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Chapter Twenty-Four:

Motel

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The gun guy attempted to follow her into the motel, but she wasn't having any of it.

"Untie my wrists and stand out here," she spat, seething with rage. She stomped on the door mat. "You better not follow me. There's nowhere for me to go. The only window is right there." She jerked her chin at the window in question, which was indeed right by the only door in and out. "I deserve some fucking privacy after what you bastards have put me through."

He shook his head. His gun was hanging by a strap around his neck, but he had one hand on it to keep it steady. "I don't think so. If you escape, there will be more problems than can be dealt with."

"I wasn't asking your permission. I am telling you that this is what is happening. Follow your fucking orders."

He took in her grisly sight, the hate in her eyes, and the darkness in her voice. He glanced back at the van, and then nodded.

"Fine. But remember, it's only half an hour. I'm going to check in on you every five minutes on the minute."

"Every ten."

He clenched his teeth. "Fine," he hissed. "Clock starts now."

He undid her bindings and shoved her through the door, pulling it closed, before she could make any kind of run for it.

Alone at last, she clutched her arms and willed herself not to fall apart. There was no time to slump to the floor and get ahold of herself. First, a shower, she thought, hurrying over to the bathroom. She turned the water on and stripped off her disgusting clothes. At one point she caught a glance of herself in the mirror. An empty smirk curled on her face. No wonder they're afraid. She almost considered not getting clean, but that thought was banished immediately after its conception.

While waiting for the water to heat up, she dared a look into her underwear. As she'd feared, it was thick with blood. Though, she noticed, it was darker now, and more of a brown than red. I must have stopped bleeding at some point, she observed. That's a good sign. She reached between her legs to check herself; the fingers came back bloody, but not as much as expected. Additionally, there was no other kind of fluid to be found, so it seemed safe to conclude that the smeet was still inside her. But… is it dead? She pushed the thought away. No way to figure that out right now.

When the water was warm enough, she stepped inside and took several shuddering breaths. The urge to sit in the tub, letting the water sluice the horror off her body until none remained, was overwhelming—but she resisted. She grabbed the tiny bottle of sample motel body wash and began to scrub. She scrubbed, partly with her nails, until her skin turned red and blotchy.

Do I want it to be dead? she wondered. What would she even do with the thing? She'd had these thoughts so many times now that they were practically routine. The questions of how and why this was even possible were unanswerable for now, so instead she had settled on what to do going forward. Could it live, if she gave birth? Would she survive? When would it happen? Would it be more human, or more Irken? Would it need a PAK? If that was necessary, there was no way the thing would live. If it wasn't, and the smeet lived, what would that mean? Gaz had no idea how to take care of a regular human child, much less whatever was growing inside her.

These questions had been burning in her mind constantly, and yet she couldn't bring herself to ask them of the one person who would have even the slightest idea. Zim didn't even consider the possibility that she was telling the truth; that the smeet was his. It seemed her questions would remain unanswered, potentially forever.

She ground her teeth together and finished washing her hair and face. Go to hell, Zim, she thought. How dare you abandon me. After everything, this is when you choose to show your true colors. I wish you had been sliced up on the autopsy table.

She had no idea if that was how she truly felt. What did it matter, anyway? However, if she ever saw him again, she would make him pay. He would know her wrath and fear for his pitiful existence.

I've been too soft for too long. Time to be Gaz again. No more crying. No more emotion. Only anger. Only darkness.

She could hear the motel door open as she turned off the water. Had that really been ten minutes? She cursed herself for a fool.

The gun guy came knocking on her bathroom door, which she found amusing. "Don't worry, I'm just naked in here," she called. "I'd open the door, but I wouldn't want to ruin any fantasies with reality."

He grunted through the door. "I have the new clothes for you. I'll leave them here. You have another ten minutes, twenty remaining."

"Wow, you are so good at math. See you soon, you fucking creep."

She heard his footsteps as he stomped away, then wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the shower. She quickly dried herself off and opened the door to get the aforementioned clothes. A plastic bag awaited her. She dug through it and found a huge t-shirt, some socks, and a pair of sweatpants. She scrunched up her nose at them. They smelled a little musty, like they hadn't been worn in ages. Which was fine by her, she supposed. At least they weren't freshly worn.

She changed quickly, tossing her old clothes in the plastic bag and tying it tight. She wished she had something to pull her purple hair back in a pony, but there was nothing she could find. She also wished she had a phone. Living with Zim had meant making a lot of sacrifices. A phone was not a luxury they could afford either monetarily or for safety.

Okay. I have probably seventeen minutes left. What can I do in that time?

If they'd just been willing to take me home politely, that would've been fine. But no. They had to beat me and treat me like a criminal.

At that moment, there was a crackling sound. She thought for sure she'd imagined it, until it happened again. She looked at the motel TV, which was attempting to spark into life. She frowned. Buggy ass motel.

But then it turned on completely, and a face appeared on the screen that she hadn't ever expected to see again. A face she'd both dreaded and anticipated seeing.

"Is this thing on? Is it working?" The metal finger tapped at the screen. "Earth girl? Did I find you?"

She'd wondered where he was for years. She'd looked for him at Dib's wedding. She hadn't seen him since… since before Zim had been captured.

"This talky box should let you talk… ummm please say something. I see you, I think?"

She blinked, snapping out of her shock. "Gir!" she cried. "It's me—it's Gaz."

A massive smile broke out onto the little bot's face. "Ooooh goody! I have something for you."

He rifled around for something off-screen, then pulled it up where she could see. It was a purple backpack?

No. A PAK.

"Gir… how did you find me? What's going on?" She lowered her voice and the volume on the TV, knowing the gun guy was right outside the paper-thin walls.

"Cannot answer questions right now," Gir replied. "But you are safe, yes?"

She bit her lip. "Not… exactly. I'm being violently transported by some cronies of my dad's back home. I don't know why they're treating me this way, but—Gir, what's going on with the smeet? What will happen to it? To me?"

He shook his head furiously. "Smeet needs the PAK within ten seconds after departure from the host body Gaz. I can install it. My readings on Gaz-human shows departure in less than one month."

Her body froze. Less than one month? I have less than a month before this—the smeet—comes out of me?

"Gaz-female will be quite fine," Gir rushes along. "Smeet is so small, and human body so big. We need to meet right away. Master is with you?"

"No." Gaz clenched her fists. "Zim is gone. I don't know where he went. He left me when he found out, because he said there was no way the smeet could be his."

Gir shook his head again. "There was another host body," he said. "The smeets were never born alive. Irken body too fragile for human host. But two human-smeets made it."

"Human… smeets? What do you mean?"

She heard a noise outside, and quickly said, "Gir, I have to turn off the TV for just a couple minutes and then I'll be right back, okay? Please don't make a sound."

"Affirmative!" cried the robot, eyes glowing red. The TV turned off without her doing so much as lift a finger, and then the door opened.

"Who are you talking to?" the guy asked. He stomped inside and looked her up and down. He was only a little taller than she. "We didn't find a phone on you. Motel phone?" She couldn't see his face, but it sounded like he was smiling at some private joke.

She shrugged, irritated. "I'm not on the phone. I'm wondering why you guys are beating me up and tying my wrists if you're in league with my father. Don't you think he'll be unhappy to hear about all this?"

"Look," he said, "I agree that what Tom did was terrible. He's a killer and a brute. I'm here to see you safe."

She eyed him skeptically, one eyebrow raised, arms crossed over her chest. "Am I supposed to believe you for one second?"

He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "It doesn't matter if you believe me or not," he replied. "The mission is to see you home in one piece. I intend to stick to the plan."

"Do I get to know your name, at least?" she asked derisively, cracking a smirk.

"Sure. Call me Dax."

Her smirk turned into a scowl. "You're eating up my precious few minutes, Dax." She waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not on the damn phone."

"Oh I know. We had the staff disconnect it when we checked in."

Her scowl deepened at his cavalier demeanor. "Then go! And take my clothes." She tossed him the plastic bag.

He caught it and ducked out of the room without another word. She contemplated trying to open the door, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. And anyway, Gir was waiting for her. Thinking fast, she went to the motel couch under the window and pushed it in front of the door. It wasn't very heavy, so it wouldn't do anything substantial, but it might at least give her a moment if 'Dax' tried barging in.

She tapped the TV screen. "Gir?" she asked breathlessly.

It flicked to life immediately. The robot came to attention. "I will keep monitoring the Gaz's position to better assist you," he said. "Meeting is imperative for the safety of you and the Master's smeet."

"Gir, please—before you go—" She looked back at the door, and creeped even closer to the TV. "What did you mean by 'two human-smeets'?"

He blinked at her, as if confused.

"You said there was another host body, but it couldn't produce living Irken smeets," she whispered quickly. "Then you said that two human-smeets made it. What did you mean?"

"Ohhhhhh." The robot nodded. "Yes—the Gaz and the Dibstink are part Irken. Professor experimented on an earth woman to hold smeets, but it did not work, so he did some work in the lab and made her host to those creations. They were very successful. I hear that that is why you and Master were interested in canoodling."

Had… had her blood always felt so cold? Every hair on her body was standing up straight.

Gir rubbed his chin. "Your time with Master has made your DNA more Irken. Is very strange. Probably why you can carry smeets now. Even Irkens don't carry smeets like hosts anymore! Irk makes smeets in tubes. Much more sensible." He tapped his head and smiled, indicating he found the idea highly intelligent.

Words still wouldn't come.

"Anyway, I continue tracking you. I will meet you and we will fix everything! See you soon!"

The TV turned off before she could react, and the door started pushing open.

"Time's up! Let's go!"

Her wrists were tied again, and she barely noticed being led back to the van. Her mind was numb, yet buzzing with a million questions. She was—and Dib was—part Irken? And she had become more Irken from her time with Zim? Their birth mother, whoever she was, had been an experimental host?

But why? How?

One way or another, she resolved, she would find out. And when she did, there'd be hell to pay.