Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 16 - The First Engagement

By 0500 hours, the yard was gray and still except for the steady whine of the generators. The night team looked wrecked, eyelids twitching, nerves stretched thin from listening to the hum under the concrete instead of the silence they wanted.

Neal stood by the track bay, helmet off, coffee cooling in her hand.

“Rotation,” she said. “Fresh eyes on the line.”

Jacob and Trey grabbed rifles and moved out with Lin for an early perimeter walk. Jenn Felner slipped into the comms chair, fumbling with the headset.

“Log everything,” Lin told her. “Noise spikes, motion, static… all of it. We’ll check in every fifteen.”

“Copy,” she said, already typing.

Dave relieved Stacks on the tower and patted his shoulder. “Crash hard. I’ll wake you if the world ends.”

Rourke drifted past the breakroom doorway — shirt half-tucked, eyes bloodshot. He wasn’t scheduled for anything. He didn’t need to be. He lingered long enough to hear who was moving where, watching rotations like he was tallying who held power and who didn’t.

I stayed on. Neal didn’t bother pretending she would rest.

“You sleep at all?” I asked.

“Not lately.”

“Habit?”

“Not wanting to die.”

Fair enough.

Inside the breakroom, Alex, Carmen, and two medics were doing the impossible — turning MRE scraps into something people actually wanted to eat. Hash mixed with chili seasoning. Wild deer meat warmed over generator exhaust. It smelled like a memory from a world that hadn’t gone sideways.

Alex smiled when I stepped in. “We’re making breakfast that doesn’t taste like punishment.”

“You’re a hero,” Dave said, stealing a spoonful.

Rourke lingered in the hall a moment longer, eyes narrowing at the sight of everyone sharing a table. For a man who hadn’t done a damn thing all night, he sure looked irritated watching other people work. He turned away when I noticed him staring.

By 0600, the plant felt alive again — steam rising from cups, soft laughter, boots scraping concrete. For ten minutes, we sounded less like survivors and more like a crew.

Then we split — three on the roof, four on the ground.

Neal, Dave, and I took the rooftop overwatch above the control wing. Jacob and Trey walked the inner fence. Lin monitored the south cameras.

“Visibility’s clean,” Neal said, scanning through binoculars. “If they come, we’ll see them.”

She was wrong.

At 0710, the hum changed.

Not a pulse.
A deepening.
Slow. Heavy. Bone-deep.

The metal tanks trembled, groaning like old ships straining against a storm. Bolts rattled. Dust drifted down from the catwalks.

Dave stiffened. “You feel that?”

“Yeah,” I said. “And they do too.”

The forest answered.

A screech tore across the north tree line — high, ragged, almost human. Another followed. Then several more, overlapping like something rehearsing a language it should never have learned.

“Movement. North line,” Dave said, lowering his scope.

Neal steadied her rifle. “Hold fire. Let them commit.”

Three Berserkers exploded from the shadows, sprinting straight down the service road. No hesitation. No stealth. Just raw, violent purpose.

They hit the fence like battering rams.

Chain link screamed. Posts shook. One of them began climbing — fingers punching through wire, skin peeling like wet paper.

“Not yet,” Neal said, voice sharp.

“Sergeant, they’re halfway over,” Dave warned.

Before she could answer, Lin’s voice erupted through comms:

“South side movement! Fast movers — multiple!”

Neal’s eyes sharpened. “Diversion. RJ, stay with Dave. I’m moving.”

She bolted for the ladder.

From the roof, I watched the south fence erupt. A herd of deer tore into the open, a dozen Berserkers chasing them. When the animals veered, the Zerkers redirected — slamming into the fence instead.

Jacob and Trey braced near the pump road.

“Permission to fire?” Trey called.

“On climb,” Neal shouted back.

A Berserker reached the fence first. Jacob exhaled slow and fired. Head shot. It dropped instantly.

Another vaulted up. Neal sighted and fired — center mass. It peeled backward into the mud.

Then Lin again:

“North fence breach! One inside the perimeter!”

Dave spotted it first. “There! Coming along the gate!”

The creature ran crooked, one arm useless where Jacob’s bullet had torn through muscle. It barreled toward the gate.

Dave fired — clipped the shoulder. It stumbled, screamed, and kept running.

I steadied the reticle and squeezed.

The round punched straight through the chest. The Zerker collapsed mid-stride, limbs twitching once before going still.

“Target down,” I said.

Dave blew out a breath. “Hell of a shot.”

Behind us, movement flickered on the rooftop access.
Rourke.
Watching from the shadows behind the vent stack.
Not calling targets.
Not helping.
Just studying — like he wanted to see who handled pressure and who cracked under it.

Neal returned to comms, voice controlled but fraying at the edges.

“South clear. North clear. Three confirmed kills. No breach past first contact. Hold positions. No one pursues.”

Silence settled fast — the heavy kind, the kind that makes your ears ring after too much noise.

Jacob kicked the fence. “So that’s what’s been screaming all night.”

“Yeah,” I said. “And those were the ones brave enough to test us.”

Neal climbed back onto the roof, helmet off, morning heat clinging to her skin. She stared into the trees.

“They weren’t attacking,” she whispered. “They were probing.”

Dave reloaded. “Let them try again.”

I kept my eyes on the tree line.

Behind us, Rourke slipped quietly down the ladder — no comment, no offer to help, not even a glance back. The kind of exit a man makes when he’s thinking too much. About the enemy outside… or the one he thinks he sees inside.

Sunlight hit the wet fence, turning it silver.
Three bodies steamed in the mud.

Our first engagement.
Our first real win.

But wins out here aren’t victories.

They’re lessons the enemy learns.

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ANONYMOUS FIELD LOG — ENTRY A
CLASSIFIED — PROJECT ECHO CLEARANCE REQUIRED:
Ground resonance spike at 0710 initiated coordinated Phase III Resonance pressure on multiple CWP fence lines. Hostile movement patterns confirmed deliberate probing behavior intended to test structural weak points and response timing. Three units neutralized before escalation; internal integrity maintained. Subject Zero’s tactical function during contact remained stable with no outward recognition of Anchor influence. Recommend heightened surveillance as Phase III behavior demonstrates emerging strategic capability.

========================================
ANONYMOUS FIELD LOG — ENTRY B
CLASSIFIED — PROJECT ECHO CLEARANCE REQUIRED:
Morning cycle at NLC marked by elevated patient agitation correlating with low-frequency resonance fluctuations. Leadership operating under strained capacity; wards nearing containment threshold due to overcrowding and insufficient guard presence. Two civilians required physical restraint after attempting unauthorized exits during agitation spikes. South and east perimeter zones remain undermanned and increasingly unreliable. Position within daily operations remains secure; continued observation of command decision-making and resource allocation underway.