Chapter 17: The Jim Farewell
The sky was a bruised expanse, purple and heavy, the air thick with damp earth and the faint, sour rot that clung to the woods like a curse.
A lone tree stood, its gnarled branches clawing at the dusk, a faded yellow ribbon tied to a low limb, fluttering weakly, a micro-story of some forgotten traveler's hope.
Jim leaned against the trunk, his face gray, breath shallow, smelling of sickness and resignation, his eyes distant, already half-gone.
Elias stood a few paces off, fingers rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous tic pulsing with his heartbeat, his throat raw, tasting of dust and guilt.
His temples throbbed, the ZACS system a fire in his skull, each failure a weight.
I can't save him, he thought, cynical, calculating odds, a memory flashing—his grandfather's hospital bed, the air heavy with sterile sorrow and unspoken goodbyes.
The group circled loosely, their voices a low hum, faces carved with grief, the air thick with the weight of loss.
Elias knelt beside Jim, his knees sinking into the soft dirt, the chill seeping through his jeans.
His hand slipped into his pack, fingers brushing a vial of crushed herbs—a desperate, covert attempt to ease Jim's pain, bought with SP he didn't have, a gamble against the system's iron limits.
The vial was cool, smooth, a fragile hope in his palm.
"Jim," he said, voice low, steady, eyes locking on the mechanic's, searching for a spark.
"This… uh, might help. For the pain, you know."
Jim's lips twitched, a ghost of a smile, his voice weak, a tired Southern drawl, barely above a whisper.
"You're a good man, Kane."
"Don't… let this eat you."
His hand trembled, taking the vial, breath hitching, the air heavy with the scent of sickness.
Elias's chest tightened, guilt a cold vice, his fingers rubbing his neck harder, the tic relentless.
I'm no saint, he thought, a memory of his grandfather's frail hand in his flashing, the air thick with failure.
The system's limits were a wall, unyielding, the HUD flaring blue, its text jagged, accusing.
[SYSTEM: Healing Attempt Failed: Insufficient SP. Tough call, saint. Even you can't cheat death today.]
The HUD's serious tone was a cold blade, slicing through his hope.
He stood, legs heavy, the air pressing down, his eyes lingering on Jim's pale face, a man who'd chosen peace over pain.
Carol approached, her small frame a quiet anchor, hands clasped tight, breath trembling, smelling of mint from scavenged candy.
Sophia clung to her side, eyes wide, coloring book pressed to her chest, her breath quick, sharp with fear.
"Elias," Carol said, voice soft, Southern lilt warm but strained.
"Sophia's… she's scared. I don't… I don't know how to make this okay for her."
Elias crouched, knees creaking, the dirt cold under him, his eyes on Sophia's, her small face a mirror of loss.
"Hey, little one," he said, voice gentle, a warm thread in the dusk.
"Jim's… he's choosing to rest here. He's brave, like you are."
His hand brushed her arm, a fleeting warmth, his heart aching, guilt a heavy tide.
She shouldn't see this, he thought, a memory of shielding a young cousin from bad news flashing, the air thick with care.
Carol's eyes met his, gratitude a quiet spark, her resolve hardening like steel.
"Thank you," she whispered, her hand squeezing his, fingers trembling, a quiet moment that tethered them both.
She's stronger every day, he thought, fingers slowing on his neck, the tic easing for a breath.
[SYSTEM: Carol trust +5%. Bonding's heavy. Building a fan club, but grief's a brutal critic, saint.]
The HUD's wit was a faint light, but Elias's heart was a stone, Carol's strength a fragile hope in the darkness.
Rick approached, boots scuffing dirt, his face grim, breath smelling of leather and resolve, his Southern drawl steady.
"We'll find safety, Elias," he said, eyes meeting his, a quiet vow.
"You tried for him. That's… that's not nothing."
Elias nodded, throat tight, respect for Rick a steady anchor in the storm.
He's the leader we need, he thought, a memory of a mentor's firm nod flashing, the air warm with trust.
The group turned away, Jim's form fading into the dusk, a somber farewell that carved a scar in Elias's chest.
His fingers rubbed his neck, the tic relentless, guilt a shadow that clung to his steps, the road ahead a fragile promise.
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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