CHAPTER 46

Dib refused to talk to anyone the rest of the day.

Zim tried several times. But he kept telling him he didn't feel good, that he just wanted to be alone and sleep in his spot behind the forest, maybe spend some time thinking. Try to discover a hidden secret within his mind that would help them know what to do.

But in truth, he was psyching himself up for what he had planned for that evening, convincing himself it was the right thing to do. The only thing to do. Plus, he was absolutely terrified and he didn't want the others to notice.

Eventually, when his watch showed that evening had arrived, he went to the Homestead with everyone else. He barely noticed he'd been hungry until he started eating Spuddy's hastily prepared meal of biscuits and tomato soup.

And then it was time for another sleepless night. The Builders had boarded up the gaping holes left by the monsters who'd carried off Torque and Alex. The end result looked to Dib like an army of drunk guys had done the work, but it was solid enough. Gaz and Letter M, who finally felt well enough to walk around again, his head heavily bandaged, insisted on a plan for everyone to rotate where they slept each night.

Dib ended up in the large living room on the bottom floor of the Homestead with the same people he'd slept with two nights before. Silence settled over the room quickly, though he didn't know if it was because people were actually asleep or just scared, quietly hoping against hope the Grievers didn't come again. Unlike two nights ago, Zim was allowed to stay in the building with the rest of the Gladers. He was near Dib, curled up in two blankets. Somehow, he could sense that he was sleeping. Actually sleeping.

Dib certainly couldn't sleep, even though he knew his body needed it desperately. He tried—he tried so hard to keep his eyes closed, force himself to relax. But he had no luck. The night dragged on, the heavy sense of anticipation like a weight on his chest.

Then, just as they'd all expected, came the mechanical, haunted sounds of the Grievers outside. The time had come.

Everyone crowded together against the wall farthest from the windows, doing their best to keep quiet. Dib huddled in a corner next to Zim, hugging his knees, staring at the window. The reality of the dreadful decision he'd made earlier squeezed his heart like a crushing fist. But he knew that everything might depend on it.

The tension in the room rose at a steady pace. The Gladers were quiet, not a soul moved. A distant scraping of metal against wood echoed through the house; it sounded to Dib like a Griever was climbing on the back side of the Homestead, opposite where they were. More noises joined in a few seconds later, coming from all directions, the closest right outside their own window. The air in the room seemed to freeze into solid ice, and Dib pressed his fists against his eyes, the anticipation of the attack killing him.

A booming explosion of ripping wood and broken glass thundered from somewhere upstairs, shaking the whole house. Dib went numb as several screams erupted, followed by the pounding of fleeing footsteps. Loud creaks and groans announced a whole horde of Gladers running to the first floor.

"It's got Dave!" someone yelled, the voice high-pitched with terror.

No one in Dib's room moved a muscle; he knew each of them was probably feeling guilty about their relief—that at least it wasn't them. That maybe they were safe for one more night. Two nights in a row only one child had been taken, and people had started to believe that what Torque had said was true.

Dib jumped as a terrible crash sounded right outside their door, accompanied by screams and the splintering of wood, like some iron-jawed monster was eating the entire stairwell. A second later came another explosion of ripping wood: the front door. The Griever had come right through the house and was now leaving.

An explosion of fear ripped through Dib. It was now or never. He jumped up and ran to the door of the room, yanking it open. He heard Gaz yell, but he ignored her and ran down the hall, sidestepping and jumping over hundreds of splintered pieces of wood. He could see that where the front door had been there now stood a jagged hole leading out into the gray night. He headed straight for it and ran out into the Glade.

Dib! Zim screamed inside his head. What are you doing?!

He ignored him. He just kept running. The Griever holding Dave—a kid Dib had never spoken to—was rolling along on its spikes toward the West Door, churning and whirring. The other Grievers had already gathered in the courtyard and followed their companion toward the Maze. Without hesitating, knowing the others would think he was trying to commit suicide, Dib sprinted in their direction until he found himself in the middle of the pack of creatures. Having been taken by surprise, the Grievers hesitated.

Dib jumped on the one holding Dave, tried to jerk the kid free, hoping the creature would retaliate. Zim's scream inside his mind was so loud it felt as if a dagger had been driven through his skull.

Three of the Grievers swarmed on him at once, their long pincers and claspers and needles flying in from all directions. Dib flailed his arms and legs, knocking away the horrible metallic arms as he kicked at the pulsating blubber of the Grievers' bodies—he only wanted to be stung, not taken like Dave. Their relentless attack intensified, and Dib felt pain erupt over every inch of his body—needle pricks that told him he'd succeeded. Screaming, he kicked and pushed and thrashed, throwing his body into a roll, trying to get away from them. Struggling, bursting with adrenaline, he finally found an open spot to get his feet under him and ran with all his power.

As soon as he escaped the immediate reach of the Grievers' instruments, they gave up and retreated, disappearing into the Maze. Dib collapsed to the ground, groaning from the pain.

Gaz was on him in a second, followed immediately by Keef, Zim, several others. Gaz grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him up, gripping him under both arms. "Get his legs!" she yelled.

Dib felt the world swimming around him, felt delirious, nauseated. Someone, he couldn't tell who, obeyed Gaz's order; he was being carried across the courtyard, through the front door of the Homestead, down the shattered hall, into a room, placed on a couch. The world continued to twist and pitch.

"What were you doing!" Gaz yelled in his face. "How could you be so bloody stupid!" Dib had to speak before he faded into blackness.

"No ... Gaz ... you don't understand..."

"Shut up!" Gaz shouted. "Don't waste your energy!" Dib felt someone examining his arms and legs, ripping his clothes away from his body, checking for damage. He heard Keef's voice, couldn't help feeling relief that his friend was okay. A Med-jack said something about him being stung dozens of times.

Zim was by his feet, squeezing his right ankle with his hand. Why, Dib? Why would you do that?

Because... He didn't have the strength to concentrate.

Gaz yelled for the Grief Serum; a minute later Dib felt a pinprick on his arm. Warmth spread from that point throughout his body, calming him, lessening the pain. But the world still seemed to be collapsing in on itself, and he knew it would all be gone from him in just a few seconds.

The room spun, colors morphing into each other, churning faster and faster. It took all of his effort, but he said one last thing before the darkness took him for good.

"Don't worry," he whispered, hoping they could hear him. "I did it on purpose..."