Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 16 - The First Engagement

By 0500 hours, the yard was still gray and quiet except for the low whine of the generators. The night team looked wrecked—eyelids twitching from the long watch, nerves burned thin by the last pulse.

Neal stood near the track bay, helmet off, coffee cooling in her hand. “Rotation,” she said flatly. “Fresh eyes on the line.”

Jacob and Trey, the engineers, grabbed rifles and headed out with Lin to walk the perimeter. Jenn Felner slid into the comms chair beside the monitors, fumbling for her headset.

“Log everything,” Lin reminded her. “Pulses, noises, motion—time in, time out. Even weird static. We’ll feed you updates every fifteen.”

“Got it,” Jenn said, already typing.

Dave relieved Stacks on the tower and gave a tired grin. “Get some sleep before it gets loud again.”

I stayed on. Neal did too. She didn’t even pretend to rest.

“You ever sleep?” I asked.

“Not lately.”

“Military habit?”

“More like survivor’s guilt.”

We left it there.

Inside, Alex, Carmen, and two medics turned the breakroom into a kitchen. The smell hit the yard first—MRE hash laced with chili and paprika, deer meat searing on a steel tray over the generator exhaust. Alex smiled when I walked through. “We’re making breakfast that doesn’t taste like cardboard.”

“God bless you for that,” Dave said, grabbing a spoon.

By 0600, the plant felt alive again—steam curling from cups, laughter low but real. For ten minutes, it almost sounded like a crew instead of survivors.

Then we split—three on the roof, four on the ground.

Neal, Dave, and I took the rooftop overwatch above the control wing. Jacob and Trey patrolled the inner fence with Lin on the south cameras. Neal scanned north with binoculars. “Visibility’s good. If they come, we’ll see ’em.”

At 0710, the world shook.

“Pulse!” Lin’s voice cracked through the headset.

We dropped to a knee. The vibration rolled under us—heavy, alive, metallic. The tanks rattled, bolts screamed. Dust poured from the catwalks, drifting through the air like ash. Heat shimmered above the pavement, and for a moment the entire yard seemed to breathe.

One minute, twenty seconds. The longest yet.

When it stopped, the silence hit like pressure release.

Then the screeches began.

North side. Close.

The first cry tore through the trees like steel on bone. Another followed, deeper and closer.

“Movement, north tree line,” Dave said, sighting through his scope.

Shapes flickered in the early sun—fast, wrong, low to the ground.

“Hold fire,” Neal ordered. “Let them show their intent.”

Three Berserkers broke from the woods, sprinting straight down the service road. They didn’t hesitate. They hit the fence like battering rams.

Chain link screamed. The posts shuddered. One started climbing, its hands slicing through wire, skin peeling off in ribbons.

“Not yet,” Neal said, voice level.

“Sergeant, they’re halfway over,” Dave warned.

Before she could answer, the comms exploded—Lin shouting from below: “South side movement! Fast approach!”

Neal’s eyes snapped wide. “Diversion. RJ—stay with Dave! I’m moving!”

She bolted for the ladder, boots hitting metal hard.

From the roof I saw it unfold—the north line chaos drawing everyone’s eyes while the south tree line erupted. Figures poured out—Berserkers, a dozen maybe, chasing deer into the open field. The wildlife scattered like smoke.

Neal hit the ground running, joined Jacob and Trey near the pump road. “Contact south!” she yelled. “Permission to fire granted on breach!”

One Zerker reached the fence, scaling it fast. Jacob exhaled slow and squeezed. The shot cracked through the morning. Head hit. Body dropped.

“Confirmed,” Neal said, pivoting to the next. Another vaulted halfway up. She fired once—heart shot. It fell backward into the dirt.

Then Lin’s voice: “North fence breach! One inside perimeter!”

Dave caught sight first. “There!”

The creature hit the ground running, one arm dangling from Jacob’s earlier bullet. It still charged the gate. Dave fired—clipped its shoulder. It stumbled, roared, and kept coming.

I lined the scope, let the world narrow to the reticle, and took the shot. The round punched center chest, dropping it mid-stride.

“Target down,” I said.

Dave’s breath shook. “Hell of a shot.”

Neal’s voice came over comms, steady again but ragged at the edges. “South clear. North clear. Three confirmed kills. No breach beyond first contact. Hold positions. Nobody pursues.”

The yard fell quiet except for the soft hum of cooling rifles and the drip of dew from the catwalk.

Jacob kicked the fence post. “So that’s what’s been screaming all night.”

“Yeah,” I said. “And those were the brave ones.”

Neal climbed back onto the roof beside us, breath visible in the morning chill. She removed her helmet, wiped her forehead, and stared out at the silent tree line. “They were probing,” she said quietly. “Next time, they’ll coordinate.”

Dave reloaded. “Let ’em try.”

I watched the forest. The morning sun hit the wet metal, turning the fence silver. Three bodies lay still in the mud, steam curling from their wounds.

Our first engagement. Our first victory.

But I knew the truth—every win just teaches the enemy how to lose better.