Withering World [MCSM Fanfiction]

RAVAGEMENT: Chapter 53

Petra

For the past fifteen minutes, the balls of my feet have been rocking back and forth as I sit, my heel doing that shaking thing. I find it stupid that they call me and then place me in a waiting room when I could have been in Jesse's ward ages ago. If that wasn't an option, I could've stayed in the mineshafts for the extra while competing against Jack collecting string - although I'm not too fond of spiders myself.

A few houseplants that decorate the waiting room ridicule me in my isolation. My heel clicks against the laminate birch floor, tapping it twice every time I hear the second hand of the massive, dark oak grandfather clock tick softly to my right.

In the corner of my eye, I see Harper, figure enlarging as she bolts down an adjacent hallway shouting for me. Her lab coat is gone and in its place is the same sand proof jacket she was wearing when we first met her, long white hair mostly tucked in her hood and goggles.

"What took you so long! Do you want me to see her or not?"

"Forgive us, miss hot-head. Arrangements for visitors take a while to prepare." She grabs my wrist, her hands like pinchers digging into my skin as I wince. Harper is stronger than she looks. "Come on, we don't have all day."

"The day's just started, so I believe we do." When I finish, she tugs at my wrist again, which makes me stumble forward, forcing me to keep to her pace that's saddeningly faster than I expected too.

The old builder treats the run like we're some sort of escape convicts and unfortunately, Jesse is in one of the furthest wards in the hospital. Normally, I can handle this sort of cardio, but she takes me by surprise, my wheezes of distress uncovering my embarrassment.

After a few more hundred steps, we get to the entrance of Jesse's room when a streak of horror bashes me in the gut. I feel the blood drain from my face.

Why does Harper need me that desperately?

If I hear even just the lightest bit of a scream from Jesse, I know for sure I will not be ready. If these are her last moments, I am caught off guard.

I turn the handle with caution, making sure I don't scare her but I then see she's awake. Here's the room I miss, yet the room that may turn into the main stimulation point of my trauma.

Harper doesn't enter with me. Not even Olivia appears out of the blue to stay beside me.

"Oh my gosh, Jesse," I say, occupying the nearest chair to her.

"Hi Petra." Her voice hasn't changed since the last time I saw her, husky and full of air.

Lacking words, I take my pendant and squeeze it in my palm - the edges and points of the mini sword seep comfort into my fingertips. I was hoping I'd find what to say before Jesse, but that fails as my mind runs blank. "They gave me the cure." It gives me an opening.

"That's good right? You're gonna be okay?"

"I don't know... I could've already been incurable when-"

Absentmindedly, I place my hand on top of hers to stop her doubting, my pendant now being abandoned. At least this part of hers isn't withered. "Be hopeful, Jesse. I want you to be hopeful."

She's alive - I haven't had time to process that she's still alive. Now, I'm faced with the news that her healing is still not confirmed.

"But if I don't make it-"

"Jesse, don't."

"No, Petra listen: there are some things I wanna talk about if it comes to the worst."

It should be obvious to anyone that I don't like where this is going. Her speech slows, a sternness pouring into her words.

"Think of this all like a beacon," she says, "It's powered by a pyramid of expensive minerals. If a block of mineral is destroyed, you must find a quick replacement to keep it activated."

"What are you saying?" I question to give her space to breathe.

"I mean if this cure doesn't heal me, someone else needs to keep Beacontown going."

Pause. She cannot be asking this right now... not now.

Jesse, leader and hero in residence of Beacontown, has left an indelible mark on her people and she's gonna ask the most incapable and unqualified to take her place. Is there really no one else after Radar and Lukas? Those are shoes way too big to fill!

"No. No. You are- no."

"It has to be you, Petra."

I wouldn't even choose myself; not over anyone else in Beacontown. "No, I can't! I don't know how! Your people are gonna suffer under my rule."

"No, they won't," she says.

"Yes, they will."

"You lead the warriors."

"They're warriors, for goodness' sake! They're my kind. I can't lead half as good as you. I'm- I'm not you!"

"I don't want you to be me. I want you to be better than me."

As if that was any form of encouragement! Does she not sense my discomfort? Does she even know who I am?

The pressure of it all throws a pit in my throat.

"Jesse, I did not come here for this," I snap, head jerking, eyes wide in turn.

She can only think about her precious town. I have no other words for my best friend who has forgotten the principles to staying alive.

"Stella will help you-"

I pick up my expression, seeing how perseverant she is to keep talking about this. "No, you're going to live, Jesse."

"You have to lead Beacontown. It's my last wish."

"You are going to live Jesse!"

On accident, I knock my chair over as I'm quick to stand up and let go of her hand.

Never in a million years would I ever promise something uncertain. But observing Jesse with her torn, lilac eyes, the ravaging, blackened, withered parasite that's almost reached her face, and no confirmation of a single healed case yet gives me the signal to deny the worst scenarios in grief.

"I'm sorry," I say in a mumble, watching a single tear slip free from the waterline of her eye, "I'm sorry Jesse."

Silence. The answer I was hoping she wouldn't give. As I stand the chair up and sit down on it again, I wipe the tear off her cheek.

She will not forgive me until I agree to step up. Maybe I'll do it, maybe I won't.

"How long do I have left here?" I ask.

"I think- the rest of the day."

"We better make the most of it."

It doesn't make sense for her to leave me on bad terms. She's my best friend. I'll be patient, lenient with her orders if I have to. Soon, there may not even be a patient on this bed anymore.

"Petra, how long do you think I have left?"

"Like I said, we better make the most of it," I say, the entirety of my voice going hoarse.

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