Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 36 – Coming In Hot

We were barely a hundred yards from the south gate when Hawk snatched up the radio like it was burning his hand.

“Lin, open the south gate. Now. Coming in hot.”

Static cracked, followed by Lin’s tight voice.
“Copy. Gate moving.”

The truck rumbled over the gravel as we closed the distance. Fatima lay across the back seat, wrapped in a blanket that looked too heavy for her body. Every bump made her flinch. Every breath sounded thin, scraping. Her skin radiated a cold that didn’t belong in this heat.

I kept a hand on the seat beside her—not touching, just anchoring the space. She kept tracking my voice even when her eyes slipped half-closed, like the only thing keeping her conscious was the sound of me breathing.

Hawk sped the truck through the opening gate without slowing, engine grumbling as he swung us toward the east service wing — the one closest to the infirmary doors.

Neal was already sprinting across the lot, cutting straight toward the medical wing entrance, rifle slung and out of the way so she could move faster.

“Cruz, meet us at med,” Neal shouted into the radio as she sprinted ahead. “Bring fluids and a warming kit.”

Fatima stirred at the sound of Neal’s voice over the radio, but it was faint, confused. Her fingers twitched against the blanket.

“Stay with me,” I said softly.

Hawk parked outside the small infirmary wing. Before the engine even stopped fully, I opened the back door and climbed in with her. She tried to lift her head—barely managed an inch before it dropped back.

“RJ…” Hawk’s voice softened. “Let me take her.”

“No,” I said. “I’ve got her.”

But when I reached for her shoulders, my ribs pulled tight—old injuries reminding me they weren’t done healing. Fatima’s weight wasn’t much, but my body disagreed.

Hawk saw it immediately.

“Don’t be stubborn, man.”
He came around the back seat and positioned himself carefully. “Guide me. You stay with her.”

I nodded once.

Together, we lifted her—slow, steady, keeping her head supported. She shivered, more reflex than strength. Her breath fogged once against Hawk’s sleeve, then vanished.

The infirmary doors swung open as Cruz rushed out, gloves half-on.

“Put her here,” she ordered, pointing to the nearest cot. “Blanket off. I need to see her skin.”

Hawk laid her down as gently as he could. I stayed at her side, bracing my hands on the metal frame as Cruz checked pulse points, eyes narrowing.

“She’s ice cold,” Cruz muttered. “Dehydrated. Malnourished. How long was she out there?”

“Long enough she shouldn’t be alive,” Hawk said.

Fatima’s lips moved again.
Not sound—just shaping something.

Cruz leaned in. “Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

Fatima’s gaze drifted past her and locked onto me instead.

“…RJ…”

Her voice was sandpaper and breath.
Cruz froze.

“She knows your name?” Neal asked from the doorway.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The room felt smaller. The air thicker. Everyone’s eyes were on me, waiting for an explanation I didn’t have.

Cruz straightened, grabbing an IV bag.
“She needs fluids and heat, now. She’s not stable.”

Marie appeared in the doorway behind Neal, eyes wide.
She took one look at Fatima on the cot and instinctively reached for Neal’s hand.

“Who is she?” Marie whispered.

Nobody answered.

Hawk stepped back to give Cruz space.
I didn’t move.

Fatima reached weakly toward me—her hand trembling as if the simple act of lifting it stole the little energy she had left.

I closed my hand around hers.

Her fingers tightened, barely there but deliberate.

Cruz paused mid-motion, watching the exchange with something between concern and disbelief.

Neal’s voice broke the silence.

“RJ… you want to tell us what the hell happened out there?”

Fatima’s breathing hitched, a small whimper caught in her throat as Cruz started the IV.

I looked at them—Neal, Hawk, Cruz, Marie lingering in the doorway—every one of them waiting for an explanation that would make sense of this.

But nothing about Fatima made sense.

Not her knowing my name.
Not her emerging from WH28.
Not the way her body reacted to mine.
Not the resonance spike that Lin had seen.
Not the way the world felt heavier the moment she touched my hand.

So I gave them the only truth I had.

“She came out of Well House 28,” I said quietly. “And she asked for me by name.”

Cruz’s hands froze.

Neal’s shoulders tightened.

Hawk swore under his breath.

Marie stepped closer to the cot, curiosity overtaking fear.

And Fatima, barely conscious, barely breathing—
held my hand like she’d been looking for it her entire life.

========================================
ANONYMOUS FIELD LOG — ENTRY ALPHA
CLASSIFIED — PROJECT ECHO CLEARANCE REQUIRED:
Unexpected inbound emergency return from Hawk and Anchor carrying unidentified female recovered near WH28 perimeter. Subject presents hypothermia, malnutrition, and anomalous cognitive fixation on Anchor. CWP personnel displayed heightened vigilance but maintained operational discipline. Anchor-to-subject interaction produced measurable emotional stabilization in Anchor and elevated attention from command staff. No resonance spike detected but localized hum beneath southern conduit shifted in amplitude during subject’s transfer into infirmary. Continued covert observation recommended.

========================================
ANONYMOUS FIELD LOG — ENTRY BRAVO
CLASSIFIED — PROJECT ECHO CLEARANCE REQUIRED:
NLC logged minor background oscillation drift during same window as CWP medical intake event, though no direct correlation established. Internal resource strain escalating; south wing triage expanded following increase in panic admissions. Mercer initiated silent cross-reference of WH-series anomalies after identifying unusual drift patterns in regional hum map. Jackson continues compartmentalization; no disclosure to broader command. Embedded position stable; facility tension advantageous for deeper intelligence extraction.