WHEN THE WORLD ENDS
Prologue: Gaz
It's happened. The mad dream that my brother's been ranting about all his life, the thing he was willing to throw away his emotions, his self for...
I don't know when it all went wrong. We were happy, all of us. Well, happy as three such emotionally scarred, dysfunctional people could be, anyway. At least, I thought we were. I've often wondered, did Dib plan it from the start? Did he willingly throw away my trust? Or did he think that once Zim was gone I'd 'see the light'? If that's the case he doesn't know me as well as I thought I knew him.
But I suppose none of that matters now.
One thing, I don't know why
It doesn't even matter how hard you try
Keep that in mind, I designed this rhyme to explain in due time
All I know-
Chapter One: Dib -Preparation-
Of course the lab was the first place I'd go, when I saw the ships. The ride there was more than a little surreal. Early morning activity was non-existent. An unnatural quiet pressed down on the city, not a soul moving on the streets, not a single car. No one knew yet, they couldn't possibly. Even knowing what to look for, the ships were all but invisible to my eye, and the news that played as I'd left the house didn't say a word about them. Yet the eerie silence persisted.
I'd called Dev from the house and he's waiting as I pull up, his cheeks flushed from the cold. He runs up before the car even pulls to a halt, excitement vying with fear on his face.
"Dib! You were right, boss! The military's already spotted them. It looks like they've split the fleet up. Two groups, one on each side of the planet, small but presumably well-armed."
The lab is a flurry of activity as we enter, and the guard detail around the front entrance has been tripled. Good old Dev, on top of everything, as usual. "What do they propose to do about it?"
"Who knows. They've begun conferences between the leaders of every major country, but everyone seems to be looking to us for guidance. After all, we're the ones who saw it coming." We reach the lab's communications room, which is even busier than the halls. A soft blue glow lights the room, flickering in the darkness, radiating from the computer screens in front of us and the televisions along the far wall. The TVs display news shows from twenty major countries, the computers scroll with information, sightings, numbers of ships, potential weaponry. Several printers spill readouts onto the floor to be trampled by guards and people in labcoats.
"The news crews haven't caught wind of it yet?" Traffic reports and weekend event schedules fill the news from the local stations, and I can only guess it's the same for most of the other countries.
"No, but they know something big is up. They've been hounding every government spokesman they can find, and it's only a matter of time. Which is why..." he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish.
"Why what?"
His smile is goofy as usual, but still apologetic. "Why they're moving us out. Now."
I feel a migraine coming on, and growl as I rub my temples. "I should've expected that. We'll have to organize crews. Get some of the guards to see to the equipment, and find someone to handle the data transfers. Oh, and someone to deal with the hard copies...are we receiving any assistance for this or do we get to fend for ourselves?"
That brightens his spirits. "They said they'd send the necessary teams over within the hour. Transport and a clean-up crew, and some extra manpower, as long as we can have everything ready the move shouldn't be a problem. Suddenly we're a top priority."
"I wonder why." Wonder when I became so sarcastic. "Where the hell is Zey, anyway? You contacted her, right?"
He snorts, and if I'd really expected her here I'd be disappointed right now. "I couldn't get ahold of her. No answer at her place or her cellphone, even her beeper's turned off. Thankfully we don't really need her for this. She'll either show up before we leave and pretend to work, or we'll head out and send one of the military guys after her." Mischief gleams in his eye. "Or maybe the aliens will do us all a favor and blast the 24/7 while she's getting one of those disgusting freeze-things."
I resist the urge to agree with that. "I've got to oversee the transfer of the subject." Turning down one of the halls, I'm stopped by his firm grip on my wrist.
"One more thing, boss. The military brass, they said they want you there when the aliens make contact." His tone makes the 'if' of the statement obvious. 'If' the aliens decide to talk to us before blowing us to kingdom come.
"Tell them I'll give them what support I can." He seems uncertain, about to say something, but a guard comes rushing up the corridor towards us.
"Professor Membrane, sir. The transports are here. They're asking for you, said you need to get the alien out of here quickly as possible." Panting, he pauses to catch his breath. "They said the aliens are calling for the world's leaders. There's gonna be some sorta conference, the army guys want our alien there, and you with it."
The corridor is dark as usual. No shouts or screams this time, either. I pass by the bulletproof glass of the Cage's window, five well-armed men behind me, the last pulling the bed and restraints. The subject's curled up on the floor, sleeping, but his eyes fly open as we enter, and he scurries away from the door, his back to the wall, till the cuffs around his wrists pull him up short. Most of the hatred is gone from his gaze, and what's there is overshadowed by fear and uncertainty. I've changed the routine on him, and he doesn't like it.
His eyes dart about the room, focusing on every movement; a longing glance over his shoulder, and I can almost see the thought running through his head, the wishing that his backpack still worked. I'm not at all surprised that he struggles stubbornly when the guards grab his arms. By the time I've unlocked the chains attached to the cuffs he's tired himself out, and hangs limp, a tiny figure dwarfed by the men on each side.
As they strap him down to the bed his gaze follows me. He doesn't say a word, but the question is written all over his face. I'm not feeling generous enough to answer.
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