Chapter Five:

Beneath the Waters Red

[Gaz]

When Dib didn't show up after school, I knew something was wrong. He'd been acting weird all morning. Not like that's anything new - I don't know what my dumbass brother is doing in his spare time. But I waited by the fence, playing video games on my phone and glaring at the groups of kids as they walked by. I curled my lip at the stupid pig-tailed girl who always makes a point to skirt all the way around me like she's afraid she'll catch a disease.

I passed six levels in what I thought was record time, until I realized how long I'd been waiting.

No texts, no calls. The crowd dwindled and Dib's stupid pointy hair never once appeared. And after a while, I was the only person there.

As dumb as my brother is, he'd never left me waiting this long. It's been years since I walked home by myself and he's specifically made it a point to ensure I don't have to because he thinks Zim might abduct me for ransom or some shit.

So I waited a little while longer before giving up and heading home. The house was empty with Dad gone at another international science convention. I checked Dib's room for clues but it was its usual disaster of unorganized, illegible gibberish. I made dinner and stared at the television until I fell asleep.

When I woke up, it was 2 am. No texts, no calls. No Dib.

At that point, all that was left to do was grab my old baseball bat, walk out the door, and head over to the only place my brother could possibly be.

…

"Are you with the gnomes?"

The little robot answers the door before I can ring the bell. He clearly forgot his dog costume and his bright blue eyes blink at me with a concern that seems too real for a hunk of metal.

"...No?"

He sighs in relief. "Oh, good. You can come in." He steps back and opens the door wide for me.

My grip tightens around the hilt of my bat as I enter the house and glance around. It looks the same as last time: an oddly barren living room with clashing patterns of orange and purple, a large couch shoved against the wall, one table, a dead plant by the window, and a giant TV playing cartoons.

The door shuts behind us and I tab my fingers along the wood. "Is my brother here?"

"That big-head boy?" He grins and climbs onto the couch, remote in hand. "Master took him on a secret mission."

My nose wrinkles. I walk over and sit next to the little guy on the oddly comfortable couch and set the bat down at my side.

"Do you know where they went?" I ask.

He ignores my question and starts humming along to an off-key commercial slogan for Hot Pockets.

"Hey," I poke the side of his head. It sounds as empty as I expected. "Don't make me get the gnomes."

He gasps and scurries to the other side of the couch. "N-no! I need the TV!"

"Then you better tell me where they went."

He stares at me for a minute, then he grabs the sides of his head and starts to panic.

"I don't know! It's a secret!" He cries and rolls off of the cushion and onto the floor. "Please don't let the gnomes in, scary lady!"

I sit there and watch him devolve into a complete mess, shrieking and hitting his head like a toddler throwing a tantrum in Walmart. I honestly wonder if he's about to self-destruct when a loud rumble shakes the house. My hands grip the sofa until the shaking stops.

The robot jumps to his feet, his demeanor changing completely. "Master's home! He's gonna be so proud of me for keeping out the gnomes." He waddles toward the hallway before pausing to look back at me.

"Come on, scary lady! Master is this way."

God, this place is so weird.

I stand up, grab my bat, and follow him into the narrow hallway. He hums the Hot Pocket slogan and scans his hand over a small, crooked, worn-out photo of a crying clown that's poorly framed and nailed to the wall. It lights up red and a panel clicks back and slides to the left, opening up to what I can only assume is an elevator.

My night can't really get any weirder, so I shrug and follow the robot. The wall closes behind us and the floor shakes. I get that dropping sensation in my stomach and grip the bat tighter. The elevator finally slows and hovers to a stop. I have no clue how far underground we are. A door opens on my right, and when I step through the threshold, my eyes widen at the massive laboratory before me.

Hundreds of coils loop and line the ceiling, thick and thin, a myriad of dark reds and purples. The floor is a seamless, light gray substance that gleams from the lights overhead. Zim's ship is settled near the back of the room. Soft steam curls up from underneath as it cools.

I'm not sure what I'm expecting to see as the ramp from the ship extends and the hatch opens, but it's definitely not the sight of Zim carrying Dib's unconscious, bloody body.

"GIR!" he yells, oblivious to my presence. "Go find the first-aid kit! Zim needs assistance-"

"Zim!" I cross the room before I even really know what I'm doing. The bat swings over my head and smashes into his. "What did you do to him?!"

He shrieks and drops Dib onto the ramp. I keep swinging. I keep hitting. My eyes feel like they're going to bulge out of my head and my wrists hurt from the shock of every blow.

"GIR, defend your master!" he yelps, arms over his head, back against the hatch of the ship.

GIR is nowhere to be seen, but his wail echoes through the lab.

"I can't, Master! She's so scary - you should run!"

"Zim runs from nothing!"

His claws finally wrap around the end of the wood and he stops it inches above his head; wide eyes bore into mine, seething with rage that matches my own.

"You stupid earth woman," he spits. "The Dib needs medical assistance and if you don't let me up, his putrid worm life will be in danger!"

My grip falters. Just for a second. My eyes flicker to Dib's limp body, covered in dried blood on the cold metal. I lower the bat and step away.

"Fine." My voice is small. "But I'm staying here, and you're gonna tell me everything."

"Yes, yes - whatever!" Zim waves me off and struggles to his feet, rubbing the newly forming welts on his forehead. He slides his arms under Dib and grunts as he picks him off the floor.

"Move, pig-meat," he growls. I raise the bat enough for him to instinctively flinch, but I move out of his way.

He hauls Dib's body over to a steel table surrounded by tool benches, stacks of crates with alien markings, and a desk. A large light hangs over, reflecting off of the metal.

"Start talking, bug-boy." I cross my arms and focus on Zim's face so I don't have to look at all of the blood. "What the fuck happened to my brother?"

Zim sighs heavily as he finally manages to lay Dib on the tabletop. He's breathing, soft and quiet. Like he's only sleeping.

"It should come as no surprise to you that the Dib is an idiot," he pants, wiping his brow. "But before I recount his idiocy, he needs replacement fluids. Go get the medical bag." He jabs a claw toward an old stack of crates by the elevator door. I glare at him for a moment, searching his expression, but he only looks mildly annoyed and a bit tired.

I make two mistakes then: the first is even listening to that idiot in the first place, and the second is turning my back to him. As I head toward the stack of boxes, I hear the faintest shuffle of feet. But by the time I glance over my shoulder to see what's happening, he's already right behind me and planting a hard kick to the small of my back. I shout and stumble forward - right into the small elevator space.

He bares his pointy teeth at me. "No humans allowed!"

I don't have time to react before the door shuts and I'm shooting back towards the surface.

The elevator practically spits my body out into the dingy hallway. I land on my ass and scramble around to jump back in, but the wall panel clicks shut, and I'm left staring at the picture of the stupid fucking clown.

"Zim!" My voice cracks into a scream. "ZIM!"

I punch the wall, over and over and over. My bat must've dropped when he kicked me. Goddammit.

I shout until my throat aches and bang my fists against the panel, but it doesn't budge, and all that answers is the echo of my mania. My chest heaves, skin slick with sweat. My eyes are burning. I fucking knew he'd pull this shit, and now I'm stuck up here with nothing to do but sit and wait.

…

[Dib]

The red comes in waves. A smoke, a heat - lapping at the corners of my mind. A fog from the darkness of my thoughts, like trees on the mountainside.

Sounds rattle and echo across my skull. The crunch of bones. The sharp bite of copper. The tear of flesh between teeth; soft, but resistant. And his screams.

His screams were loud. Brittle and desperate. They rang so strongly in my ears, in my bones, in my head, but the ache in my teeth was stronger. The deep, burrowing hiss inside my mind was louder, even when his cries billowed up into the ceiling before my jaw worked around his vocal cords. The muscles crunched and snapped and suddenly his noise was strangled into a pathetic whine, a hiss of air, and ultimately, silence.

My fingers dug and tore. Clothing ripped under my nails. My teeth dipped beneath the soft shell of his body into the thick, wet folds below. Muscle, sinew, bones, organs. Bubbles of viscous, tart fluid. Rubbery layers, yellow, slippery. So many textures, so many tastes. It consumed every thought as I fed and fed and fed.

I watch the memory play behind my eyes but I don't recognize the person hunched over the limp body of a man, wrist-deep into his chest cavity. I know it's me. But it can't be me.

It can't.

I try to stop it a million times. I scream. I plead. I wrestle with the deafening whisper that breathes in my skull. I struggle to summon every ounce of sheer will, of humanity, within me.

But the red comes in waves.

…

[Zim]

He keeps making noise in his sleep. Pathetic baby sounds, like a mewling infant. Sweat pushes up through every pore of his flesh and his lips twitch. A breath, a groan, unintelligible mutterings. Every once in a while, he bares his newly acquired fangs, still coated in gore. I check his gums to examine his hydration levels and note how inflamed they are around the new teeth.

He's whispering to himself again and the muscles in his neck are flexing hard, as if he's trying to turn away from some invisible force. I watch him through my goggles and glance at the bags of fluid hanging around him. Each drip glimmers in the light above the table before slipping down through the tube and into his veins.

I turn my attention back to my work and shoo away the thought of having to clean the Voot of all the filthy human liquids. The bag of organs is still sitting in the storage behind the passenger seat. I rub my forehead and groan at all of the tasks ahead of me, all because of this stupid Dib.

"GIR." I snap my fingers and glare over my shoulder to see him pop out of the old crates and rub his eyes as if I've just disturbed his fake nap. "Go upstairs and monitor the wretched female. She's been suspiciously quiet and I don't have time to make sure she isn't meddling."

He blinks at me and frowns. "But Master, she's mean! She's gonna give the TV to the gnomes–"

"The gnomes are sleeping - now go use the secret entrance to the house so she doesn't force her way back down here."

His eyes brighten and he climbs out of the crate. "Okay!" I turn back to my desk while he waddles to the far corner of the lab and disappears through a hidden tube.

One of the lumps on my skull aches at the thought of the Dib's horrid sibling. She's probably dented every wall in the house with her incessant banging. There's too much going on right now to deal with her pig-smelly feelings and feeble comprehensive skills.

I tighten the goggles over my eyes and slip out of my chair to retrieve the flesh bags from the Voot. If I turn the meat to some kind of fluid, I can deliver it directly to him without having to deal with him biting.

I don an extra pair of gloves before pulling the bag from the storage container. Disgusting. It's all…soupy now. And cold. What kind of apocalyptic stench will be released in my precious lab when I open this?

My lip pulls taut over my teeth and I shoot a glare over toward the table.

"You will be in debt to Zim for a hundred thousand years, Earth maggot."

…

[Dib]

Consciousness ebbs and flows. I slip in and out of the red. Sometimes my eyes open, and Zim is there. Writing or sitting hunched over his workbench, sparks flying from objects blocked from my view. And every so often, he's simply sitting, watching me in the quiet.

But other times, my eyes open to the dead. The stench of rot and lukewarm flesh coated in blood. My hands are covered in it; it fills my nostrils; it makes my mouth water. I'm torn between the urge to vomit and the deepening desire to consume until I burst.

I don't know how long I'm left floating between the two realities. I don't know how long the monsters whisper. But I feel myself breaking. The fibers of my thoughts and soul are slowly submerged by the voices, and all I can do is watch, helpless to the change, screaming into the void and knowing all that's left is silence.

…

…

…

"Finally."

Zim's voice severs the last thread tying me to the darkness. My eyes open, slow, heavy and crusted. A chill from the metal table dances up my skin like frost. A tangle of clear IV tubes hang in my periphery; the prickle of the catheters floating in my veins; the sticky pull of medical tape holding them flush against my forearms. The air is thick with a mixture of rubbing alcohol and a sharp metallic odor. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth - my body feels swollen.

Zim sits beside the table and watches me with a bored expression, his red eyes reflecting the harsh light of the lab. It takes me a moment to register the myriad of bruises and cuts on his face. A large welt has formed beneath his left eye. My hands tingle.

The words peel my lips back. "W…what happened to you?"

He doesn't have eyebrows, but something in his face lifts all the same, and he scoffs. "Your memory loss is rather convenient."

I try to sit up, but a flash of pain from my abdomen squeezes the air from my lungs and I slump back to the table with a sharp gasp. I blink a couple of times. I'm…covered in blood. My hoodie is dark and stiff from the layers of dried crimson; the fabric has been torn in several places, like my body was casually tossed through a wood chipper.

"What the fuck?"

I yank the hoodie up to expose not only a discolored splotch of skin across my sternum, but a thick tube protruding from my stomach, filled with a dark sludge.

"What the fuck!"

I sit up again; the rush of cold fear drowns the pain. "What did you do to me, Zim?"

His eyes squint and he bares his teeth. "Are you making a joke right now?"

My head is spinning. "N-no, I'm–"

"What I've 'done to you' is keep your filthy, miserable body alive!"

The memories are starting to surface. The hills, the fog lacing the trees, the creak of old wooden floors and the rising wisps of dust. The smell of wet stone. The blinding beam from his flashlight before I crushed it in my hand–

My throat is dry. Zim's voice rings in the void between my thoughts. I grab the feeding tube and pull.

"Hey!"

I ignore his protest, the pain, the pressure, the strange pop of catheters being plucked from my gut and wrists. I yank every tube, every needle from my flesh in a wild panic, dripping strange liquids all over the table and floor. My palms press against the cold metal as I lurch forward - away from the IVs, away from Zim, just away.

"Dib, what are you doing?"

My feet hit the floor, but my legs aren't steady. They bend and falter and tip me sideways. The room spins, the light is too bright, and the red flickers behind my eyes. I've torn the tubes from my stomach but I can still taste it–

No–

I can't breathe–

I can't think–

That couldn't happen - that didn't happen–

But my hands.

My knees hit the floor–

My clothes.

The air is stuck in my throat–

My skin.

Warmth blooms up my nose and down my cheeks.

It's all red.

The chair clatters to my right as Zim lunges after me. He's saying something but I'm underwater, drowning in the red, in the screams, in the smell and taste and rush of blood and the whispers of monsters clinging to my bones. Desperate, sick with fear, my fingers push to the back of my throat. I need it out. My stomach heaves, muscles screaming, ribs aching. I need it out.

His claws grip my wrist, fighting to pull my hand away from my mouth. "Dib!"

I can't get it out - nothing's coming out–

I sob, retching, empty.

He grabs my shoulders, eyes burning with rage, ignoring my demands as he tries to pull me off the floor.

"Don't touch me!"

For once, I'm stronger. Without thinking, I swing my arm back at him and send him flying into his workbench. Tools and notebooks explode from their place at the force of his body slamming into the table. Everything stops.

It's only a second, but it feels so much longer. He sits slumped against the metal and stares at me with wide eyes. The fear is unmistakable.

But it doesn't last.

His expression flickers from shock to pure rage in a millisecond. I barely have time to cover my head when he grabs the fallen chair and hurls it at me, missing me by mere inches. It collides with a stack of crates behind me and knocks them all to the floor. When I look back in his direction, he's already rushing me. Our bodies smack together and roll until we hit the wall, and with every turn, I become more and more aware of the pain in my limbs and chest. The breath is squashed in my ribs when he pins me. I gasp for air and stare up at his eyes, burning with a cold fire.

"Listen to me, Earth meat," he hisses. His claws tighten around my wrists, holding me firmly to the floor. "I let your first assault slide, as you were clearly not in your right mind. But you've continuously failed to realize the lengths Zim has gone in order to assist you. I do not care for these emotional outbursts - I do not care for your refusal to cooperate, and I will gladly send you back to your filthy human hovel where I should have left you to begin with."

A sting runs up the bridge of my nose. I feel so helpless. Physically, emotionally, mentally - I'm trapped by the echoes of a memory that I desperately hoped was nothing but a nightmare, forced to face it by the taste left on my tongue, the red stains on my clothes, and the bruises spattering Zim's face where I know I hit him.

"I'm sorry. I…" Warmth pools in my eyes and runs down the sides of my face. My breathing becomes erratic as I stumble for the words, but I can't stop myself from crying. I can't hold back the pitiful sounds that shake my bones, the breath that quivers back and forth, punching my diaphragm before catching in my throat. I'm unraveling in front of the absolute worst person possible and there's nowhere to hide and he's just staring at me.

"Damn it, Zim," I clench my jaw so hard my teeth grind. "Can you just let me up?"

He's quiet for a moment, watching me flounder for air and some semblance of sanity with a disenchanted look on his face. He sits back on his haunches, but he doesn't get off of me.

"You apologize and then curse me?" he asks, incredulous. "Your behaviors make no sense."

"You're one to talk," I scoff. I wipe the tears with the cleanest part of my sleeve and try to pull myself out from under him, but he presses his palm to my forehead and forces me back.

"If you attack me again," he warns, "I will kick you and your detestable sibling out of my home, and she can take care of your idiot head."

My stomach drops. "Gaz is here? Where? Did she see–"

"GIR is monitoring her upstairs. She also assaulted Zim, something you both seem to have an affinity for. But she only knows you are injured, and Zim is helping." He removes his hand from my head and stands up. "Despite your disobedience."

As expected, he doesn't offer to help me off the floor. He grabs the chair and drags it to his work bench while I lean my head back and stare at the coils running across the ceiling.

"You've made a mess, as usual." I listen to him shuffle around with the IV bags and tubes. "You will have to put these back in."

My hands cover my abdomen, fingers tracing the small hole through my shirt leading to my stomach. "No," I mumble. "I can't."

"If you want my help, you don't have a choice."

I don't look at him. I already know the expression on his face. I already know I don't have a choice.

"It wasn't a dream," I say quietly, afraid of the words. Afraid to make it real. "I…I really killed somebody."

He doesn't answer right away and continues to organize the tools that were thrown about. I wait, holding on to some stupid, meaningless shred of hope that I'm just insane and it was a car accident or something, and I made all of this up in my deranged, unconscious brain.

"Well," he says after a moment, "technically, you ate him. But yes."

That last hope is snuffed out, and though I saw it coming, I'm not prepared for the hollowness it leaves. My mind feels numb. Cold slush inside my skull. I stare at the lights until my eyes burn and water, until it drips down my face and blurs the room.

Zim prattles on. "You sustained extensive injuries." His voice is miles away. "You need more rest, and Zim will need to replace the IVs and feeding tube so your condition does not regress."

The muscles in my neck tighten. I try to stay in the place between my thoughts - the weightless void where I can float above the whispers, the memories, the red sea raging beneath.

"...Dib?"

The toe of his boot jabs into my side. I don't want to look at him, so I fixate on the lights and hope they burn holes through my retinas.

"Zim can't stop you from your schmoopy moping, but you agreed to listen. So go be schmoopy on the table and let me replace the tubes."

I exhale, wincing at the hot sting as I close my eyes and watch the colors burst under the skin. "Not the feeding tube."

He groans dramatically. "You need that one–"

"No, I don't." I snap. My teeth poke into the sides of my cheeks, larger and sharper than I remember. "Just the IVs. And I want to talk to Gaz first."

I open one eye to see his expression. He holds my gaze, frowning deeply with crossed arms, but he eventually gives up and rubs his forehead in defeat. "Fine, whatever. No feeding tube, and you can go speak with your pig sibling. I don't trust her in my home anyway, so the sooner you get her to leave, the better."

He nods at the doorway to the elevator. I hate that thing. "Tell her you're fine and you simply got hurt while doing your stupid ghost hunting, but Zim heroically saved you and now you are recovering."

My brow knits. "And…why do I need to say you saved me?"

"Because I DID," he sneers, "and she needs to trust my intentions so that she leaves us alone." His red eyes settle on me. "Unless you want her snooping around and risking the same fate as you."

The thought chills my bones just as much as the thought of lying to Gaz. I can't imagine how pissed she is right now. "She's gonna know I'm lying, Zim."

"Then lie better! Otherwise–" He points at the hole in my stomach that I'm still covering with my hands, "–I get to put the feeding tube back in."

I push myself from the floor and hunch toward my knees. "Why can't she just stay down here with me? She already knows you're an alien and she hasn't told anybody. I think you can trust her more than me, to be honest–"

"And what am I supposed to do if you try to eat her?"

His question stuns me. He tilts his head and the shadows make his bruises look worse. "Do you think she's safe down here, with you?"

My skin prickles. "I wouldn't hurt my sister, Zim–"

"And before last night, I'm sure you didn't think you would attack and kill another human being," he spits. His voice becomes unreasonably harsh. "You are not fit to be around anyone else right now, Dib. In the past 24 hours, your behavior has been dangerous and erratic. You're still in some state of denial and I have yet to figure out what is happening to you. And if eating some random, disgusting human has thrown you into such hysteria, I do not want to deal with how you'd react if it was your sibling–"

"Stop!" My fingers dig into my hair and my chest swells with panic. "I'm not – I wouldn't hurt Gaz!"

His eyes narrow. "So you remember eating the fat security man? You were in control of yourself, yes?"

"N-No!" I feel sick. Dizzy. I couldn't hurt Gaz.

"And you don't think that could happen again? Something you don't remember and can't control?" He raises his arms over his head and snarls. "Are you truly stupid?"

"Okay, okay - just shut up!" I plead, pulling my hair until my scalp feels like it's going to peel off. "I'll go fucking lie to her, alright? Jesus!" I struggle to my feet and try to ignore the room swaying.

"Good!" Zim follows behind me, nudging me toward the elevator to keep me moving in a straight line. "Zim shall accompany you to ensure your lies are sufficiently convincing for the ghoul child."

"Her name is Gaz - I know you know that."

"I know, I just don't care."