Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 7 – Aftershock

The pulse ended, but the silence that followed carried more weight than the noise. It settled over the room like the air had forgotten how to move.

The lights steadied after one last flicker. Dust drifted in the copper glow of the emergency bulbs. No one spoke. We listened to our own breathing like it was the only sound left in the world.

Then the NOAA radio crackled.

“…bridge collapse… the Mormon Bridge… vehicles in the water… response delayed… communication failure…”

The message looped once, then dissolved into static.

Mateo’s knees buckled. Dave caught him before he hit the floor.

“Easy,” Dave said, lowering him into a chair.

“They were on that bridge,” Mateo whispered. “My wife and son… she said the light turned red. They weren’t far.”

No one tried to comfort him. There was nothing to say. Half the crew stared at the floor. The rest stared at nothing.

Mark broke first.

“We need to contact someone. County, FEMA, National Guard — somebody is in charge.” His voice wavered. “There are procedures for emergencies like this.”

I looked at him. “You think anyone’s answering phones right now?”

He bristled. “We can’t just seize control of a municipal facility.”

Dave turned on him. “Jurisdiction doesn’t mean a damn thing if half the riverfront is gone.”

Mark opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. He shuffled papers on the desk like they were life rafts. They weren’t.

Alex didn’t waste time. She grabbed first-aid kits, laid them open on a workbench, and started pulling people over one by one.

“Sit,” she said. “Let me check for pressure damage.”

They listened to her — not Mark. For the first time all day, the room had someone everyone trusted.

Dave caught my eye. His leadership was over. He knew it.

Alex worked quietly, cleaning small nosebleeds, checking pupils, bandaging scrapes. “Inner-ear pressure spikes,” she murmured. “Sinus trauma. Like decompression.”

From the corner came a whisper.

Sharon.

Her head lifted slowly. Her eyes were clear in a way that didn’t feel human.

“You can’t stop it,” she said.

Alex froze. Every face turned.

“What did you say?” I asked.

Sharon smiled a small, wrong smile. “You’ll see.”

Mark stormed over and grabbed her arm. “That’s enough! You’ve done enough today!”

Dave stepped forward. “Mark. Back off.”

“She attacked me!” Mark shouted.

“She’s sick,” Alex said, voice cutting through him. “Not malicious. Sick.”

Mark hesitated, jaw tight, then stepped away.

Dave looked at me. “We need the perimeter tight before dark.”

“Already on it.”

We moved through the building, checking bolts, testing locks, tightening hinges. Outside, the camera feeds showed the animals still massed along the south fence — silent, pressed close, like they were waiting for a signal.

Dave stared at the screen. “They’re not moving.”

“They’re breathing,” I said. “Barely.”

Alan, one of the contractors, folded his arms. “If they stay there, that’s still meat.”

Dave looked at him. “You planning to hunt like this?”

Alan didn’t blink. “If we’re starving, yes.”

Santiago nodded once. “I’ll go with him.”

It wasn’t bravado. It was the start of survival thinking.

By the time we got back inside, Alex had turned the empty break area into a triage bay. First-aid supplies were organized by type. Food was separated. Water counted. Tools lined up. She did it all quietly, efficiently, like she’d been preparing for this for years.

The kids sat along the wall. Camilla brushed Marie’s hair. Gabriel held on to Chuchis, who kept staring at the door, muscles tight.

Mark sat alone holding the dead phone, hands shaking.

Dave leaned toward me. “He’s done.”

“Yeah,” I said. “We need steady hands, not panicked ones.”

Alex overheard. “Then you two handle security. I’ll handle the people.”

The tone wasn’t a suggestion.

I nodded. “You’re the only medical we’ve got. Hold the line.”

“I will.”

The NOAA radio hissed again — no words now, just wind. Mateo hadn’t moved. Staring, waiting for a voice that wasn’t coming.

Alex knelt beside him, checked his pulse, and spoke softly in Spanish. “Respira, Mateo. Solo respira.”

He didn’t breathe any deeper. His eyes were fixed on the dark radio like he could will it back to life.

Outside, dusk turned the tanks into hulking silhouettes against the sky. The animals at the fence didn’t twitch.

The world was holding its breath again.

And deep in my gut, I knew it wouldn’t hold for long.