It took Soos and Dipper all morning to erect the massive wooden archway, painted with bright red letters proclaiming "Enter Here All Who Dare! The Mystery Shack Hungers For Another Victim!" Mabel helped Stan and Wendy in the shop, but her mind was elsewhere. She couldn't bear the thought of Dipper being mad at her, but she also knew something was wrong. By the time Dipper wandered in after setting up the sign, he was even paler and visibly shaking. Mabel puffed her cheeks out. She wasn't going to ignore it any longer.
Dipper was near Wendy, who was talking to Soos. He was sitting on the stool next to the till and staring at the journal in his lap, the sandwich given to him by Stan for lunch untouched on the counter. His eyes were glazed and sweat beaded his glowing cheeks and forehead. Finally, Wendy turned to him. By this point it was obvious to everyone Dipper was unwell.
"Dipper," she said. Dipper didn't answer.
"Dipper!" she said, more forcefully. Dipper jumped, startled.
"C'mon dude," Wendy said, "what's wrong?"
"Nothing!" Dipper insisted, holding up his hands and smiling amiably. However, as soon as he spoke, he was seized with coughing. One hand clutched his chest while the other covered his mouth with a clenched fist.
"That's it!" Mabel yelled. She stomped over and threw off Dipper's hat. He kept coughing. As his body quaked, Mabel stuck a hand under her brother's curly bangs. The sweat was ice cold but his skin was incredibly hot. "Dipper, you are super sick! You need to put the journal away and go to bed!"
"I'm fine, Mabel!" Dipper heaved.
"Gimme the book!" Mabel yelled, but Dipper clutched it.
"No!" Dipper resisted, but this time his strength was diminished and he was no match for Mabel. He tried to stand as she wrenched the book away, but he fell to his knees coughing again. Mabel tossed the book onto the counter and knelt by her brother, who could barely breath.
"Dipper!" she cried, worried. She rubbed his back, but he kept hacking.
"Ma...bel..." he wheezed. "I..." but the coughing stole his breath. He slumped forwards and landed in his sister's lap with a thud. His eyes were closed and his face was tight with pain from struggling to breath.
"What's all the ruckus?" Stan demanded as he walked in from the Shack's display room, "I'm trying to fleece in here!"
"Stan!" Wendy cried. "There's something wrong with Dipper!"
"He passed out!" said Soos, wringing his hands.
"He's got a fever or somethin'!" Mabel's voice shook as she spoke, still holding Dipper tightly. "He's out cold!"
"You mean, out hot!" Soos interjected, but Wendy punched him in the arm. Stan looked down over his prone nephew, who was moaning and tossing his head. Stan spotted the journal on the counter.
"This again..." he mumbled to himself. With a grunt, he turned to Soos and Wendy.
"Take 'im upstairs." With that, Grunkle Stan walked back into the main exhibit hall, growling "Okay people, party's over, we're closed, get out."
Wendy and Soos picked up the incapicitated Dipper and hauled him upstairs. Mabel shoved the others out of the door and pulled off her brother's sweaty clothes and pulled on the t-shirt and boxers he always slept in. It was difficult with his limp limbs weighing a ton, but she managed. In his sleep, Dipper was groaning louder, his lips tracing his sister's name. Just as she lay his head on the pillow, Dipper's eyes flew open.
"Mabel!" he gasped. He tried to sit up but he grimaced in pain and gasped for breath.
"Dipper, it's okay, I'm here," Mabel said tenderly, pushing him back down.
"Mabel, I...ugh...I feel...awful..." Dipper wheezed.
"Blobvsiously!" said Mabel, smacking her head in mock surprise. "Dipper what got into you down there? You were actin' all weird...you're crazy sick, why wouldn't you let me help you?"
"I...dunno...I don't even...ugh, my head..." Dipper groaned. Mabel looked at him, a loss at what to do. The door creaked open and Stan walked in, arms full of various objects.
"Okay, kid, sit up for a sec." Mabel hoisted Dipper into a sitting position, and pulled a blanket around his shivering shoulders, which he pulled in around him tightly. Grunkle Stan unceremoniously dropped an ice bag on his head and shoved a thermometer in his mouth.
"Rmph!" Dipper coughed.
"Quiet," Grunkle Stan said, trying to get the cap off a bottle of pills.
"ButthisisaRECTALthemometer!" Dipper looked down at it, crosseyed, mouthing his words whilst trying not to let his lips touch the plastic stick in his mouth. He looked at Mabel desperately, but she just shrugged.
"S'all I got, buddy," Stan tapped his foot impatiently. Dipper sighed and closed his lips around the themometer, which started making little beeping noises. After a minute, it beeps quickly in succession, and Stan pulled it out while Dipper chugged the water from a cup Mabel handed to him.
"101. Not good, kid."
"What's wrong with him, Grunkle Stan?" Mabel pleaded. Dipper coughed weakly and moaned as he slumped into his pillows.
"He musta just caught the flu or somethin'" Stan shrugged. He handed Dipper some pills and Dipper choked them down with some water.
"At this time of year?" Mabel asked, looking suspiciously at the older man.
"Seriously? You see weirder junk everyday! I dunno how he caught it but he did. He's just gonna hafta sleep it off for a few days, that's all. Keep an eye on him, I gotta go decontaminate the gift shop and reopen...can't afford to lose customers just because someone caught the plague..." Stan gave Dipper a pat on the head and an awkward, gruff smile, and left the room. Wendy and Soos poked their heads in.
"Feel better soon, buddy!" Wendy called. Dipper blushed, turning his flushed cheeks even more pink, and Soos waved.
"I can't believe I'm sick. I never get sick! And in summer, no less!" Dipper complained, his voice muffled by the blanket he had pulled up to his nose. Mabel looked at Dipper pityingly, but inside was actually relieved. He just needed some rest.
"Try an' get some sleep, okay bro? Me and Waddles'll be right here if you need anything!" Mabel plonked down on her bed and watched as Dipper's breathing evened out and his face became slightly less tense as he fell asleep.
Downstairs, Grunkle Stan picked the journal up from where it sat on the counter, and tucked it under his arm. His nephew would need the journal sooner or later, but it was too dangerous to give back to him now. Grunkle Stan had recognized the glassy look in his nephew's eyes, and shuddered as he remembered the pain. Tucking the dusty old book under a pile of useless bric-a-brac in the living room, Stan hoped it wouldn't be as bad for the kid as it had been for him. But, if his memory served him correctly, it was about to get a whole lot worse for Dipper.