Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 5 – The Call Home

The clock on the wall read 3:21. Less than forty minutes to the hour.

Dave wiped sweat from his forehead. “If this thing is spreading, we can’t risk them out there. You call yours. I’ll call mine.”

The two engineers were already trying. One held his phone against the window like signal was something you could physically catch. The other paced slow circles, phone raised high, whispering curses under his breath.

“Anything?” Dave asked.

“Spotty,” the older one said. “It connects, then drops.”

“Keep trying,” I said. “We don’t know when the next one hits.”

I moved to the far corner where the interference felt weakest. One bar. Barely there. I hit call.

Alex answered after two rings. Her voice came through rough, chopped by static. “Pa? What’s going on? Chuchis won’t move. She’s just staring at the wall. Even the dogs next door are frozen, all facing the same way.”

“Listen carefully,” I said. “You don’t have much time. Pack meds, clothes for you and the kids, and bottled water. Tell Cami to grab the emergency bag and load the car.”

She hesitated. “Pa, what is happening? Is it the plant?”

“I don’t know what it is yet, but it’s not safe to stay there. You, Cami, and the kids drive straight here. No stops. No detours. No calls on the way.”

Static cracked again. A whispery sound crawled under the line. I turned from the others, pressing the phone tighter against my ear.

“Pa, the air feels strange. There are birds on the fence. Hundreds. They aren’t moving.”

“Stay inside until you leave. Keep the windows up. Put tissue or cotton in your ears. Anything that dulls sound. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “How bad is it?”

Across the room, Sharon sat cuffed against the wall. Her lips moved in the same slow rhythm she had whispered earlier. No sound. Just motion. Her breath pulsed in time with the faint vibration in the floor.

“It’s bad,” I said. “But you will be safe if you get here before the next one.”

“I’m going now,” she said. “Cami’s already grabbing water.”

“Seven minutes,” I said. “If the roads are clear. I’ll meet you at the gate.”

There was a pause, then her voice cracked. “I love you, Pa.”

“I love you too,” I said — and the signal died.

The silence after the call felt heavier than the tremor.

Dave paced near the door, redialing. “Got mine,” he said finally. “They are on the way. Same instructions. Ear protection. Straight here.”

The younger engineer was crying quietly into his phone. “Just get the kids,” he whispered. “I don’t care what the neighbors are doing. Get in the car. Please.”

The older engineer lowered his phone and looked at me. “My wife says people in town are standing in the middle of the street. Not moving. Staring at the sky. Whole blocks of them.”

Mark sat slumped against the wall, ice pack pressed to his head. “They said it’s citywide,” he muttered. “Radio’s dead. TV is static. Nobody knows what’s happening.”

Dave looked at me. “How long?”

I checked my watch. “Thirty-two minutes.”

He nodded. “Not much time.”

I scanned the cameras. The animals were back. Smaller groups for now, clustered at the fence like scouts. Every minute brought more.

“Everyone’s on their way,” Dave said. “As soon as they arrive, we seal the gates.”

“Agreed.”

The younger engineer kept glancing toward Sharon. “You think she’s contagious?”

“No,” I said. “Not contagious.”

“Then what is she?”

“Controlled.”

He swallowed hard. “Controlled by what?”

I did not answer.

The lights flickered again. Not a blink, but a slow pulse through the wiring like breath pulling through the walls. Sharon’s head twitched with it, her eyes rolling upward.

Dave stared at her, then at me. “She can feel it coming, can’t she?”

“I believe so,” I said. “Which means we may be running out of time.”

We immediately moved. Dave and I rushed to the security truck and pushed through the gravel road toward the north gate. Every second stretched thin.

Static broke over the radio. A faint voice cut through it.
“...movement… north sector… incoming vehicles…”

I keyed the mic. “Say again. This is Security One.”

The signal wavered, then steadied. “Multiple vehicles on approach. Three cars.”

“That’s them.”

I hit the gate control. The steel groaned as it crawled open.

Outside, the air felt heavier. The sky dimmed like the clouds were folding inward. Birds blanketed the tops of the tanks, unmoving.

I stepped between the sensors to keep the gate open and waved them in. Alex led the way, eyes wide, knuckles white around the wheel. Cami sat in the passenger seat, twisted halfway to keep Marie and Gabriel calm.

“Come on,” I said, motioning. “Straight in.”

She obeyed instantly.

Dave guided the others through behind her and sealed the gate, pressing the lock sequence.

For a moment, the yard was completely silent. No wind. No radio. No voices.

Then a low vibration rolled through the ground, soft and distant, like the earth was clearing its throat.

I checked my watch.

3:58.

Two minutes to the top of the hour.