Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 53 – The Grocery Run

The all-clear rolled across the parking lot like a released breath. The smell had settled, the airflow held, and for the first time all day the tension around the convoy eased. Not disappeared. But eased.

Inside Western Grocery, the world felt… familiar again. The hum of carts rolling. The shuffle of boots. People talking without whispering. It wasn’t the old world, but it was the closest anyone had felt to it in a long time.

Alex pulled a cart forward with one hand while wrangling Toni with the other. Cami and Gabriel followed behind, each trying to grab something they weren’t supposed to touch. I took the rear, watching the aisles and watching Marie, who kept drifting toward anything bright or colorful like she was rediscovering the idea of stores.

Alex glanced back at me. “Keep her close.”

“I’m on it.”

Marie froze at a box of cereal with a cartoon fox on it. “He looks nice…”

“He probably is,” I said, steering her gently forward, “but we need food that won’t expire before we get home.”

She nodded, even if she didn’t understand. She stayed close after that.

Down the third aisle, Alaina stepped in from the opposite direction. Kevin drifted in beside her, their formation so natural it didn’t even register at first. They looked like two people shopping together. Nothing more.

But the moment I saw the way her shoulders dropped, I knew.

“Alaina,” Kevin said quietly, “how have you been?”

The quiver in her breath was small but real. “Trying not to think about everything. Failing pretty hard.”

He kept his voice low. “I miss you so much.”

Her eyes closed for half a second. Just half. “I know. I know, Kevin.”

Then footsteps approached from the front of the aisle. One of the IBF privates pushing a cart full of canned goods. Alaina stepped back instantly, grabbing a jar of pasta sauce like she’d been comparing labels the whole time.

Kevin switched gears without missing a beat. “Yeah, that one’s low sodium. Good call.”

The private nodded at both of them and kept moving, none the wiser.

Their conversation drifted easily after that, weaving in and out of real emotion and perfect camouflage. A quiet hand on her arm when no one was looking. A shared look over a shelf. Two ghosts remembering what it felt like to breathe.

Across the store, Jackson and Bilew-Jackson moved together at a slow, casual pace. No urgency. No barking orders. She held a box of rice, reading the label. Jackson pretended not to watch her… but he watched her. And after the humor war earlier, the man wasn’t carved from stone anymore.

Hawk and Medeles passed them with a cart stacked like they were preparing for a siege, both of them still buzzing with victory and bruised pride. Medeles shot Jackson a grin.

“Sir, promise we won’t make you laugh again unless it’s life or death.”

Jackson didn’t break stride. “It won’t be.”

But his tone was softer. His shoulders lower. And when Bilew-Jackson nudged him with her elbow, he didn’t stiffen. He nudged back. Barely, but he did.

On the next aisle over, four of the IBF women mixed in with a couple NLC civilians, comparing spices and canned soups like they were arguing over recipes instead of rations. Two of them traded phone-numbers-that-no-longer-worked out of sheer habit, then laughed at how pointless it was.

It felt like a community forming right there between dented cans and dusty shelves.

Alex held up a row of granola bars. “Think the kids will actually eat these?”

“No,” I said, “you know how picky they are. But take them anyway.”

“Good call.”

Marie tried to sneak fruit gummies into the cart. Gabriel caught her and snitched immediately. “Mami, Marie’s trying to steal!”

Marie crossed her arms. “It’s not stealing if it’s food.”

Alex sighed. “This is going to be a long day.”

Cami wandered up behind me. “Mami, can we get something sweet?”

She scanned the shelves. “If it doesn’t rot and it doesn’t melt, we’ll think about it.”

She sighed, her eyes drifting downward, the exact look of a kid realizing ice cream wasn’t happening today.

People moved. Talked. Argued lightly. Laughed softly. There were no alarms. No shouts. No running. Just shopping. Just breathing.

A small slice of normal.

Alaina and Kevin passed at the end of the aisle again. Not touching. Not close. But their orbit was unmistakable. The kind of closeness only two people who’ve lost each other and found each other again could hide with that much discipline.

And yet, nobody saw it.

Just another pair shopping.

Just another day inside a store we’d almost written off.

It didn’t smell great.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it was safe.

And for the first time in a long time, safe was more than enough.