Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 11 - The Burial

The hours before the next pulse felt stretched thin, like the air itself was holding its breath. No one said it out loud, but everyone felt it. A pressure building in the walls. A weight under the skin. The lights dimmed just enough to remind us that power was no longer loyal to us.

Alex gathered the kids near the far wall and whispered prayers in Spanish. Her voice shook only once. Dave and I made our rounds, checking bolts, tightening shutter locks. Every clang echoed too long, like the concrete was listening.

Mark sat by himself, arms locked across his chest, eyes unfocused. He was somewhere far past the plant. Mateo hadn’t spoken since the blow that killed Sharon. He sat on the floor with his wrists loosely tied, staring at the concrete with the hollow stillness of a man drained dry.

Then the beacon began.

The lights stuttered once, twice, then froze in place like they were holding their own breath.

“Ear protection. Ear protection.”
The room erupted in overlapping shouts, none of them in sync.

Hands moved on instinct. Plugs jammed in. Muffs snapped down. Someone fumbled and dropped theirs. Someone else grabbed them and shoved them onto his head.

The monitors flashed white, then black, then washed in static. The NOAA radio hissed in a long, sharp tone that crawled across the room like the edge of a coming storm.

Dave glanced up. “It’s starting.”

A tremor rolled through the floor before the sound hit us. It sank into bone, a deep vibration that felt like the world grinding its teeth. The lights flickered, settling into a dim orange glow. Dust drifted from the vents like falling ash.

For several long seconds the world howled.
Then everything went silent.

I checked my watch. Seventy-one seconds.
Longer again. Not just stronger. Growing.

No one spoke. No one asked what came after. We all knew it was coming anyway.

Outside the fog shifted. The animals had returned. Deer, raccoons, a fox near the fence. All of them lined up along the chain link, staring in. Their bodies shivered under the floodlights. Their eyes glinted pale like wet glass.

Dave exhaled low. “Head count.”

Thirteen adults. Four kids. None missing.
One dead.

Sharon.

Her body still lay under the gray tarp near the maintenance bay. We had left her where she fell, waiting for a quiet moment between pulses. That moment never really came, but this was as close as we would get.

Alex signed the cross and whispered a prayer. “She was sick,” she murmured. “But she was still a person.”

Dave nodded. “She deserves peace.”

He motioned to Nolan and Greg. “Backhoe. Behind the secondary fence. Past the tanks. Make it deep.”

They hesitated, then nodded.

The fog thinned just enough that the tanks glowed faint yellow in the floodlights. Four of us carried Sharon out. The ground was slick with dew. Mud pulled at our boots. The hole was dark and deep enough to swallow the shape completely.

We lowered her slow. No prayers. No speeches. Just the sound of dirt hitting tarp and the steady hum of the generator.

Alex stood in the doorway hugging herself against the cold. Her face was hollow as she watched the mound grow.

When it was done, Dave patted the dirt flat with his boot. “That’s it. Let’s move.”

Mark stayed behind. He stared at the grave, lips moving in a whisper no one wanted to hear. Then he said it just loud enough to carry on the breeze.

“Lydia.”

I turned toward him. “What did you say?”

He blinked like someone waking mid nightmare. “She’s calling me.”

Dave’s jaw tightened. “There’s nothing out there but fog.”

Mark shook his head. “You don’t hear her. She’s out there. She’s waiting.”

Dave looked away instead of saying what we all knew. Mark’s wife had been dead for years. The hum was getting into him. Wearing him down from the inside.

Mark straightened. “We can’t sit here waiting for help that isn’t coming.”

Mateo lifted his head for the first time since Sharon died. His voice rasped. “Carmen’s alive. I’m going with him.”

Dave bristled. “We’re not splitting up.”

“I’ll go,” I said. “If Mark runs into the dark alone he’ll be dead in an hour. Mateo’s not stable. I can keep them alive.”

Alex’s eyes filled. She didn’t cry. She never cried. “I’m not scared you won’t come back. I’m scared of what you’ll have to do to get back.”

I kissed her forehead. “Keep the generators steady. Keep the gates sealed. Dave will hold everything down.”

Dave nodded once. A Sergeant’s promise.

Before I could turn, another voice spoke from the shadows.

“Then I’m going with you.”

Santiago stepped forward, rifle slung, expression calm like he’d been waiting for this moment.

I frowned. “You sure?”

He nodded. “Somebody steady has to keep an eye on those two before they shoot each other or get you killed. I’ll watch your six.”

Dave opened his mouth to argue but Santiago was already checking his rifle. No emotion. No hesitation. Just resolve.

I nodded. “Pack light. We leave in five.”

He grabbed mags from the table, checking each with the same quiet ritual.

We packed water, flashlights, two maps, my sidearm, spare mags. The fog had thickened again, swallowing everything past the gate.

Nolan and Greg were skinning a deer near the perimeter. The sight of its body hanging in the mist said everything. Civilization was gone. This was survival now.

Alex wrapped her arms around me. “You come back. No matter what, you come back.”

“I will. Keep them safe.”

I hugged my kids, told them I loved them. Mateo didn’t speak. He hadn’t cried. That scared me more than anything.

I climbed into the security truck and swiped my badge. The gate groaned open.

Mark climbed in the passenger seat. Mateo in the back. Both hollow-eyed. Both broken in different ways.

As we drove through the opening, the fog parted just enough to reveal a shape near the fresh grave. A faint human silhouette. Swaying.

Mark leaned forward. “You see her?”

I pressed the gas. “No. And you don’t either.”

The gate shut behind us.
The fog closed in again.
And under the hum, something whispered our names.