Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 2 – The Investigation Begins

By mid-morning, the hum still hadn’t settled. Whatever I’d logged earlier wasn’t interference anymore. The rhythm of the plant felt wrong, dragging half a beat behind itself like a song out of sync. You couldn’t put that on a report, but you could feel it in your teeth. I kept checking the clock, tapping my pen against the logbook without realizing it.

Radio chatter dulled. The voices came through with their usual noise, but the timing was off. People paused mid-sentence as if they forgot where they were, then forced a laugh to cover it. Even Dave sounded distracted, mumbling that he kept losing his train of thought.

By late morning it showed in their movements too. Workers stared at gauges a second longer than normal, blinking like they had just woken up. Sharon passed along the inner walkway toward the gate, clipboard under one arm. She waved when she saw me through the glass. New hire, two weeks in, sharp and steady.

“Hey, RJ,” she said through the window.

“How’s it going, Sharon? You look like you slept less than me.”

“Long night,” she said. “Neighbors’ dog barked for hours. Drove me crazy.”

That dog wasn’t the only thing acting strange.

I wrote a note:
1010 – Crew showing fatigue and distraction outside normal pattern. Logged for future review.

When you work security, your gut stays employed even when everything else looks normal.

At 1015 the south fence camera picked up movement again. I switched to the feed. A handful of deer stood near the gate, motionless, heads pointed toward the compound. No grazing. No twitching. Just stillness.

The first time was odd.
The second time was unsettling.

By 1100 the herd had doubled. Foxes and raccoons joined them. A couple of stray dogs too. Birds perched along the fence in perfect rows, flying off and returning to the exact same spots.

I called Dave.

“You seeing anything unusual near the south tanks?”

“Unusual how?”

“Wildlife. Fence line. All facing the plant again.”

He gave a short laugh. “Maybe they’re drawn to the smell of lunch. Or you.”

“Funny,” I said, though my gut didn’t agree.

At 1130 I took the keys from the wall and signed myself out. My hand shook slightly. I blamed the caffeine.

Outside, the air felt heavy and still. The security truck sat under a thin film of dust. The moment I started the engine, the radio snapped to static.

“Plant Command, this is Security One. You got comms?”

Nothing.

The drive toward the south gate felt longer than it should. Every bend in the gravel road looked off, like someone had rearranged it overnight. I slowed near the first tank yard. The silver cylinders caught the light, silent and clean.

No birds overhead. That alone set my nerves off.

By 1138 I reached the gate. The animals were still there, now in the hundreds. Deer shoulder to shoulder, smaller animals filling the gaps. Not a sound from any of them.

I sat in the truck, watching.

Then without warning, they turned. Not toward me or away from me. Just in unison, all facing the tree line where the forest met the old quarry road.

And they moved.

Not fast. Not panicked. Steady, like something unseen was calling them forward.

The air pressure shifted. My ears popped. The hair on my arms rose. Static flared through the radio, then died.

Under the silence, I felt it. A low vibration that wasn’t mechanical. The steering wheel buzzed faintly beneath my hand.

The animals crossed the field and disappeared into the trees. The moment the last one vanished, the vibration stopped. The quiet returned.

I exhaled, not realizing I had been holding my breath.

“Dave, you reading me?” I said into the mic. “We’ve got something unusual here.”

His voice came back fuzzy. “You and me both. Crew’s getting headaches. One guy says his vision’s blurry.”

That got my attention. “Where?”

“Filtration side.”

“Anyone wearing hearing protection?”

“Most of them.”

“And?”

“They’re fine,” he said. “Weird, huh?”

Weird was one word for it.

I jotted a note. Hard to tell what part of the plant each wave hits first. Sometimes the tanks shake. Sometimes the air goes heavy. No pattern yet.

I killed the engine and stepped out. The silence wrapped around everything. Even my own breathing sounded too loud. I walked to the fence, following the path the animals had taken.

The ground was disturbed. Not tracks. More like a faint ripple, as if something heavy had moved beneath it. The air carried the sharp smell of ozone.

I glanced back toward the main building. It felt smaller now. Farther away.

Something was happening here. Every wave grew stronger. Every silence deeper.

Before heading back, I wrote one last line.

1156 – South perimeter clear. Activity pattern continues. Recommend internal review before next fluctuation.

As I drove toward the guard shack, the sky above the tanks shimmered faintly, like heat rising from asphalt.

It wasn’t heat.

It was getting closer.