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Fallen autumn leaves crunch under Dib’s boot as he hops down from the bed of his truck. “Alright, that’s all the supplies. A tent, lanterns, snacks, extra batteries, bigfoot radar, bigfoot restraints, bigfoot translator, bigf-“
“I get it, the bigfeet THINGS- now, can we go already??” The irken, already annoyed, stands on the crumbling parking lot asphalt with each arm loaded down with a camping backpack.
“Eager, are we?” Dib teases as he relieves Zim of one of the packs, settling it onto his shoulders.
“The ONLY thing Zim is eager for is to get this over with, so you will stop talking about this ‘Big Feet’ all the time!”
“You sound jealous..,” Dib singsongs at Zim with a leering grin, taking the lead onto the trail. Once certain he is safely out of Zim’s grasp, he flicks through the settings on his camera.
The irken’s eyes narrow, “An opportunity to push you off a cliff out here will not be wasted.” Unfazed by his longtime-nemesis’ threats, Dib snaps a few pictures of the oaks that tower around them, bathing them in the warm, orange-y light of their changing leaves. The two trek through the trail, bickering as much as expected. Soon enough, the evening chill becomes impossible to ignore, and they settle in a clearing for the night. Dib sets his tent while Zim blasts at a pile of dried twigs until a small flame is born. “So, we walked all day, and where is your big feet now, Dib? Huh?”
“We’re not far enough in the wilderness yet, Zim. Obviously, no bigfoot would be a day’s walk from a parking lot.” Tent complete, Dib plops down just inside of the tiny structure with a bag of beef jerky.
“Why? Does your ‘research’ say they’re allergic to parking lots?” Zim turns from the fire to face Dib with his pointed question.
Tearing off a big bite of jerky with his teeth, Dib narrows his eyes at the alien, “Shut up, bug.”
Glad to have the human’s attention again after a day of bigfoot ramblings, the alien presses further, “Make me, big-head!”
Rising to stand as tall as his tent will allow, Dib holds out a beef jerky strip towards the irken, “hah! I have the high ground, Anakin!”
“Who the hell is Anakin???”
“Wh.. ??” Dib rolls his eyes, “Come into my domain and I’ll kill you!”
“You’ll kill me?? I’d like to see you try, dib-stink!” And with that, Zim launches at him, tackling the already half-hunched Dib onto the tent floor. They writhe and struggle momentarily, but the human came with a plan. Dib fights to get on top, finally sitting on Zim’s squeedilyspooch, arms fighting off the alien’s claws.
“Don’t move- or I’ll use my secret weapon!!” Dib yells above their clamor. At the mention of a secret weapon, Zim stiffens in suspicion. Dib snags the jerky strip from before, leaning in to hold it above Zim’s face. The alien gasps, eyes transfixed on the measly piece of meat above him. The jerky, not Dib. The human continues, “Say ‘bigfoot is real’- or you’ll taste off-brand teriyaki jerky!”
“No! Never, Zim will never!” The irken squirms, kicking out and kneeing Dib in the back, knocking the human forward. Dib catches himself with his other hand, saving them both from smashing their skulls together. The human grins evilly, bringing the beef closer to the alien’s face, where the green flesh starts to prickle and sting.
“Sayyyy it. ‘bigfoot is real’ and you’re gonna help me like you said you would!” The jerky ‘accidentally’ taps him, leaving sizzling green skin in its wake.
“IIIE!!- FINE, FINE ZIM will say it!” The alien’s wide eyes relax as the meat is pulled away, “Bigfeet is real.. probably not”
“Hey!” The jerky is moved back into skin-tingling range.
Purple pupils nervously eye the jerky strip, “And!!... Zim will…., “he gulps, like the gagging on the last word, “help.”
Dib sticks the jerky in his mouth with a victorious smile and leans back, releasing his weight off Zim’s chest. “Great! The hunt will begin tomorrow- aCK-,” Zim’s pak legs propel him forward, knocking Dib onto his back on the tiny tent’s floor. While the human groans, the irken spider crawls over Dib and out of the tent with the help of the agile pak legs.
“Yeah, whatever Dib-smelly, go to sleep already so you’ll stop bothering me!” The alien slinks off into the clearing, feigning gathering wood for the dying fire.
Dib sputters on the vinyl floor, “Pff- bothering you?” He shakes his head and gives it a rest, zipping the tent and crawling into his sleeping bag, doing his best to banish all thoughts of the stupid, annoying, buggy, alien for the night.
---
The human is awoken by the tent’s zipper being forced open and the shadow of an alien shoving his way inside to huddle at his feet. Grasping for his glasses in the dark, he whispers, “Zim?... what’s going on?”
Dib is surprised by the whispered response, “Rain.” Since when did Zim know how to whisper?
“Oh,” the human lays his head back down, unsure what to do with his frenemy in his sleeping area. “Uh.. do you wanna lay down? I could probably scoot over.”
Narrowed, red eyes glare at him through the darkness, “Zim needs no ‘laying down’, human.”
“Jeez, I’m just being nice, Zim,” he glances a few times at the glowing eyes, obviously unnerved by this previously unknown aspect of the alien’s biology. He shifts to curl up onto his side, “Whatever, I’m going bac-“ Suddenly, a deafening BOOM crackles through the air, lighting seemingly striking just meters away from the tent, setting both hair and antennae on edge. “-AAHHH!?!”
A screaming alien jumps on Dib, “AAH-AAHH WHYY,” each clinging to the other in terror. The rain’s once-gentle patter morphs into a torrent of water on the tent’s weak vinyl walls. Zim claws his way into the sleeping bag, ripping it open until it resembles nothing more than a waterproof blanket.
A terrifying creaking noise grows louder and louder from outside, both clutching one another with wide eyes. “Zi-Zim I have to tell you something-!” The human’s shivering voice almost drowned out by the rumbling thunder.
“Do NOT do this right now I am NOT dying next to a human on this dirtball of a planet- no! Shut up!”
Finally, the creaking ends as the lightning-damaged tree collapses, a large branch smashing through the tent, missing the occupants, but fully exposing them to nature’s elements. The irken runs screaming and sizzling into the forest, wrapping himself in the remains of the sleeping bag. “What the- ” Dib scrambles to his feet, snatching up his bag and sprinting in the direction of the alien’s screams. He runs much further than expected, but still, Zim sounds distant. He slows to catch his breath, his wet hair-scythe flopping into his face. Huffing, Dib pushes his hair back, taking a moment to look around, suddenly realizing that the screams he hears don’t even belong to Zim. “Wh… who is that..,” his voice quivers. A seemingly close-by inhuman scream pushes him into fight-or-flight mode, and he chooses flight, letting his long legs carry him in any which-way will take him away from the unfamiliar screams, hoots, and howls rising up from the trees. Like some horrible nightmare, his boot catches under a tree root, and he skids into the mud with sickening squelch. Exhausted, Dib sighs and lets his head rest for a moment, listening to the heavy rain die down to its original pitter-patter. He realizes he hears voices now, shouts! Somehow, the human drags his body out of the mud and his feet gravitate to the noises.
---
A familiar grating voice calls out “It’s a skin condition!!”
Following the call, Dib pops out of the tree line and into the bright beam of a military-grade floodlight that has already illuminated his companion.
An older man’s voice pipes up, “Another??? And you’re not green! What the hell are you two boys doing out here???”
Hands already up from a previous threat from the old man, Zim rolls his eyes and turns to Dib, “Ugh, tell him we are normal humans!”
Ignoring the alien, Dib responds, cautiously raising his hands up as well, “We were just camping! The storm destroyed our site- we can move along!!”
The man pauses before replying, “Just campers, huh… Alright, well,” the giant floodlights shut off with series of loud clicks, “You really should not be out here in this weather, it’s past midnight you know! Come on in and dry up!”
Blinking off the spots in their eyes left by the bright lights, the two exchange uncertain glances before accepting the offer and climbing up the front steps. The man is waiting inside with a pair of towels, which he hands out as the pair comes in. “It ain’t much, but go ahead and make yourself at home, boys!” He was right, it really wasn’t much, the man’s humble cabin consisted of one small room with a couch and a coffee table in one area, a small four-person dining table in another, and a tiny kitchen next to the hallway that led to two bedroom doors. Peeling his soaked jacket off, Dib looks to the balding man, “Sorry we woke you.. with the screaming.”
“Ah it’s nothing to apologize for, son,” the old man gently consoles the investigator before perking up, “I was up anyway listening to the Squatch calls!”
Patting his hair dry, Dib freezes and looks to the man, “Squatch … calls..?”
“Yessir, I know not everybody believes in the Squatch, but I’ve seen em with my own two eyes I tell ya!” The man wisely nods, taking a sip from his coffee mug.
Gingerly dabbing at his irritated, wet skin, Zim groans quietly at the mention of this ‘Skwatch’. The two humans start up a frenzied conversation on the bigfoot/sasquatch sightings in the area, and hunting methods. The irken immediately zones them out, sinking further into the ratty couch and focusing instead on the strange décor of the cabin. The pale-pinkish lampshade beside him catches his attention first, antennae twitching beneath the wig. His eyes narrow, unsure if the hair follicles on the lampshade are just his imagination or not. Zim switches his attention to the animal trophies hanging on the wall. A few seem normal, a small buck, a goose with wings outstretched, and one skeletal rabbit. Well, it almost looks like a rabbit, but the invader’s eyes notice that these seem to be human hand bones sculpted into a rabbit’s skeleton. Is that a severed thumb in a jar on that shelf? He spares a glance at the old man as he encourages Dib’s rant. The man is bald, moderately tall, and skinny, but his muscles reflect his working lifestyle, he’s not a fragile old man. Zim follows his hand to the coffee mug, a human skull mug. At least it’s obviously ceramic.
The alien is summoned out of his haze by Dib and his giant head and his giant glasses suddenly in his field of view. “Come on, Zim, Han is letting us stay with him!”
Zim blinks and narrows his eyes in disgust, “We are not staying here- Dib we have to get out of here, now.”
The old man, Han, apparently, speaks up, “well kiddo it looks like that storm is starting up again, at least stay the one night until the weather clears up t’morrow.”
Dib leans in again, quietly pleading with his alien frenemy, “Yeahh, c’mon Zim you don’t want to get caught in the rain again, right?”
The alien stares at him, “. . . fine. But you’re an idiot.”
Han laughs an old crackly laugh and pats Dib on the shoulder victoriously, “Mighty fine! Well, that bedroom on the left is yours then, only one bed though, so I hope y’all are good friends, and if you’re not, well, you will be!”
Dib, focused on his bigfoot hunt, gets to his feet and heads off to settle himself in, exhausted from their midnight sprint through the woods, “Sweet! Thanks Han- we’re really gonna get him this time!”
Zim stays in the living room a moment longer with his suspicious stare trained on the old man, only tearing it away when the old man’s smile morphs sickly sweet and he gives Zim a ‘shoo’ gesture.
In the spare bedroom, Dib changes out of his wet clothes, thankful for his foresight in packing a Ziploc of extras. As he peels off the wet fabrics, he takes note of the room. It’s fairly bare, just a dark wood wardrobe and a bed with a matching wooden frame, all set on a backdrop of an ugly blue and flowered wallpaper. Unfortunately, the bedding set was specifically chosen to match the forementioned peeling wallpaper. Once dressed, Dib flicks his camera’s power on and off, cursing the tree root from earlier as Zim enters. “You stupid human, we are leaving, tomorrow,” Zim demands, snatching up pillows and beginning a pillow wall across the middle of the bed.
Dib sighs, the camera’s internal motor is jammed, or waterlogged, or something; he’ll have to fix it when he gets home. “We’ll see how much progress we make; I’m not leaving here until I have the evidence I need. If you really want to go, go ahead, Han can help me instead,” he turns his attention to the pillow wall construction, “And is the wall really necessary?”
With the sting of potentially being replaced, Zim decides against telling Dib about the cannibal out of spite, maybe this will be an easy way to get rid of the human after all. He shoots Dib a glade, flopping onto his side of the pillow wall, “I will not share a nest with a filthy human.”
With an eyeroll, Dib places the camera in the backpack and climbs into the blankets on his side of the wall, “I thought irkens didn’t need to sleep, space-boy.”
Zim lifts his head to look down at Dib, “Would you prefer I stand in the corner and stare at you while you sleep?” The red glow of his eyes shines just slightly through his disguise’s contacts, and Dib imagines them glaring from the corner of the dark room with a shudder. Taking note of the human’s response, Zim retreats to lay his head down on the mattress, “Besides, it gives my eyes a rest from seeing your gargantuan head all day.”
The rest of the night passes uneventfully, Dib not waking until well after sunrise. When he comes to, he can hear Zim tinkering with something on the other side of the pillow wall. The investigator lays still for a few moments before peaking his head over. Focused on his task, the irken doesn’t notice his new audience. With a few tools pulled out of his pak, he works with ungloved claws on Dib’s camera, he must have been at it for a while, as he finishes his task and clicks the camera’s paneling back into place. The human ducks back down onto his side of the wall before pretending to sleep for another ten or so minutes.
----
Eventually, the two venture out of the room to find two breakfasts served at the table, with a note: “Rain messed with the horse grave I was digging, gotta go finish it up. Eat up!”
Dib takes a seat and digs into his egg and sausage hungrily. Zim stares at him, “Really? The man is digging a horse grave and you’re actually going to eat his slop?? Did you even see any horses outside?”
Mouth full, Dib points a thoughtful fork at the alien, “One, of course I didn’t see it, it’s dead, that’s why he needs the grave. Two, you lost the food bag back at camp, I’m hungry.”
Zim shoots him an offended look, “Zim’s perfect skin was burning from your stupid filthy rain-“
“Okay, okay, I get it, have some food!” The human pushes the other plate closer.
The alien’s antennae twitch under the wig in disgust, “That smells even worse than usual. Are you sure that’s not actually human meat, Dib-stink?” He points a gloved claw at the off-colored sausage meat.
Dib’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Wh- human meat? Zim why the hell would you say that?”
“You stupid meat-bag, you don’t need my vastly superior eyes to see it all around you! Look!” He darts across the room to gesture wildly at the human-skin lampshade, then to the cabinet wall of jars of pickled meats. “This human eats humans! Or at least kills them.”
The dark-haired investigator swallows another mouthful, “I’ve seen all that stuff at a thrift store, and that’s probably game he’s hunted from the forest, come on Zim you’re being paranoid! He’s helping us find Bigfoot, and besides, if he was really a cannibal, he would’ve just eaten us last night!”
“Or convince you to stay the night so he can eat you the next day,” the irken folds his arms, “Are you even sure that that meat isn’t human? Hm??”
Dib takes their plates to the kitchen, “It did taste a little strange, but,” he peers into the trash can and pulls out the empty sausage package, “See, look, it’s store-bought sausage, and it’s just expired.” Zim remains unconvinced, arms folded across his chest to stare at Dib incredulously. The human smiles, “He’s not cannibal crazy, he’s just. . .”
“-bigfeet crazy,” the irken interjects.
Dib shrugs, “Mm, yeah I guess so.”
---
Back in the forest, the pair trek towards where they think the campsite was, checking for their bigfoot traps. “Another empty one,” Dib sighs, crouched over one of the traps from yesterday. “I think we’re 0 for 15 now.”
Zim ignores him, continuing his walk through the trees some distance away. A tuft of red fabric catches the invader’s attention in the distance. “Aha, Dib-beast! Come look what Zim has found!” he boasts, picking up the piece of fabric, a ripped portion of a T-shirt stuck in a trap. “This isn’t our trap, and it caught someone wearing a T-shirt. Does your bigfeet wear a T-shirt? Huh, DIBB??”
Upon hearing of a discovery, the human knocks the irken aside to kneel in front of the trap with an audible gasp. Zim stumbles back, offended by his companion’s carelessness. “Zim, you’ve found it! This is the most pristine sample I’ve ever seen!” The alien’s eyes follow Dib’s to see that in that same trap, a massive clump of reddish-brown hair stuck in its rusted clutches. Dib collects the hair gingerly, securing it in a small zip-loc.
Zim shakes the piece of fabric in front of his eyes, “Inferior human, can’t you see?? This is clearly a trap he has set for humans, not one of the bigfeets, not even you could be so dumb!”
Dib gets to his feet to face Zim, pupils obscured by the glint of his glasses, “We’re so close, this could be the greatest paranormal discovery of the century . . . Zim, do you know what this means?” He takes a few proud steps in the direction of Han’s distant shack, “We’re maybe one more day of hunting away from having our own, live, bigfoot to document. We’ll take it home, I can take pictures, vivisect it a little, put it in a zoo, maybe conduct some genetic experiments . . . ,” the human’s voice drifts off into his thoughts as he strides back to the cabin with his newfound trophy. The irken watches him move with suspicion, beginning to wonder if the man in the shack was more of a witch than a cannibal.
Dib runs back onto the property, waving the baggie of bigfoot hair above his head, “Han! Han! Look what we found!”
The old man dusts his hands off on his leather apron before nearing the investigator with interest, “Well would’ya look at that! That looks like genuine sasquatch hair to me, young man!”
“I know, right?? It must be young for the hair to look this brightly colored,” Dib conjectures.
Trailing unenthusiastically behind, Zim speaks up, “And what about this, old man?” He holds his scrap of fabric out, “This was in that same trap, this is clothing!” Dib elbows him to stop, “A human’s clothing!”
Han rubs his chin, thoughtfully looking at the scrap in Zim’s claws, “Huh..” he reaches out for it, taking it from Zim’s hands with a touch that lingers too long and too curiously on his inhuman digits. The old man shrugs and tosses the scrap over his shoulder, “Ah who knows, kiddo. Probably just some debris from the storm last night, you know that darn wind brings anything into the forest these days.” He turns to Dib, who brightened at the dismissal of Zim’s claims, “Now let’s get to planning tonight’s hunt!” The two humans rush to take their seats at the patio table with an elaborate map of the forest to coordinate their attack, discussing wind direction, sedative darts, and more.
“URghh!” Zim considers leaving his human companion to his doom once again, but. . . can’t. He swipes the zip-loc of hair while the humans are distracted, shutting himself in their spare bedroom. After a few cautious looks out of the window to ensure Han isn’t watching, the irken pulls a holo-screen and medical scanner from his pak. Zim places a loc of hair into the scanner, and sets it aside, the timer reading that it’ll take 10 minutes to finish the DNA analysis. In the meantime, the alien throws together their remaining backpack, fully prepared to leave with or without a certain kicking and screaming human.
Speaking of said human, Dib knocks at the door, “Ziiim? You in there?”
“Come in, dumb ass.”
“It’s pronounced ‘dumbass’, one word, we talked about this,” Dib swings the door open, eyes quickly piecing together what’s going on, “You’re leaving?”
“Yes, Dib. Zim is leaving. And if you were smarter than a Schlorbee high on Queegz,” he accentuates with a poke of his claw on dib’s chest, “you’d join me.”
“Zim, this is the biggest discovery I’ve ever made, you can’t expect me to just-,“ Zim’s eyes widen, antennae flicking free of the wig, and flittering into Dib’s hair. The human tries to duck away, “Hey! What the-”
“Why do you smell like. . .” Zim grasps the human by the shoulders, holding him in place, head tilting to give his antennae a different angle, “like. . . lemon pepper??”
“Wh..” the human squints and shrinks a bit to avoid the inquisitive antennae, “Han put some Sasquatch attracting powder on me, so it won’t run from us.”
Zim releases him, “He’s seasoning you!? You truly are dumb of ass!!”
“I mean, it does have some lemon-pepper in it but that’s just the recipe.”
“AAAAH,” Zim grips him again, shaking him like the idiot he is, “wake up!!”
“Stop it! Zim! He’s not a cannibal!!” The human slithers out of Zim’s grasp, making an escape to the door. Before he can reach the doorknob, two pak legs slip around his waist and fling him back onto the rickety old bed. “Ghh, not fair, Zim.”
“Since when did I care for ‘fair’, Dib-stink?” The same two pak legs pin the human down by anchoring his shirt into the mattress. Zim, never missing an opportunity to rub it in, leans over him with a gloating grin, “This whole trip you have ignored Zim,” he taps the human’s nose with a gloved claw. “Even when I’m actually trying to save you! You know, I think you’d be a lot safer locked in my lab, where I can be certain nobody else will get to finish you off before I do.”
The human groans, “You’re an asshole, Zim!” landing a kick on Zim’s spooch. The alien flinches, pak legs shifting enough for Dib to roll onto his stomach and start crawling away off the other side of the bed.
“Ugh! I’m warning you! Don’t make me kidnap you out of here!!” Zim recovers and grabs Dib’s ankles, tugging him back onto the bed. The human throws himself off the other side of the bed, pulling Zim with him to the floor where a wrestling fight for control ensues. They writhe around in the narrow space, a mess of elbows and stomach blows and hisses of pain. BEEP-BEEP BEEP-BEEP The DNA analyzer’s timer goes off, freezing the pair in position: Zim on Dib’s back, teeth in his shoulder, Dib’s arm reaching back for a fistful of antennae, wig thrown to the floor.
“What’s that noise?” Dib releases the alien’s antennae.
Unclamping his jaws off Dib’s bloodied shoulder, the irken responds, “DNA Analyzer.” Zim climbs off Dib’s back and goes to retrieve the device. “I tested the sample you collected.”
“Oh,” Dib sits up to hear the news, running his fingers through his now-tousled hair. Zim hands him the holo-screen, clearly showing a human result, a human woman with reddish-brown hair. “Shit…,” Dib rubs the back of his neck and hands the screen back, “Ughh how could I be so blind?? Me??” Zim merely rolls his eyes and gets to work replacing the wig on his head. The human drags a hand down his face, “But he might have some really good Sasquatch advice…” Zim shoots a disapproving glance. “Okay, how about, I believe you, yes, he might be a cannibal, but I want to try out this Bigfoot hunt he has planned. Let’s give him one more chance, one more weird thing, and we’ll leave.”
Zim’s wig is disheveled, but the irken accepts that it is as good as it’s going to get. “Fine, whatever, victory for Zim.”
Han’s voice calls from the patio, “Hey Dib? The Squatch solution is ready for you!”
The two exchange a look, but Dib gets up to see, both emerging onto the patio deck to see Han’s hot tub bubbling and steaming in the crisp autumn air. The sight would be relaxing, if not for the carrots and chopped onions floating in the turbulent water. Han is leaning over the edge, measuring out scoops of bouillon powder into the tub.
Dib curses under his breath, Zim grinning in satisfaction. “Uhhh wow Han that looks great, uh, you know what? Zim and I are gonna go do one last check of our traps, we’ll be right back.”
“Oh sure, Dib, you and your buddy go ahead, I’ll keep it warm for ya!”
“Great, Han, see you in a bit!” Dib turns on his heel and charges back through house and out the front door.
“Victory for Ziiiiimmm, say it. Say it, Diiib.” The invader races ahead of Dib down the front steps.
“I’m not gonna say that, but you know what? I think I owe you an icee for it though. Only a large this time though.” They both reach the bottom of the stairs where they hear a click, a click of a tripwire being set off. The last they feel is a tranquilizing dart sinking into their flesh before the floor, and by extension, the rest of the world, disintegrates around them.
---
The cool nighttime breeze tickles Zim’s bare antennae as they bob in the air’s current. His heavy eyelids flutter open in a panic upon realizing his lack of a disguise. He scans his cage, a wire dog kennel, but with a real lock.
“Okay, so then what?” A familiar human voice asks.
“Look, I’m just interested in eating you, not any of that other serial killer stuff, just stay in there with your damn pants on, I’m not about that, nobody wants to see it.”
“Huh. That’s good news I guess.” Dib replies from his place, handcuffed into the hot tub, Han standing between him and Zim. Dib’s eye catches on the stirring alien in a cage behind Han, but the cannibal notices.
“Oh, E.T. is awake, great! Thought I’d killed you with the human tranquilizer, bud.”
Zim hisses, “It’ll take more than that, filthy humannn.”
“Hey man I’m just gonna sell you for the, you know, fame, and money, I don’t want to kill you anyway, your kind don’t taste good. But as for this one, “Han turns back to Dib, “A man’s gotta eat.” Dib gulps, sinking back as far from Han as the pair of handcuffs will allow. “Now, now, just relax, it’ll make it easier for the both of us.” Han plucks a carving knife from the patio table and approaches Dib, tilting his chin up for access to his neck with a human leather-gloved hand.
“Han!- Han NO, don’t do this- nOnono!” Dib thrashes, splashing at the water wildly for any escape. Across the patio, Zim strains, pak legs pushing to force a gap between the bars, the wires screaming and creaking in response. Cornered, Dib headbutts the cannibal, forehead meeting cartilage. Han stumbles back, clutching his nose, blood seeping out between his fingers and dripping onto the cement.
The cannibal shouts in frustration and shoves Dib’s head below the water, “ERRrrgHh- BRAT!!” He shoves the investigator over and over, water beginning to slosh out of the tub with all the motion. Without warning, a cacophony of unearthly hoots and howls emerges from the surrounding forest. Han freezes, releasing Dib, “What in the living hell is it now??”
Dib gasps for air, chest heaving, but manages to sputter out, “Bigfoot- kof- it’s bigfoot!”
Chest now wedged into the gap he pried open, Zim struggles to free the rest of his body or reach for Han, pak legs clawing and slashing wildly at the concrete. “This isn’t the time for your theories, Dib!”
Han seems to agree, “Shut yer damn mouth, let’s get this over with!” He leans in again, slamming Dib’s head against the wall of the hot tub. The cannibal fumbles to find a place for the blade, it scraping against the skin of Dib’s neck as he still struggles. Head already hazy, Dib squeezes his eyes shut, accepting the sting of the sharp edge. Suddenly, the pressure of the blade and the man’s hand on his head is yanked away and Dib opens his eyes, expecting to see his green rescuer skewering this man with a pak leg. Instead, he is met with the sight of a mouthful of primate teeth as it victory howls, holding Han aloft in its strong grip. The ginger-haired beast turns, flopping the man, causing one of his arms to bend in a way in which no arm should ever bend.“AUUGH!! HeLP! HELP ME!” Han screams as the massive humanoid flings him against the cabin’s wall like a ragdoll.
“HOLY SHIT?!” Dib screams, wide eyes landing on Zim who has just managed to shatter his cage. Zim’s pak legs slam onto the chain of the handcuffs that hold Dib in place, freeing the investigator. “OHH MY GOD” The human grabs Zim’s outstretched hand and is swiftly yanked out of the tub.
“Run- Run, you stupid human, RUN!!” The pak legs toss Dib over the short fence and onto the forest floor. His curiosity gets the better of him and he hesitates, until he hears the further agonized cries from Han as he is ripped to shreds. Dib escapes into the dense wood, getting slapped by every dark branch, bush, and bramble along the way. Even still, he runs and runs until his lungs burn and his legs feel like jelly under his weight. He slows to take a moment and assess his surroundings under the freshly dawned sunlight. Eventually the investigator hears the familiar swoosh-ing of pak legs through the branches and looks up to watch the irken’s approach. Zim lands near the investigator and throws his trench coat at his head. “Dumbass”
Dib chuckles, muffled under the thick fabric, “Thanks, Zim.”
---
Fifteen miles and one truck stop slushee run later, the odd pair discuss their findings. The human remains shirtless but with a trench coat, and the irken with an extra hoodie pulled over his antennae. Zim sucks at the blue icee as Dib drives, “So Bigfoot actually does like lemon pepper, cannibals live out in these mountains, and mountain people know an alien when they see one.”
Zim nods, “Yes, and you are easily blinded, don’t listen to Zim when I try to help you, aand you’re stinky.”
Mouth occupied with his drink, Dib grunts in response before teasing, “And yet, you keep agreeing to go on these trips with me, space-boi.”
“Yeah, only to ensure that nobody kills you before I do, Big-head.”
“Suuure, keep telling yourself that,” Dib mumbles under his breath. Antennae smothered by the hoodie, Zim sips, finally letting sweet, sweet silence fill the car’s cabin.
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P.S.
Back in the forest, bigfoot uses Han’s severed arm as a ladle while enjoying the hot-tub soup.