Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 31 – Buried Deep

The office felt too small for what I needed to do.

Alex stayed with the others in the admin hallway, keeping them steady. Cruz controlled the panicked half of the plant before it turned into a stampede. Wolf stayed near the armory, pretending to manage supplies but really watching the cameras to see if I collapsed again. Everyone had their assignment.

Mine was here.

Hawk closed the door behind us and locked it. Not dramatic. Just necessary.

He didn’t sit. Neither did I.

Three hard drives were spread across the metal table, cables running to Lin’s laptop. The flickering blue of the loading bar painted the room in faint pulses.

Hawk folded his arms. “Before we start… you sure you want to do this alone?”

“I have to,” I said. “I’m not dragging the whole plant into something that started with me. Or under me.”

He nodded once, accepting it. He always did.

The first drive opened. Hundreds of files. Corrupted labels. Redacted thumbnails. Everything cold and clinical.

I scrolled.

Facility schematics.

Lab footage.

Procedure logs.

Routine, until it wasn’t.

A personnel directory appeared. All names blacked out except two lines the system failed to censor.

SUBJECT 27 – Neural Cleanse Trial Group

SUBJECT 28 – Paired Prototype

My stomach tightened.

“Two subjects,” Hawk murmured. “You were never alone down there.”

“I knew that part,” I said. “But I didn’t know the tag.”

I clicked the second line.

ACCESS DENIED.

Not corrupted. Encrypted.

We moved on.

A video file loaded next. Grainy, old, with timestamps from thirteen years ago. The camera was angled wrong — low, pointed toward metal cabinets lining the wall. But reflections told the story.

A younger me strapped to a table.

And behind me…

A second table.

Same harness.

Same restraints.

Empty.

Hawk exhaled slowly. “They built two setups. That means they had two picks.”

“Subject 28,” I said quietly.

But there was nothing else. No face. No voice. No footage of who they chose. Just the architecture of a plan that had included me and someone else.

I clicked another file.

A blurred, shadowed figure leaned over the table. I scrubbed the timeline. On the edge of the frame, caught in a mirrored panel, was the man in the reflection from my vision.

Same coat.

Same stance.

Same mirrored sunglasses.

Zooming in didn’t reveal his face — but the patch on his sleeve wasn’t blurred.

ECHO ENGINEERING – STAFFORD

Hawk stiffened. “There it is. He wasn’t CWP. He wasn’t NLC. Stafford engineered whatever happened to you.”

Breadcrumb number one.

I opened an audio log next. Static hissed across the speakers until a stretch clicked clean.

“If retention holds, transport Subject Twenty-Seven to southern conduit for imprint alignment. Lockridge will sign off.”

Hawk’s eyes narrowed. “Mercer talked about imprint trials. Lockridge was over the neurological branch before FEMA pulled them into NorthStar.”

“Meaning they were both part of this,” I said.

Breadcrumb number two.

Then we reached a metadata listing at the bottom of the drive:

NODE–02
STATUS: UNKNOWN
LAST KNOWN LOCATION: STAFFORD SUBLEVEL 3

My pulse kicked hard.

That wasn’t a random note.

That was a pointer.

I leaned back, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “Someone else in that program survived.”

Hawk didn’t disagree. “Someone else like you.”

I closed the files.

Room silent.

Truth heavy.

“Now tell me why you said Kandahar,” I said.

He didn’t blink. Didn’t pretend he’d forgotten.

“Because I’ve seen footage,” Hawk said, voice quiet. “Before everything fell apart, Stafford let a few of us view what ECHO was doing overseas. Early tests. Prototype responses. Some of the visuals looked just like what you described.”

“You should’ve told me.”

He shook his head. “Protocol said otherwise. Back then, we didn’t know who the subjects were. Didn’t know they were civilians. Didn’t know one of them was working at my damn plant.”

His jaw tightened.

“I’ll tell you now, though — whatever they made in Kandahar… you weren’t the first.”

The words chilled more than the hum under the floor.

I packed the drives into a bag.

Hawk watched. “You’re going down to WH27?”

“No,” I said. “Not yet.”

I slung the strap over my shoulder.

“I’m going to Stafford.”

Hawk nodded once. “You need backup?”

“No. Not for this part.”

Because deep down, I already knew:

Whatever I was looking for…

whatever they did to me…

whatever Subject 28 was…

the answers weren’t under CWP anymore.

They were buried deeper.

They were in Stafford.

Waiting.

========================================
ANONYMOUS FIELD LOG — ENTRY ALPHA
CLASSIFIED — PROJECT ECHO CLEARANCE REQUIRED:
Anchor initiated isolated data review within admin office accompanied only by secondary subject. Emotional strain observable but contained; no outward resonance spikes detected. CWP population maintained controlled tension following prior corridor division, though no escalation occurred. Residential and utility sectors remained stable with routine auditory signatures. Sublevel hum beneath WH27 increased in frequency shortly after Anchor began accessing archival material, indicating system responsiveness to Anchor’s cognitive load. Continued covert proximity required.
========================================
ANONYMOUS FIELD LOG — ENTRY BRAVO
CLASSIFIED — PROJECT ECHO CLEARANCE REQUIRED:
NLC telemetry recorded minor oscillation variance corresponding to regional hum drift but no confirmed linkage to CWP due to distance and signal interference. Leadership maintained closed-door posture as staff morale continued to degrade from resource strain. Two enlisted personnel reassigned after dispute over quarantine expansion. Mercer initiated review of legacy Stafford metadata after identifying anomalous sublevel activity patterns. Embedded presence remains undetected; internal tension beneficial for continued infiltration.