CHAPTER 27

For the second time that day, Dib was shocked into silence.

"Well, come on," Gaz said to Dib as she grabbed his arm. "No way I'm not going with ya." Dib followed her, with Keef right behind, as they left the Council room and went down the hall toward a narrow, spiraling staircase that he hadn't noticed before. Gaz took the first step, then gave Keef a cold glare. "You. Stay."

For once, Keef simply nodded and said nothing. Dib figured that something about Letter M's behavior had the kid's nerves on edge.

"Lighten up," Dib said to Keef as Gaz headed up the staircase. "They just elected me a Runner, so you're buddies with a stud now." He was trying to make a joke, trying to deny that he was terrified to see Letter M. What if he made accusations like Iggins had? Or worse?

"Yeah, right," Keef whispered, staring at the wooden steps in a daze. With a shrug Dib began climbing the stairs. Sweat slicked his palms, and he felt a drop trickle down his temple. He did not want to go up there.

Gaz, all grim and solemn, was waiting for Dib at the top of the stairwell. They stood at the opposite end of the long, dark hallway from the usual staircase, the one Dib had climbed on his very first day to see Iggins. The memory made him queasy; he hoped Letter M was completely healed from the ordeal so he didn't have to witness something like that again—the sickly skin, the veins, the thrashing. But he expected the worst, and braced himself.

He followed Gaz to the second door on the right and watched as the younger girl knocked lightly; a moan sounded in reply. Gaz pushed open the door, the slight creak once again reminding Dib of some vague childhood memory of haunted-house movies. There it was again—the smallest glimpse at his past. He could remember movies, but not the actors' faces or with whom he'd watched them. He could remember theaters, but not what any specific one looked like. It was impossible to explain how that felt, even to himself.

Gaz had stepped into the room and was motioning for Dib to follow. As he entered, he prepared himself for the horror that might await. But when his eyes lifted, all he saw was a very weak-looking boy lying in his bed, eyes closed.

"Is he asleep?" Dib whispered, trying to avoid the real question that had popped in his mind: He's not dead, is he?

"I don't know," Gaz said quietly. She walked over and sat in a wooden chair next to the bed. Dib took a seat on the other side.

"Letter M," Gaz whispered. Then more loudly: "Letter M. Keef said you wanted to talk to Dib." Letter M's eyes fluttered open—bloodshot orbs that glistened in the light. He looked at Gaz, then across at Dib. With a groan he shifted in the bed and sat up, his back against the headboard. "Yeah," he muttered, a scratchy croak.

"Keef said you were thrashin' around, acting like a loonie." Gaz leaned forward. "What's wrong? You still sick?"

Letter M's next words came out in a wheeze, as if every one of them would take a week off his life. "Everything's ... gonna change... The Irken ... Dib ... I saw them ..." His eyelids flickered closed,

then open again; he sank back to a flat position on the bed, stared at the ceiling. "Don't feel so good."

"What do you mean, you saw—" Gaz began. "I wanted Dib!" Letter M yelled, with a sudden burst of energy that Dib would've thought impossible a few seconds earlier. "I didn't ask for you, Gaz! Dib! I asked for freaking Dib!"

Gaz looked up, questioned Dib with a raising of her eyebrows, unsquinting one of her eyes at him. Dib shrugged, feeling sicker by the second. What did Letter M want him for?

"Fine, ya grouchy shuck," Gaz said. "He's right here—talk to him." "Leave," Letter M said, his eyes closed, his breathing heavy. "No way—I wanna hear." "Gaz." A pause. "Leave. Now." Dib felt incredibly awkward, worried about what Gaz was thinking and dreading what Letter M wanted to say to him.

"But—" Gaz protested. "Out!" Letter M sat up as he yelled, his voice cracking with the strain of it. He scooted himself back to lean against the headboard again. "Get out!"

Gaz's face sank in obvious hurt—Dib was surprised to not see her usual anger there. Then, after a long, tense moment, Gaz stood from her chair and walked over to the door, opened it. She's really going to leave? Dib thought.

"Don't expect me to kiss your butt when you come sayin' sorry," she said, then stepped into the hallway. "Close the door!" Letter M shouted, one final insult. Gaz obeyed, slamming it shut. Dib's heart rate quickened—he was now alone with a guy who'd had a bad temper before getting attacked by a Griever and going through the Changing. He hoped Letter M would say what he wanted and be done with it. A long pause stretched into several minutes, and Dib's hands shook with fear.

"I know who you are," Letter M said finally, breaking the silence. Dib couldn't find words to reply. He tried; nothing came out but an incoherent mumble. He was utterly confused. And scared.

"I know who you are," Letter M repeated slowly. "Seen it. Seen everything. Where we came from, who you are. Who the Irken is. I remember the Flare."

The Flare? Dib forced himself to talk. "I don't know what you're talking about. What did you see? I'd love to know who I am."

"It ain't pretty," Letter M answered, and for the first time since Gaz had left, Letter M looked up, straight at Dib. His eyes were deep pockets of sorrow, sunken, dark. "It's horrible, ya know. Why would those shucks want us to remember? Why can't we just live here and be happy?"

"Letter M ..." Dib wished he could take a peek in the boy's mind, see what he'd seen. "The Changing," he pressed, "what happened? What came back? You're not making sense."

"You—" Letter M started, then suddenly grabbed his own throat, making gurgly choking sounds. His legs kicked out and he rolled onto his side, thrashing back and forth as if someone else were trying to strangle him. His tongue stuck out of his mouth; he bit it over and over.

Dib stood up quickly, stumbled backward, horrified—Letter M struggled as if he was having a seizure, his legs kicking in every direction. The dark skin of his face, which had been oddly pale just a minute earlier, had turned purple, his eyes rolled up so far in their sockets they looked like glowing white marbles.

"Letter M!" Dib yelled, not daring to reach down and grab him. "Gaz!" he screamed, cupping his

hands around his mouth. "Gaz, get in here!"

The door was flung open before he'd finished his last sentence. Gaz ran to Letter M and grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing with her whole body to pin the convulsing boy to the bed. "Grab his legs!"

Dib moved forward, but Letter M's legs kicked and flailed out, making it impossible to get any closer. His foot hit Dib in the jaw; a lance of pain shot through his whole skull. He stumbled backward again, rubbing the sore spot.

"Just bloody do it!" Gaz yelled. Dib steeled himself, then jumped on top of Letter M's body, grabbing both legs and pinning them to the bed. He wrapped his arms around the boy's thighs and squeezed while Gaz put a knee on one of Letter M's shoulders, then grabbed at Letter M's hands, still clasped around his own neck in a chokehold.

"Let go!" Gaz yelled as she tugged. "You're bloody killin' yourself !" Dib could see the muscles in Gaz's arms flexing underneath the sleeves of her dress, veins popping out as she pulled at Letter M's hands, until finally, inch by inch, she was able to pry them away. She pushed them tightly against the struggling boy's chest. Letter M's whole body jerked a couple of times, his midsection thrusting up and away from the bed. Then, slowly, he calmed, and a few seconds later he lay still, his breath evening; his eyes glazed over.

Dib held firm to Letter M's legs, afraid to move and set the boy off again. Gaz waited a full minute before she slowly let go of Letter M's hands. Then another minute before she pulled her knee back and stood up. Dib took that as his cue to do the same, hoping the ordeal had truly ended.

Letter M looked up, eyes droopy, as if he was on the edge of slipping into a deep sleep. "I'm sorry, Gaz," he whispered. "Don't know what happened. It was like ... something was controlling my body. I'm sorry..."

Dib took a deep breath, sure he'd never experience something so disturbing and uncomfortable again. He hoped.

"Sorries, nothin'," Gaz replied. "You were trying to bloody kill yourself." "Wasn't me, I swear," Letter M murmured. Gaz threw her hands up. "What do you mean it wasn't you?" she asked. "I don't know... It ... it wasn't me." Letter M looked just as confused as Dib felt. But Gaz seemed to think it wasn't worth trying to figure out. At least at the moment. She grabbed the blankets that had fallen off the bed in Letter M's struggle and pulled them atop the sick boy. "Get your butt to sleep and we'll talk about it later." She patted him on the head, then added, "You're messed up, shank."

But Letter M was already drifting off, nodding slightly as his eyes closed. Gaz caught Dib's gaze and gestured for the door. Dib had no problem leaving that crazy house —he followed Gaz out and into the hall. Then, just as they stepped through the doorway, Letter M mumbled something from his bed.

Both children stopped in their tracks. "What?" Gaz asked. Letter M opened his eyes for a brief moment, then repeated what he'd said, a little more loudly. "Be careful with the Irken." Then his eyes slid shut.

There it was again—the Irken. Somehow things always led back to the Irken. Gaz gave Dib a questioning look, but Dib could only return it with a shrug. He had no idea what was going on.

"Let's go," Gaz whispered.

"And Gaz?" Letter M called again from the bed, not bothering to open his eyes. "Yeah?" "Protect the Maps." Letter M rolled over, his back telling them he'd finally finished speaking. Dib didn't think that sounded very good. Not good at all. He and Gaz left the room and softly closed the door.