Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 37 – The Fragile One's

The moment Cruz hooked the IV line, the entire plant shifted.

It didn’t happen slowly.
It didn’t happen politely.

It happened the way a fortress reacts when something impossible arrives screaming through its gates.

Footsteps thundered down the hall. Doors slammed open. Voices echoed off concrete.

By the time I looked up, the infirmary wasn’t a room anymore — it was a convergence point.

Every face.
Every fighter.
Every parent.
Every survivor.

All of them pulled in like gravity.

Dave shouldered through first, breath sharp, eyes wide.
Wolf right behind him, hand already hovering near the grip of his sidearm without drawing it.
Lin skidded to a stop, scanner in hand, readings spiking so fast he couldn’t even hide it.
Hawk stood at the foot of the cot like a wall, scanning every inch of movement.

Then the others poured in.

Burns, arm still bandaged, leaning on the frame but refusing to stay in his bunk.
Stacks and Hawk, flanking out of habit, watching the corners.
Jenn Felner, whispering “holy shit” under her breath when she saw Fatima’s condition.
Jacob Epperson, clutching his notepad like he needed a procedure to cling to.
Jaxon, Nicholas, Jason, Morales, Bell, the medics and MCU survivors—drawn in because they felt something was different.
Santiago and Helms, quiet but alert, eyes narrowing at the sight of the girl.
Cami, Marie, and Gabriel, pulled close to their mothers, all three staring at Fatima like she was a ghost.
Carmen and Anne, the nurses, taking in her vitals and immediately shifting into triage mode behind Cruz.
Alex moved through the cluster last, face pale, steps mechanical—eyes bouncing between me, the cot, and Fatima’s trembling hand wrapped in mine.

The room was a pressure chamber.

Everyone felt it.
Nobody understood it.
But they all knew one thing:

Whatever this girl was, whatever she meant — it wasn’t small.

Cruz tightened the IV line. “Pulse is faint. Body temp is bottoming out. Something is seriously wrong internally.”

Wolf’s voice was low. “Where did she come from?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to.

Lin stepped forward, holding the scanner up so everyone could hear the tremor in his voice.

“She came out of Well House 28.”

A ripple went through the crowd — gasps, curses, disbelief.

Alex froze.

Dave’s brows slammed together. “Nobody comes out of those wells alive. Nobody.”

Lin swallowed. “That’s not the part you need to worry about.”

Neal crossed her arms. “Then what is?”

Lin turned the scanner toward me — toward the cot — toward her hand gripping mine.

“There was a resonance spike. Two signatures. One was RJ.”
He hesitated, voice dropping.
“The other… was hers.”

The room went dead still.

No shuffling.
No whispering.
No breathing.

Just the raw hum of something unseen tightening the air around us.

Then—
Fatima stirred.

A tiny motion.
A twitch in her fingers.
A tremble in her lips.

Her eyes opened halfway — unfocused, wild — then locked onto me with the clarity of someone recognizing a beacon in a storm.

A broken whisper slipped out.

“…you…”

The crowd flinched as one.

Cruz’s head snapped up. “She’s conscious?”

Barely.

Fatima’s hand tightened in mine again — fragile, shaking, deliberate.

Dave’s voice cracked through the tension.

“RJ… what the hell does she want from you?”

I didn’t look at him.

I couldn’t.

Not when Fatima’s eyes were begging one thing.
Not when the air was pulsing like the plant itself was holding its breath.
Not when the entire cast of Clear Water stood watching the next page of our lives turn itself.

I leaned closer, letting Fatima hear me, letting her anchor to the one thing she seemed to recognize.

“Fatima… you’re safe. You’re at Clear Water. You’re home now.”

Her lips parted.

One whisper.
One impossible whisper.

“…Kandahar…”

A collective gasp ripped through the room.

Hawk staggered back half a step. “No. No way.”

Alex’s face drained of every trace of color.

Marie covered her mouth.

Wolf whispered, “That’s across the goddamn world…”

Fatima swallowed, eyes glassy, voice barely a thread.

“…they told me… find you…”

My stomach flipped.

“Who told you?”

Her eyelids fluttered.

A tear slipped.

Her voice cracked around a name that tore the room in half.

“…Lockridge…”

And just like that—

Every fear.
Every secret.
Every quiet theory whispered in the halls—

Ignited.

The entire infirmary erupted.

Gasps.
Curses.
Questions.
Accusations.
Eyes whipping between me and the girl who crossed half the earth to find me.

But Fatima only saw me.

And she held my hand like her life depended on it.

Maybe it did.