Chapter 11:

Allies of Circumstance (NOT Friends)

[Dib]

It's incredibly difficult to focus on the words coming out of Zim's mouth when I can smell the packs of blood stuffed in the backpack - my backpack - he holds at his side. My stomach has been aching for hours, and now that he's finally here, he's forcing me to starve while droning on and on about a dirty basement and a tunnel or something.

"Are you even listening?"

He snaps his claws in my face and I blink, jerking back.

"What?"

He scowls. "Do you think I'm talking to you for fun?" His red eyes sharpen as he glares between my face and the backpack. With an exasperated sigh, he digs a bag of blood from the pouch and tosses it at me.

"Go on," he groans. "Eat so you can be useful…stupid boy." He hisses the last part, almost too quiet for me to hear, but the insult is meaningless because my bones are vibrating with urgency. I tear the plastic with my teeth and squeeze the bag like I'm crushing a beer can to my face (which I have admittedly never done, but the imagery fits). It's cold and thin, and it doesn't taste as good as the last one, but I don't care. My taste buds spark and pop all the same, and my stomach hums, and the scratchy, layered whispers finally fall silent in my skull.

I slump against the wall and breathe a sigh of relief. When my vision clears, I see Zim's expression twisted in disgust.

"That is abhorrent," he mutters. "But I suppose it's better than your schmoopy drama. At least I don't have to trick you into living anymore."

I fold the plastic in my hand and shake my head a bit to ground myself. "Sorry, you said something about a tunnel?"

He rolls his eyes, disdain seeping through his pores. I know he hates repeating himself, but he should've let me eat before debriefing his entire day.

"Yes, Dib-thing. The authorities demolished the asylum, but I managed to find a tunnel entrance in the basement and traced it through the woods to some sort of cave."

I frown. "The mines?"

"Perhaps. The sign was not legible." He tilts his head. "You've been to these mines?"

"I know they exist." I stare down at the empty pouch in my hand and mindlessly fold it into a triangle. "But I've never gone in. They're not safe."

He scoffs. "That has not stopped you before."

"Yeah, well, that should tell you how not safe they are." I unfold it and start over, making a square. "They were decommissioned after an earthquake destabilized the whole thing a few decades ago. Now they're a hideaway for criminals and heroin addicts." I pause and scrunch my nose. "If the tunnel connects the mines and the asylum, that explains some of the stuff I saw in the basement."

He squints at me. "You claimed to not remember what occurred."

I shrug. "I don't - not all of it, anyway. But I do remember seeing the needles and bandages. The basement had a lot of old medical equipment; clean needles and a quiet space, away from prying eyes and the police. It'd be a prime spot."

He hums and taps a claw against his chin. "I'm less concerned about the putrid humans. Navigating the mine system, however…" He glances at me. "There are no maps, I assume?"

I snort. "You think our town is the kind to keep detailed records of anything?"

He groans. "Yes, it is the worst." He says something under his breath in Irken and I fold my arms.

"You really think the old woman you saw was the one who infected me? She could've been high as fuck and talking nonsense."

"No." He glares at the floor. "She was not human. Zim is certain of that. Besides, the tunnel and the cave entrance had the same smell as her."

I grimace and sigh. "Why do we even need to track her down? Can't you just pull it from my DNA?"

Zim shakes his head, annoyed. "Do you think I'm stupid? Zim has already tried - but your filthy human cells have bonded in such a way that they cannot be separated. I need a pure sample, from the source." He drops the backpack next to my bed and rubs his face. "I will leave in the morning. You'll have enough blood to get you through the next day or so, though I shouldn't be that long."

My eyes widen. "You're not going in there alone, Zim. That's crazy."

He sneers. "I can handle a few idiot humans, Dib."

It's difficult to explain the heavy fear coating my organs. I know Zim is capable - more than capable, in fact - but we have no idea what's really down there, and we have no maps, no way to communicate from underground… If he disappeared, if something happened, I'd be powerless to help.

"I'm coming with you."

His lip curls. "No. You're a liability–"

"Not when I have blood." I point to the backpack. "If we bring the bag, I won't just be fine, I'll be useful."

He arches a brow as I push past him to grab the notebook from my desk.

"Gaz and I were testing a few things today - comparing my condition to the traditional vampiric mythos." He glances at the scribbled list, unimpressed. "We obviously couldn't test everything, but I could lift a car engine over my head like it was nothing. And you already know my body regenerates."

He squints and I shake the paper at him, incredulous.

"Come on, Zim, you know I'm right. As long as I have a food source, I'm invincible." I glance down at the "fire" and "decapitation" boxes. "Well, mostly."

He thinks it over for a moment and clicks his tongue. "Fine, Zim will allow you to join." He jabs a claw at me. "But if your behavior becomes irrational and stupid again, I will leave you in the mines."

I laugh, but he's probably not joking.

"Okay, Zim. Deal."

"Great." He stomps past me. "You've added to the idiot humans I will be handling." He pauses briefly in the doorway to dig something out of his pocket.

"Here's your phone." He tosses it on the floor. "It's broken."

I sneak another pack of blood and take a quick shower because I still haven't figured out how to eat without making a mess. Afterward, I spend some time sorting through my closet and adding things I might need for tomorrow. My phone's obviously useless, but it likely wouldn't have worked underground anyway. I add my headlamp and an extra set of batteries to the front pocket, but I find myself hesitating to bring my assortment of paranormal gadgets. It's one thing for me to go exploring on my own in some abandoned building, but it's another beast entirely to go somewhere I know is occupied. Not only would any EVP recordings be effectively useless, given the amount of possible interference from nearby humans, but the thought of receiving evidence of the paranormal on top of dealing with dangerous people is more than unsettling. What if I'm hiding from some murderous criminal, and suddenly my spirit box turns on and picks up the voice of an angry, dead miner?

Nope, nuh-huh. I opt for the more practical gear like a bundle of paracord, a knife, some matches, a red marker for tagging walls in case we get turned around, a collapsible camping lantern, and my old camera.

My medical kit is essentially useless now that I'm able to regenerate, and I apparently don't require food or water - just blood.

Certainly makes packing easier.

I zip everything up and toss the bag on the bed.

"Dib." I flinch and turn around to see Gaz leaning in the doorway. She's already dressed for bed. I glance at the clock on my nightstand - it's past midnight.

"You're going to the mines?" she asks in a bored tone. "The ones where all the junkies are holed up?"

I run a hand through my wet hair and nod shortly. "Yeah, looks like it."

"Great," she mutters. "Well, don't get AIDS or whatever."

I glare at her and frown. "That's not funny, Gaz."

"I didn't say it was funny."

"I'm sure I'm immune to most human viruses by now anyway." I sit on the edge of the bed, propping my hand under my chin. "But thanks for the concern."

She scoffs in response and straightens her shoulders. "Go to bed, nerd."

I roll my eyes as she disappears into the dark hallway. "'Night, Gaz."

Her door shuts, and I sit in silence and think about the probability of contracting bloodborne diseases now that my DNA has mutated. It's not like I have any research to quell the thought, so I try to shake the notion from my brain and leave the room to make sure Zim and GIR aren't fucking around before I go to bed.

I poke my head over the stairs and listen to the TV playing old horror movies. GIR is fast asleep under the coffee table, snoring on a pile of crushed popcorn. Zim is perched on the middle of the couch, wrapped in an old red blanket, and doing something on his tablet. He glances up from the screen and scowls at me.

"Zim is obeying the Earthen tradition." He gestures sarcastically to the couch. "You can rest your big head, stink-boy."

"Just making sure you're settled, that's all."

He rolls his eyes. "Yes, Zim is settled. Now go - we leave before the wretched Earth-sun rises."

I smirk. "Got it, space boy. Goodnight."

He returns his attention to the tablet and mutters something in Irken. I pretend he's simply wishing me a peaceful night of sleep, and I pad back up the stairs, collapsing in my bed and relinquishing the rattle of my thoughts to the warm surge of darkness.

I wake up to the sound of my alarm and find myself lying in the same position I fell asleep in. Fully clothed, bedroom door shut. No Zim.

I breathe a sigh of relief knowing I didn't subconsciously do anything stupid or horrible throughout the night. I turn off the alarm and immediately down two bags of blood. The hunger has overpowered the shame, and the buzzing heat is a welcomed sensation. It's strange to think I'm now one of the "undead," because nothing has ever made me feel as solid and real as this. My central nervous system bristles, senses heightened, neurons firing with renewed vigor. I feel like I could do anything…and thank god, because today, the thing I'm apparently doing is hunting a vampire through an unstable mine system that may or may definitely be crawling with violent felons and junkies.

Neat.

I get dressed, tie up my boots, and head downstairs with my backpack. The back door is wide open; the first wash of sunlight casts a soft, hazy gold across the kitchen. I step outside and blink at the light.

Nope…still not exploding. Cool.

"Finally!" Zim shouts from the Voot. He stomps down the ramp and waves his arms over his head. "Go put your filthy bag in the Voot and say your farewell pleasantries quickly. I want to get this horribleness over with."

"Yes sir," I taunt. His eyes flash, but I march past him before he can go off on another tangent. The Voot's interior is sparkling clean and smells faintly of…bubblegum? Strawberries? My brows pinch as I set my backpack down in the small cargo space and examine the ship for something that resembles an air freshener, which is stupid because even if Irkens had air fresheners, I certainly wouldn't know what they look like. I give up and hop down the ramp as Gaz approaches the Voot. She eyes the ship, unimpressed. Then, with a pause, she looks at me and wrinkles her nose.

"Have fun not dying," she grumbles. "Make sure you update the list."

I pull her into a bear hug. Her body tenses like a coiled spring, and a dozen death threats later, I release her and grin. "Don't worry. I'll be safe."

She swats my arms away, face tinged red in anger and embarrassment. "Whatever, dork." I laugh and manage to dodge the subsequent punch, which only serves to fuel her rage. Zim stalks up between us and snaps his claws.

"Enough human schmooping! We leave now." He turns to Gaz and clicks his tongue. "When we return, I will repay you for observing GIR in our absence."

"Oh yeah?" She snorts. "What's my payment gonna be?"

"Whatever I decide," he hisses. "Which is more than you deserve, pig-female, so you will accept my generosity with great reverence!"

She crosses her arms, smirking. "We'll see, bug-boy."

"Speaking of GIR," I wonder aloud, "where is he?"

Gaz arches a brow and points at the Voot like it's obvious. Zim groans and slaps his forehead.

"I'll get him." I turn and jog up the ramp. "Hey, GIR?" I call, poking my head inside. His body jerks up from behind my seat with the sound of metal slamming shut. He grins wide and salutes me.

"Hi, Mary! I'm helping!" He sticks out his tongue, clearly very proud of himself for…whatever he thinks he should be proud of.

"Yeah, buddy," I start, smiling awkwardly. "Uh, you're gonna stay here though…okay?" That was apparently the wrong thing to say because he immediately bursts into tears and begins to roll across the ship's floor.

Before I can make it worse, Zim stomps up and shoves me aside so he can make it worse.

"GIR!" he shouts. "This is no time for wasting eye fluids! Remove yourself from the Voot - you are staying here with the girl."

GIR's sob undulates to a piercing wail. Zim scrambles to catch the spasming robot, and I flatten myself against the wall by the cockpit and watch the chaos ensue - until Gaz steps into the ship and holds her Gameslave out towards GIR.

"Come on, little dude. Level Two has a monkey."

GIR's tantrum stops quick enough to give me whiplash. He crawls out from under Zim's arms and zips to Gaz's side, grabbing her leg in an excited hug.

"I like monkeys!"

"You're letting him use your Gameslave?" I ask in mild horror. "What if he breaks it?"

"I'm sure he will." Her gaze shoots to Zim like a high-powered laser beam and she tilts her head in a threatening manner. "But Zim here is going to buy me the new one that comes out next week." She crosses her arms triumphantly. "That's my payment."

Zim scoffs as he pulls himself off the floor and brushes the nonexistent dirt from his uniform. "Zim will do no such thing–"

" And , you'll tell GIR that I'm his master when you're gone."

GIR's eyes widen and his jaw drops. "I can has TWO?!"

Zim is irate. His claws bunch to fists at his sides. "Has your brain turned to rotting meat, pig girl? Zim will not–"

Gaz reaches down to take the Gameslave from GIR - a move that will certainly trigger a nuclear tantrum from the tiny robot. Zim flinches and grabs his antennae in a panic.

"Don't – AH, FINE!" His chest heaves in rage and he presses the words through his teeth, seething with disdain. "GIR…when Zim is gone…" He growls and curses in Irken. GIR blinks innocently, cradling the Gameslave to his torso and waiting on his master's word.

"When Zim is gone, this wretched swine pork is to be your temporary master." His jaw clenches." ONLY while Zim is away. Understood?"

GIR nods enthusiastically. His head rattles. Zim curls his lip over razored teeth and glares at Gaz.

"Happy now, you filthy beast?"

Gaz smirks and shrugs. "Yeah, it'll do for now." She pats GIR on the head. "Come on, little dude. Say bye to your loser master."

"Yes, scary master!" GIR's eyes flash red for the briefest second, but it's enough to make Zim's shoulders sag in defeat. "Bye, other master!" He waves erratically and follows Gaz down the ramp with the Gameslave held over his head. Zim steams in silence and watches them cross the yard.

"Damn," I mutter. "That's gonna be a rough custody battle."

"Be quiet!" he snaps. "I blame you for this!"

I jerk my head back, incredulous. "Me? I literally stood here and did nothing the whole time–"

"EXACTLY!" he yells. He slams his palm on the red button for the hatch, and the ramp begins to withdraw. I scramble away from the opening as the doors close and climb into the passenger seat. Zim sits down, angrily punching commands across the flat control panel. The engine rumbles beneath us and the ship lifts from the grass with weightless ease. My stomach dips with the pressure change; I watch my house shrink from view in a matter of seconds.

"So, how long–"

He shoots me a murderous expression. "Do not speak to me until we land, or I will scatter your remains in the woods."

I shut my mouth and look out the window for the rest of the flight.

There was no way of knowing what lay in wait for us below the earth. We descended into the night, into the shadow, into the whispers of the unknown. Whatever trepidation or foreboding either of us carried, we carried it silently, masking it in childish quips and taunting one another as every step led us deeper and deeper into the darkness. Boots crunching over gravel, our hushed but sharp tones echoed softly through the tunnel–

"What are you doing?"

I flinch and quickly try to stuff the notepad in my coat pocket, but Zim grabs my wrist and yanks it from my hand.

"What is this?" he sneers.

"It's my notepad." I pull my arm away, flustered. "For my investigations."

Zim arches the space where his brows would be and scans the crumpled page. His eyes suddenly narrow. "You write lies!" he hisses. "It is daytime. And Zim carries no foreboding , Dib! I FEAR NOTHING."

"Oh my god," I groan. "It's just a little artistic flair, you idiot. Do you want me to write you as boring as you are in real life?"

He purses his lips and blocks my attempt to grab the notepad, holding me off with one hand as he continues reading the scribbled paragraph. "This is very dramatic and stupid…but I am surprised you can write in full sentences." He offers an insincere smile and carelessly tosses it back to me. "Good job, Dib-stink. You are mildly literate."

I growl and shove the notepad and pen into my coat. "And you are mildly anno–"

His arm swings out and smacks my chest, stopping us both. "Silence - we are here."

I grab the straps of my backpack and stare ahead at the base of the mountain. The trees have grown sparse and scattered up around the rock. The entrance to the mine stretches with a darkness that seems to defy the light of the sun. Something shifts in my gut, and I grip the straps tighter.

"No more stories," he says, low. "Pay attention and stay close to me. If you initiate any monkey behavior, I will leave you to rot." His gaze holds mine with an uncomfortable weight. My brain fumbles around for a joke, but it comes up empty. And cold.

I swallow and quietly nod.

"Good." He blinks and his eyes emit a small clicking sound. When he opens them again, they're glowing brighter. "Put on your face laser."

I don't bother correcting him while I fish the device from the front pocket of my bag and secure the strap to my head. He nods absently and starts walking toward the entrance. My heart beats a little quicker as I follow on his heels.

The darkness is immediate. I flip the headlight on low and try not to trip over Zim's cautious steps.

Focus, Dib. Don't freak out. You've been in caves before. You're fine.

I refrain from reminding myself that this is not a cave, and instead pour my energy into activating the removed, observant part of my brain.

Go through your senses one by one. Ground yourself.

I take a small, shaky breath. It's dark.

Duh. Use your light.

The lamp sweeps over the tunnel, illuminating old wooden crates and stones packed into the walls. Up above, structural beams stretch across the ceiling, cutting from the rocks at odd angles. The entrance is wide, but the tunnel quickly narrows and begins to dip into the earth ahead.

Next?

I inhale deeply. It smells like wet dirt. And metal, and wood. Something metallic, something old. Musty.

Sounds?

I pause mid-step to listen, but I can only hear Zim's boots. My chest sinks. I'd give anything to have my tape recorder right now. All of my investigations have been solo, but I never felt alone when I was able to narrate the experience out loud.

The tunnel starts to narrow around us, and the path slants down. My pulse grows frantic. I clear my throat and scuttle over the rocks to match Zim's pace as the anxiety slowly blooms in my chest. He seems fine. Unphased - bored, even. He keeps his eyes fixed ahead, his chin tilted upwards.

"Man, when this is all over, I'm going to eat so much food." My voice sounds misplaced. Alien. We're alone, but the walls seem to bristle in response. I clench my backpack, knuckles white, and aim my headlight at Zim's face. "Without special ketchup."

He winces at the beam and hisses. "Please," he spits. "Explain to me why you're still whining about my ingenious, stealthy sneaking that saved your wretched puke life!"

I smile in relief. Jokes are good. Jokes are normal. If we're joking, if there's banter, then we're probably not inches from death.

"Pizza is sacred," I continue. "It's basically truce food."

He scoffs. "That is not how it is advertised. It's mostly grease."

"That's what trust tastes like, Zim. Grease and cheese."

We have to duck under a broken beam, and the ground becomes steeper. I use the wall to brace myself and grimace at the wet, slimy stone against my palm. Zim is equally disturbed and quickly pulls his gloved hand away.

"Do you know how deep this goes?" I ask, knowing full well he doesn't. We climb down the slope to the next part of the tunnel, which thankfully evens out.

"No." Zim's antennae twitch and his nose area wrinkles in disgust. "But my superior Irken senses will lead the way. These...creatures have a horrid stench to them."

Grateful for the distraction, I bite. "That reminds me, do I still smell bad to you?"

He rolls his eyes. Hard. "Dib-stink, you have ALWAYS smelled bad to Zim."

"Oookay." I roll my shoulders to adjust the weight of my backpack and grin. "Asshole."

"Shit."

Caught off guard by the English curse, I break into a quiet laugh. My nerves are desperate for reprieve. "D-don't call me 'shit'!"

He raises his arms and flashes his teeth. "Zim will cease when The Dib stops BEING shit."

Anxiety fuels my laughter, and I'm fully aware of how insane I must sound, but the flutter of my diaphragm releases the tension building in my chest, and for a moment, I can trick myself into believing this is just another night of foiling Zim's stupid plans and pissing him off. I can ignore the reality of my changing body and the trajectory of what feels like certain doom ahead of us. Somewhere in these mines lies a monster - a monster that ruined my life and, upon discovery, might snuff it out indefinitely. But right now, it's just us. Two idiots bickering in the dark.

We step over another cluster of fallen stones, and the tunnel widens to a slightly more comfortable space. My breathing stabilizes as the laughter fades. I wipe a layer of humidity and sweat from my face.

"Can you teach me to swear in Irken?"

His face twists in abhorrence. "Absolutely not. You are not worthy to speak the Irken tongue, meat bag."

"Come on, Zim," I groan. "Just one word? You don't even have to tell me what it means, honestly - I just want to–"

"No," he snaps. His hand roughly grabs my jaw and he jerks my head away. "Now stop pointing your stupid face laser - you are blinding Zim!"

I stumble out of his grasp and readjust the strap on my forehead. A string of insults load on my tongue, but our antics grind to a halt when the beam of my headlight falls on something pale and discolored protruding beyond the sharp bend in the tunnel ahead. The breath clips in my throat. My eyes adjust to the shape, and I stop dead in my tracks.

It's someone's foot.