Eyes of Blight
  Turbuggy  

Spending the night on the floor had not been kind to Zim. His body was stiff, and ached when he tried to drag himself up from where he had fallen. A small recording device still hung limply from a metal limb, though it had stopped running hours ago. He retracted it back into his PAK, groaning as he rubbed his eyes. It took him a moment to collect his thoughts, to remember what had happened the previous day. His body was shaking, shivering as if it was freezing, though Zim could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. He was almost half tempted to lay back down where he was, and drift off once more…

Memories returned slowly. Thoughts of pain and camomile tea. The IRKEN held his head, and squeezed his eyes shut as his mind tried to clear itself of fog. The world was spinning, and he felt an all-too-familiar lurch in his spooch. He was on the floor again, hunched over his knees, losing anything left inside him. That’s when the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. Zim remembered what had happened the day before, when he had visited the human’s place of work. The shame, the humiliation. He could hear the voices around him, shocked and disgusted. The manager was quick to escort him out.

The Tallest. They would know what was wrong. They would be able to help him! If he could just… call them.

Had he had this thought before? He couldn’t recall…

With a scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, and a Starbunks cup warming his gloveless hands, Dib made his way towards the strange little green house at the far end of the cul-de-sac. The distinct smell of chamomile soothed his nerves as he walked, and he allowed himself to focus on it’s aroma, and not on the worries that had been chewing away at his thoughts since the day prior. He couldn’t stop thinking about Zim, coming into the store and making a scene. He had looked so utterly small and weak, and hadn’t even protested when his manager had tossed him out. After watching him over the past week, Dib had a sneaking suspicion that the alien had come down with some sort of flu. As much as he hated to admit it, he felt bad for the little guy. He had seen “War of the Worlds”, and he feared the thought of Zim suffering a similar fate.

Approaching the IRKEN’s secret base, Dib paused, a look of confusion crossing his face. He thought he could hear Zim… talking? He knew the alien was loud, but not loud enough to hear from the opposite end of the cul-de-sac! Well, maybe if he was outside, but the boy couldn’t see that familiar green face anywhere.

Using the cloaking device he had “borrowed” from his Dad’s basement lab, Dib— hopefully— made himself invisible to motion tracking. He hadn’t exactly tested the thing yet. Cautiously, he stepped a foot beyond the fence barrier, bracing himself for a gnome-attack… but was met with none. After a quick fist-pump, he hurried up to the front steps.

The talking was louder now. It was almost as if Zim were standing right next to him! Dib scanned the area, and found the right window half-opened. What? Hadn’t Zim upped his security recently? Why would he leave the window open like that? Maybe it was GIR? Either way, the boy, as curious as ever, took the chance to peer in. Standing in the middle of the living room, facing the television, was Zim. He looked terrible. Pale face, white antennae, dark circles under his swollen and irritated magenta eyes. His form looked to be trembling, and he swayed on his feet, as if he may fall over at any moment. Dib was about to abandon his outpost and knock on the door, when he heard a voice from the television, addressing Zim. Was he talking to his leaders…? Dib craned his neck to get a better look.

“Why are your antennae white?” the IRKEN dressed in red asked accusingly, narrowing his crimson eyes, “You look worse than you usually do.”

“Yeah! And it’s usually horrible!” the purple-clad royal added in.

“I… am aware of my poor appearance, m… my Tallest.” Zim replied, his voice weak and not nearly as loud and energetic as usual, “That is my reason for contacting you early.”

“You know that we’re very busy, don’t you Zim?” Red sat back slightly, crossing his arms in his lap, “We could be missing something very important in order to take your call.”

“F… Forgive me, my Tallest, but I p-promise you, this is… is urgent.” the smaller continued, “Zim… fears that something is very… wrong. I-I have been growing rather… ill.”

“And?”

“And… I have not been able t… to locate a cause.”

“And what do you expect us to do about that, hmm?” Red tilted his head, unamused by the drone.

“Well, I… thought that you m… may know what has stricken Zim.” the alien wavered, and staggered back, having to use a PAK leg to keep himself from toppling.

Both IRKEN leaders quirked a brow, and looked at one another. At once, they shared a wicked smile, before turning back towards Zim, their expressions barely hiding their amusement.

“You say you’ve been sick, Zim?” Red asked, “When did this start?”

“I… I believe… a week ago? P-Perhaps two?” a small clawed hand rested against his head, as Zim tried to see through the fog, “Two. Yeah. I-I think.”

“Interesting.” Red’s poorly-hidden smile only grew, “And what are your symptoms?”

“A-Aches. Horrible aches…” Zim shuddered, “L… Losing color. Pale. Zim is… pale. And my antennae are… are white.” wait, they had addressed that already, hadn’t they? He couldn’t remember, “C-Cold. Shivering. But… face is hot. S-Spoochaches, and—“

“Oh, Zim,” Red interrupted, leaning back slightly. He had a forced look of worry on his face, a two-clawed hand held up to his mouth, “this is very bad.”

“Oh, yeah! Super bad!” Purple echoed, before snickering, though he attempted to hide it behind his own hand.

“W-What?!” Zim’s eyes widened, and jumped from Tallest to Tallest, “What is bad?!”

“Zim, it sounds like you have a very old IRKEN illness. There hasn’t been a case in many, many meeps!”

“But… But you can c-cure it… can you not?”

“That’s just the thing, Zim! There is no known cure!” Red threw his hands up for dramatic effect. The action startled his partner, who dropped the bag of popcorn he had been munching on prior to beginning the call. He grumbled, and rested his chin on his hand.

Dib, the peeping Tom, froze. Was this true? Zim had some kind of weird incurable alien sickness? Did that mean he was going to…

“W— What?! But— my Tallest! There must be s… some mistake!” Zim exclaimed, desperation evident in both his tone and expression, “What about my m-mission!”

“Oh, Zim.” Red shook his head, a dark chuckle bubbling up from his throat, “Listen. I’m only telling you this because we’re probably never going to hear from you again, and I kinda want to see your reaction before you die.”

The little faux-Invader watched as the IRKEN royal paused to pick a soda up off of a table-headed service drone. He took a sip, lounging comfortably in his seat.

“You never had a mission, Zim.” he began again, “You were supposed to stay banished to FOODCOURTIA, but when you couldn’t even get that right, we decided sending you off to your own demise would be a better suited end for a little pain in the neck like you.”

Red took a moment to calm himself, holding a hand up and breathing slowly, before continuing,

“Somehow, you managed to find a planet on the course of dead space we sent you on. We’ve been supplying you with the odd snack ration to see how long you’d survive out there on your own. But of course, you’ve been more trouble than entertainment for us, as per usual.”

“But… my Tallest, Zim can—“

“No, Zim. Whatever you’re about to say, you can’t. You are incapable of doing anything that does not either blow up or get someone else killed. We have been trying to get rid of you for years, and yet, here you are! Still trying to torture us with your presence!”

“I-I—“

“You’re useless, Zim. Tiny, destructive, and defective. This? Your whole… sickness… thing? This is the best thing that could have ever happened to us.”

“Now we don’t have to kill you ourselves!” Purple cheerfully exclaimed, before stuffing his face with popcorn from a fresh bag.

“We’re not going to help you, Zim. In fact, do us a favour, and forget this transmission signal. Alright? M’kay. Buh-bye now.”

Darkness washed over Zim as the screen went black. He just stood for a moment, magenta eyes staring blankly ahead, mouth hung slightly agape. Had… this all been some kind of fever-induced hallucination? It had to be! There was no way this was real!

“C— Computer!” he squeaked, his voice cracking, “Call the Tallest back! Q-Quickly!”

“Uh… are you sure?” a disembodied voice answered, uncertainty in its tone.

“OF COURSE I AM SURE! CALL THEM BA—“ the IRKEN’s voice was cut off as he doubled over with coughs, pressing a hand to his chest. He groaned, sickly white antennae flattening back against his head, “C-Call them back.”

Static masked the sound of a human squeezing through an open window, and boots hitting the floor. Zim stood, his small body shaking with both illness and anxiety, staring with desperation at the blank screen. He needed this mission. He needed to know that he was worth something, that there was someone he could strive to please. Without the Tallest, without his directive, what was he? Nothing. Worthless. Useless.

“...Zim?”

Wide magenta eyes whipped around, wildly searching for whoever had spoken. A boy stood near to his right side, familiar spiked hair giving way to his identity. Zim’s small body stiffened, and he took a step back. His expression was as hard as one so sickly could manage, though it held a hint of fear.

“YOU!” he shouted, “H-How did you — WHERE did you— h-how— HOW MUCH DID YOU HEAR?!”

“Zim, your window was wide open.” Dib explained, taking on a rather uncharacteristically softened tone, “I could hear you talking down the street. I… heard all of it.”

“Wh— IT WAS NOT!” the alien insisted, though his expression had faltered. That fear was peeking through, showing its ugly face through the cracks, “Z-Zim has… has executed extra sec… urity parameters! It wouldn’t h… have been—!”

The alien staggered, swaying on his feet. He had to reach a clawed hand out and grab hold of the arm of his couch in order to keep himself from toppling over completely. Dib instinctively took a step forwards, hands extending to catch him if he were to fall. The boy pulled them back again, however, when Zim flinched away.

“S-STAY BACK!” he growled, “You… You heard NOTHING! It was— w-was a TRICK! Zim knew you were th… there all… ALONG! And I… you…” his free hand raised to hold his head, and the last of his color seemed to drain out onto the floor. Dib took another step forwards, worry beginning to creep over him.

“Hey, Zim, just— just take it easy…”

“Get… Get away f… from…” Zim groaned, unfocused magenta eyes looking upwards, their usually brilliant color now dulled and lacking shine, “Wh… Where there always… two of you?” he croaked, before his knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor of his base.

Carrying Zim was like carrying nothing at all. The little guy was so light, and so small. Dib could barely believe that this was the “horrible alien menace” he had been fighting against for so many years. In his arms now, so pale and sickly, the human felt as though he could break him if he moved the wrong way.

The trek back to his own home had been tense, and full of fear and anxiety. Zim’s breath came in wheezes, and he was shaking like a leaf in the boy’s hold. Dib was honestly afraid the IRKEN may expire before he even reached the front steps. When he did enter his house, he wasted no time running up to his bedroom, where he wrapped Zim in as many blankets as he could find, and set him up on his bed in a nest of pillows. He didn’t know what else to do. He had watched individuals on television dab a sick person’s head with a cool cloth, but he feared he may end up burning the poor alien’s skin with the water. Hydrating him was out of the question as well, for the same reason. Though, he did still have that chamomile tea…

In the end, all the boy could do was sit and watch and wait. And so he did.

A few hours passed before Zim stirred, and Dib had begun to doze at his computer. A recent Boogle search still shone white light over his face: “how to care for a sick person”. This was one of many similar searches that Dib had been scouring, hoping to find something that may aid him. However, it seemed that caring for a sick person and caring for a sick alien were two very different things. A lot of these things would only work to make Zim worse, not better.

Soft grumbling could be heard from inside the mound of blankets. Dib stood from his chair, and made his way to the bed, which he knelt beside. Carefully, he reached forwards, lifting the edge of one of the blankets to peer in at Zim’s sickly pale face. The alien hissed, and flinched back from the light, hiding his face away in the fabric. Dib frowned.

“Zim?” he pressed, keeping his voice low, “Hey, can you look at me?”

Zim just gave another small groan, and didn’t move. He was still shivering, causing his wheezing breaths to shudder.

“Come on, Zim. I need you to look at me.”

“G… Go… ‘way…”

Well, at least it was something.

The sound of the alien’s voice sent a wave of relief through Dib’s body, and he felt his tense muscles relax some. He knew they were far from being out of the woodwork, but he felt that if Zim was well enough to speak, there was still hope.

“Sorry, Space Boy, I can’t do that.” Dib offered a lopsided smile, “Seeing as you’re in my house, I think you’re going to be stuck with me for a while.”

That got Zim’s attention. He finally shifted, raising his head just slightly to attempt to take in his surroundings. He squinted in the light, grimacing as though it pained him, as he looked around. The Dib was right. This wasn’t his base at all! Fear suddenly began to spread through the IRKEN’s body. He had been captured! Dib had caught him while he was weak and now there was nothing he could do! With a squeak, Zim buried himself a little deeper within the blankets, still a little groggy and misguided.

“L… Leave Z… Zim be…!” he croaked, “Do n… not h-hurt—!”

Dib frowned, finding himself reaching a hand out once more, though he retracted it yet again. He wanted to reassure the frightened alien, but he felt that touching him would most likely do more harm than good.

“Zim, easy! I’m not going to hurt you.” he insisted, opting to try and talk the little guy down some, “You collapsed back at your base, you scared the shit out of me! I thought you had died or something!”

Silence was all that Dib received in return.

“Listen, I’ve known you were sick for over a week now. You’ve looked terrible, Zim. Been acting strange. Uh… stranger than usual.” the human rested his cheek on his hands, frowning at the pile of shivering blankets, “When you threw up yesterday I knew for sure something was seriously wrong. But… I didn’t know it was… y’know, some incurable alien disease, or something.”

“You d… do not… care. About Z… Zim.” the alien’s voice was hoarse, and sounded pained.

“Hey! You don’t know that…” Dib shot back, raising his head once more. Though, the boy couldn’t blame Zim. The two of them had never truly seen eye-to-eye, nor had he shown any interest in the alien’s well-being before. In all honesty, Dib wasn’t entirely sure why he cared now. But he did.

Now that the prospect of Zim’s life coming to an end was more of a reality than ever before, the human couldn’t help but feel his chest begin to ache each time he thought about it. After 9 years, how could he live a life without Zim in it? How could he keep going, knowing that Zim was gone, and would never come back? He didn’t think he could.

“Zim, listen,” he began, frowning as he pointed his gaze at his hands, “I’m… sorry. For being an awful kid. I… can’t say I agree with your plans for my planet, but I never did… ask you what your intentions were.” a pause, “Look, my point is, I want to help you. I don’t really understand it yet myself, but… Y-You’ve gotta stay alive. Okay? I need you to be alive.”

Silence.

“... Zim?”

“I… a-am g… going t… to die.” the alien’s voice was so quiet, Dib nearly missed it.

“No! You— You’re not! Not if I can help it!”

“T… Tallest said—“

“I don’t care what your leaders said! Your leaders are assholes, and cowards! Both of them!”

More silence.

“... Zim, there must be something I can do for you. Anything!”

Dib swore he could go mad in the silence. Waiting for Zim to answer was torturous, and the boy wished he could force the answers out of him. However, he knew the IRKEN was struggling. Be it with his militaristic pride, or his own weakened body. Finally, as Dib readied himself to press further, Zim spoke.

“... There’s… n’IRKEN… medical planet.” he mumbled, shifting under the many blankets. A small hiss of pain could be heard, before he continued, “C… Could… ergh… help. M-Maybe .”

“Do you know the coordinates?”

“Mhm.”

Dib stood suddenly, “Then we’re going. Right now.”