Clear Water, Hidden Danger

Chapter 19 - Calm Before the Storm

The night pressed down heavy and still. Quiet meant waiting, and waiting meant something was coming.

Alex sat on the cot near the infirmary wall, her back straight, hair pulled into a knot that used to mean order. The light above her flickered once, then held. Chuchis lay curled at her feet, head resting on one paw, ears twitching at every sound that wasn’t hers.

I stood at the door longer than I meant to. She looked up before I said a word.
“You’re bleeding again,” she said softly.

“It’s fine,” I told her, wiping the corner of my lip. The bruise under my jaw had gone purple. The scrape across my cheek looked worse under the fluorescent light.

“It doesn’t look fine,” she said. “Neither do you.”

I closed the door behind me and sat across from her. The cot creaked. For a long moment, I said nothing. She waited. She’s always been good at waiting.

“It’s Rourke,” I said finally. “He’s been talking to the others. Getting bold. Too bold.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How bold?”

“He’s undermining me. Trying to split the ranks. Making it sound like I don’t belong leading them because I wore a security badge, not a uniform.”

Alex sighed and rubbed her temple. “He’s a soldier. Pride’s the only armor some men have left.”

“This isn’t pride,” I said. “It’s poison.”

She studied my face. “And what did you do about it?”

“Talked to him. Tried to reason. Tried to let Neal handle the rest.”

“Did it help?”

“No.”

The sound of distant boots outside the hall filled the pause between us. Every footstep in this place sounded like a question now.

Alex leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Then let it go, Pa. Please.”

“This isn’t about a point,” I said. “It’s about order. If he keeps pushing and I keep backing off, he wins twice—once with his men, and once in front of mine. You can’t have safety without structure. The minute we lose that, we’re just another group of scared people waiting to die.”

She reached out and took my hand, squeezing hard enough to make me stop talking. “You already have structure. You built it. People follow you because you keep them alive. Don’t throw that away for one man’s ego.”

“His ego spreads,” I said. “He’s got Stacks, Burns, and Hawk listening now. They think the soldiers should take over. That discipline means hierarchy, and hierarchy means them.”

Her thumb brushed over the scar on my knuckle. “You think fighting him will fix that?”

“I think not fighting him makes it worse.”

Alex looked away, eyes glistening in the low light. “You remember when you used to come home after a shift and say how you hated it when inmates tested you? You’d tell me it was never the big fights that scared you. It was the quiet ones. The ones where you could feel something building. That’s what this is. That’s the same quiet.”

I nodded slowly. “You’re right.”

“Then don’t be the one to start it.”

“I won’t,” I said. “But I’ll finish it if I have to.”

The words came out cold. I didn’t mean them to sound that way, but they did. Alex pulled her hand back and looked at me like she recognized the tone from a part of my life I thought I’d left behind.

“You sound like the old you,” she said.

“That’s the part keeping you all alive right now.”

Chuchis lifted her head, a low growl rumbling through her chest. Her claws clicked against the tile once, then froze. The fur along her neck stood up.

Outside, a metallic clang echoed from the direction of the track bay. Alex’s eyes darted toward the sound.

“What was that?”

“Probably Rourke,” I said, standing up. “He’s been pacing near the fuel drums after lights out.”

“Pa—”

“I’ll handle it.”

Her voice followed me to the door. “Don’t handle it. Just come back.”

I turned long enough to meet her eyes. “I will.”

She didn’t believe it. Neither did I. But in a world built on promises, even lies had to sound steady.

When I stepped into the hall, the sound of my boots on concrete felt too loud. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, the kind of hum you stop hearing after hours on patrol but suddenly notice again when you’re alone.

I passed the infirmary window. Inside, Alex sat still, holding Marie’s blanket like it was armor. Chuchis had moved to the door, ears pricked, tail stiff.

I checked my sidearm out of habit, then left it holstered. If it came to it, I wasn’t using a gun.

As I walked toward the armory, I could hear voices. Low. Male. Rourke’s was the anchor. He wasn’t hiding anymore. His words came sharp and clear through the thin air.

“Security guards shouldn’t lead soldiers,” he said. “That’s backward. He keeps acting like the world didn’t end. Well, it did. Chain of command’s dead.

Survival’s what matters now.”

Someone—Stacks, maybe—laughed quietly.

The fog pressed against the corridor windows, pulsing with the rhythm of the generators, like the world was holding its breath again.

I stopped just before the corner, listening. Neal’s voice came through the radio at my shoulder, calm and clipped. “RJ, you still awake?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Keep an eye on the south bay. I’ve got a feeling.”

“Copy.”

The feeling was mutual.

I took a breath, exhaled slow, and rounded the corner toward the sound of Rourke’s voice.

The talking stopped when they saw me. The quiet that followed was heavier than any pulse.