Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 35 – The Girl Who Knew My Name

She didn’t weigh anything.

That was the first thing Hawk muttered as he shifted her in his arms, trying to get a better grip without jostling her too hard. Her head fell against his shoulder, the oversized t-shirt clinging to her from sweat and mist inside WH28. Her legs dangled, scraped and shaking like her body was trying to reboot one muscle at a time.

“Hell…” Hawk breathed. “They practically starved her.”

We weren’t anywhere near the main plant.
No Alex.
No Cruz.
No backup.

Just the two of us in the heavy August air, cicadas screaming over the hum of the generators and the distant emptiness around the well houses. The night felt thick enough to move with your hands.

I limped beside him, ribs firing pain up my side every time my weight shifted wrong.

Hawk tightened his hold. “RJ, you good?”

“I’m fine,” I lied. “Keep moving.”

The girl wasn’t unconscious, not fully. Every few steps she stirred, her fingers twitching against Hawk’s vest, her breath stuttering like it had to fight its way out.

Her eyes kept tracking me.
Not Hawk.
Not the flashlight beam.
Me.

We crossed the gravel between WH28 and the outer fence road, the truck parked where we’d left it earlier. Hawk angled toward it.

“Lin’s watching cams,” he said. “If anything else crawls out of WH28, we’re sprinting.”

We both knew I was in no shape to sprint.

A sharp inhale came from the girl—weak and painful. Hawk slowed, bracing her weight better.

“Easy, kid,” he whispered. “You’re alright.”

She wasn’t looking at him.

Her gaze drifted toward me again, barely focused, barely staying open.

I stepped closer, ignoring the spike of pain under my ribs. “Hey. You’re safe. We’ve got you.”

Her lips cracked apart.

“R…J…”

Hawk stopped walking for half a second.

“…You heard that too, right?” he muttered.

I didn’t answer.

We reached the truck. I opened the back door, bracing myself against the flare in my ribs, and Hawk eased her inside, setting her across the seat like she’d break if he blinked too fast.

The girl sagged sideways until her shoulder touched the cushion. Her fingers twitched—then lifted.

Not toward air.

Toward me.

I climbed in beside her, moving slow so my ribs didn’t stab me in half. Hawk got her into the back seat, and the moment her head touched the jacket cushion, he slammed the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. The engine growled awake before I even shut my door.

Gravel spat out behind us as he pulled away from the well houses fast but controlled, eyes flicking between the road and the rearview.

I steadied the girl against me. Her skin felt too cold for August. Every bump in the road made her muscles flinch like her nerves were misfiring.

Her hand brushed my arm—light, shaking—like she barely remembered how to reach for anything.

“They… told me…” she whispered.

Hawk heard it over the engine. He didn’t turn around, but his voice sharpened.

“Told you what?”

Her breath hitched.

“…find you…”

My chest tightened. Not fear. Something older. Something buried deeper than memory.

“Who told you?” I asked softly.

She swallowed, throat scraping dry.

“…the doctor…”

Hawk’s grip tightened on the wheel. “What doctor?”

The girl blinked slowly. A tear slid from the corner of one eye—not emotion, just failure of a body pushed too far.

“…Lockridge…”

The name slammed into the cab harder than the engine noise.

Hawk cursed under his breath. “Of course it was Lockridge. Of course it goddamn was.”

The truck bounced over a rut. I braced Fatima so she wouldn’t slip.

“Listen,” I said, leaning close without crowding her. “You’re safe. But I need your name.”

Her lips trembled.

“…Fa…”
A trembling inhale.
“…ti…ma…”

Hawk exhaled, low and stunned. “Fatima…”

I repeated it quietly, grounding it in the heat, the motion, the moment that changed the entire course of the night.

Fatima.

The girl who knew my name before I ever knew hers.

ANONYMOUS FIELD LOG — ENTRY A
CLASSIFIED -- PROJECT ECHO CLEARANCE REQUIRED

Unidentified female adolescent exited WH28 in unstable condition. Anchor and auxiliary carrier conducted immediate extraction. Subject demonstrated continuous visual fixation on Anchor and initiated physical contact. Resonance overlap detected upon contact. Subject verbally addressed Anchor using personal identifier. Additional dialogue not fully captured from current observation distance. Subject condition critical but stable under escort. Monitoring continues.

ANONYMOUS FIELD LOG — ENTRY B
CLASSIFIED -- PROJECT ECHO CLEARANCE REQUIRED

NLC sensors registered minor resonance fluctuation matching Anchor–Subject interaction at WH28 perimeter. Dr. Mercer reacted with visible distress upon hearing name “Fatima.” Captain Bilew-Jackson recommends increased sublevel security despite standing orders. Predictive models maintain high probability of Anchor trajectory shifting toward Stafford AFB. Infiltration remains uncompromised.