Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 13 – She Whispers in the Fog

The sky had turned the color of wet concrete by the time we were a few miles from the FEMA yard. It was quiet except for the soft grind of tires on cracked asphalt. The fog was so thick it swallowed everything ahead of us. The high beams lit a white wall barely ten feet in front of the truck. I drove twenty miles an hour—sometimes less.

The others sat behind me in silence. The hum of the engine was steady, a small comfort against the soundless world outside. Every few minutes, a shadow drifted past—something walking or twitching along the shoulder. The Zerkers moved aimlessly, slow and disoriented, but too many lingered near the lanes.

I keyed the radio, hoping to hear her voice.
“Clear Water, this is Security One, do you read me?”

A long pause. Static.

“I say again, Clear Water, this is Security One, do you copy?”

A faint click. Then her voice—soft, steady, alive.

“Security One, we read you loud and clear.”

“Alex?” I exhaled. “It’s me.”

“Pa?” she said, voice trembling through the static. “Oh my God… Pa, is it really you?”

“It’s me. We’re en route back to the plant. About ten miles out. Is everyone okay? Over.”

“So far, yes. Power’s still spotty, but Dave’s got the generators holding. We sealed the west gate after the last pulse.”

“Good. Keep everyone inside. We’ll be home soon.”

“Copy that. We’ll be ready, Pa. Marie’s been asking for you every hour.”

“Tell her her old man’s bringing breakfast.”

“I will,” Alex said, voice softening. “Just… hurry.”

The line clicked and went quiet.

Mateo stared into the haze, hand tight on his rifle. “The fog’s thicker than before. It’s like it’s alive.”

I didn’t answer. The air felt charged, static crawling under my skin.

We rolled another half hour. Dead trees lined both sides of the road. Shadows floated in the mist—people or things that used to be people. Some stood perfectly still; others shuffled and froze again. It was like driving through a field of ghosts.

Then Mark stiffened. His head tilted slightly, like he was hearing something the rest of us couldn’t.

“Stop the truck,” he whispered.

“Not here.”

“Stop!” His tone cracked. “RJ—stop the truck.”

Carmen leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”

He pressed a trembling hand to the windshield. “She’s there.”

Through the fog ahead, a figure walked the center line—a woman, head tilted, hair long and matted.

Mateo squinted. “Who is that?”

Mark’s voice broke. “My wife.”

Carmen frowned. “He’s married?”

I shook my head. “He was. She died before all this.”

Before I could react, Mark popped the door and jumped out—just as the headlights flickered. I slammed the brakes, the truck skidding to a stop. The MCU behind us swerved, nearly clipping the bumper.

“Mark!” I shouted.

He didn’t answer. He ran ahead, hands out, calling her name.

The woman turned. Her face was pale, eyes dull but fixed on him.

Carmen whispered, “Oh God… what’s wrong with him?”

I jumped out. Mateo followed, panic in his voice.

“It’s me,” Mark said softly. “Lydia. It’s really you.”

She didn’t speak. Her lips curled into a smile that almost looked human.

“Mark!” I called. “That’s not her. We need to move.”

He turned, tears streaking his face. “She came back.”

The air shifted. The ground began to vibrate under our boots.

Carmen shouted from the truck, “RJ—lights flickering!”

I grabbed Mateo’s arm. “Run.”

We sprinted for the truck, yelling for Mark to follow. He didn’t move. The woman touched his cheek. For a heartbeat, he closed his eyes like he was home again.

Then the hum hit.

It started deep in the teeth, swelling until it crushed the air. The sky flashed white. The road rippled like water. I slammed the truck door as the pressure peaked.

Mark and the woman stood frozen in the beam, light washing over them in violent waves. The sound was a physical weight pressing the chest.

Seventy-five seconds. Then silence.

The woman’s head tilted farther and farther until her neck looked ready to snap. Then she smiled—wide, wrong, teeth showing through split lips.

She moved fast. Too fast.

Her hands shot up, clutching Mark’s face like she meant to kiss him. For a second, it looked tender—until her thumbs drove into his eyes. Mark screamed, the sound tearing through the fog.

She twisted. The pop was sharp and final. His body spasmed once, his boots scraping across the asphalt as she wrenched his head completely around.

We all froze. Carmen gasped. Mateo stumbled back, choking on air.

For an instant, I thought I saw pity in her eyes—like she hated what she’d become. Then it was gone.

Mark’s body went limp and dropped in a heap at her feet, eyes still open but staring at us backwards. The Berserker tilted her head at us, blood running down her wrists, and smiled again—slow, knowing.

For a heartbeat, no one breathed.

Then she moved. A blur of motion and sound, feet slapping the asphalt as she charged. The hunger of the kill burned in her eyes.

“Go!” Mateo shouted, voice breaking.

I slammed the pedal down.

She hit the front of the truck hard enough to rock it. Her face flashed in the beam—blood, rage, and something that still looked human—before the fog swallowed her whole.

No one spoke. The road behind us kept its secrets.

The MCUs followed close behind, engines roaring through the white. The truck vibrated beneath my hands—not from the road, not from the engine, but from something deeper.

The hum was still there.
Soft.
Steady.
Like it had climbed inside with us.