Withering World 1 [MCSM Fanfiction]

WEAKENING: Chapter 7

Petra

Beep... beep... beep the heart rate monitors go. They're so monotone and steadfast, if only I could adopt that attribute right now. Radar staying put on a medical bed as he coughs chills me to the bone.

"Feeling like crap?" I ask, placing my elbow on the armrest of my comfy chair.

"Pretty much." His reply is weak like a candle's flame wavering in the breeze.

"Oh, Radar. Please, we need you."

He chuckles, glancing up at the ceiling. "Really?"

A cheeky lopsided grin forms on my face. "I can't do another day of errands. I don't know how you do it."

"And I don't know how you coped with this," he says, holding his infected palm towards me, the veins having grown more visible and sinuous. The violet web has spread, stretching out to engulf his elbow, and the areas of flesh around it are a ghostly white.

"We had bigger things to worry about like the crazy mutated world eating Wither. Maybe that's why it hurt a little less for me."

He gives a wry laugh.

"You're strong, Radar; you're holding up just fine," I say, aiming to assure him.

"That- that's what I hoped, though I'm not as strong as you, Petra."

I don't have the power to object as my mind is being blasted all over the place. To calm it, I reach for the golden chain around my neck, feeling the grooves of each tiny link, fidgeting with it for a while (if Jesse and Lukas didn't gift it to me, I'd probably be ripping my shirt apart right now).

"You helped take down the Witherstorm even when you were sick. I wish I could help with Beacontown's wither crisis."

My chair welcomes me into its soft comfiness as I shrink into it, cringing at the inaccuracy of his remark. "I was helpless back there and I got a lot worse really fast. There was no time for me to focus on recovering. But you can, and you will." I'm surprised myself at how harsh my tone unexpectedly becomes.

"Thanks for visiting. It gets a little lonely here," Radar suddenly whimpers, "with you guys busy trying to keep Beacontown safe."

"Don't worry about it, I was alone for two years so yes, I can imagine what it feels like. I wouldn't want you going through the same thing."

In appreciation, he thanks me again, nodding before switching topics. "How are Jesse and the others?"

"Stressed," I answer truthfully, "but other than that, they're doing well."

"Did they pull out all the flowers?"

The memory of the day the Wither Fallout affected all of Beacontown's flowers catches up to me. Fifty-seven were infected: forty-two citizens and fifteen warriors, which means the efforts equated to almost nothing.

"Every last one of them." I pause for him to recover from his series of coughs. "But Beacontown looks like a wasteland, full of wither bones and dead plants and stuff. Y'know?"

"I can only imagine. And that sounds terrible," he says.

Yes, it's atrocious and there's nothing more I can say about it.

A soft vibration clutches at my hip, the consequence of a recoil invading my body. All my attention now draws to my ringing phone, which I fish out of my pocket to view the name of my caller.

Jesse.

As I answer it, I hold it out between me and Radar.

"Hey, Petra. You still at the hospital?" her muffled voice asks.