enough time to see some absurdly high number on the top right corner. "Unless I beat the top score of six million points, I can't unlock the bonus level."
"You could've just said 'no,'" he grumbled, rubbing the bruises on his forehead. "What's the lunch today, anyway?"
"Corn and mayonnaise," Gaz replied. "Why do you think I brought a sack lunch today?"
"Corn and…?" Slowly Dib turned around, spotting some kids at another table poking their spoons into some shapeless white and yellow mash. His stomach churned. "…On second thought, I wasn't that hungry anyway."
Heaving a sigh, he pulled out his notepad again, looking over what little he had written down of Zim's plan. What sort of planet was "Kyshak," anyway? And what did he mean by a specimen? What kind of specimen? Was it some sort of monster that rampaged the planet's forests, or was it some kind of microscopic organism he'd scooped out of alien pond scum that he would use to infect the food?
…Not that the food would need infecting in the first place. Dib made a face and shook his head. "The point is, Zim's planning something, and I need to find out what that something is so I can stop him!"
"You're talking to yourself again."
"Maybe I am, but if I don't do somethi—aaah—ah-CHOO!"
Gaz scooted about three feet over. "Get your snot on my screen and I'll shove this sandwich up your nose."
"Sorry," Dib grumbled, grabbing a stray napkin to wipe his nose. If he could just—
"DON'T YOU DARE SWITCH THE OFF BUTTON WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!"
Head snapping upward, Dib caught sight of Zim, who was sitting by himself on a bench and screaming into a communication device. The kids around him had noticed as well, but, as soon as they saw who was screaming, had gone back to their meals. Dib, meanwhile, hopped off his bench and sneaked closer, eventually crawling beneath the table across from Zim's.
"Now listen this time, GIR!" Zim shook the communication device as though he were shaking the little robot itself. "When I give the signal, you need to pull the switch, and it'll all crash down on their puny human heads!"
Dib bit his lip, writing in his notes furiously. "What's going to crash on our heads?" he whispered. "Come on, little robot, ask him again…!"
"What's goooonna crash?" came the slightly-muffled voice of the robot from the device.
Dib did a fist-pump.
"I told you, GIR!"
Suddenly he felt a tingling in his nose, and flinched. No, not this again!
"When you pull the switch, the—"
"Ah—CHOO!" He whipped his hands over his nose to keep himself from sneezing on his notes. But—!
"EH?!" Zim stood up on his bench. "Who dares to sneeze out their filthy human germs near ZIM?"
Dib stayed put under the table as the disguised alien cast a searching glance around the cafeteria, failing to notice Dib beneath the tables. Just as it looked as though Zim were about to sit back down, another student called out, "Shut up, weirdo," before chucking a wad of mushy-looking meat directly into Zim's face.
"AUUUUGH!" Zim cried, falling backward off the bench and flailing around on the floor in agony.
"…The one time I don't want something like that to happen to him…" Dib grumbled, shoving his notepad into his pocket.
"Hey, weird kid, you're sitting on my foot," came a voice from above him, and something below him shifted.
He jumped up in surprise, nailing his head on the table with a yelp. Carefully he crawled out from beneath the table, and raised his head a second too soon, bumping his head again lightly on the edge of the table and causing a tray that had been sitting on the edge to topple over onto his head.
Splat.
"…Right," Dib said, pretending not to hear the snickers around him and wondering why he'd thought it would be a good idea to hide under a lunchroom table in the first place. "I guess I had that one coming." With that, he set the tray back on the table and slunk toward the restroom to clean the mayonnaise out of his hair.
By the time Dib had gotten himself cleaned up, lunch was over, and recess had begun. He was last to arrive on the playground, of course, and stayed off to the sidelines, not keen on getting nailed by a stray dodge ball or getting bumped by some kids playing tag. He'd had enough headaches for one day, thank you very much. Besides, for once, he really didn't feel up to jumping around the playground, trying to tie Zim to a tetherball pole or pounce on him from a tree branch.
Maybe staying up a bit later watching that Mysterious Mysteries marathon hadn't been the best idea.
Still, he kept an eye out for Zim, and eventually spotted the alien lurking under a tree near the edge of the playground and trying discreetly to get his communicator to work again.
"Stupid GIR! Answer meeee!" Zim cried, bashing the device against the tree trunk a few times.
Or not-so-discreetly. Either way, Dib approached him, pulling out his notepad. "So, Zim, got that plan all figured out yet?"
"None of your business, filthy hyooman!" the alien spat, taking a step away.
"But you were just explaining it to me earlier, and you never finished," Dib said, cocking a brow. "You do want to tell me your brilliant plan that I will never be able to counter, don't you?"
"Um… of course I do!" Zim returned the communication device to his PAK, then pointed up into the air. "Once GIR has dropped the cage, I will be ready to—"
"Wait, what cage?" Dib looked up from his notes. "I don't remember you mentioning that. What about that specimen from Kyshak?"
"WHO TOLD YOU ABOUT THE SPECIMEN FROM KYSHAK?!"
"…You did."
"LIES! You tell LIES, Dib-huma—wait, that's right, I did tell you about that."
"Yes, you did." Dib's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "And what about the thing you were going to use to crush our heads?"
"Well, I'd had some cows I'd—wait, I never told you about that!"
"Yes y—" He froze, suddenly remembering that that was information he had gleaned from spying on the alien earlier. Oops. "Oh, my mistake. That was a lucky guess."
"Yes! Quite lucky."
"Yeah, that's—wait a second, did you say you were going to drop cows on us?"
"No, but that's not a bad idea."
"What kind of ridiculous—"
"SILENCE! DO NOT QUESTION THE PLAN OF ZIIIM!"
Dib stepped back, rubbing his temples before jotting some notes down onto his notepad. "All right, fine. But how does that connect with that specimen from Kyshak?"
Zim shook his head, smiling sadly. "Ah, it's becoming clear to me now that your pitiful human brain cannot understand my Irken genius. I'll have you know that—"
HOOOONK—SCREEEE—CRASH!
Before either of them could react, all of the students in the playground bolted in their direction at once, heading for the fence to gawk at the car accident. Dib quickly shielded his head, wary of getting any more injuries that day, and waited until the crowd had passed to talk to Zim again. "So you were saying—"
Zim was nowhere in sight.
"Zim!" Dib cried. "Where'd you go?!" Whipping his head around, he was unable to locate the alien in the crowd. He then turned to face the tree he'd been standing under, grimacing. Normally he had no problem climbing trees or even ceilings to get to Zim, but he really wasn't feeling up to the task today for some reason. Still, if he wanted to catch Zim again before recess was over…
Swallowing, he began climbing up the trunk, heading toward a branch that stretched out over the crowd. As he climbed, he was able to spot a green head with a rather disheveled black wig—so disheveled, in fact, that a jointed antenna was sticking out of it. Apparently its owner noticed this too, for he quickly shoved the antenna under the wig.
"There he is," Dib hissed, crawling closer. Just a few more feet, and he could drop right down next to him. Just a little closer… "I'll get the rest of that plan out of you, Zi—ah—ah—ah-CHOO!" Automatically his hands flew to his nose to cover the sneeze, and he realized his mistake a second too late. "W-WOAAAH!"
Dib shut his eyes before he hit the ground, but was relieved (albeit still winded) to find himself landing on something soft instead. "Whew, that was a close call," he gasped, opening his eyes.
"WHERE'D YOU COME FROM?" came a voice from beneath him, followed by manic giggling. "Are you a bird?"
Of course, he'd landed directly on top of Willy, who was looking particularly filthy today.
"…Yes, yes I am," Dib said, covering his nose from the smell and carefully climbing down. "And I need to fly off… that way." With that, he tried to push his way through the crowd to get to where he'd last seen Zim.
It didn't take him long to catch sight of the bright pink spots on the Irken's PAK, but as soon as he got close enough, the skool bell rang in the distance. The students let out a collective groan as they marched back toward the skool building, and Dib lost sight of his target in the crowd.
"Uurrrgh…! Why does this happen?!" Dib cried, throwing his arms up in exasperation before following his fellow students back into the building.
Another grueling hour into the classes, Dib had turned his attention away from Ms. Bitters' lecture and was watching Zim. The Irken seemed bored out of his mind, though he occasionally glanced back at his PAK. Dib had to fight to keep himself from jumping in excitement every time he did, expecting Zim to get another call from his robot minion and reveal more details of his plan.
Just when he felt he'd lost his last chance to hear anything more, he heard a faint beeping from somewhere on the other side of the room. Immediately Zim whipped his communication device out of his PAK, glaring down at it. "Now listen this time, GIR! I can't have any more interruptions!"
"Yes," Dib whispered, pulling out his notepad.
"Once phase three is complete…"
Phase three?! Just what-all did this plan involve?
"…we will squeeze out their—"
BRIIIING. BRIIIING. BRIIIIIING.
"Are you kidding me?!" Dib cried, pounding his fists into the desk.
"That would be the fire alarm, children," Ms. Bitters announced. "I haven't paid attention to the fire drill schedule in about twenty-five years, so this could be a real fire for all we know. I'll need you to stand in line in alphabetical order by last name, and get it right. Because we all know that if we do not march out of the classroom in this exact order, our flesh will be consumed by the flames."
The students jumped out of their seats to line up by the door, chattering excitedly about getting out of class early. Dib, meanwhile, tried to sneak toward the back of the line closer to Zim, only to find his path blocked by a large shadow that materialized in front of him.
"Dib! Get to your place in line," Ms. Bitters hissed, "unless you want the whole skool to go up in flames due to your foolish error."
Wishing he were by a desk to bash his head against and settling for a double-face palm instead, Dib walked closer to the door, taking his place in the line of students.
Once everyone was lined up, Ms. Bitters hovered to the door. "Follow me. And try to avoid being crushed by any burning debris that falls around you."
Dib had to smirk a little at the mental image of Zim getting crushed by a piece of the ceiling, but lost it with another loud sneeze. The hallway was clear, anyway.
Once the students had been herded out into the parking lot, they all began chattering again as their teachers began a head count to make sure all the students were out. Over the noise, Dib could hear Zim shouting above everyone else.
"NO, YOU FOOL! After phase four, you hit the blue button!"
Immediately Dib's face lit up, and he took out his notepad once more, furiously writing notes.
"After that, all we have to do is—"
"Ah… ah—CHOO!" Dib sneezed for what felt like the thousandth time that day, and quickly tried to cover it with his hands. Ugh, it was a messy one, too. It was a good thing he'd covered it, though, otherwise it would've wound up all over his—
Wait, hadn't he been holding…?!
Dib pulled back his notebook, his face turning pale at the sight of the precious few notes he'd managed to glean from Zim, now covered in snot.
The bell rang again, announcing that it was now safe for the students to return to classes. Rather than returning in the orderly lines they'd left in, everyone began walking toward the skool building in a disorganized mass. Dib, however, stayed put, still staring at his ruined notes.
As if to twist the knife, he heard Zim talking as he passed. "There, that should do it!" the Irken said, tossing the communication device into his PAK. "Even a moron like GIR can understand instructions as simple as those."
Dib's eye twitched, and he grit his teeth, trembling in sheer frustration. Without thinking, he ripped the ruined page out of his notepad, crumpled it up, and chucked it at the alien, hitting him square in the head.
"AGH! WHAT WAS THAT?!" Zim cried, jumping up and whipping his head around. Dib, however, had joined the rest of the crowd, dragging himself back to the classroom for the last hour or so of class.
Well, he had a camera set up in Zim's base. Maybe he could get the rest of the plan tonight.
The last bit of skool dragged on for what seemed like ages, and Dib hardly bothered watching Zim this time; the alien had apparently finished explaining his plan to his minion, for he received no more calls on the communication device. When the final bell rang and Ms. Bitters shooed the students away, Dib considered going after Zim to interrogate him, only to find the disguised Irken rushing off as quickly as possible, probably quite eager to begin setting up for his scheme tomorrow. It probably wouldn't do him much good to try following him, anyway—knowing his luck, something else would happen to interrupt them or give him another bruise on his head.
Still, he hadn't completely given up. The camera he'd planted in Zim's base hadn't been found for some time now, so that should be safe, at least. And anyway, he needed to begin planning things to counter whatever the alien was planning. …Granted, that would be a heck of a lot easier if he had a clear picture of just what that was, but he would just have to make do with what he had, and what little more he could glean from his camera.
As he walked home, he tried to piece together what he could remember from his notes. Something about a specimen from Ky… something. It didn't matter what the name was. Then there was something about cows, and a cage, and dropping something on everyone's heads, and then… something about squeezing something out of—who was he kidding; none of it made any sense without any context.
Then again, probably none of it made sense in-context either.
Dib sighed—at this point, he just felt like packing some water balloons to bring to skool the next day and hoping that Zim forgot to bathe in paste.
He arrived home to a recorded greeting from his father on the hover-screen, and glanced over at his sister, who was sitting on the couch—she'd made it home before he had. "I'm ordering Bloaty's tonight," she said. "Don't steal the last piece this time."
Normally he was fine with the overly-greasy pizza, but right now, it sounded about as disgusting as the corn and mayonnaise at the lunchroom. "Actually, that's okay—I'm not feeling all that hungry right now anyway."
He waited to see if Gaz would reply, but the only noise he heard from the couch was the sound of her Game Slave 2's booting up. Heaving a sigh, he fetched a glass of water from the kitchen before heading for the stairs. "I'll be in my room."
Honestly he was a little surprised he wasn't feeling worse at having skipped two meals, but it would probably hit him later. If he had time tomorrow morning, he'd make himself a big breakfast to make up for how little he'd eaten today. But for now, it was time to spy on Zim.
It took him a bit to get the camera feed set up; he had trouble focusing, and he felt weaker than normal. Again, it was probably because of his lack of food, but he wasn't about to scarf down greasy pizza tonight. He chugged the glass of water instead, and that seemed to help, at least.
Once the camera feed was set up, he was rewarded with a view of one of the deeper levels of Zim's base. Good—so his camera was still hidden. He'd managed to hide it when Zim had captured him briefly, but it looked like the joke was on him now.
At the moment, though, there didn't appear to be anything going on. He waited for a few hours, stopping occasionally to write in his notepad what he remembered from before (and to blow his nose, which was starting to get stuffy), but he didn't see Zim or that little robot anywhere… but… wait, what was that?
Dib sat up, grinning at the sight of Zim walking into view of the camera, out of his disguise. Maybe he should start recording, but if he tried to get that set up now, he might miss any of the details of Zim's plan! Quickly he readied his notepad again, waiting to take notes on the things he saw.
"GIR! How is the Ooweek doing?" Zim demanded, crossing his arms.
"I been pokin' it!" came the grating voice of the robot from somewhere off-screen. It was immediately followed by a menacing growl, which was then followed by high-pitched, synthesized giggles.
Dib felt his stomach drop. Whatever that specimen was, it was not a microscopic organism. And, more importantly, it did not sound friendly.
"Do not anger it! Not yet. We need to keep it calm until tomorrow!"
"But I like pokin' it!"
"Well go poke something else for now!"
"Okee-dokee!"
The robot tramped into view of the camera, humming a random tune and pausing occasionally to look around the lab. Zim, meanwhile, marched offscreen, possibly to monitor the "Ooweek." Dib wished he'd altered the camera's angle slightly to the left so he could have gotten at least a glimpse of this monster to see what he was up against.
Suddenly the robot turned its head and looked directly into the camera, its face breaking out into a grin.
"Oh, no!" Dib whispered, twisting the pen in his hands. "No, no, don't look at the camera! Look at something else, you stupid little—"
"Lookit what I found!" the robot cheered, rushing up toward the camera and reaching out. There was an awful screeching noise before the camera feed flickered out.
Dib stared at the blank screen for a good few minutes before bashing his head into his desk. "Why does this happen to me?!" he cried, following up by pounding his fist beside him. He stayed like that for a moment before sitting upright and rubbing his forehead. "I wonder if Dad still has one of those moose-catching bear traps in the lab," he mumbled. That could help him with this monster, at least. And the water balloons, of course… Count your blessings, Dib. At least you have some of this figured out.
Part of him was tempted to brainstorm feverishly for anything and everything Zim could be planning, but all that would amount to would be stressing himself out. Maybe it would just be best to watch Mysterious Mysteries and go to bed. So, grabbing a fistful of tissues and his empty glass, he slunk down the stairs and into the living room.
Immediately he was greeted with the smell of greasy, cheesy pizza, and nearly gagged. "Ugh, that smells awful!"
"It's the same as it always is," Gaz said, taking another bite. "But hey, if you're not gonna go stealing it, all the more for me."
Dib made a face, almost reconsidering staying down here to watch his show, but he wasn't about to miss the episode tonight—he needed something to help him unwind from this awful day. So he refilled his glass with water and sat on the couch, flipping on the TV. He heard Gaz growl beside him in distaste, but she pulled out her Game Slave again and was kept quiet after that (aside from the sound of her game system, which she refused to turn down).
The episode was interesting enough—a rerun of the donut vampires special that he'd missed before—but he still had trouble focusing, and found himself dozing every so often. It wasn't until he heard the sound of gunshots that he bolted awake and looked around frantically, only to find that Gaz had changed the channel to some action movie.
"Hey, don't look at me," she said, not taking her eyes off the screen. "You were dead asleep."
Normally Dib may have protested that he wanted to watch the end of the episode, but he was too tired to care at this point. Without so much as an annoyed groan, he slipped off the couch and hauled himself back upstairs and to his room. "Right…" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Just gotta… get the bear trap and… balloons… tomorrow…"
Half-awake, he changed into his nightclothes and almost immediately collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to wrap himself in his sheets. Tomorrow he would take care of everything… tomorrow… bear traps… plans…
Dib wasn't fully sure when he'd woken up, and he was even less sure where he was—it was constantly changing, and looked like some bizarre mix of the living room, the classroom, and Zim's lab. …Zim! He must be in skool now, and he had to get the water balloons ready, but had he even packed them? He couldn't remember—he didn't even remember getting up and going to skool, but he must be in skool now—he could see Ms. Bitters standing by the chalkboard.
He sat up, surprised to find that he'd been lying down in the first place, and immediately began coughing—deep, painful coughs that racked his body. Suddenly he realized how cold he was, yet hot at the same time, like his skin was freezing while his insides were burning up. There was an achiness in every part of him, especially his joints, and his room swam around him, with brief glimpses of the classroom and his living room fading in and out of view. He began shivering and felt around his bed, noting he wasn't even under his covers, and wrapped himself up, feeling not warm enough and too hot at the same time.
What's going on? he wanted to say, but the only sound that came from his throat was a low moan, followed by another awful coughing fit.
"What was that?" came a voice from the hallway. An angular shape darted into his room, and Dib found himself staring up into the face of his father through one of the hover-screens. "What are you doing up so late, Son? You need your rest for maximum performance at skool tomorrow!" Membrane leaned in close to the screen, one side of his glasses widening in suspicion. "You haven't been up watching that para-science show of yours, have you?"
"N-no, Da—aaa—choo!" Dib fumbled around for the box of tissues sitting on his nightstand and blew his nose.
"Hmm, that's not good." The screen hovered backward a few inches, and Membrane looked his son up and down. "Pale face, sunken eyes, shivering, hmmm…" Suddenly one of the mechanical arms, which had been hanging limp from the monitor, reached up, produced a thermometer out of seemingly nowhere, and shoved it under Dib's tongue.
Dib willed himself to not cough or sneeze as he waited for the device to take his temperature, which, thankfully, didn't take too long. There was a quiet beep, and the hand pulled the thermometer away so Membrane could look at the display. "Body temperature of 103 degrees. It appears you've caught a flu bug of some sort! Hmm, there's another thing I'll need to find the cure for… I'll add that to my schedule!" With that, Membrane disappeared from the screen.
"W-wait! Flu bug?" Dib repeated.
"That's right!" Membrane stepped into view of the camera again. "I may be a SCIENTIST, not a doctor, but I still know what's best medically. You need to get some rest!"
"Oh… okay." Dib blinked once or twice, then looked at his alarm clock. "…So what are you doing awake at 2 AM?"
Membrane laughed. "I've been awake for a few days now! I'm testing a new drug I invented that negates the human need for sleep."
Dib stared.
"Well, I'd best be off. There's still SCIENCE to do tonight! Meanwhile, you get some rest, and I'll call you in sick in the morning. Good night, Son!"
"G-good night—"
Whrrrr—SLAM!
"…Dad." Dib stared at the shut door for a moment before lying back down on his bed, shivering. Well, it was good to talk to his dad, at least, but he felt so awful he wasn't sure he could get back to sleep. But he should try, he reasoned, if he wanted to get better. So… take it easy, and get some rest. Right.
He closed his eyes and wrapped his blanket tighter around his body, trying to ignore the achiness and the feeling of being too hot and too cold simultaneously. But just as he was about to doze off, he bolted upright, eyes wide.
"CALL ME IN SICK?!"
Dib couldn't fully say whether he'd actually slept that night. He was so dazed from his fever that things were swimming in and out of his vision, and it was hard to tell whether they were part of some dream or fever-induced hallucinations. For hours he lay there, shivering from how cold he felt and from thinking of just what was going to happen tomorrow—he would have to somehow get to skool to stop Zim's scheme… on top of battling this sickness.
"Why do I always get the worst timing?" he groaned, flinging his arm out in exasperation and accidentally smacking himself in the face. "Ow…"
Tossing and turning throughout the night, he was taunted by visions of shapeless monsters roaming around his room, threatening to knock out the walls yet not causing any damage. Zim, in disguise, stood in the middle of the room, cackling, while Dib clenched his fists, wishing to pounce on the alien but finding himself unable to move. Another voice, giggling manically, joined Zim's laughter, and suddenly Dib found two cyan optics staring into his face as the little robot began jabbing him in the side with a pointed finger. He tried to call out for the robot to go away, but all that came out was a low groan and a cough.
Suddenly the robot's eyes turned from blinding cyan to bright red, and it jabbed him in his forehead this time, sending a spike of pain through his head. Dib cried out and sat upright, pressing the heels of his hands into his head and trying to get the headache to go away. When his blurry vision finally began to clear, he found that the red optics he thought he'd seen earlier were the red digits of his alarm clock, reading 9:00.
Oh… so it was just a dream, then. That was a relie—
"NINE O'CLOCK?!" Dib cried, tumbling out of bed in shock. "B-but if it's nine o'clock, th-then, the bus—skool—Zim's plan—th-the… moose traps!"
Fighting with the knot of sheets he'd tangled himself in, he managed to rise to his feet, only to stumble from the wave of dizziness that immediately rammed into him. He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes, forcing himself to stop swaying around so he could climb back onto his bed to look out the window. There was no bus there, of course, though he usually walked there anyway. But skool had started over an hour ago—he had to get there, and fast!
After tumbling off of his bed again, Dib rushed to his closet, hoping to get there in a straight line and quite possibly making a figure eight in the middle of his room for how much everything was spinning. He crashed into the wall next to his closet, slapping his hand around the wall blindly before finally hitting the hand scanner. Once the doors opened, he dove in, struggling with the clothing within it for a minute before finally emerging in his usual trench coat, shirt, pants, and boots.
"Right! Now I just have to get to skool before Zim is able to put his plan into action! It's only been an hour, but I still have time… don't I? Come to think of it, did he ever tell me when he was going to start enacting his plan?" Dib scratched his head, trying to focus through the fog in his mind, but he couldn't remember Zim's ever telling him just when he would start this whole thing. "But… if he didn't tell me, then that means it could be—! There's no time to lose!"
Steeling himself, he broke into a run out of his room, and was proud that he managed to faceplant only twice before reaching the stairs. Now this would be the tricky part—getting down the stairs without falling. Biting his lip, he grabbed hold of the railing and carefully began to ease himself down the steps.
Just as he got to the middle of the stairs, another wave of dizziness hit him, causing him to stumble and plunge forward, rolling down a few of the steps. "NYAAAH!" he cried, barely managing to cling to the railing again before he hit the floor. He shuddered, prying himself away and finally reaching the first floor. "Whew. Now to get to Skool before—"
"Son! What are you doing out of bed?!"
Dib staggered backward in surprise, falling against the stairs. "Ow… What are you talking about, Dad?" he groaned as the hover-screen tilted down to look at him.
"You're sick! There's no way you're leaving the house in that condition—not while you're still contagious," Membrane said, waving a finger accusingly. "I haven't finished developing a cure yet!"
"But Dad—!" Dib pleaded. "If I can't get to Skool, then Zim wi-ii-iiilllAAAH-CHOO!"
"You can play with your foreign friend once your fever's gone down."
"Seriously, Dad, I'm feeling much better now! Can I go to Skool! I have a, uh, project due today—"
"That's enough of that. Head straight upstairs, and—" A loud THUNK sounded somewhere on Membrane's end, and the scientist looked at something off-screen. "Simmons? This is no time to be sleeping on the job!" Heaving a sigh, he turned to face his son again. "I'll have to check on you later; we're still in the middle of testing that anti-sleep drug." Membrane leaned in closer to the screen, glasses narrowing. "I'd better not find you up and about when I check back here in a few hours. Rest up!"
With that, the screen turned off, and Dib shook his head, shakily rising to his feet again. "Well, he won't find me up and about when he checks back, because I'll be back at Skool by then!"
Dib watched the screen for a few moments to make sure it didn't flicker back on, and darted away from it and into the kitchen. He'd have to stock up on water balloons for his counter-attack—it was a good enough thing to default on, and with some luck, Zim would be too busy with his own plans to remember to bathe in paste.
Checking under the sink, Dib found half a bag full of balloons—not quite enough to fill his backpack with, but it would have to do—and readily began filling them at the faucet. He worked as quickly as he could, but the repetitive motions lulled him into a feverish daze, which he didn't notice he had fallen into until the balloon he was filling overreached its capacity and exploded, thoroughly soaking him. "GYAH!" he cried, snapping out of it and wiping the water off of his glasses.
"This is bad," he grumbled, fumbling to pull the broken balloon off of the faucet. "If I keep zoning out like this, I won't stand a chance against Zim!" Pausing from his battle-preparations—if they could be called that—he poured himself a glass of water and chugged it down. He felt a bit more alert, but still weak. "It'll have to do for now," he said, filling the rest of the balloons and stacking them in a pile.
Dib stumbled out of the kitchen to retrieve a backpack and emptied it of books, pencils, and loose sheets of paper before dragging it back into the kitchen. But once he had shoved the water balloons in, he found himself staggering under the weight of the bag, getting hit with a whammy of a dizzy spell and collapsing against a wall. "Come on…! This isn't even that heavy," he groaned with a sneeze and a shiver. "I can't let this flu bug stop me—the fate of the world hangs in the balance! …Or at least the skool, anyway."
Setting his backpack down, he tried to think through the haze of his fever. "I must be weak from not eating enough—I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday." Still, the thought of eating was not appealing in the slightest, especially given the junk he usually had in the house. The fridge displayed an unfavorable array of food: week-old Chinese food he'd forgotten to dump out, a quarter-filled gallon of milk, a jar of pickles, a box of cereal (who put that in the fridge?), and a box containing leftover pizza from last night, among other things. "Not much of a choice here, and Gaz'll probably be mad, but she'll understand when she sees the horrors Zim is trying to unleash, if he hasn't already—man I need to stop talking to myself."
His stomach growled in protest as he retrieved a slice of soggy pizza, but he scarfed it down before he could think about it too much. Hopefully it would buy him enough energy to get to skool.
His quick brunch finished, Dib (with a marginal increase in strength) hauled his backpack into his dad's lab and fished around for the weapon he sought. Several minutes of stumbling around dizzily and nearly getting crushed under falling piles of lab equipment yielded in his finding what resembled a large bear trap with a few dials, blinking lights, and moose antlers protruding from the sides. It was an old invention and was reportedly good at catching moose, bears, and "everything in-between," so hopefully it would work on this "Ooweek."
Now came the hard part—getting this stuff to the skool before Zim's plan reached its final phase. It took an enormous amount of effort to haul his backpack to the door, and he was already panting, gulping down breaths of air as he leaned his feverish head against the cool wall.
"C-can't… stop… now!" Dib gasped. "Need… to stop… Zim…!"
Finally he pulled himself away from the wall, and, with an air of determination, opened the door.
"ALERT," came a loud, automated voice from somewhere right above Dib's head, and he jumped back, falling backward in surprise. "Temperature of over 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit detected. Shutting door in three, two—" SLAM.
"NOOOO!" Dib cried, scrambling to his feet just as the hover screen darted by.
"Now kids, stay home and get your rest. We can't go inflicting the world with some HORRIBLE DISEASE, can we?" Membrane's voice boomed from the device. A "recorded earlier" message blinked in the corner of the screen.
"I have to get to skool!" Dib cried in desperation, pounding on the door. "Let me out!" But his energy was draining again, and his hand dropped to his side—
—only to jerk back up at the feeling of something wet on his trench coat. "What the—?"
Turning to look at his backpack, he found water leaking from it—he must have popped some of the balloons when he'd fallen.
The balloons…
"That's it!" he cried, reaching into the bag and pulling out a few of the water balloons. He couldn't waste too many, but this might be his only chance at getting out of here! Gritting his teeth, he opened the door and chucked the balloons at the sensor before it could read him. The water splattered over the small device, immediately shorting it out.
"YES!" With a celebratory fist-pump, Dib staggered out of the house, stopping a few feet from the open door to catch his breath.
"House security compromised," droned another voice from the doorway. "Break-in detected. Deploying security drone."
Dib lifted his head, his eyes wide as saucers. "Security what?!"
As he spoke, a patch of ground in the yard pulled away, and a hovering machine darted out. It consisted of a round, flat head with a larger body and a pair of arms hanging from its sides. Its casing was black, and it bore a single horizontal red optic on its head, and an antenna on top of that that vaguely resembled Membrane's hair. "Intruder detected," it growled, staring down at Dib.
"Intruder?" Dib repeated. "But I'm leaving, not breaking in! A-and besides, I'm Professor Membrane's s—ah—CHOO!"
"Searching… Subject is not Professor Membrane."
"No, no, th-that's not it! I'm his s—AAAAH—CHOO!"
"Reading weapons…"
A mechanical whine sounded from within the drone as it raised its arm to point at Dib, who waved his arms frantically. "No! Listen to me—I'm his—" his voice broke off into a coughing fit, and he barely managed to avoid the laser that was fired at him. "NYAAAH!"
With a wail of panic and a burst of adrenaline, Dib bolted to the sidewalk and in the direction of the skool, the drone hot on his heels. "Why does Dad even need this?!" he panted.
He rolled out of the way of another laser blast, crying out as he was struck by another wave of dizziness coupled with a wave of nausea—and as he felt several more water balloons burst in his bag. He only had a handful left, and they would pop against the fangs of that trap—
Struck with an idea, he swung off his backpack and dug through it before turning to face the oncoming drone. "Come and get me, you stupid robot!"
"Target acquired…" the machine droned as it blasted forward, apparently to grab Dib.
Just as it got close enough, Dib swung the moose-catching bear trap over his head and in front of himself. With a loud CRUNCH, the trap bit down on the robot.
"Th-thank you for using Membrane technology," the thing sputtered, voice going lower, "and have a nice dooooooooo…"
"Yes! Wait, no, I needed that trap to—!" Dib stared helplessly at the ruined robot and the locked trap—he had no idea how to open that thing again. "But—but if I couldn't get to the skool at all, I wouldn't be able to stop Zim…" he tried to reason. "I… I have a few water balloons left! There's still a chance!"
Fighting off his dizziness—a little easier now that he wasn't carrying that giant trap—he grabbed his bag and staggered toward the skool, which was in sight. If nothing else, the robot chase had helped him get there in record time. Now all he had to do was get in, get to his classroom, confront Zim, throw water balloons at him, and construct a counter-plan to stop whatever part of Zim's plan had happened… Okay, so maybe that was a lot to do, but still!
Shoving the door open, Dib bolted down the hallway in as straight a line as he could manage and made something like a sine curve instead. A wave of nausea quickly overtook him, however, and he found himself leaning against a wall while he waited for his stomach to stop doing jumping-jacks.
"Hey, where's your hall pass?"
"GAH!" Dib jumped at the sight of the hall monitor, who was eying him suspiciously. "It's—I was—ah-CHOO—there's no time!" He wiped his nose on his sleeve. "The—the fate of the world—!"
"Yeah, yeah, just let me see your hall pass or I'm gonna have to—" The boy broke off, looking away and scratching his head. "Actually, what was I supposed to do when a student doesn't have a hall pass?"
Dib took his chance and made a run for it, and the kid gave an angry yell as he gave chase. "HEY! Get back here!" he called.
"No!" Dib called back, taking a few odd turns to try to throw the student off.
"You can never get away from the hall monitor! NEVERRRR…"
Dib shot a bewildered look over his shoulder, only to knock over another student who had come stumbling out of the lunch room. He staggered back, barely avoiding falling over. "Gah—sorry! I must've taken a wrong turn, I-I wasn't trying to—"
"It hurts!" the girl cried, reaching up to grab at Dib's trench coat.
"I… I didn't bump into you that hard, did I?"
The girl wasn't paying attention, her eyes looking glazed. "Th-the horror…"
Dib backed away, his horror mounting when he noticed the moans of agony emanating from the room the girl had come from. "NO! It's already started!"
"There you are!" the hall monitor cried as he charged around the corner. "Now I—what, another one?" He pointed down at the girl on the floor. "You! Where's your hall pass?"
Seeing this second chance, Dib bolted back down the hallway where he'd come from, heading in the direction of his classroom. While he was feeling more dazed and sick than ever, he wasn't so out of it that he missed a flash of light from the window of a nearby classroom. He stopped just in time to see an explosion and avoid the door and several students as they flew across the hall.
Dib could only scream in despair as he ran past the dazed students and toward his own classroom. "What is he doing?!" he wailed, dreading the sight he was sure to behold.
Whipping his remaining water balloons out of his backpack, he burst through the door, aiming the balloons at Zim's desk, and—
Found it empty.
Dib stared blankly at the empty seat as the water balloons burst in his hand.
"Dib," Ms. Bitters' voice rasped as the teacher materialized beside him. "What are you doing here?"
"Huuuuuh…?" was all he could manage for the moment, still staring at the empty desk and completely unaware of the gazes of his classmates on him. "M-Ms. Bitters, we're in danger—" he finally choked out. "Students are w-writhing in pain by the lunchroom—"
"Yes. I told the skool board that oyster day was a poor choice for nutrition."
"O-oyster…?" Dib's stomach churned at the thought, but he tried to focus. "But—the explosions!"
"The classroom next door is having a science fair. I believe one of the students' projects was on homemade bombs." She glared down at him as he stood there, mouth agape. "Now, if you're done—"
"But—ZIM!" he blurted, holding the sides of his head.
"Zim?" Ms. Bitters parroted. "Zim isn't here. He was called in sick."
"Called in… sick?"
Across town and within an ugly house guarded by lawn gnomes, a small alien sat shivering in a mass of blankets upon a couch, his robot companion sitting beside him. The robot was jabbing a spoon ineffectively into a tub full of some frozen-solid substance, while the alien huddled there miserably.
"C-curse the Dib-filth!" Zim stammered, growling as his cooling gel pack melted and slid off of his feverish head. "GIR! Get me something else to bring down this hideous fever!"
"OKEE!" GIR screeched.
Immediately Zim felt something cold and sticky shoved over his head. "AAAGH!"
"I looove strawberry ice cream!" GIR squealed, licking up some of the ice cream that melted down Zim's face.
"CURSE THE STRAWBERRIES! And curse the Dib-filth MOOOORE!"
"But… but if Zim's sick…" Dib rubbed his head, thinking, before he remembered the paper he'd sneezed over and then thrown at the Irken. "I… I must have infected him! I-I did it! Sort of! …Indirectly!" He didn't care—he was so overtaken with elation that for a moment he didn't notice that his stomach hadn't stopped churning. "I did it! I stopped Zim's evil plan! THE WORLD IS S—" He broke off mid-cheer, stomach pitching, and vomited.
"Now get out of here before you infect the rest of us with the plague."
"Y… yes, Ms. Bitters."