Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 17 - The Trench

The morning after the attack started quiet, but nobody believed the silence.

The plan was simple: turn both gates into kill zones. Two trenches, one north and one south. Five feet wide, eight to ten feet deep. Anything coming through would fall before it reached the yard.

We had the tools. Two backhoes, two crews, enough diesel to run them nonstop.

Rourke and Stacks took the north gate.
Burns and Hawk handled the south.
Each pair worked with two armed guards at their side.

Neal finally crashed for a few hours. Lin and Jenn handled comms. Wolf watched the west, Burns the east. No one was unarmed. No one worked alone.

The machines tore into the earth, teeth grinding through wet clay. The smell of mud and diesel hung thick in the air. Every few minutes someone stopped to scan the tree line, rifles up. Dave and Mateo rotated with the engineers to keep the digging constant. The trenches weren’t just defense — they were therapy. Every shovelful of dirt buried a little more of the night before.

Before the cuts deepened, we took care of the bodies.

The three Zerkers lay where they’d dropped — twisted shapes that barely resembled anything human. We wrapped them in tarps, hooked them to loader chains, and lifted them toward the north trench.

Neal stood at the pit edge, arms crossed.

“Drop them in.”

The chains rattled. One by one, the bodies fell, hitting bottom with dull, wet thuds.

Jacob grabbed a shovel, dug into the lime bins near the settling tanks, and dumped thick white powder until the bodies disappeared under a ghost-pale crust. The lime hissed where it hit damp flesh, a chemical burn that clawed the air before fading.

The memory didn’t.

We stood there staring as steam rose off the lime like the ground was breathing.

Alex spoke first. “I hate that we’re getting used to this.”

“No one’s getting used to it,” Dave said quietly. “We’re just out of choices.”

Mateo stared at the pit until his jaw trembled.
“My boy’s buried here,” he murmured. “At least he’s safe.”

Carmen squeezed his arm. He didn’t move.

Neal nodded once. “Finish it.”

Engines roared again. Work resumed — loud, heavy, relentless.
The trenches deepened foot by foot.
Sweat mixed with lime dust.
The sun climbed.
Tension pressed on everyone like weight.

At the north trench, Rourke finally let one slip.

Not loud.
Just loud enough.

He shoved the spade down hard, metal scraping clay.

“We’re breaking our backs while RJ supervises. Some leadership.”

Stacks didn’t react. Didn’t look at him. Didn’t need to.

A comment like that doesn’t disappear.
It hangs.
Creeps.
Grows.

Seeds don’t sprout the day they’re planted.

By dusk, each cut stretched nearly a third of the perimeter — five feet wide, nine feet deep, lined with scavenged rebar and wire. Tin cans strung across the top clinked in the warm wind, our improvised alarms.

Neal came out for inspection, running on maybe an hour of sleep but sharp as a blade. She leaned over the north trench.

“If they breach the fence, let them fall in. Don’t waste ammo until they’re trapped.”

Dave smirked. “Sounds like a plan.”

“It’s the best we’ve got,” she said.

By nightfall, the engines died. Guards rotated to the new posts. The rest of us collapsed onto anything that wasn’t moving. Jenn updated logs. Lin fought the static in the comms.

I walked the trench one last time before heading in. The lime had hardened into a pale crust, sealing what lay beneath.

The wind pushed through the trees.

Something shifted out in the dark.

Then — clink.

A single tin can swayed on the south trench line… then stilled.

The trenches wouldn’t save us forever.

But they bought us something more valuable than safety.

Time.

And in this world, time meant survival.

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ANONYMOUS FIELD LOG — ENTRY A
CLASSIFIED — PROJECT ECHO CLEARANCE REQUIRED:
Anchor field held steady throughout defensive excavation operations. Personnel exhaustion evident but structural order maintained under Subject Zero’s proximity. South trench alarms briefly activated, suggesting isolated Phase III probes testing newly altered terrain. One male laborer displayed escalating verbal dissent focused on Subject Zero’s authority. This variable warrants continued observation. Completed trench systems provide short-term deterrence but remain vulnerable to coordinated pressure.

========================================
ANONYMOUS FIELD LOG — ENTRY B
CLASSIFIED — PROJECT ECHO CLEARANCE REQUIRED:
NLC system degradation accelerating. Two early-stage reactive patients attempted physical breaches of internal quarantine barriers; suppression required multiple staff. Leadership issued contradictory directions on containment expansion, generating confusion among ward personnel. Perimeter fencing shows recurring nighttime impact signatures consistent with Phase III scouting pressure. Overall morale decreasing. Embedded access and surveillance remain uncompromised.