CHAPTER 36

Dib didn't want to see him. He didn't want to see anybody.

As soon as Gaz set off to go and talk to the Irken, Dib silently slipped away, hoping no one would notice him in the excitement. With everyone's thoughts on the alien waking up from his coma, it proved easy. He skirted the edge of the Glade, then, breaking into a run, he headed for his place of seclusion behind the Deadhead forest.

He crouched in the corner, nestled in the ivy, and threw his blanket over himself, head and all. Somehow, it seemed like a way to hide from Zim's intrusion into his mind. A few minutes passed, his heart finally calming to a slow roll.

"Forgetting about you was the worst part." At first, Dib thought it was another message in his head; he squeezed his fists against his ears. But no, it'd been ... different. He'd heard it with his ears. An Irken's voice. Chills creeping up his spine, he slowly lowered the blanket.

Zim stood to his right, leaning against the massive stone wall. He looked so different now, awake and alert—standing. Wearing a standard hot pink Irken uniform, grey PAK with three pink spots, black gloves, and black boots, he looked— impossibly—even more striking than when he'd seen him in the coma. Two black stalks of antennae standing proudly atop his grassgreen head, with hot pink eyes to compliment his outfit.

"Dib, do you really not remember me?" His voice was scratchy, but calm, a contrast from the crazed, hard sound he'd heard from him after he first arrived, when he'd delivered the message that everything was going to change.

"You mean ... you remember me?" he asked, embarrassed at the squeak that escaped on the last word. "Yes. No. Maybe." He threw his arms up in disgust. "I can't explain it." Dib opened his mouth, then closed it without saying anything. "I remember remembering," the Irken muttered, sitting down with a heavy sigh; he pulled his legs up to wrap his arms around his knees. "Feelings. Emotions. Like I have all these shelves in my head, labeled for memories and faces, but they're empty. As if everything before this is just on the other side of a white curtain. Including you."

"But how do you know me?" Dib felt like the walls were spinning around him. Zim turned toward him. "I don't know. Something about before we came to the Maze. Something about us. It's mostly empty, like I said."

"You know about the Maze? Who told you? You just woke up." "I ... It's all very confusing right now." He held a hand out. "But I know you're my friend." Almost in a daze, Dib pulled the blanket completely off and leaned forward to shake his hand. "I get that same feeling." He let out a bitter laugh. "Are we messed up or what?"

Zim smiled for the first time, and Dib almost had to look away, as if something that nice didn't belong in such a glum and gray place, as if he had no right to look at his expression.

"Yeah, we're messed up," he said. "And I'm scared." "So am I, trust me." Which was definitely the understatement of the day. A long moment passed, both of them looking toward the ground. "What's ...," he began, not sure how to ask it. "How ... did you talk to me inside my mind?" Zim shook his head. No idea—I can just do it, he thought to him. Then he spoke aloud again. "It's like if you tried to ride a bicycle here—if they had one. I bet you could do it without thinking. But do you remember learning to ride one?"

"No. I mean ... I remember riding one, but not learning." He paused, feeling a wave of sadness. "Or who taught me."

"Well," he said, his eyes flickering as if he was embarrassed by his sudden gloom. "Anyway ... it's kind of like that."

"Really clears things up." Zim shrugged. "You didn't tell anyone, did you? They'd think we're crazy." "Well ... when it first happened, I did. But I think Gaz just thinks I was stressed out or something." Dib felt fidgety, like he'd go nuts if he didn't move. He stood up, started pacing in front of him. "We need to figure things out. That weird note you had about being the last person to ever come here, your coma, the fact you can talk to me telepathically. Any ideas?"

Zim followed him with his eyes as he walked back and forth. "Save your breath and quit asking. All I have are faint impressions—that you and I were important, that we were used somehow. That we're smart. That we came here for a reason. I know I triggered the Ending, whatever that means." He groaned, his face reddening. "My memories are as useless as yours."

Dib knelt down in front of him. "No, they're not. I mean, the fact that you knew my memory had been wiped without asking me—and this other stuff. You're way ahead of me and everybody else."

Their eyes met for a long time; it looked like his mind was spinning, trying to make sense of it all. I just don't know, he said in his mind. "There you go again," Dib said aloud, though he was relieved that his trick didn't really freak him out anymore. "How do you do that?" "I just do, and I bet you can, too." "Well, can't say I'm too anxious to try." He sat back down and pulled his legs up, much like he had done. "You said something to me—in my head—right before you found me over here. You said 'The Maze is a code.' What did you mean?"

He shook his head slightly. "When I first woke up, it was like I'd entered an insane asylum—these strange guys hovering over my bed, the world tipping around me, memories swirling in my brain. I tried to reach out and grasp a few, and that was one of them. I can't really remember why I said it."

"Was there anything else?" "Actually, yeah." He pulled up the sleeve of his left arm, a ballsy move for an Irken as showing any skin besides their face was considered a sexual act, (Dib fought hard to hold back a blush at remembering that kind of Irken knowledge) exposing his bicep. Small letters were written across the skin in thin black ink.

"What's that?" Dib asked, leaning in for a better look. "Read it yourself." The letters were messy, but he could make them out when he got close enough.

WICKED is good

Dib's heart beat faster. "I've seen that word—wicked." He searched his mind for what the phrase could possibly mean. "On the little creatures that live here. The beetle blades."

"What are those?" Zim asked. "Just little lizardlike machines that spy on us for the Creators—the people who sent us here." Zim considered that for a moment, looking off into space. Then he focused on his arm. "I can't remember why I wrote this," he said as he wet his thumb and started rubbing off the words. "But don't let me forget—it has to mean something."

The three words ran through Dib's mind over and over. "When did you write it?" "When I woke up. They had a pen and notepad next to the bed. In the commotion I wrote it down." Dib was baffled by this Irken—first the connection he'd felt to him from the very beginning, then the mind-speaking, now this. "Everything about you is weird. You know that, right?"

"Judging by your little hiding spot, I'd say you're not so normal yourself. Like living in the woods, do ya?"

Dib tried to scowl, then smiled. He felt pathetic, and embarrassed about hiding. "Well, you look familiar to me and you claim we're friends. Guess I'll trust you."

He held out his hand for another shake, and he took it, holding on for a long time. A chill swept through Dib that was surprisingly pleasant.

"All I want is to get back home," Zim said, finally letting go of his hand. "Just like the rest of you." Dib's heart sank as he snapped back to reality and remembered how grim the world had become. "Yeah, well, things pretty much suck right about now. The sun disappeared and the sky's gone gray, they didn't send us the weekly supplies—looks like things are going to end one way or another."

But before Zim could answer, Gaz was running out of the woods. "How in the ...," she said as she pulled up in front of them. Letter M and a few others were right behind her. Gaz looked at Zim. "How'd you get here? Med-jack said you were there one second and buggin' gone the next."

Zim stood up, surprising Dib with his confidence. "Guess he forgot to tell the little part about me kicking him in the groin and climbing out the window."

Dib almost laughed as Gaz turned to a boy Dib recognized to be one of the Med-jacks that had taken Zim away on the first day, standing nearby, whose face had turned bright red.

"Congrats, Melvin," Gaz said. "You're officially the first guy here to get your butt beat by an Irken." Zim didn't stop. "Keep talking like that and you'll be next." Gaz turned back to face them, but her face showed anything but fear. She stood, silently, just staring at them. Dib stared back, wondering what was going through the younger girl's head.

Letter M stepped up. "I'm sick of this." He pointed at Dib's chest, almost tapping it. "I wanna know who you are, who this shank Irken is, and how you guys know each other."

Dib almost wilted. "Letter M, I swear—" "He came straight to you after waking up, shuck-face!" Anger surged inside Dib—and worry that Letter M would go off like Iggins had. "So what? I know him, he knows me—or at least, we used to. That doesn't mean anything! I can't remember anything. Neither can he."

Letter M looked at Zim. "What did you do?"

Dib, confused by the question, glanced at Zim to see if he knew what he meant. But he didn't reply.

"What did you do!" Letter M screamed. "First the sky, now this." "I triggered something," he replied in a calm voice. "Not on purpose, I swear it. The Ending. I don't know what it means."

"What's wrong, Gaz?" Dib asked, not wanting to talk to Letter M directly. "What happened?" But Letter M grabbed him by the shirt. "What happened? I'll tell ya what happened, shank. Too busy makin' lovey eyes to bother lookin' around? To bother noticing what freaking time it is!"

Dib looked at his watch, realizing with horror what he'd missed, knowing what Letter M was about to say before he said it.

"The walls, you shuck. The Doors. They didn't close tonight."