Chapter 4

Ludicrous Speed

Zim followed Wells down the chimney into the ground. The rungs of the ladder were greasy, and with each one Zim groaned. "This is just nasty."

"We must forge ahead," Wells said. "Anything to save my Weena."

Zim sighed. Why did he have to run into so many heroes? Wouldn't it just be nicer to hang out with the chick on the surface and maybe play hide the beef stick with her?

They reached the bottom, which was dark, and jutting from the wall was a torch. "Hold this," Wells said. He handed the wood to Zim. He then ripped off a portion of his shirt and wrapped it around the top. He retrieved matches from his pocket and struck one. Just as he was about to light the torch, Zim sneezed. The flame went out.

"Sorry," Zim said. "This place is kinda dank."

Wells grimaced and reached for another match to find that there were none. "Fantastic. That was my last one."

"Uh . . . sorry. I think I have a lighter here." Zim felt around in his pockets, and then he remembered that the last time he'd had a Bic was just before he went to the Old West. "Guess not."

"Fabulous," Wells said. "What are we going to do now?"

"Wing it? I mean, it's not that dark down here."

"It's dark down there." He pointed to where the tunnel led down into the earth.

Zim squinted. "We can probably see. Some of the minerals down here are kind of glowy."

"And what happens when we meet with the dread Morlocks?" Wells asked. "Do you propose we fight them in the darkness, which is their natural habitat?"

"Wait! I just remembered! The Morlocks are afraid of . . ." He trailed off when he remembered what Future Zim had told him their weakness was.

"Afraid of what?"

Zim dropped the torch. "Never mind. Let's get this over with."

Wells took the lead, and Zim was able to follow him because his pure white t-shirt was so clear even in the gloom. The crystals in the walls also helped light the way. He had to squint, but he thought they were doing a pretty decent job.

"So . . . I heard you have a time machine," Zim said.

"Shh! We don't want to alarm them."

"How does it work?"

Wells sighed and came to a halt. He jammed his hand into his pocket and came up with a diamond knob on a stick. "This starts it. Are you satisfied?"

"That looks sweet as hell. Can I see it?"

Wells practically growled as he handed it over. "Fine. Just don't lose it. Without it, we're all doomed."

"Cool," Zim said. He put it in his pocket and continued following Wells deeper into the catacombs of the Morlocks. He had no idea how the Englishman knew where to go, since he was starting to see other passageways. From some nooks and crannies, Zim could see several pairs of glowing pinpoint eyes watching him.

And then the monsters were upon them. A swarm of Morlocks descended upon them, and Wells tried beating them back with savage thwacks from a staff that Zim was pretty sure he hadn't brought with them. Zim felt powerful clawed hands yank him down, trying to pin him. Their shiny teeth flashed in the little illumination down here, and they seemed hungry.

But they did not bite him.

"Fight!" Wells shouted. "We need to save Weena! They're not as strong as they look!"

Zim looked at the pale skin and the shaggy hair. They sure looked pretty scary, and their grip felt powerful. What the hell? Why not give it a shot? He shoved his hand forward into the crotch of one of the beasts, and it howled, falling back, clutching its wounded genitals.

"That's the spirit!" Wells cried.

Oddly enough the monster's texture was a bit on the soft side. Maybe Wells was right. Zim pushed the others away, and they fell. They were back up in no time, ready for the next attack, but they really weren't all that strong.

Zim and Wells might have made it if not for the sheer numbers the Morlocks possessed. They smothered them with bodies until there was no way they could fight back. Once they were bound, they were brought lower into the catacombs to a throne room. Sitting upon the throne was a Morlock, but this one was wearing more than a loin cloth: a crown. Chained up to the arm of the throne was a young Eloi woman, and she cowered at the Morlock king's feet.

"Weena!" Wells cried.

She looked up at him, but it seemed like she was too afraid to call out to him.

Zim noticed a giant contraption behind the throne. It looked kind of like a car, but it had discs and gadgets and stuff. Something this goofy could only be a time machine. He fingered the diamond knob in his pocket, and he wondered if there was any way he could make a break for it. Probably not, he thought. Considering how he didn't even know how to work the damned thing.

The king stood and pointed at Wells. "Show me how to use the time machine."

"Never," Wells said. Stiff upper lip.

"You've seen how poorly we have been treated by the Eloi. I merely propose that we go to the past, to when our societies separated, to ensure that we all live a peaceful existence, not just the Eloi."

"I know what you really want. You want to destroy the Eloi, or at least break them and force them into slavery. My Weena will not suffer such indignity!"

Zim yawned. He didn't really know what they were talking about, and all he really wanted to do was get to the time machine and get back to the Old West (and he really didn't even want to do that, but if he didn't, then he wouldn't have his bed to return to in 2016).

The king's next words snapped him out of it, though. "Very well. We will force the knowledge from you. Morlocks, I command you to execute his companion!" He pointed to Zim.

The Morlocks turned their glittering eyes on him, and they crowded around him, their teeth and claws eager to tear him to pieces. Zim had enough time to think about how much he hated Future Zim before they descended upon him, teeth flashing.