Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 2 – The Investigation Begins

By mid-morning, the hum still hadn’t settled. Whatever I’d logged earlier wasn’t just interference anymore. The rhythm of the plant seemed off—dragging half a beat behind itself, like a song out of sync. You couldn’t log that on a report, but you could feel it in your teeth. I kept checking the clock, tapping my pen against the logbook without realizing it.

Radio chatter dulled. The voices still came through, but the timing was wrong. People paused mid-sentence like they forgot what they were saying, then came back with forced laughter. Even Dave sounded distracted, mumbling that he kept losing his train of thought.

By late morning it showed in their movements too. Workers stared at gauges for a beat too long, blinking like they’d just woken up. Sharon passed along the outer walkway near the gate, clipboard under one arm, waving when she saw me through the glass. She was new—maybe two weeks in—sharp and steady.

“Hey, RJ,” she said through the window.
“How's it going, Sharon? You look like you slept less than me.”
“Long night,” she said. “Neighbors’ dog barked for hours. Drove me crazy.”

That dog wasn’t the only one acting strange.

I made a note: 1010 – Crew showing fatigue and distraction outside normal pattern. Logged for future review.

When you work security, gut keeps you alive.

At 1015 the south-fence camera picked up movement again. I switched to the feed. A handful of deer stood near the gate, motionless, heads pointed toward the compound. No grazing. No twitching. Just stillness.

The first time it was odd. The second time, unsettling.

By 1100 the herd had doubled. Foxes and raccoons joined them, even a few stray dogs. Birds perched in perfect lines along the fence, flying off and returning to the same exact spots.

I called Dave. “You seeing anything unusual near the south tanks?”
“Unusual how?”
“Wildlife. Fence line. All facing the plant again.”
He gave a short laugh. “Maybe they’re drawn to the smell of lunch. Or you.”

“Funny,” I said. My gut didn’t agree.

At 1130 I took the keys from the wall and signed myself out. The handwriting shook slightly. I told myself it was the caffeine.

Outside, the air was heavy and still. The security truck sat under a film of dust. The moment I started the engine, the radio snapped to static.

“Plant Command, this is Security One. You got comms?”

Nothing.

The drive toward the south gate felt longer than it should. Every bend in the gravel road looked off, like someone had rearranged it overnight. I slowed near the first tank yard. The silver cylinders caught the light, silent and clean.

No birds overhead. That alone set my nerves off.

By 1138 I reached the gate. The animals were still there—hundreds now. Deer shoulder to shoulder, smaller ones filling the gaps. None of them made a sound.

I sat in the truck, watching.

Then, without warning, they turned. Not away, not toward me—just in unison, all facing the far edge of the property where the forest met the old quarry road.

And they moved.

Not fast. Not panicked. Steady, like something invisible was calling them forward.

Air pressure shifted. My ears popped. The hair on my arms lifted. Static flared through the radio, then died.

Under the silence, I felt it—a low vibration that wasn’t mechanical. The steering wheel buzzed faintly beneath my hand.

The animals crossed the field and vanished into the trees. The moment the last one disappeared, the sound stopped. Everything went still.

I exhaled without realizing I’d been holding my breath.

“Dave, you reading me?” I said into the mic. “We’ve got something unusual here.”

His voice came back fuzzy. “You and me both. Crew’s getting headaches. One guy says his vision’s blurry.”

That got my attention. “Where?”
“Filtration side.”
“Anyone with hearing protection on?”
“Most of them.”
“And?”
“They’re fine,” he said. “Weird, huh?”

Weird was one word for it.
I jotted the thought down anyway. Hard to tell what part of the plant it hits first. Sometimes it rattles the tanks. Sometimes it just passes through the air. No pattern yet.

I killed the engine and stepped out. The silence pressed in. Even my own breathing sounded too loud. I walked to the fence, tracing the path the animals had taken.

The ground was disturbed—not tracks, just a faint ripple, like something heavy had moved beneath it. The smell of ozone hung in the air.

I looked back toward the main building. It felt far away, like a dream fading.

Something was happening here. Every wave grew stronger. Every silence deeper.

I wrote one line before heading back to the shack.

1156 – South perimeter clear. Activity pattern continues. Recommend internal review before next fluctuation.

As I drove back, the sky above the tanks shimmered faintly, like heat over asphalt.

It wasn’t heat.

It was coming closer.