Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 43 – The First Run

The convoy rolled to a stop outside Nebraska Medicine Bellevue, engines dropping into a low, uneven idle that echoed across the empty parking lot. The hospital stood dark and still, its windows reflecting nothing but gray morning haze. No movement. No sounds. Just the wind brushing against broken glass and the rustle of leaves collecting along the curb.

Neal stepped out first and took a long, steady look at the building. She checked the roofline, scanned the upper floors, then motioned for everyone to form up. CWP personnel, NLC evac staff, Iron Battalion firefighters, and the civilian runners gathered in a wide semi-circle near the entrance. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t clean. But they were all present and ready.

Neal raised her voice just enough to carry.

“This is our first run together. One sweep. One load. Then we head home. Nobody moves until they know their lane.”

She pointed toward the NLC group standing behind Captain Bilew Jackson.

“Triage team calls priorities. Meds. Trauma gear. IVs. Oxygen. Anything life-saving or infection-critical. They say grab it, you grab it. They control all medical decisions.”

Captain Bilew Jackson didn’t speak. She simply nodded once, already in work mode.

Neal shifted to the Iron Battalion.

“You clear hallways before anyone enters. Secure rooms. Mark them. Make sure we don’t get surprised by anything left behind. Keep the med teams protected and keep the flow moving.”

Their Captain gave a curt nod, his people already adjusting gloves and checking tools.

She turned to the civilians and CWP techs.

“Logistics moves boxes from triage to the staging area. Keep the center lane open. If something falls, fix it. If something jams up the doorway, clear it. Don’t slow triage down.”

Finally, she keyed her radio.

“RJ, we’re staging.”

Your voice crackled through the static.

“Copy. This is the only run today. Make it count. One sweep, then everyone back to the CWP.”

Neal answered, “Understood. One run only.”

The group tightened up. Iron Battalion shifted toward the entrance. CWP security checked their corners. NLC staff positioned triage carts. Civilians braced themselves to carry whatever got handed to them.

Neal lifted her hand.

“Teams, move.”

The doors slid open with a grinding, metallic scrape.

They stepped inside.

The first mistake appeared ten feet in.

Two different teams—one from Iron Battalion, one from CWP—moved toward the same hallway, both thinking they’d been assigned that wing. They collided shoulder-to-shoulder in the doorway, each trying to let the other pass. The brief standstill clogged the entrance immediately.

Neal stepped between them.

“Battalion: east wing. CWP: west storage. Move.”

They split cleanly, but the stumble set the tone.

Further in, a supply cart hit a cracked tile and tipped sideways, sending a box of IV bags skidding across the floor. Two NLC staff scrambled to salvage the unruptured bags while a Battalion firefighter grabbed the cart and propped it upright. A CWP runner collected the loose supplies and carried them back toward the staging area.

A few minutes later, the triage zone choked up. Boxes stacked too quickly. Someone placed meds on top of blankets. A second cart blocked the doorway by accident, forcing the incoming runners to snake around it.

Captain Bilew Jackson clapped once, sharp and loud.

“Freeze. Undo that last load. Meds on the left wall. Trauma gear on the right. Clear this doorway now.”

The teams adjusted. The clog broke apart. Work resumed.

Another hiccup came when Iron Battalion cleared their entire assigned floor faster than NLC expected. They returned downstairs waiting to be redeployed, irritation flickering at the edges.

“We can sweep deeper,” their Captain said.

Neal shook her head. “Not on day one. Stick to planned zones.”

He accepted it without pushing back, but the constraint clearly pressed on them.

In the middle of a hallway, someone dropped a portable O2 tank. The metallic clang echoed like a gunshot. Every head turned. Battalion braced automatically. The noise died almost immediately, but the tension lingered.

A battery-powered door alarm in a nearby room chirped weakly, then died. No threat. Just a dead system calling out one last time.

Despite the hiccups, the machine gradually found its rhythm. CWP secured hallways. Iron Battalion moved equipment like they’d trained for it. NLC picked out the highest-value meds and tools without wasting a second. Civilians pushed past fatigue and formed impromptu chains to move blankets, PPE, O2 tanks, and diagnostic units.

The mistakes kept coming—but they kept getting fixed faster.

A cart broke. They swapped it.
A box stack leaned. They restacked it.
A hallway jammed. They spread out and reopened it.

Two hours in, the staging area held enough supplies to make the return trip worth it. Not perfect. Not everything on the list. But enough to make Clear Water stronger than it was that morning.

Neal stepped out through the sliding doors, wiped sweat from her forehead, and keyed her radio.

“RJ, first run complete.”

Your reply came without hesitation.

“Copy. Bring it home. We’ll meet you all at the CWP soon. No more runs today.”

The teams loaded into their vehicles. Engines rumbled alive. Iron Battalion mounted up with the same precision they’d shown at their salute. NLC secured the last of the medical crates. CWP took final perimeter checks before sealing the doors.

The convoy rolled out the same way it came in.

One run.
One load.
A little chaotic.
A little rough.
But together.

The first step toward becoming one force.

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ANONYMOUS FIELD LOG — ENTRY BRAVO
CLASSIFIED — PROJECT ECHO CLEARANCE REQUIRED:

Convoy arrival at Nebraska Medicine Bellevue verified. Anchor maintained long-range resonance corridor ahead of formation; no Phase-III presence recorded within perimeter at time of entry. Mixed-unit sweep (CWP, NLC, Iron Battalion, civilian runners) displayed predictable first-run inefficiencies: lane confusion at initial hallway fork, triage bottleneck due to improper supply staging, and premature floor-clearance pacing from Battalion teams. No hostility or panic detected; corrections were rapid due to strong command control by Neal and Bilew Jackson.

Internal NLC chatter shows increased confidence in multi-group operations, though some personnel privately question reliance on a single Anchor-centric strategy for corridor security. They remain unaware of resonance mechanics but acknowledge the tactical advantage. No indications of mutiny or divergence. Energy signatures stable; no local hum interference detected within hospital infrastructure.

Supplies recovered include trauma kits, O2 canisters, IV fluids, antibiotics, and critical-use med gear exceeding NLC weekly consumption capacity. Personnel fatigue moderate but morale elevated post-operation. Infiltration cover preserved; recommended continuation of embedded observation as inter-group coordination matures.